Explaining the child benefit saga

Do you prioritise fairness for individuals or for households? The coalition is realising you can't d

Observing a government in the midst of a policy u-turn is rarely an elegant sight. When it is drawn out over an extended period, and fuelled by briefing and nods and winks from the PM downwards, it is even less edifying. So it is with the coalition's current contortions on Child Benefit.

None of the proposals being discussed as improvements to the coalition's original idea (to axe Child Benefit for households with a higher rate tax payer) are attractive. All are likely to be an administrative nightmare. Indeed, if the government could press rewind I doubt very much they would choose to repeat the initial pledge they made (not withstanding polling evidence showing it could be quite popular). And if they could press fast-forward into the future my guess is that they would probably decide not to plump for the sort of complex proposal that they are reportedly leaning towards (for instance creating what would in effect be a new tax threshold at £50k).

As things stand, Osborne's room for manoeuvre is limited. He's made clear that he wants to remove Child Benefit from the affluent. Some of the ways of achieving this that have been floated by leading voices like the IFS, such as integrating Child Benefit within the tax credit system, and so means-testing it according to household income, are now likely to be deemed to be politically too difficult (even though they might have once been possible back in 2010).

Why? Because they would hit (many) households with two earners each on say £30k-35k. You might think this would be more rational than axing Child Benefit for single earner households on £45k. Perhaps. But the last thing a government in retreat wants when placating one group of losers is to create another disgruntled set who previously thought they would escape unscathed. Indeed, the biggest risk the coalition faces right now on this issue is not that they fail to recoup the full £2.4bn they were hoping to save, but that they find themselves making a series of expensive concessions as each new proposal they make comes under pressure. They need to find a position they are sure they can defend and stick to it.

Given the hole they are now in on this issue, and assuming a complete u-turn is not on the cards, the least bad option for Osborne would probably be to ditch the idea of abolition and instead start taxing Child Benefit for higher rate taxpayers; though he will probably feel this falls short of what he needs to do (and it still suffers from some of the problems as his original idea).

Given the upheaval, it's worth asking what led the government down this path? Part of the answer is the tendency towards politically-driven but ill-conceived policy announcements - recall that the Child Benefit proposal arose in the first place in order to soften up opinion in advance of the wider cuts to the benefit system.

But it also reflects an underlying and still unresolved issue about the future of the tax system. Take a step back from the detail of this row and consider what pattern emerges from the coalition's changes to the tax and benefit system. In terms of where money has been spent, it has been on Clegg's flagship idea of increasing personal allowances - an agenda which is primarily about tax-cuts targeted at individuals. Meanwhile those parts of the tax and benefit system targeted at supporting households and children (like tax credits) face harsh cuts, though no one in the coalition would like to put it this way.

The Child Benefit proposal is an uncomfortable hybrid: it's based on individual earnings (means testing child benefit for higher rate tax-payers) but in a very clunky and arbitrary way it nods towards considering household income in that it asks each claimant whether their partner pays the higher rate of tax. The result, as has been widely pointed out, is that the single-earner household on £45k risks losing up to several thousand pounds while the dual-earning household on a combined income of £80k loses nothing.

At the heart of the issue is the point that tax and benefit reforms can prioritise fairness for individuals (Clegg's argument), or they can seek to respect the principle of individual taxation whilst advancing greater equity for low and modest income households with children - which is in essence what tax credits seek to achieve (at the price of far greater complexity). But they can't do both at once.

Regardless of how the current Child Benefit saga plays out it is unlikey to be the final word in this debate about supporting individuals as opposed to households. Why so? Because if personal allowances continue to be the favoured mechanism for tax reform, and there's little reason to think they won't for as long as the coalition survives, then sooner or later their comparative shortcomings as a way of supporting families with children will surface as more of an issue.

Liberal Democrat strategists concede as much (at least in private). Looking to the longer term they are interested in exploring ways of making the personal allowance better reflect household circumstances - for instance through some form of children's tax allowance. This isn't an issue for now, but could well be in the event Lib Dems are in with a real chance of forming another coalition government beyond 2015.

If you think some of this sounds vaguely familiar, you'd be right. We used to have child tax allowances before they were phased out in the 1970s and replaced by the Callaghan government with (you guessed it) a version of today's Child Benefit - a system thought to be much more beneficial to mothers than its predecessor.

Gavin Kelly is a former adviser to Downing Street and the Treasury. He tweets @GavinJKelly1.

GETTY
Show Hide image

Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue