How a salary insurance scheme would work

The unemployed would receive a higher level of support and pay back when they return to work.

On yesterday's Newsnight, James Purnell made two big argument about how we could make people trust and respect the welfare state again. First, that it should provide fewer, bigger things that would really make a difference to people's lives, rather than many smaller ones that are marginal in the good times and insufficient in the bad. And second, that the principle of contribution should be revived, so that people get something out in return for what they put in.

This would reverse the approach of successive government over recent decades, which has been to maintain a permanent rear-guard action against the threat of a taxpayer rebellion by making the welfare state tougher for those on benefits. Conditionality has an important role to play, but this is an essentially defensive tactic, rather than a positive strategy. For those of us who see a strong welfare state as essential to advancing social justice and full employment, this won't do. The solution is to not only make welfare more demanding, but also more protective too.

This insight opens up the potential to develop a popular, majoritarian agenda for welfare. As a first step along that road, IPPR is today publishing a report proposing National Salary Insurance (NSI). This would offer anyone who had made enough national insurance contributions but became unemployed up to 70 per cent of their previous earnings in non-means tested support for up to six months, capped at a maximum of £200 a week.

NSI would incorporate the existing £67.50 a week of contributory JSA, trebling the amount of support available to working people when they lose their job - while not affecting their entitlement to other benefits or tax credits. This would help protect people from the dramatic drop in income they face on losing their job, which can often trigger a spiral of further (costly) problems, like losing their home, relationship breakdown or racking up unaffordable debt. Based on recent JSA flows, we estimate that between 700,000 and one million people each year could be entitled to NSI.

To make the scheme affordable, the extra amount in NSI - up to £132.50 a week - would be repaid once people were back in work and could afford to do so, charged at a zero real rate of interest. There would be a cap on the amount that people could borrow at any one time, equivalent to the maximum support for the full six months (£3,445). Eighty per cent of people claiming JSA get back to work inside six months and as people paid back, they would become entitled to the help again.

In short, NSI would offer much greater security to people when it is really needed, without imposing significant new net costs on the state. Based on the design of the student loans system, the net liability to the state of NSI would be between £180m and £520m a year - though because people would be able to borrow less and have to pay back sooner, there are good reasons for thinking it would be even cheaper.

For much of the 20th century unemployment benefit was paid at reasonable levels of generosity to people who had lost their job after having paid into the system. Over the last three decades, however, the contributory principle has been eroded (with means testing becomingly increasingly dominant), while the real value of the jobseeker's allowance (JSA) has declined significantly relative to average earnings. Today, the average 'replacement rate' for British workers - the proportion of previous earnings they can get if they lose their job - is 54 per cent, compared to 70 per cent or more for many of our European neighbours, including some with higher employment rates than ours (like Denmark and the Netherlands).

So people not only worry to others are taking advantage of the system unfairly, they also feel - often rightly - that the system won't really be there for them if they need it. In response to this problem, NSI would significantly provide real income security in a more risky world, while reinforcing the principle that people are rewarded for contributing to the system.

NSI contributes to the big task of rethinking the centre-left's approach to welfare in a post-crash era. Alongside ensuring that people on benefits fulfil their obligations to look for work in return for the support they receive, this reform can help to make the welfare state popular again - by showing that it demands more and protects better.

Graeme Cooke is Visiting Fellow at IPPR

Graeme Cooke is Associate Director at IPPR

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Nigel Farage's love for Dunkirk shows how Brexiteers learned the wrong lessons from WWII

Film has given Britain a dangerously skewed perspective on World War II

For months now it’s been hard to avoid the publicity for what seems like an epidemic of new World War Two films for 2017. June brought us Churchill (starring Brian Cox), which concerns Operation Overlord and the allied invasion of Normandy in 1944. A month later, in July we were pushed back four years, to Dunkirk, with Christopher Nolan’s film of the evacuation of Allied troops from French soil in the summer of 1940. April had already brought Their Finest, a comedy about making a - let us not let the irony go unacknowledged -  stirring film about the evacuation of Dunkirk in the event’s more or less immediate aftermath and November will bring us Darkest Hour, some events in which will predate all three earlier films, as Gary Oldman’s Churchill struggles through the earliest days of his war premiership.

This glut is peculiar. There are no significant round anniversaries to commemorate (e.g. Dunkirk is 77 years ago, the Normandy landings 73). More, we’re meant to be in the middle of a series of commemorations of the horror and waste of the Great War of 1914-18, but that seems to have slipped away from us in the political turmoil that’s engulfed this country since 2014. Instead, it’s to the Second World War we return yet again. To modern Britain’s founding myth.

It’s a coincidence, of course, that these films should come along together, and at a seemingly odd time. They were developed separately, and films takes so long to conceive and produce that no one could have anticipated them arriving together, let alone arriving in a toxic Brexit Britain where they seem like literally the least useful things for anyone in the UK to watch right now. As works that will inevitably, whatever their own creative intentions and merits, be hi-jacked by a press and political culture that is determined to gloss its opposition to the UK’s membership of the European Union, and its appalling mishandling of the process of exit with garbled references to, the conflict the films portray.

