The.Economist.2007-02-10 (966424), страница 24
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Opposition politicianspoint out that former attorney-generals used to attend cabinet meetings only by invitation, whereas thepresent incumbent is there for virtually every session. Lord Goldsmith has replied, not entirelyconvincingly, that as a career lawyer rather than an elected MP, he has, if anything, a lower politicalprofile than most. “My main duty is to the law, not to party politics,” he insisted this week. “I makedecisions that my colleagues don't always agree with.”Stressing that aspects of his job had always been controversial, he admitted this week that there was“room for improvement”. His accountability to the House of Commons could be strengthened; his oath ofoffice should reflect his various functions more clearly; but he fiercely opposes any radical change to hisoffice. With even his own colleagues turning against him, that looks like wishful thinking.Copyright © 2007 The Economist Newspaper and The Economist Group.
All rights reserved.About sponsorshipRegenerating BlackpoolThe last resortFeb 8th 2007 | BLACKPOOLFrom The Economist print editionThe super-casino gamble failed. What next?BLACKPOOL'S seafront is not the most tempting destination for a winter break. But the chill has notdeterred one elderly couple, who have been coming once a fortnight from nearby Rochdale for moredecades than they can remember. “It's the best place in England, this,” they say. “But it could do with alick of paint.”Last week Blackpool narrowly missed out on a facelift worth £450m when it lost its bid to host Britain'sfirst super-casino. An advisory panel chose nearby Manchester for the dubious honour instead.
It surprisedeveryone, including the television crews who were waiting in Blackpool to film the joyous reaction thatwasn't to be.“We feel mugged,” says David Helliwell, the editor of the local Gazette. His staff are sifting through morethan 2,000 letters from readers to pass on to Tessa Jowell, the culture secretary who endorsed the panel'sdecision, demanding that the recommendation be reversed. The area's four MPs are due to meet her soontoo, though few expect her to change her mind. Nor is it likely that Parliament will overturn the decision.Most Britons are lukewarm about the super-casino, but in Blackpool it was seen as a lifeline.
Less than twodecades ago the Victorian working-class playground drew as many as 17m visitors a year, but these daysit struggles to stay above 10m. Cheap package holidays to warmer climes sucked away many families inthe 1980s, and big northern cities such as Leeds and Newcastle cornered the “weekend-break” market inthe 1990s.Fewer tourists have meant fewer jobs. Between 1994 and 2005 the number of registered businesses inBlackpool slipped by 6%, though businesses across the country increased by 15%. Most of the victimswere small guesthouses. Unemployment now stands at 7% and wages have sagged. In 2002 the averageBlackpudlian was paid 17% less than the average Briton; by 2006 the gap was 23%.Despite the dwindling numbers of visitors, Blackpool's infrastructure seems to have locked it intocontinuing dependence on tourism. Whole streets are given over to guesthouses (with 70,000 beds,Blackpool equals Madrid in capacity) and there is little space for new building (after Portsmouth, theborough is the most densely developed outside London).
This is partly what makes the casino decisionsuch a sore point, says Alan Cavill, head of development on Blackpool's council. Leisure tourism is thetown's one strong suit—why give a big leisure attraction to a city such as Manchester that has many otheroptions?Locals can take some cheer from a big lump of money that is going into developing Blackpool'ssurroundings. The seafront will be remodelled with £75m of government cash, plus £8m from the regionaldevelopment agency to dress it up. With luck (and Blackpool is due some), a further £24m of lotteryfunding will provide the beach with a gaudy artistic show, which Mr Cavill promises will continueBlackpool's tradition of “challenging the boundaries of good taste”.
The seafront tramway is also due to berevamped.These projects should go some way towards providing the missing lick of paint. What remains to be foundis a big chunk of private investment to get people into the town in the first place. A casino alternativeremains elusive, but possible candidates include an indoor rainforest, a covered ski slope and a newbranch of Legoland, a Danish theme-park chain.Whatever projects come to fruition, Blackpool landladies—legendarily tough—are finding ways to managethe decline. Pat Stokes, who runs the Mar-Ray guesthouse on Springfield Road, keeps her nine bedroomsfull, thanks to her two new websites.
