BRITAIN

BRITAIN is tightening its belt. The chancellor’s spring statement arrives with the gloomy tone of inevitability. Welfare payments for the sick and disabled will be shrunk, and public services from transport to criminal justice face much leaner times. The language is that of necessity. There is no money. The choices are hard, but unavoidable. So runs the rhetorical script.

The notion that painful cuts are inevitable is political theatre and grandstanding. Either Rachel Reeves knows the constraints are self-imposed – or, more troubling, believes they are real. Last October, she announced £190bn in extra spending, £140bn in additional borrowing, and £35bn more in taxes than previously forecast. The Treasury has expounded upon this by insisting “you can’t pour that amount of money into the state and call it austerity”.

Yes you can. Particularly where tens of billions are siphoned off in debt interest to uphold economic orthodoxy rather than meet social needs. The UK now spends more than £100bn a year on debt interest not because it is financially insolvent, but to a substantial degree because the Bank of England is offloading vast amounts of gilts, bought during quantitative easing, at a loss. The Treasury must cover these losses, while the flood of gilts into financial markets drives up interest rates on new borrowing. This is quantitative tightening (QT), with the state left to foot the bill for soaring interest costs and Bank payouts. Nonetheless, the Office for Budget Responsibility assumes that it will continue, locking in high costs.

This is ideology posing as policy. And it’s far from prudent. No money for free school meals or youth clubs, some parliamentarians warn, yet billions pour into the pockets of bondholders, for the sake of “stability”. Ending QT could redirect that money to public services – a better priority than reassuring markets with symbolic gestures.

If the Bank won’t stop on its own, it must be pushed. Under Gordon Brown, the Central Bank gained its independence in 1998 but included a safeguarding caveat: in “extreme economic circumstances” ministers can override the Bank in the public interest. If £100bn in spending isn’t extreme, what is? QT should be paused. The Bank stands alone among G7 peers in actively selling bonds and demanding Treasury cash to cover paper losses. This is self-defeating in a dangerously volatile world. Gilts could be strategically managed. Before New Labour, Kenneth Clarke often ignored the Bank’s advice – and was often right. But such thinking is now deemed heretical in a political culture that treats Central Bank independence as sacred, even when it deepens and exasperates public hardship.

The deeper irony cannot be lost on anyone. The chancellor refuses to raise taxes on the wealthy, will not relax her fiscal rules, and has ruled out borrowing more. So she claims that there is no alternative to cuts. Yet, these are self-imposed constraints – combined with deference to an unelected monetary authority – that sustain the illusion of necessity. Labour has been here before: Snowden did the same in the 1930s, and very nearly destroyed his party.

The spring statement is a performance. She asks the public to accept a diminished state as the result of external forces, when actually it’s the result of internal dogma. Worse, she may believe the script – failing to recall the economic tools once used to steer interest rates, debt, and public investment. Austerity isn’t the price of prudence, but the cost of forgetting. We have a chancellor of the exchequer who wears the mask of making tough decisions, but on a stage built on myths. The better choice would be to trim the Bank’s power, even if the spotlight has been carefully trained away from its damaging role.