This is an impression that is not exactly dismissed by Nigel Farage posting to twitter of an image of himself standing next to the poster for Dunkirk, along with a statement in which he encourages all young people to see the film. For what reason, we’re entitled to wonder, does he make this encouragement? Does he admire the sound design? Or the aerial photography? Or is he just a big fan of Mark Rylance and Harry Styles? Or perhaps he is, inevitably, indulging in a behaviour that some might call "nostalgic"? Of pining for the past. Except, of course, nostalgia requires an element of pain. The suffix "algia" the same as employed when referring to chronic conditions. For Farage and his ilk there is no pain in this behaviour, just the most extraordinarily banal comfort.

Farage is asking us and asking the young who voted against his chosen cause by an overwhelming majority, and who are are sickened by where he and his ilk have brought us - to share in his indulgence. To enjoy, as he does, those fatuous analogies between the UK’s isolation between Dunkirk and Pearl Harbour with its imminent failures in European politics. To see that "escaping from Europe with nothing is at least better than not escaping at all". Or to believe, once again, in a "plucky little Britain, standing up against the might of a wicked mainland European tyranny, its back against the wall".

All this, confused, indeed nonsensical, as it is, is being invoked, as surely as the anti-EU right have always invoked Churchill. This is despite his own family recognising him, as the EU itself does, as the fervent pro-European he was. Indeed, he was one of the founding fathers of the whole post-war pan-European enterprise.

What Farage and his behaviour demonstrates, yet again, is that British culture, in many ways, learned not merely the wrong lessons from the war against Hitler, but exactly the wrong lessons. It’s a lesson that found its most enduring, poisonous expression in Margaret Thatcher’s breathtaking assertion that the European Union was a "third attempt" by Germany to take over the world.

In contrast to the rush of war films in cinemas, television has recently given us glimpses into theoretical worlds where Nazism did succeed in conquering the planet, in Amazon Prime’s The Man In The High Castle and BBC One’s SS-GB. There are lessons too, in these alternative histories, proper lessons that we have collectively failed to learn from the real one. Which is that fascism or authoritarianism are not diseases to which anglophone countries are somehow miraculously immune due to [insert misunderstood historical fetish of choice].

The Man in the High Castle, particularly in its more subtle first series, goes out of its way to show Americans that their lack of experience of collaboration with Nazi occupation is a result of circumstance, even luck. Not because collaboration is a peculiarly European tendency. SS-GB also worked hard to demonstrate the helplessness of occupation, and how that leads to the sheer ordinariness of collaboration. Both show the understanding that while fascism from the outside is funny accents and funny uniforms, fascism from the inside is your neighbours informing on you and the absence of the rule of law.

That experience of occupation, of subsequent complicity, and humiliation, felt by many other other European nations, is absent in Britain. Farage’s fellow Leaver Liam Fox, without anything resembling self-awareness, asserted that "the United Kingdom is one of the few countries in the European Union that does not need to bury its 20th century history". Fox’s remark summed up, again seemingly unintentionally, the oafishness of the principle Brexiteers. A group who exemplify a culture that boils a vast and unimaginably complex conflict down to the title sequence of Dad’s Army - an animation in which a Union Flag is forced off the European continent by a trio of Nazi triangles, and after returning home bobs around defiantly. A group who, in a strange and witless inversion, have fantasised themselves into a position where they see the Britain’s membership of the European Union as the occupation the country once avoided.

This is the UK’s postponed tragedy. At a timethat European countries experienced national humiliations which fundamentally reconfigured their understandings of their place in the world, the UK got yet another excuse to shout about how much better it was than everyone else.

I’m a child of the very late Seventies. I grew up in a world where (British) boys’ comics were dominated by war stories rather than science fiction or superheroes, where literally everyone knew several people who had fought in World War Two - and almost everyone someone who could remember World War One. That war was the ever-present past. I am, as a friend who teaches history neatly phrased it "Of the last post-war generation." After me, the generations are post-post-war. They are free. The moral clarity of the war against Hitler has, in the end, been a curse on British culture - a distorting mirror in which we can always see ourselves as heroes. 

But, not, of course, all other generations. The war generation collectively (I make no claim that there were not exceptions) understood what the war was. Which meant they understood that the European Union was, and is, its antonym, not an extension of it. Unlike their children and the eldest of their grandchildren, they had real experience of the conflict, they hadn’t just grown up surrounded by films about how great Britain was during it.

The Prime Minister who, or so he thought, had secured Britain’s European destiny had also, as he related in his autobiography, seen the devastation wrought by that conflict, including by shells he himself had given the order to be fired. Like Helmut Kohl, whose worshipped, conscripted older brother died pointlessly fighting for Hitler, and Francois Mitterrand, himself captured during the fall of France, his experience was real and lived, not second hand.

This can be seen even in the voting in 2016 referendum. That the young principally voted Remain and the old voted Leave has been often noted. But if you break that over-65 vote up further, there’s a substantial flip to back towards Remain amongst the oldest voters, the survivors of the survivors of World War Two. After all, someone who is 65 today was born nearly a decade after the war ended. It was their parents’ war, not their own. A war that has been appropriated, and for purposes of which those who fought in it would, collectively, not approve.

Let’s return to Dad’s Army, after all, BBC Two does often enough. Don’t Panic! The Dad’s Army Story (2000) a cheerful history of the sitcom great written and presented by Victoria Wood contains a telling juxtaposition of interviewees. The series' surprising continued popularity is discussed and Wendy Richard (born 1943) expresses a nostalgia for the war years, and how people banded together during them. This is a sentiment which Clive Dunn (born 1920) bluntly dismisses. “Like most people I had a foul war,” he says, and disgust and horror briefly pass across his face.

It’s the difference between those who remember war, and those who only remember war films.