Short-changing the kids

This Budget put profit before young people.

The Chancellor's key soundbite during his Budget speech was that Britain will be "held aloft by the march of the makers", but it will also be accompanied by the silent march to the jobcentre by the young jobless – especially those aged 16-19.

No one seems to have noticed that Osborne's Budget was void of any substantial help for them. Instead, he offered tax breaks for corporations, to help their profit margins. And even what scraps he did offer had nothing to alleviate the pressures faced by young people in this country today.

The government will say it is increasing apprenticeships by 12,500 a year. Although this is of course welcome, ultimately it will be possible only if there are jobs created. More importantly, however, it has nothing to offer the almost 200,000 young people doing NVQs, many of whom will be receiving EMA or will have to complete the course to be able to go on to do an actual apprenticeship.

The Budget did not have a single word to say to these young people. If anything, George Osborne's silence on this speaks volumes for this government's overall commitment to the young.

Take the news on stamp duty: the average age of a first-time housebuyer is 30 and is expected by some to rise to 44. Or the raising of the personal allowance: this won't help the almost one million unemployed young people in the country. And as only 23 per cent of 16-to-17-year-olds were in employment in the last quarter of 2010, this is clearly not something the majority of adolescents can benefit from.

Then there was the headline announcement: a penny off fuel duty, accompanied by fare rises of 6.2 per cent on average. How will this help young people, when so many more of them use public transport?

You would think that, faced with such facts, the last thing a government would do, if it really had the interests of young people at heart, would be to continue scrapping EMA, especially after a number of leading economists last week signed an open letter in support of the policy. Osborne could have even looked at his own Budget, as on page 33 of the Red Book it even states that participation in learning by 16-to-18-year-olds has continued to rise.

But no extra money will come from the Treasury for EMA's planned replacement, meaning that it will have to be found from within the Education Department, leading to further education cuts.

There are strong rumours that the extra funding will come from careers advice for 16-to-19-year-olds, an area heavily deprived of funds already. Only this week leading head teachers warned the government that closing the Connexions youth service will put almost two million young people at risk of having to enter the job market bereft of advice.

The English economic historian and advocate of further education R H Tawney wrote of education in England in the 1920s that the biggest obstacle it faced was that "the prevailing temper of Englishmen is to regard as most important that which is commercially profitable, and as of only inferior importance that which is not". Ninety years later, it still rings true.

James Mills is part of the Save EMA campaign.

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Andy Burnham and Sadiq Khan are both slippery self-mythologisers – so why do we rate one more than the other?

Their obsessions with their childhoods have both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

Andy Burnham is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s widely seen as an unprincipled flip-flopper.

Sadiq Khan is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s the hugely popular mayor of London, the voice of those who’d be proud to think of themselves as the metropolitan liberal elite, and is even talked of as a possible future leader of the Labour party.

Oh, and also they were both born in 1970. So that’s a thing they have in common, too.

Why it is this approach to politics should have worked so much better for the mayor of London than the would-be mayor of Manchester is something I’ve been trying to work out for a while. There are definite parallels between Burnham’s attempts to present himself as a normal northern bloke who likes normal things like football, and Sadiq’s endless reminders that he’s a sarf London geezer whose dad drove a bus. They’ve both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

And yes, Burnham apparent tendency to switch sides, on everything from NHS privatisation to the 2015 welfare vote to the leadership of Jeremy Corbyn, has given him a reputation for slipperiness. But Sadiq’s core campaign pledge was to freeze London transport fares; everyone said it was nonsense, and true to form it was, and you’d be hard pressed to find an observer who thought this an atypical lapse on the mayor’s part. (Khan, too, has switched sides on the matter of Jeremy Corbyn.)

 And yet, he seems to get away with this, in a way that Burnham doesn’t. His low-level duplicity is factored in, and it’s hard to judge him for it because, well, it’s just what he’s like, isn’t it? For a long time, the Tory leadership’s line on London’s last mayor was “Boris is Boris”, meaning, look, we don’t trust him either, but what you gonna do? Well: Sadiq is Sadiq.

Even the names we refer to them by suggest that one of these two guys is viewed very differently from the other. I’ve instinctively slipped into referring to the mayor of London by his first name: he’s always Sadiq, not Khan, just as his predecessors were Boris and Ken. But, despite Eoin Clarke’s brief attempt to promote his 2015 leadership campaign with a twitter feed called “Labour Andy”, Burnham is still Burnham: formal, not familiar. 

I’ve a few theories to explain all this, though I’ve no idea which is correct. For a while I’ve assumed it’s about sincerity. When Sadiq Khan mentions his dad’s bus for the 257th time in a day, he does it with a wink to the audience, making a crack about the fact he won’t stop going on about it. That way, the message gets through to the punters at home who are only half listening, but the bored lobby hacks who’ve heard this routine two dozen times before feel they’re in the joke.

Burnham, it seems to me, lacks this lightness of touch: when he won’t stop banging on about the fact he grew up in the north, it feels uncomfortably like he means it. And to take yourself seriously in politics is sometimes to invite others to make jokes at your expense.

Then again, perhaps the problem is that Burnham isn’t quite sincere enough. Sadiq Khan genuinely is the son of a bus-driving immigrant: he may keep going on about it, but it is at least true. Burnham’s “just a northern lad” narrative is true, too, but excludes some crucial facts: that he went to Cambridge, and was working in Parliament aged 24. Perhaps that shouldn’t change how we interpret his story; but I fear, nonetheless, it does.

Maybe that’s not it, though: maybe I’m just another London media snob. Because Burnham did grow up at the disadvantaged end of the country, a region where, for too many people, chasing opportunities means leaving. The idea London is a city where the son of a bus driver can become mayor flatters our metropolitan self-image; the idea that a northerner who wants to build a career in politics has to head south at the earliest opportunity does the opposite. 

So if we roll our eyes when Burnham talks about the north, perhaps that reflects badly on us, not him: the opposite of northern chippiness is southern snobbery.

There’s one last possibility for why we may rate Sadiq Khan more highly than Andy Burnham: Sadiq Khan won. We can titter a little at the jokes and the fibs but he is, nonetheless, mayor of London. Andy Burnham is just the bloke who lost two Labour leadership campaigns.

At least – for now. In six weeks time, he’s highly likely to the first mayor of Greater Manchester. Slipperiness is not the worst quality in a mayor; and so much of the job will be about banging the drum for the city, and the region, that Burnham’s tendency to wear his northernness on his sleeve will be a positive boon.

Sadiq Khan’s stature has grown because the fact he became London’s mayor seems to say something, about the kind of city London is and the kind we want it to be. Perhaps, after May, Andy Burnham can do the same for the north – and the north can do the same for Andy Burnham.

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.