No, I shall not be handing my pensioner perks back to the Treasury, as Iain Duncan Smith suggests. There’s no knowing what the government would do with the money. Most likely, it would spend it on further tax cuts for the rich.
There is something perverse and illogical about making a benefit available and then asking people to give it back. Though winter fuel allowances arrive automatically if you are over 62, the simplest way for the rich to forgo their free bus passes and, if they are over 75, free TV licences is not to apply for them in the first place. No doubt they could also insist on paying for their prescriptions and eye tests. I have never heard of anybody doing so. Though most rich people, I’d guess, wouldn’t wish to take the bus (such a rough ride and so many poor people), affluent residents of Greater London cheerfully use the Freedom Pass, which allows Underground travel without charge, and often boast about it, as Joanna Lumley did the other day.
The government has trouble persuading many rich folk to pay taxes that are legally required, so why it expects them to surrender benefits to which they are entitled is unclear. Introducing voluntary principles to financial transactions between state and citizen is to move into dangerous territory. How long before ministers suggest that the 45p rate of income tax paid by high earners should be optional?
Many people talk about pensioner perks as though they were part of the fabric of the welfare state. In reality, they were introduced quite recently, mostly by Gordon Brown, as electoral bribes. It has dawned on politicians that the old can swing elections. Not only are pensioners the group most likely to vote, their numbers are growing. Those now reaching or approaching pensionable age came to maturity in the late 1960s and 1970s, when the political tribes began to dissolve. Unlike previous generations, they do not have fixed voting habits; they are biddable. Several writers, including the universities minister David Willetts, have lamented how young people face worse prospects than their parents did – but it would need a brave and skilful political leader to redress the balance.
What fun to follow the Twitter dispute between the BBC political presenter Andrew Neil and the Kent University journalism professor Tim Luckhurst. It ranged over Neil’s role in launching Sky TV and Luckhurst’s brief tenure in 2000 as editor of the Scotsmanwhen Neil was editor-in-chief. The spat culminated in Neil offering to “pay to straighten your teeth”, presumably after he rearranges them in a bout of fisticuffs.
I was reminded of how, in one of his less inspired moments, Geoffrey Robinson, then the proprietor of the NS, arranged for me and some colleagues to visit Neil at his London offices. We were to seek his wisdom on how to boost circulation, which, as Neil demonstrated to us with graphs, he had done (it turned out temporarily) at the Scotsman. The PowerPoint presentation concluded, we awaited his magic formula. “Ye blow it up from the inside!” he barked. “Take an old, established institution and blow it up!”
Crime and reason
The explanation for falling crime figures, which, against predictions, continued falling during austerity, eludes even the most omniscient commentators. Michael Howard’s claim that it’s because, as home secretary in the mid-1990s, he started locking up more criminals doesn’t make sense because crime is down across the developed world.
My theory is that crime hasn’t actually fallen – it has just changed. When your bank rings to notify you of “unauthorised” use of your debit or credit card, you probably don’t think of yourself as a crime victim. The bank tells you to shred the card and sends you a new one. Neither you nor the bank informs the police. You don’t, therefore, show up in the figures.
For the criminal, this and other forms of “invisible” crime, mostly online fraud, make perfect sense. Why work unsocial hours burgling houses in dangerous conditions and risk getting cold and wet when money can be made sitting in comfort at home? My theory admittedly doesn’t account for the fall in violent crime. Until you think that the internet offers ample opportunities for violence in a different form. See above.
The University of Buckingham Press has sent me a slim and rather eccentric volume, Defying Decrepitude, written by the university’s former vice-chancellor Sir Alan Peacock, a distinguished economist.
At 91, Peacock reports from the distant land of extreme longevity on how visits to surgeries and clinics play an increasing role in life as the body falters. What he doesn’t know – because it wasn’t true more than 20 years ago, when he was in his sixties – is that medicine now intervenes long before anything is wrong with you. I have no significant illness or disability and have never spent a single night in hospital (I touch wood as I write). Yet I am required to visit my local surgery regularly for tests and reviews and, each morning and evening, to ingest a variety of medicines. We used to see doctors when we were ill, hoping they’d make us well. Now, we see them when we’re well, hoping they don’t make us ill.