She is not bothered about the casino, she says; most of hercustomers are regulars. The traditional arcades are also wising up. Warwick Tunnicliffe, whose family hasbeen in the amusements business since 1881, saw the writing on the wall in the 1980s and upped sticksfrom the touristy seafront to the town centre. Now, he reckons, 95% of the money in his slot machinescomes from locals, sheltering him from seasonal ups and downs.New types of visitors are also helping to buoy Blackpool's economy.
Along the promenade, bars and stripclubs illustrate the rise of the lucrative stag- and hen-night market. Gay tourists have also proved a hit, asthe rainbow flags running down Lord Street testify. Yet tradition endures: come lunchtime, Burger King,Bella Pasta and other modern pretenders are quiet. Everyone is in Harry Ramsden's, eating fish and chips.Copyright © 2007 The Economist Newspaper and The Economist Group. All rights reserved.About sponsorshipBagehotThe real Labour funding crisisFeb 8th 2007From The Economist print editionSteve O'BrienLabour's renewed dependence on the unions will cost it more votes than the police inquiryTHE lunacy that gripped parts of the Labour Party and even more of the media late last week has abated.There may have been good arguments for Tony Blair to step down earlier than he intends—in midsummer—but there were none for the prime minister to be hounded from office because of the drawn-outpolice investigation into the alleged sale of honours.Charges have yet to be brought against anyone; indeed the first person arrested in the matter hasexplicitly been let off.
Not even the leak-happy police have suggested that Mr Blair himself is in the frame.Nor should Mr Blair resign if Assistant Commissioner Yates does eventually collar one or two of his aides,as some have suggested is likely. His resignation would be so widely taken as an admission of their guiltthat it is hard to see how the cases against them could be handled without prejudice.Another reason why Mr Blair's party should calm down is that there is not much evidence that the policeinquiry and the media hue and cry are having any impact on Labour's electoral prospects. A Populus pollfor the Times based on fieldwork conducted last weekend found that Labour was up on the month by onepoint, whereas the Tories were down by three.The notion peddled by some of Mr Blair's panicky colleagues that this sad little affair is having a uniquely“corrosive” effect on politics in general and trust in the government in particular underestimates both theintelligence and the deeply embedded cynicism of voters.
Nearly three-quarters of those polled agreedwith the statement that, when it came to a link between donations and peerages, Labour was no worsethan past Conservative governments. Nearly half also thought the police investigation had been heavyhanded and too prone to leaking.The real long-term damage to Labour, as the wily Tories have realised, is likely to come from a differentquarter. In the run-up to the 2005 election, and in order not to be outspent by what seemed a reenergised Conservative Party, Labour not only secured loans from wealthy individuals but also negotiateda peace treaty with its traditional paymasters—the unions.The Warwick agreement averted the threat of mass disaffiliation by the unions, and with it thedisappearance of vital party funding. But in exchange the government committed itself to a wish-listdrawn up by union leaders, all the while insisting that it would have implemented many of the measuresanyway.That is debatable.
Promises to eradicate the “two-tier” workforce (in which privately employed workersdelivering public services were paid less than their public-sector counterparts) and to impose strict limitson private-sector involvement in the National Health Service were bound to make public-service reformharder and more expensive to achieve. The impact of these and other pledges was to chip away at labourmarket flexibility while adding to the costs and regulatory burden of employers.One direct consequence of the Warwick agreement was the government's U-turn on public-sector pensionsin 2005. Despite a policy of gradually raising the retirement age in line with increasing life expectancy,Alan Johnson, a former union leader who was trade and industry secretary at the time, caved in to uniondemands that existing public-sector employees still retire at 60 with their generous final salary pensions.In doing so, he added, by some calculations, about £1 billion ($2 billion) a month to the government'sunfunded pension liabilities.If that was bad, there may be worse to come.
Sir Hayden Phillips, a former civil servant whom Mr Blairasked last year to review party funding, is struggling to forge the cross-party consensus needed to providepolitical cover for a hefty increase in state subsidies. Sir Hayden's problem is that the Tories have notbudged from their position that all donations—whether from companies, trade unions or individuals—should be capped at £50,000. Labour, for its part, argues that the party and the unions are umbilicallyjoined and that the affiliation fees based on union membership cannot be treated like other sorts ofdonation.There are good and bad arguments on both sides. But the bottom line is that since the police began theirinquiries Labour's financial dependence on the unions has become absolute.