Coalition should "come clean" on child poverty

Even the government doesn't think it can meet its own targets. A new plan is needed.

In his first speech as the government's child poverty adviser, Alan Milburn today told the coalition to "come clean" on the impossibility of meeting the poverty reduction targets enshrined in the 2010 Child Poverty Act. The challenge of reducing child poverty to less than 10 per cent by 2020 has been laid bare by analysis revealing the heavy work done by tax credits in raising family incomes above the poverty line over the last 15 years. Work did not do enough: parental employment rates rose considerably over this period but low wages limited the contribution of paid work to reducing family poverty.

This is now the central challenge for the child poverty agenda: how to reduce poverty when the only tool that been shown to be effective -- more generous cash transfers -- is no longer available on any meaningful scale. The task is made harder by analysis highlighting the contribution that women's paid work has made to rising family incomes over the last few decades. This source of income is likely to diminish as public sector jobs are lost and support for childcare is reduced for some families. As a result, the Institute for Fiscal Studies has stated that it's "almost incredible" that the child poverty targets can be met as they stand.

So Alan Milburn is right to challenge both the coalition and Labour to get real about child poverty. The Chancellor's Autumn Statement, featuring cuts to tax credits that will push 100,000 more children into poverty, implicitly confirmed that the government doesn't think it can meet its own targets either. But officially the coalition remains committed to the 2010 Act, so it needs to say where it will focus its efforts. Milburn makes a strong case for prioritising the under fives, ensuring that no child is born into poverty. If we cannot afford to lift all children out of poverty, concentrating on the youngest gives them the best chance to flourish later in life.

The importance of raising incomes in poor families is obvious, but families also need good quality services to give children the best start. There is no "either/or" deal here. Milburn's call for the coalition to set out a long-term plan to deliver free childcare for all families is right. IPPR research shows that universal childcare could pay for itself over the medium-term once the extra taxes paid by working parents are taken into account, while the extra earnings would help lift many families out of poverty. A mechanism for enabling childcare spend to contribute towards the child poverty targets would drive a duel strategy of investment in incomes and services. In the longer term, labour market reforms that support higher wages for parents would take some of the burden off the benefits system.

The public's ambiguous support for ending child poverty demonstrates the failure of this agenda to resonate with families. Milburn's broader plea to locate the child poverty debate in a wider discussion of economic security is spot on. Few families are continually stuck in deep poverty, but many move in and out of poverty as short-term jobs come to an end or families grow. Free childcare, flexible working opportunities, decent wages and job security matter for most low-to-mid income families, not just the poorest.

Kayte Lawton is a senior research fellow at the IPPR

Kayte Lawton is senior research fellow at IPPR.

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times