Giving up the conservatory tax leaves the Green Deal in tatters

The government's flagship environmental policy is now tied to an unpopular measure – but they've got

We’ve had the granny tax, the pasty tax, and the caravan tax. This week the phrase "conservatory tax" was added to the lexicon of media uproar over Coalition plans.

The fuss, which started last week over an alleged attempt by the government to force honest homeowners to spend hard-earned cash on energy upgrades to their homes every time they get the builders in, has now been neutralised by heavy Downing Street briefing that Cameron will block the policy. 

However, the story of this debate about this previously obscure amendment to building regulations is particularly instructive as it goes to the heart of how the government has failed to fulfil Cameron’s pledge to be the "greenest government ever".

And furthermore, Cameron’s intervention may sound the death knell for the most genuinely progressive environmental policy from the Coalition, the Green Deal.

The story is complicated and has been widely misreported. Basically, it goes like this. In January Eric Pickles’ Communities department issued a consultation on changes to the part of building regulations that covers the energy performance of homes, called Part L. This contained a measure called, in Whitehall jargon "consequential improvements" – a policy twice considered by New Labour during its decade in office, and twice rejected by ministers as too controversial.

The policy says that whenever a homeowner makes a significant improvement to his or her home, then that home-owner also has to commit to making improvements to the energy efficiency of the rest of the house, to make it closer to the energy performance standards required in modern buildings.

Seen as vital by environmentalists, the policy makes a lot of sense in theory. More than a quarter of carbon emissions come from people’s homes. And while new houses are actually built to very high energy standards, only a very few homes are built each year, meaning the vast majority of the homes we’ll inhabit in 2050 have already been built. Therefore there is no chance of meeting the UK’s long-term carbon cutting targets without addressing the existing stock of leaky Victorian and Edwardian homes.

But clearly "consequential improvements" is politically tricky. The cost to home-owners – even more to home-improvers, the very definition of the aspirational middle class voters every politician wants to woo – is the exact reason Labour twice ditched similar plans. So why did Pickles think he could get away with it?

The answer is the Green Deal. This policy, due to come in to effect in October, will allow the upfront cost of work to increase the energy efficiency of homes to financed by the private sector. As a home owner, you then pay the cost back through your energy bills, but the scheme is designed so that the better energy efficiency of your home mean those bills will still be cheaper.

Vitally, the existence of the Green Deal meant "consequential improvements" – the so-called conservatory tax - could be introduced without triggering direct up-front costs to homeowners. Overall, quite a clever package. Together the two had the potential to be a genuinely game-changing move to make energy efficiency happen. 

But Cameron’s swift capitulation to the Daily Mail’s outrage (nevermind that your conservatory would have to be 30 sq metres to trigger the improvements), potentially leaves the Green Deal in tatters. 

The government itself predicts that without consequential improvements, the uptake of the Green Deal will be miserable. It’s estimates say that, as it coincides with the ending of the regime of utilities subsidising energy-efficiency measures, the number of loft and cavity wall insulation installations is set to plummet – by up to 93 per cent in the case of loft insulation.

The reason is that simply taking away the up-front cost of improving your home isn’t enough to get people to do it – given all the attendant hassle – even if it makes financial sense. Put simply, people just have better things to do with their time.

Consequential improvements had been seen as the one measure that could conquer this home-owner inertia. But, yet again, the Coalition seems to have shown itself unwilling to make the case for Green measures when under pressure. Consistently other priorities, notably those driven by theTreasury, win out.

As a result manufacturers of insulation fear their market being killed overnight. Meanwhile building contractors, 22 of whom signed up to deliver home-improvements under the Green Deal, are already starting to scale back their expectations of the work it will generate. The signals from the Department for Energy and Climate Change are that when October does arrive, the Green Deal roll out will be limited – essentially just a pilot.

For the industry, of course, it is not just the benefit of insulated homes that the Green Deal was expected to create, but a huge number of jobs – 65,000 was the government’s final estimate. This is now imperilled, with the inevitable impact upon economic growth (or lack of it).

Meanwhile, Tory sources seem to be briefing the Guardian that the whole thing is a mess created by the Lib Dems – even though the Green Deal was originally a Tory policy.

Unless urgent action is taken, the government’s flagship green policy in the built environment (one, incidentally, with almost total support from both greens and builders) will turn into a fiasco.

Two women speak in front of a conservatory. Photograph: Getty Images

Joey Gardiner is assistant editor at Building magazine

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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.