Can Osborne undo the damage done by the charity tax?

With two-thirds of coalition backbenchers opposing the plan, the Chancellor is considering concessio

When George Osborne announced a cap on tax relief in the Budget last month, the so-called “tycoon tax” was supposed to be a populist measure. Under the plans, previously uncapped tax reliefs – including those on charitable donations – would be capped at £50,000 or 25 per cent of income, if higher. Supposed to be a way of clamping down on legal methods of tax avoidance, it clearly it hasn’t quite worked out as hoped, with the government under a hail of criticism for limiting charitable giving.

It appears that the storm is far from over, with a ComRes poll finding that two-thirds (65 per cent) of government backbenchers believe that tax relief on charitable donations should be exempt from the cap. The survey, commissioned by the Charities Aid Foundation, found that 68 per cent of the Conservative and Liberal Democrat MPs surveyed believed that the government should review its proposal to cap tax relief on charitable donations. It also showed that 93 per cent of coalition backbenchers believed that the government "should do all it can to use the tax system to encourage charitable donations from wealthy donors".

So what next for the policy? The government is still scrambling to regain some political points, with the Treasury releasing figures that reveal the extent of tax avoidance among the super-rich. The figures show that almost a thousand UK taxpayers earning over £1m a year are paying less than 30 per cent of their income in tax, while 12 of the 200 taxpayers earning over £10m are paying less than 10 per cent in tax. The figures are supposed to show how the super-rich are using tax reliefs and legal schemes to reduce the amount of tax they pay.

The numbers are certainly shocking, but at this point, probably not enough for the government to regain control of the message. Indeed, the Financial Times reports that Osborne is considering changes to the proposals, although as yet he is resisting pressure to exempt donations from the cap completely. Two proposals are reportedly under consideration. The first is to create a separate limit on charitable donations of 50 per cent of a person’s income, which would allow charities to claim tens of millions extra in tax relief than the current plan. Such a move would cost £40m, hugely reducing the amount saved by capping charitable donations, to just £20m. The second is to allow donors to roll over any unused tax reliefs into future years if they are used for donations.

Hot on the heels of the furores over pasties, granny tax, jerry cans, and email surveillance, this is yet another example of poor communication and media strategy from the very top of the coalition. With several papers this morning calling for David Cameron to improve his team, this latest incident only serves to cement the impression of a government that acts before it thinks.
 

George Osborne is considering concessions to his planned cap on charitable donations. Photograph: Getty Images

Samira Shackle is a freelance journalist, who tweets @samirashackle. She was formerly a staff writer for the New Statesman.

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Byron burgers and bacon sandwiches: can any politician get away with eating on camera?

Memo to aspirant world leaders: eating in public is a political minefield.

Miliband’s sandwich. Cameron’s hot dog. Osborne’s burger. The other Miliband’s banana. As well as excellent names for up-and-coming indie bands, these are just a few examples of now infamous food faux pas committed by British politicians.

During his entire mayoral campaign, Sadiq Khan refused to eat anything in public. When journalist Simon Hattenstone met him in his local curry house for the Guardian, the now-mayor didn’t eat a single bite despite “dish after dish” arriving at the table. Who can blame him? Though Ed Miliband had been pictured blunderingly eating a bacon sandwich an entire year earlier, the national furore around the incident had not yet died down. “He can make me look Clooneyesque or make me look like Ed eating a bacon sandwich,” Khan said of the photographer at the time.

Miliband’s bacon sandwich is now so infamous that I need offer no explanation for the event other than those words. There is an entire Wikipedia page dedicated to the photograph of Ed, lips curled and eyes rolling, as he tucks into that fateful sarnie. Yet politicians frequently bite off more than they can chew – why did Ed’s mishap inspire multiple headlines and an entire front page of The Sun?

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“The momentum got behind the bacon sandwich story because he was awkward, it showed him in a light which was true - he was an awkward candidate in that election,” says Paul Baines, a professor of political marketing at Cranfield University. “He didn’t come across right.”

The photograph of Miliband fit neatly within a pre-existing image of the politician – that he was bumbling, incompetent, and unable to take control. Similarly, when David Cameron was pictured eating a hot dog with a knife and fork months later, the story reinforced popular notions of him as a posh, out-of-touch, champagne-swilling old Etonian. Though Oxford-educated, two-kitchen Miliband is nearly as privileged as Cameron, and Brexit-inducing Dave equally as incompetent as Ed, the pictures would not gain the same popularity in reverse. There are many, many less-than-flattering pictures of Cameron eating, but they didn’t fit into a workable narrative.

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No one, for example, focused on the price of Ed’s sandwich. Purchased at New Covenant Garden Market, it was undoubtedly more expensive than Greggs’ £1.75 bacon roll – but no one cared. When George Osborne was pictured eating an £8 Byron burger whilst cutting £11.5 million from the British budget, however, the picture spoke to many. The then-chancellor was forced to explain that “McDonalds doesn't deliver”, although, as it turned out, Byron didn’t either.

“The idea was to try and display him in a good light – here's a guy eating a burger just like everyone else. The only problem was it was a posh burger and of course he didn't look like everyone else because he was spending ten quid on a burger,” explains Baines.

But Dave, Ed, and George are just the latest in a long, long line of politicians who have been mocked for their eating habits. Across the ocean, Donald Trump has been lambasted for liking his steak well done, while in 1976, Gerald Ford was mocked after biting into the inedible corn husk of a tamale. Why then, do politicians not copy Khan, and avoid being pictured around food altogether?

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“Food connects everybody, food is essentially a connection to culture and the 'every person',” explains Baines. “[Nigel] Farage's appearance in the pub has definitely had a positive impact on how he's perceived by a big chunk of the working class electorate which is an important, sizeable group.” Though Cameron, too, has been pictured with pints, his undeniably weird grasp on the glass make the pictures seem inauthentic, compared to Farage whose pints are clearly at home in his hands. In America, Joe Biden managed to capture the same authenticity with an ice-cream cone.

“I think when it comes across badly is when it comes across as inauthentic,” says Baines. “If I were advising, I certainly wouldn't advise Theresa May to be seen in the pub having a pint, that would not shine with her particular character or style. But could Tim Farron come across better in that way? Possibly but it does have to be authentic.”

Food, then, can instantly make a politician seem in or out of touch. This is especially true when food connects to national identity. Tony Blair, for example, publicly claimed his favourite dish was fish and chips despite earlier saying it was fettuccine with olive oil, sundried tomatoes and capers. In the 1980s, Lord Mandelson allegedly mistook mushy peas for guacamole, insulting us all. In the States, you’d be hard pressed to find a politician who hasn’t been pictured with a hot dog, and there are entire articles dedicated to US politicians who eat pizza with a knife and fork. Again, the food fits a narrative – politicians out of touch with the common person.  

Then again, sometimes, just sometimes, no narrative is needed. We’d advise any candidate who seriously wants a shot in the 2017 General Election to not, under any circumstances, be pictured casually feeding a Solero to an unidentified young woman. 

Amelia Tait is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman.

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