Nick Cohen writes:
It has been another noisy week for the quiet man. Iain Duncan Smith
decided that the chancellor's statement on the economy made Thursday a good day
to bury bad news.
With a shabbiness entirely in keeping with the work and
pension secretary's low character, he sneaked out the admission
that he would fail to hit the 2017 deadline for the introduction of his
universal credit when no one was looking.
The truth that he had wasted more money than an army of benefit fraudsters on
a grandiose IT system had been dragged out of him like a confession from a
hardened criminal. The Department for Work and Pensions admitted to writing off £34m in September.
The public accounts
committee upped the losses to £140m in November. The spectacularly well-informed tech
journalists on Computer Weekly were gloomier still: the taxpayer may
have to lose most, if not all, of the £303m Duncan Smith had spent, they reported.
The day before the universal credit fiasco, Kent county council linked
Duncan Smith's welfare "reforms" to
the growing misery in the county.
Thousands were dependent on food
banks, its officers said. In a throwaway line that tells you all you need to
know about Britain, the council added that 1,357 children had come to the
banks, not so much to ask for "more" as for any food at all.
Hunger
was up, crime was up and homelessness was up. The only thing falling was
household incomes. And this in Kent, "the garden of England" and one
of the most prosperous counties in the land.
Paul Carter, Kent's Conservative leader, promptly
suppressed his officers' findings. We need a new word to describe such
underhand tactics – "Duncian" or "IDioSyncratic" perhaps; a
neologism that acknowledges all the deceits that Duncan Smith has weaved from
the moment when he claimed on his CV that he had studied at Perugia University, rather than
an Italian language school, to his manipulation of statistics today.
But in a week that has tested the stoicism of the most unshockable Duncan
Smith watchers, it was Tuesday's news that shook me most. The authorities
increased from
nine to 13 the number of people facing charges over an alleged fraud on the
taxpayer at A4E.
The parasitic company grew at public expense, most notably
with contracts to run Duncan Smith's Work Programme. The trial is pending, but
we already know that A4E gave its former chairman, a Cameron crony called Emma
Harrison, a £1.3m dividend after the fraud scandal broke in 2012, and
that the prime minister's former families' adviser had pocketed an £8.6m dividend the year before.
I decided to check with my old friends, Duncan Smith's flak catchers at the
DWP press office. I could guess the answer to my question. But we Observer
journalists have a fanatical commitment to accuracy. I had to be sure.
"Are you still giving public money to A4E?"
"Yes, we are."
If you think of believing the right's claims that it is cutting welfare to
help the taxpayer, then think of A4E and of the hundreds of millions thrown
away on the universal credit and think again. Inevitably, the Work Programme to
find jobs for the unemployed is another joke, and a cruel one at that.
One of
the standard tunes of the Tory party and press is that sick and disabled
people, who receive the employment support allowance because they say they
can't work, are liars. Duncan Smith therefore sends them to dubious medicals.
The doctors declare them healthy. Duncan Smith cuts their benefits from £106 per week to
between £56 and £71. He then puts them on the Work Programme. His own department's figures show
that just 4% find jobs afterwards. Nothing has changed for the remaining
96%, except that Duncan Smith has pushed them deeper into poverty.
Why is this man still in a job?
I ask not only because his incompetence and mendacity would disqualify him
from any reputable firm, but because the removal of Duncan Smith from the
leadership of the Conservative party is the opening chapter of the myth of
David Cameron's moderation.
The modernisers say that Duncan Smith's time in charge, from 2001 to 2003,
was the catastrophe that at last made the party realise that it had to return
to the centre ground. The Tories' poll ratings collapsed.
Duncan Smith's
friends turned against him. "I can't think of a good thing to say about
Iain,"
one prominent Tory of the time told Tim Bale, an excellent historian of the
modern Conservative party. "He's not very bright. He's not very loyal
either."
After his disastrous "the quiet man is
here to stay and he's turning up the volume" speech to the 2003 Tory
conference, Michael Gove wrote in the Times that everyone knew the
Tories had to be more than a rightwing rump. Yet Duncan Smith could not control
himself. He had given a "bitterly vicious" performance that would
appeal to no one outside the Tory tribe.
"Listening to Mr Duncan Smith's speech," Gove continued with words
he should not be allowed to forget, "some lines of Kipling came to mind:
The Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire, And the burnt
Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire."
The Conservative party revolted. It threw out Duncan Smith and put Michael
Howard in his place as caretaker. He promoted the young stars Cameron and
George Osborne, who led the Tories back to the centre ground and back to
government for the first time since 1997.
The trouble is, the Tory right never wanted to move to the centre and it has
grown in power since 2010, as has the UK Independence Party. Both admire Duncan
Smith's "bitterly vicious" policies and would go wild if Cameron
succeeded in firing him, as Osborne tried to do last year. In other words,
Cameron's failure to take his party with him means that the wabbling fool is
unassailable.
The children begging at food banks and the sick men and women that the
coalition tells to work in jobs that do not exist deserve an answer to a hard
question. The Conservative party did not consider Duncan Smith fit to be its
leader in 2003, when it was in opposition and had no power.
Why, then, does it
give him the power to ruin their lives when it is in office in 2013?
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