Big lobbies won't help Coalition decentralisation plans

The government's decentralisation programme is so appealing to my policy wonk side. Ditch the central diktats, let local people decide, admit one size can never fit all. Marvellous. But my lobbyist side is a bit more unsettled. It's far from certain what a decentralised UK will look like, but it'll almost certainly have big disparities and be pretty complex. This has big implications for those seeking to influence government policy - big enough, I reckon, to mean the big lobbies might end up opposing decentralisation in case it diminishes their traditional influence. Centralisation isn't cool and it's probably not a very good way to run things either, but it does make things easier for lobbyists. Find your minister, your department, your lead civil servant and a couple of interested parliamentarians, hop on the tube to Westminster, and you're halfway there. But imagine how many more people this might become if decision-making power was really devolved to local and community levels. Getting consistent messaging and strategies for all those variegated audiences sounds like a nightmare (and an expensive one at that). If this is nagging at me, then consciously or unconsciously, maybe a lot of lobbyists - therefore some of the big lobbies - are worried too. And that might lead to some instinctive positioning against decentralising measures, because it means lobbyists need to devise a whole new way of influencing. After all, the whole political establishment is geared to centralised government - and that doesn't mean some 'resistant departments', as decentralisation minister Greg Clarke hinted at Policy Exchange this morning. That means all the other stakeholders - trade organisations, trade unions, business lobbies, professional organisations, quangos and charities, who between them can quash all but the most zealous of political reforms.

Painful rhetoric and limited Lansley at Tory manifesto launch

I'm not much impressed by this morning's launch of the first chapter of the Tories' draft manifesto. The Tories' post-Christmas rhetoric isn't great so far - too simple, too negative. "We can't go on like this" is a dire motto that's unlikely to beat back the January blues. George Osborne warmed up the crowd. Not sure this was wise, as suspect the Osbornes have too much cash to ever find themselves on an NHS waiting list. Dave was next up, with a rather uninspiring speech echoing much of Saturday's bland Obama-ese. Had violent urge to drink a finger of vodka every time he said "change". Two main problems with the whole presentation, however. One - the commitment to ringfence the NHS budget is one of the more questionable aspects of the party's budgeting, so is it really the best issue to springboard a manifesto from? Two - Andrew Lansley, despite the occasional gaffe, is well-informed, personable and good on TV. As shadow health secretary, why wasn't he fronting the launch?

Treasury minister unconvinced by own Bill

The Financial Services Bill is being sold as the magic answer to the many and complex problems of how banks are regulated. So it’s rather distressing to observe that even the lead minister on the Bill seems pretty unconvinced. I’m watching the Bill committee’s first, soul-sapping evidence session. Ian Pearson, the economic secretary to the treasury, looks totally unconvinced by the merits of his own Bill, the poor man. He’s now resorted to thumping the table half-heartedly with a rather tacky little biro, attempting to inject some passion into proceedings. It ain’t working. A couple of sprightly bag carriers behind him are trying in vain to leap to his assistance with hastily scribbled notes. Also not working. Two things emerge from this. The first is that Ian Pearson is unable to explain or defend his own legislation – either because he’s not clever enough (which isn’t true) or because he knows it’s mostly not strong enough to defend (which seems more likely). The second is that the Bill, a headline extracted from the electioneering Queen’s Speech and strung out over 39 clauses, is a charming mix of waffle, duplication and uncertainty, enlivened by a few genuinely sensible measures, like banning credit card cheques. It goes no way towards solving the institutional problems at the heart of the crisis. The short answer is, despite FSMA, last year’s Banking Bill and this new Bill, it’s still going to be totally unclear who on earth is responsible for financial stability. Frankly, there isn’t even an agreed definition of financial stability, so god knows how you plan for it, measure it, test it or implement it. Incidentally, MPs scrutinising new laws used to just trawl through them, clause by clause, ending up rather removed from the context of the Bill. Having ministers and stakeholders along provides some useful perspective – especially when the minister is so unable to hide his apathy.

Unintended consequences of 'Lehman Sisters' critique

During her brief but entertaining period as acting PM over the summer, Harriet Harman suggested that if it'd been 'Lehman Sisters' rather than 'Lehman Brothers', the banking crisis might never have happened. Her comments drove momentum for a Treasury select committee inquiry earlier this autumn, which touched on the same issue. During that session, Nicola Pease of JO Hambro Asset Management spun the session on its heel with her forceful yet eloquent insistence that mother-friendly legislation, such as year-long maternity leave, had made women of a certain age unemployable. Despite the rank injustice of women' failure to equal men in pay and progression (in all sectors, incidentally), Pease's words felt uncomfortably true. Since that hearing, I've started to wonder whether my next employer might judge me not just on my CV, but on how likely it is that I'll pop a sprog 18 months into the job. Do they really want to employ someone who might suddenly (and unsackably) disappear for a year and return with distractions and demands for shorter or weirder hours? Clearly I'm not the only one who heard Pease and started to twitch a bit. The past few weeks have seen an avalanche of op eds, magazine features and broadsheet columns on the impossibility of working motherhood, the crippling guilt, the pointlessness of working when you should be at home with the kids. Earlier this month, the Guardian's excellent political editor Gaby Hinsliff gave up the struggle, explaining her decision in a heartbreaking article. So I was heartened to read Yasmin Alibhai-Brown's indignant riposte in today's Indie, asking why women are suddenly 'in retreat'. I think I might have an answer. Helped along by that fiery testimony from Nicola Pease, there's been a real backlash to this idea that the financial crisis is a golden opportunity to regulate women into equality at work. There's a serious argument to be had here - but all these articles are frankly starting to break my spirit a bit. I'm sure I'm not the only one getting sick of being told I should give up now, rather than bothering to struggle against the inevitability of a stifled career.

Statements of the morally obvious

I was distressed to see that there was a parliamentary statement on "rights and responsibilities" due today. A bit fluffy and Blairy, I thought. It turns out to have been Jack Straw's Bill of Rights Green Paper, a list of statements of the morally bloody obvious including:

• parents' duty to look after their children
• not claiming benefits when able to work
• obeying the law
• reporting crimes
• co-operating with the police
• paying taxes

Without going into full Daily Mail rant, this is pretty silly, isn't it? If you aren't managing to stick to those five points, is Jack Straw and his rolled scroll full of suggestions really going to help? The Tories totally failed to make any light hearted hay of this - the best Dominic Grieve could come up with was that the proposals are "for the birds". Hm, cutting. The full ridiculousness is here; it doesn't really compare with the laugh-out-loud comedy of Ed Balls' Play Strategy.