Will Cameron U-turn on charity tax relief?

The PM looks increasingly certain to revise Osborne's plan to cap tax relief on charitable donations

Three weeks on from the Budget, David Cameron could be forgiven for hoping that the political strife was over. But even 8,000 miles away in Asia [the PM flew from Indonesia to Malaysia earlier this morning], Cameron can't escape the aftershocks of George Osborne's statement. The outcry over the Chancellor's decision to impose a cap of £50,000 on tax relief for charitable donors is reaching a crescendo and Cameron has already hinted at a U-turn. Speaking in Jakarta yesterday, he said:

George Osborne said in the budget very carefully we would look at the effect on charitable donations because we want to encourage charitable giving... We'll look very sympathetically at these concerns

He has every reason to be sympathetic. A move intended to limit tax avoidance could end up strangling the PM's cherished "big society". A survey by the Charities Aid Foundation shows that nine out of 10 charities fear the plans will result in a drop in donations. The foundation's John Low speaks of "widespread alarm and despair" among charities. 88 per cent of the 120 charity executives surveyed believe that the cap will have a "negative impact on the value of donations" from major donors, while 56 per cent fear donations will fall by some 20 per cent.

In addition, there is pressure from Fleet Street and a significant number of Tory MPs to think again. Mark Pritchard, the secretary of the backbench 1922 Committee, commented: “This appears to be going in the opposite direction of encouraging philanthropy and major giving to charity.”

However, with the new rules not due to come into place until April 2013, there is time for a compromise. The Times (£) reports that one idea under consideration is to exempt high-value, “once in a lifetime” legacies from the new cap. Another option would be to limit the cap to donations to foreign charities, some of which do little or no charitable work.  Low's warning that a measure intended to hit the rich could end up hurting the most vulnerable is a cogent one.

Politically, the cap on charity tax relief is yet another example [cf. "the granny tax" and "the pasty tax"] of a measure the government has struggled to both explain and to defend. There are plausible arguments for all three taxes [ensuring the elderly contribute to deficit reduction, removing an anomaly that favours large traders over small ones, reducing tax avoidance by the wealthy] but Cameron and Osborne only seem to make them once it's already too late. The Daily Mail's caustic observation that the pair may now regret that they "swanned off to America" the week before the Budget will hurt because it is true.

David Cameron talks to sudents at The Al Azhar University on April 12, 2012 in Jakarta. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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There’s no other explanation for Boris Johnson – he must be a Russian spy

When you look back over Johnson’s journalistic career, it soon becomes apparent that he was in the right place at the right time too often for it all to have been a coincidence.

I had a hunch some time ago, but a source very close to the Federal Security Service strongly implied it during an odd meeting that we recently had at a hotel in Charing Cross, London: Boris Johnson is an agent of deep Russian penetration. Obviously his first name is a bluff – Boris the Bear has been hiding in plain view of millions of us Britons. I have no idea when he was recruited (on this matter, my informant remained obstinately silent), but if we look back over the Foreign Secretary’s career, the evidence is clear.

Take his well-known inability to keep his trousers on. It might be imagined that a bedheaded Don Juan was the last person you’d entrust to enter the “wilderness of mirrors”, as the secret world is often euphemised. But if Boris were a Russian agent, his physical jerkiness would make perfect sense. All intelligence agencies use blackmail to control their assets and honeytraps are the preferred way of doing it.

However, what if you instructed your agent to keep his muzzle more or less permanently in the honey jar? Under such circumstances, it would be altogether impossible for MI5 to compromise him: “Boris shags secretary/colleague/newspaper editor”, say, would hardly be news.

Speaking of news, when you look back over Johnson’s journalistic career, it soon becomes apparent that he was in the right place at the right time too often for it all to have been a coincidence. His stint at the Daily Telegraph’s Brussels bureau, for instance, began in the year that the Berlin Wall fell. Johnson’s articles, in which he sniped consistently at the European Commission, helped to exacerbate the tensions between Tory Eurosceptics and Europhiles – fissures which, as the world has turned, have grown, precipitating the sort of fragmentation that the Kremlin’s spymasters seek to create in the West.

With my novelistic hat on, I can say that Johnson’s literary style has always bothered me. Replete with recondite yet poorly understood terms and half-digested quotations, his prose has the pretentious clunkiness you would expect from someone who isn’t writing in their first language. My suspicions, inchoate for years, have now acquired palpable form: Johnson doesn’t write any of this magoosalum. It’s all typed up by Russian hacks, leaving him free to shin up the greasy pole . . .

And slide along the Emirati-sponsored zip wire, as well. It has always seemed strange, Johnson’s apparently wilful determination to place himself in undignified positions. But again, it makes sense when you know that it is part of an elaborate act, intended to subvert our ancient institutions and the dignity of our high offices of state.

The dribs and drabs of distinctly Russian racism – the “piccaninnies” and “watermelon smiles” that fall from his permanently pink lips – are yet more evidence of the long hours he has spent being debriefed. An agent of deep penetration will live for years under so-called natural cover, a sleeper, waiting to be activated by his masters.

But it’s predictable that while waiting, Johnson’s handlers should have instructed him to throw suspicion off by adopting contrarian positions – his call for demonstrations outside the Russian embassy in London to protest against the bombing of Aleppo is entirely consistent with this – and it has also had the beneficial effect of further emphasising British weakness and impotence.

You might have thought that Vladimir Putin (who apparently refers to Johnson affectionately, in private, as “Little Bear” or “Pooh”) would want one of his most precious assets to shin right to the top of that greasy pole. Not so, and the debacle surrounding the Tories’ post-Brexit night of the long knives, which was revealed in Tim Shipman’s new book, was in reality a complex manoeuvre designed expressly to place Putin’s man (or bear) in the Foreign Office. Johnson’s flip-flopping over whether to come out for Leave or Remain makes no sense if we consider him to be a principled and thoughtful politician, loyal to his constituency – but becomes understandable once we see the strings and realise that he’s nothing but a marionette, twisting and turning at his puppeteers’ prompting.

After all, prime ministers can be rather impotent figures, whereas foreign secretaries bestride the world stage. No, the only way that Putin can be sure to have his way – bombing Aleppo back to the Stone Age, subverting Ukrainian independence – is by having his beloved Pooh bumbling about at summit meetings. Think back to Johnson’s tenure as mayor of London and the vast river of Russian lucre that flowed into the City. The Kremlin has also been able to manipulate errant oligarchs as if they, too,
were marionettes.

And now comes the final proof, as if any were needed: the government’s decision to support a third runway for Heathrow. Will Johnson resign over this matter of deepest principle? Will he truly represent his Uxbridge and South Ruislip constituents who labour night and day under a toxic smir to the accompaniment of jet howls? Will he hell. There will be a few of his characteristically garbled statements on the matter and then he will fall silent. You all know that slightly sleepy yet concentrating expression that comes over his face when he thinks that the cameras are pointed elsewhere? That’s when Johnson is receiving his instructions through a concealed earpiece.

Should we worry that our Foreign Secretary is in the control of a sinister and manipulative foreign demagogue? Well, probably not too much. After all, think back to previous incumbents: great statesmen such as Jack Straw, Margaret Beckett and William Hague. Do you really imagine that any of them struck fear deep into the heart of the Russian military-industrial complex? 

Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 27 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, American Rage