Albeit thus far confined to Nigel Farage and the crankier corners of social media, calls have been made for a UK version of Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency (Doge).
Examples of “waste” in public spending – notably in overseas aid contracts and research grants – have been cited as egregious examples of profligacy (possibly unfairly, stripped of context). Conservative leader Kemi Badenoch has also expressed interest: “I said that we need to reboot [and] rewire the state. This is what we have to do. And I’m looking very closely at what they are doing in Doge.”
Is there waste in the British state?
Yes, just as there is in every nation – and, indeed, every private enterprise, charity, family budget and anything else that involves spending money and allocating resources. Every system is capable of being gamed and abused. Often it is actually far from hidden.
Historically, such examples in Britain would include: the cost of rebuilding the Houses of parliament in the mid-nineteenth century; the Humber Bridge; the Concorde supersonic aircraft; various NHS integrated IT systems; defence procurement programmes (most recently for the troubled Ajax armoured vehicle); and of course bogus Covid contracts and aspects of the HS2 programme. These were not examples of the “deep state” and bureaucrats subverting democracy, but merely incompetence or poor judgement carried out in plain sight. On that basis, there is clearly a need for better financial control, if not for some sort of Doge.
What are we talking about?
President Donald Trump, for his own reasons, likes to lump fraud, corruption and waste in with legitimate spending authorised by Congress on things he doesn’t like. That is not only a danger to sensible public administration, but also a political opportunity for a leader to abuse the system. For example, if you are inclined to dismiss all non-emergency overseas aid as intrinsically wasteful, and all social security benefits as legalised sponging, then labelling everything as “crazy” makes sense, but it would not be necessarily constitutional, lawful, fair or efficient.
What could a British Doge do?
As an advisory body (as was originally intended in the US) it could supplement existing structures and watchdogs, carefully classifying questionable expenditure into the following categories:
* Outright fraud, which is a matter for the police and specialist agencies, and can be referred to them for further action
* Corruption, ditto
* Poor value for money, which could be referred to the new Office for Value for Money set up by Rachel Reeves, as well as the National Audit Office and the Commons public accounts committee
* Policy issues that are not necessarily wasteful. A prime example is expenditure on public sector jobs promoting diversity, equity and inclusion. These are properly a matter for ministers and MPs
* A British Doge could also examine local government and public bodies such as the NHS, DVLA, HM Passport Agency, Natural England and so on (though they already have audited accounts)
Is there much waste?
Care needs to be taken. Often, closer inspection of spending denounced as ludicrous reveals that it is quite sensible, if it happened at all. The £100m spent on the HS2 “bat tunnel” is a disgrace to Sir Keir Starmer, but not to those who put nature and the survival of rare species and ancient woodlands first. The bat community would certainly think it money well spent. Similarly, for example, self-appointed waste watchers have picked on the £841,000 awarded to a research project entitled: The Europe that Gay Porn Built, 1945-2000. Yet would we condemn such studies relating to Ancient Greece? If you think the taxpayer should not fund academic research about history then fine, but it is not fair to use homophobia and “waste” as a weapon.
Would a British Doge be an excuse to slash public spending and gut foreign aid?
There is that danger, yes. It’s also quite possible a British Doge, like the Musk version, wouldn’t live up to expectations. Tragically, the Commons treasury select committee has already criticised the Office for Value for Money as “an understaffed, poorly defined organisation … set up with a vague remit and no clear plan to measure its effectiveness”.
