The coalition looks to widen its attack on child benefit

The benefit could be limited to two children for all families.

Having accused those parents aggrieved at losing their child benefit of "fiscal nimbyism", the government looks set to go even further in its assault on welfare. Treasury minister David Gauke (the man responsible for that "nimbyism" jibe) yesterday revealed on Radio 4's Moneybox that the coalition was considering limiting child benefit to a maximum of two children for all families. Iain Duncan Smith has previously suggested that the government could restrict benefits for out-of-work families, but Gauke hinted that the measure could also apply to those in-work. He said: "We are looking at it in terms of the welfare bill across the board as to how that might work." A Treasury source went on to tell the Daily Mail:

All options are being looked at in this area. It’s not something we can do retrospectively. The main focus is on the incentives that apply to workless households as opposed to working households. You could just do that with child tax credits. But we are looking in detail at child benefit as well. We are looking at various options.

The government emphasised that no details had been settled and that the measure "would only apply to new children", but it would still be wise to tread carefully. Limiting child benefit to two children, regardless of parental employment status, would be seen as a betrayal of its promise to "make work pay". It would also be yet another example of the government penalising families. Since coming to power, the coalition has abolished baby bonds, removed the ring-fence on Sure Start (leading to hundreds of centres closing), frozen child benefit for three years, scrapped the Health in Pregnancy Grant and withdrawn child tax credits from higher earners. Pensioners, by contrast, have retained universal benefits, including free bus passes, free television licen­ces and the Winter Fuel Allowance. While cutting welfare for families isn't a good argument for cutting welfare for the elderly (we need not choose between competing sets of welfare cuts, in other words), it will be even harder for the government to maintain this double standard if it widens its assault on child benefit.

Work and Pensions Secretary Iain Duncan Smith speaks at last month's Conservative conference in Birmingham. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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For the Ukip press officer I slept with, the European Union was Daddy

My Ukip lover just wanted to kick against authority. I do not know how he would have coped with the reality of Brexit.

I was a journalist for a progressive newspaper.

He was the press officer for the UK Independence Party.

He was smoking a cigarette on the pavement outside the Ukip conference in Bristol.

I sat beside him. It was a scene from a terrible film. 

He wore a tweed Sherlock Holmes coat. The general impression was of a seedy-posh bat who had learned to talk like Shere Khan. He was a construct: a press officer so ridiculous that, by comparison, Ukip supporters seemed almost normal. He could have impersonated the Queen Mother, or a morris dancer, or a British bulldog. It was all bravado and I loved him for that.

He slept in my hotel room, and the next day we held hands in the public gallery while people wearing Union Jack badges ranted about the pound. This was before I learned not to choose men with my neurosis alone. If I was literally embedded in Ukip, I was oblivious, and I was no kinder to the party in print than I would have been had I not slept with its bat-like press officer. How could I be? On the last day of the conference, a young, black, female supporter was introduced to the audience with the words – after a white male had rubbed the skin on her hand – “It doesn’t come off.” Another announcement was: “The Ukip Mondeo is about to be towed away.” I didn’t take these people seriously. He laughed at me for that.

After conference, I moved into his seedy-posh 18th-century house in Totnes, which is the counterculture capital of Devon. It was filled with crystal healers and water diviners. I suspect now that his dedication to Ukip was part of his desire to thwart authority, although this may be my denial about lusting after a Brexiteer who dressed like Sherlock Holmes. But I prefer to believe that, for him, the European Union was Daddy, and this compulsion leaked into his work for Ukip – the nearest form of authority and the smaller Daddy.

He used to telephone someone called Roger from in front of a computer with a screen saver of two naked women kissing, lying about what he had done to promote Ukip. He also told me, a journalist, disgusting stories about Nigel Farage that I cannot publish because they are libellous.

When I complained about the pornographic screen saver and said it was damaging to his small son, he apologised with damp eyes and replaced it with a photo of a topless woman with her hand down her pants.

It was sex, not politics, that broke us. I arrived on Christmas Eve to find a photograph of a woman lying on our bed, on sheets I had bought for him. That was my Christmas present. He died last year and I do not know how he would have coped with the reality of Brexit, of Daddy dying, too – for what would be left to desire?

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era