L istening to Rachel Reeves today, I could hear the faint strains of a heckler. Not among the VIPs in that Oxfordshire hall but far outside, from a woman in Newcastle. I have told her story before : as the Brexit vote loomed, a London professor warned the geordie heathens that leaving Europe would harm the UK’s economy.
Then one of the aforementioned heathens yelled back: “That’s your bloody GDP. Not ours.” Rude, crass? Absolutely.
Yet she raised one of the big questions for the Westminster classes, which cuts to the very heart of politics. Jabbing a finger into a navy lapel, it demands: who are you actually helping? The answer sealed the fate of George Osborne and David Cameron, and it will prove as decisive for Reeves and Keir Starmer. No one can be unclear what this Labour government wants.
“Growth, growth, growth,” clapped Reeves this week, as she strode into a meeting of Labour MPs. Even after the Christmas pantos, ministers are staging their own version of Peter Pan: they close their eyes – and believe ! The prime minister dreams of a “growth lever”; the chancellor wants everyone to “start saying ‘yes’”. And from the stalls cry the humble voters: further and faster! Magic shall happen.
The G-word will be slapped across everything that moves – and quite a few things that don’t any more. Whitehall has already stuck out a press release claiming “the need for people to queue at the local council to register the death of a loved one” is “g.
