Support for higher public spending rises after Osborne's cuts

The number who want higher spending, even with higher taxes, has risen for the first time in nine years.

The majority of George Osborne's cuts are still to come but support for higher public spending, even if it means higher taxes, has already increased. Last year, according to the 2012 British Social Attitudes report, thirty six per cent of people said they wanted to see the government "increase taxes and spend more on health, education and social benefits", up from 31% in 2010 and the first increase for nearly a decade (see graph below). The majority (55%) said they would like to see spending levels remain the same, while just six per cent favoured lower taxes and lower spending.

Since around 88% of the coalition's cuts have yet to be made, this is likely to be the beginning of a shift back towards support for a larger state. In 1991, for instance, after the Thatcher government's comparatively minor cuts, 65 per cent said they wanted to see taxes and spending rise but this figure fell in response to Labour's spending increases.

Public support for higher spending rose from 31% in 2010 to 36% last year.

With some Conservatives arguing that the ring-fence on NHS spending should be removed, it's also worth noting that 68 per cent chose health as their first or second priority for extra government spending, with education in second place on 61 per cent, followed by police and prisons (15 per cent) and housing (14 per cent). Expect Tory MPs, angered by the coalition's decision to increase spending on international development by 35 per cent, to highlight the fact that overseas aid finished bottom, with just one per cent citing it as a spending priority. By contrast, 10 per cent favoured higher spending on defence, the one budget many Conservatives would like to see protected.

The right will also draw comfort from clear support for a more restrictive welfare system. During the early-1990s recession, 58 per cent wanted to see more spending on welfare benefits but now just 28 per cent do. Only 59 per cent agree that the government should be the main provider of support to the unemployed, down from 88 per cent a decade ago. Support for spending more on the disabled, traditionally viewed as the most deserving group, has also declined, although given the media's demonisation of welfare receipients this is perhaps unsurprising. Since 2008, the proportion saying that spending on disabled benefits should be increased has declined significantly from 63 per cent to 53 per cent. As the report notes, "This trend is not just a cyclical response to the ups and downs of economic activity; it suggests a fundamental long-term change in attitudes towards welfare and benefit recipients."

On immigration, while 51 per cent would like to see levels reduced "a lot" (up from 39 per cent in 1995) and a further 24 per cent would like to see levels reduced "a little", there is strong support for skilled migration. In total, 63 per cent say that skilled migration from eastern Europe is "good" or "very good" for Britain, while 61 per cent say the same about skilled migration "from Muslim countries like Pakistan".

Ed Miliband has been criticised by some on the left for responding to public concern about welfare and immigration but these findings suggest he is right to argue that Labour cannot be seen to accept the status quo. In the case of welfare, that means support for a more contributory system, and in the case of immigration, that means tighter regulation of the labour market to ensure that bosses cannot use foreign workers to undercut domestic wages.

Support for higher public spending has risen since George Osborne's cuts programme began. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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In the 1980s, I went to a rally where Labour Party speakers shared the stage with men in balaclavas

The links between the Labour left and Irish republicanism are worth investigating.

A spat between Jeremy Corbyn’s henchfolk and Conor McGinn, the MP for St Helens North, caught my ear the other evening. McGinn was a guest on BBC Radio 4’s Westminster Hour, and he obligingly revisited the brouhaha for the listeners at home. Apparently, following an interview in May, in which McGinn called for Corbyn to “reach out beyond his comfort zone”, he was first threatened obliquely with the sack, then asked for a retraction (which he refused to give) and finally learned – from someone in the whips’ office – that his party leader was considering phoning up McGinn’s father to whip the errant whipper-in into line. On the programme, McGinn said: “The modus operandi that he [Corbyn] and the people around him were trying to do [sic], involving my family, was to isolate and ostracise me from them and from the community I am very proud to come from – which is an Irish nationalist community in south Armagh.”

