What does Miliband mean by the "structural" welfare bill?

It doesn't even need capping.

Ed Miliband will cap "structural welfare spending" if he is elected in 2015, he announced today, saying that "such a cap will alert the next Labour government to problems coming down the track and ensure that we make policy to keep the social security budget in limits."

It's not entirely clear what Miliband means by "structural" welfare spending at this point. It could just be a political fudge, designed to mimic the Conservatives' similarly fudgy focus on the "structural" deficit. The structural deficit is a particularly difficult thing to actually measure, because it relies on three pieces of information all of which are themselves uncertain: the output gap, the relation of public spending to economic growth, and the response of tax revenues to both.

Get any of them wrong, and your estimate of the structural deficit is off; get all three wrong, and you can be billions of pounds off the mark. And look at just the variation in the estimates of the output gap, via Touchstone:

But whereas the structural deficit is at least a conventional economic concept, albeit one hugely prone to measurement error, it's not entirely clear what "structural" welfare spending is, and even less clear how to cap it.

The best guess is that the structural welfare bill is the bill which we would expect to see in normal times; in other words, Labour won't view a rise in housing benefit due to the recession as a problem, but would be more concerned if, during the recovery, it fails to drop down to lower levels.

If that is the definition, then it has an interesting outcome once Labour start to cap it, because, as Declan Gaffney showed last month, "there has been no structural increase in the level of aggregate working age welfare spending for a very long time". That's because welfare spending, properly construed, must take into account foregone revenue as well as public expenditure: the most prominent example of which is tax credits. Around £3bn of the cost of tax credits in 2012/13 came from an offset to income tax. Money wasn't being "spent", but it was certainly a cost of welfare.

And when you take into account other taxation expenditures – like the mortgage interest tax relief, which was abolished in 2000 – you find that structural welfare costs have stayed remarkably stable. This chart again from Declan Gaffney's piece:

 

The real question is what "structural" welfare means for people not of working age. Because, thanks to our ageing nation, the state pension liability is growing year-on-year, and even pushing back the pension age by a year from 2026 won't help too much. Of course, it would be possible for Labour to define that increase as something other than structural – "demographic", perhaps – and thereby dodge the question. But if they don't, the key effect of this promise could be that Labour has pledged to cut pensions, two years before a general election against a party which has pledged to keep them above inflation and wage rises indefinitely.

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

Cameron in Nuneaton. Photo: Getty
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Why fewer of us want a long-term relationship ... with a political party

In 2015, 38 per cent of voters backed a different party to the one they supported in 2010. So what does the rise of swing voters mean for British politics?

For decades political parties have competed furiously for one of the great prizes of British politics: the affections of the swing voter. It wasn’t that long ago that there were relatively few political swingers: until the 1990s, fewer than a quarter of voters would switch parties from one election to the next.

Yet that once relatively rare breed is becoming increasingly common, which means party campaigners are going to have to come up with new tactical thinking. The British Election Study survey panels, conducted episodically over the last fifty years, are unique in that they are able to track the same voters from one election to the next, unlike more conventional opinion polls that only look at a snapshot of voters at a given time. Using these studies, you can identify the percentage of voters who switch their vote from one party to another between each pair of elections since 1966 when such data was first collected.

In 1966 only around 13 per cent of voters had changed their minds since the previous election in 1964. Since then, the proportion of swingers has been steadily increasing, and by 2015, 38 per cent of voters backed a different party to the one they supported in 2010.

The increase in swing voters is pretty consistent. The only exceptions are between February and October 1974, when (understandably) fewer voters changed their minds in eight months than switched in the preceding four years, and between 1997 and 2001, when the electoral dominance of New Labour under Tony Blair held back the tide for a time. These two exceptions aside, the increase has been constant election-on-election.

A lot of vote shifting can go on even between elections where the overall result remains stable. In 2001, for example, more people switched votes than in any election before 1997, with a surprising level of turmoil beneath the surface stability. While these largely cancelled out on that occasion, it set the stage for more dramatic changes in the parties’ votes later on.

So British voters now seem more likely than ever to jump from party to party. But who exactly are these swingers? Are they disillusioned former party loyalists? Or have British voters simply stopped getting into a serious relationship with the parties in the first place? We can get some insight into this using data from the yearly British Social Attitudes Survey, looking at the number of respondents who say that they do not identify with any of the political parties (party identifiers tend to switch much less often) when they are asked ‘Generally speaking, do you think of yourself as a supporter of any one political party?’ and then ‘Do you think of yourself as a little closer to one political party than to the others?’ if they say no to the first question. The graph below combines data from 1984 to 2013. Each line represents people who were born in a different year. Higher lines mean that there are more people who do not identify with a political party. So, for instance, voters born in 1955 started with very low levels of non-identification (22 per cent), which have gradually risen to 44 per cent in the latest survey. Most of the lines on the graph go up over time, which shows that almost all generations are falling out of love with the parties.

However, an acquired taste in swinging among the older generations is dwarfed by the promiscuous younger generations – shown by the dashed lines – most of whom never form an attachment to a party at all. Each generation in the data has been less committed to the parties than the previous generation was at the same age, with around 60 per cent of the youngest generation – those born since 1985 – expressing no attachment to any political party.

Since most of this change has been a generational shift, it may be a long road back for the parties. Loyalty to parties is often handed down in families, with children inheriting their parents’ commitment to a party. Now that this process has broken down, and younger generations have lost their attachment to parties, they may in turn pass on this political detachment to their children.

The majority of younger voters have simply never grown up with the idea of getting into a long-term relationship with a political party, so they may never settle down. Many Labour MPs were outraged when it turned out that lots of the new members who joined up to vote for Jeremy Corbyn had voted for the Green Party just a few months before, but this may simply reflect the political approach of a generation who see parties as needing to earn their vote each time rather than commanding lasting, even unconditional loyalty.

If Britain’s newfound taste for swinging isn’t going to disappear any time soon, what does it mean for party competition? In the past most people had settled partisan views, which seldom changed. General elections could be won by attracting the relatively small group of voters who hadn’t made up their minds and could very easily vote for either of the two main parties, so political parties based their strategies around mobilising their core voters and targeting the few waverers. While they worried about traditional loyalists not turning up to the polls, the parties could be assured of their supporters’ votes as long as they got them to the voting booth.

Nowadays, swing voters are no longer a small section of the electorate who are being pulled back and forth by the parties, but a substantial chunk of all voters. This helps to explain why politicians have been so surprised by the sudden rise of new parties competing for groups previously thought to be reliable supporters. The new parties that have entered British politics have also allowed voters to express their views on issues that don’t fall neatly into traditional left– right politics such as immigration (UKIP) or Scottish independence (the SNP). This in turn has posed a dilemma for the traditional parties, who are pulled in multiple directions trying to stop their voters being tempted away.

This may just be the start. If the number of swing voters stays this high, the parties will have to get used to defending themselves on multiple fronts.

This is an extract from More Sex, Lies and the Ballot Box, edited by Philip Cowley and Robert Ford.