These memoirs were published in a hurry: extracts appeared in September 2011, less than eighteen months after Darling left Government. I’m tempted to speculate why. Did Darling want to get his contribution out of the way before taking charge of the Better Together campaign; was he pressurised by his publisher; or did he strike while the iron was hot in order to preserve his reputation?
What is clear is that Darling and Brown did not see
eye-to-eye. The Prime Minister felt that the Chancellor’s economic forecasts
were unreasonably gloomy. For his part, Darling admits he was cautious, but
then again he had access to all the data. Brown’s ‘investment verses cuts’
strategy, the author argues, missed the point: public spending had to be
addressed.
Darling characterises himself as an arch pragmatist prepared
to tell truth to power, only for power to ignore the advice. Given the
circumstances, the stakes, Darling feels that he dealt with the financial
crisis rather well. Going further, he expresses his frustration that No 10
failed to capitalise on his astute economic fire-fighting.
Of course there’s more to politics than assigning blame.
There’s also credit to accrue. “In the aftermath of the crisis” begins my
favourite passage from Back from the
Brink, “there have been many who have claimed authorship of what proved to
be a highly successful plan ... [but] it really doesn’t matter who thought of
the scheme first. What matters is that it worked. What I know for certain is
that the Treasury, the Bank and the FSA started work on 26 September, under my
instruction.”
Brilliant stuff. Indeed, while the tone is hardly triumphant
(the cover jacket is almost comically austere) Darling is primarily concerned
with vindicating his chancellorship, a feat he almost pulls off.
Putting politics to one side, it would be folly to deny the
fact that Darling- a competent, cautious, experienced Minister- handled the
financial crisis in a calm, logical matter. Of course, this is the impression
he wishes to give, but it would be churlish to deny credit where credit is due.
(Pun almost intended).
That said, the book is light on detail. In part this will be
because copious amounts of economic data would contravene two important rules:
it would reveal too much about policies still in practise, and it would be mind
numbingly boring. So instead Darling dwells on the characters he dealt with:
there’s a late night meeting with Fred Goodwin, disagreements with Mervyn King.
Interesting, but superficial. Anyone keen to understand the mechanics behind the
Government’s decision making should head elsewhere.
Understandably, when first released the ruptures in the
Brown-Darling relationship caught the eye. But these passages, intended to be
climatic, fall a little flat. He dutifully knifes Brown on his management
style, on policy, but he does so with little relish.
Yet their policy disagreements were substantive. Brown’s
adherence to the ‘investment versus cuts’ line and Darling’s insistence on the
need for budgetary rigor hinted at something larger, namely the tension between
a Keynesian response to the crisis and New Labour’s mantra of economic
prudence. This debate has yet to be fully resolved, but Darling will have keenly
noted the words of Ed Balls last week and probably afforded himself the faintest
of smiles.
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