Needless to say, the Labour leader’s office has continued to deny any such thing, but while we may nurture some suspicions about his behaviour, McGinn was also indulging in a little airbrushing when he described south Armagh as an “Irish ­nationalist community”. In the most recent elections, Newry and Armagh returned three Sinn Fein members to the Northern Ireland Assembly (as against one Social Democratic and Labour Party member) and one Sinn Fein MP to Westminster. When I last looked, Sinn Fein was still a republican, rather than a nationalist, party – something that McGinn should only be too well aware of, as the paternal hand that was putatively to have been lain on him belongs to Pat McGinn, the former Sinn Fein mayor of Newry and Armagh.

According to the Irish News, a “close friend” of the McGinns poured this cold water on the mini-conflagration: “Anybody who knows the McGinn family knows that Pat is very proud of Conor and that they remain very close.” The friend went on to opine: “He [Pat McGinn] found the whole notion of Corbyn phoning him totally ridiculous – as if Pat is going to criticise his son to save Jeremy Corbyn’s face. They would laugh about it were it not so sinister.”

“Sinister” does seem the mot juste. McGinn, Jr grew up in Bessbrook during the Troubles. I visited the village in the early 1990s on assignment. The skies were full of the chattering of British army Chinooks, and there were fake road signs in the hedgerows bearing pictograms of rifles and captioned: “Sniper at work”. South Armagh had been known for years as “bandit country”. There were army watchtowers standing sentinel in the dinky, green fields and checkpoints everywhere, manned by some of the thousands of the troops who had been deployed to fight what was, in effect, a low-level counter-insurgency war. Nationalist community, my foot.

What lies beneath the Corbyn-McGinn spat is the queered problematics of the ­relationship between the far left wing of the Labour Party and physical-force Irish republicanism. I also recall, during the hunger strikes of the early 1980s, going to a “Smash the H-Blocks” rally in Kilburn, north London, at which Labour Party speakers shared the stage with representatives from Sinn Fein, some of whom wore balaclavas and dark glasses to evade the telephoto lenses of the Met’s anti-terrorist squad.

The shape-shifting relationship between the “political wing” of the IRA and the men with sniper rifles in the south Armagh bocage was always of the essence of the conflict, allowing both sides a convenient fiction around which to posture publicly and privately negotiate. In choosing to appear on platforms with people who might or might not be terrorists, Labour leftists also sprinkled a little of their stardust on themselves: the “stardust” being the implication that they, too, under the right circumstances, might be capable of violence in pursuit of their political ends.

On the far right of British politics, Her Majesty’s Government and its apparatus are referred to derisively as “state”. There were various attempts in the 1970s and 1980s by far-right groupuscules to link up with the Ulster Freedom Fighters and other loyalist paramilitary organisations in their battle against “state”. All foundered on the obvious incompetence of the fascists. The situation on the far left was different. The socialist credentials of Sinn Fein/IRA were too threadbare for genuine expressions of solidarity, but there was a sort of tacit confidence-and-supply arrangement between these factions. The Labour far left provided the republicans with the confidence that, should an appropriately radical government be elected to Westminster, “state” would withdraw from Northern Ireland. What the republicans did for the mainland militants was to cloak them in their penumbra of darkness: without needing to call down on themselves the armed might of “state”, they could imply that they were willing to take it on, should the opportunity arise.

I don’t for a second believe that Corbyn was summoning up these ghosts of the insurrectionary dead when he either did or did not threaten to phone McGinn, Sr. But his supporters need to ask themselves what they’re getting into. Their leader, if he was to have remained true to the positions that he has espoused over many years, should have refused to sit as privy counsellor upon assuming his party office, and refused all the other mummery associated with the monarchical “state”. That he didn’t do so was surely a strategic decision. Such a position would make him utterly unelectable.

The snipers may not be at work in south Armagh just now – but there are rifles out there that could yet be dug up. I wouldn’t be surprised if some in Sinn Fein knew where they are, but one thing’s for certain: Corbyn hasn’t got a clue, bloody or otherwise. 

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 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser