Miliband must be bolder than Cameron on welfare reform

The Labour leader should look to reinvent the financing of all of the major pillars of the welfare state.

Ed Miliband’s self-identification with Margaret Thatcher has caught the imagination of many.  “She was a conviction politician and I think conviction really matters”, he has said.  Specifically she was able to rise “to the scale of challenge that the country faces” and “create a project that is genuinely going to make our economy work, not just for a few people but much more widely”.

The question is which challenge he would like to solve.  It’s not industrial relations this time.  In common with other developed nations, it is first the deficit and then the debt, and at the same time keeping the welfare state working effectively.    

The difficulty for all future political leaders of the UK is that the current structure of the welfare state will inexorably sweep away any reform efforts currently on the table.  The Office for Budget Responsibility predicts that net debt will bottom out at 60 per cent in 15 years’ time, which is still very high.  It will then reach 70 per cent in 2040, over 80 per cent in 2050 and over 100 per cent in 2060.  The big drivers of that increase will be health and pensions spending.  The net debt numbers of around 35 per cent in the 1990s and 2000s seem like a different world.

Other countries are better placed.  The Australian national debt will rise to only 20 per cent of GDP by 2050.  Like the UK, Australia guarantees all citizens health cover and a secure income in retirement.  Unlike the UK, the cost of paying for the welfare state is more evenly shared between Australian citizens and the government.  Australian citizens pay for nearly a third of health care themselves.  They contribute nearly 10 per cent of their income towards private pensions.   Four in five Australian pensioners receive a targeted state pension because of their other savings.  They also work longer: Australians retire at 65 against the UK norm of 63.

Some may see such a comparison as ideological.  Others will judge that “what counts is what works”.  The “project” is how to deliver security for households within a reasonable national budget constraint.  Speaking at the Labour Party conference, Liam Byrne said given the growth in the national debt, “savings are going to have to be made and I think there will be savings that are needed on welfare spending too”.

Others may say that it is politically impossible, or at the least so difficult that it should be left to future governments.  The trouble is that it will be even harder for those future governments: two in five voters today are aged over 55, rising to 45 per cent in 2020 and further after that.  The political window of opportunity is already narrowing.

Others will say that taxation should rise to meet the fiscal gap, and certainly some extra tax increases will be needed.  But this has to be kept in proportion because taxes on workers will already rise in future years as the tax base narrows (due to an ageing population).

As Thatcher drew up her industrial relations campaign, she was able to learn from the unsuccessful efforts of both the Wilson and Heath governments. Miliband can learn from the coalition’s fiscal policies. David Cameron has sought to limit the debate on the welfare state to changes to benefits for working-age people.  As a result his reforms will not rise “to the scale of the challenge that the country faces”, as measured by the fiscal position.  Miliband’s convictions should lead him to look wider and reinvent the financing of all of the major pillars of the welfare state.

Andrew Haldenby is director of the independent think-tank Reform.  Its new research report Entitlement Reform (#entitlementreform) is available at http://www.reform.co.uk/

Labour leader Ed Miliband speaks at the CBI's annual conference on 19 November 2012. Photograph: Getty Images.
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What Donald Trump could learn from Ronald Reagan

Reagan’s candidacy was built on more than his celebrity. Trump not only lacks experience as an elected official, he isn’t part of any organised political movement.

“No one remembers who came in second.” That wisdom, frequently dispensed by the US presidential candidate Donald Trump, came back to haunt him this week. Trump’s loss in the Iowa Republican caucuses to the Texas senator Ted Cruz, barely beating Senator Marco Rubio of Florida for second place, was the first crack in a campaign that has defied all expectations.

It has been a campaign built on Trump’s celebrity. Over the past eight months, his broad name recognition, larger-than-life personality and media savvy have produced a theatrical candidacy that has transfixed even those he repels. The question now is whether that celebrity will be enough – whether a man so obsessed with being “Number One” can bounce back from defeat.

Iowa isn’t everything, after all. It didn’t back the eventual Republican nominee in 2008 or 2012. Nor, for that matter, in 1980, when another “celebrity” candidate was in the mix. That was the year Iowa picked George H W Bush over Ronald Reagan – the former actor whom seasoned journalists dismissed as much for his right-wing views as for his “B-movie” repertoire. But Reagan regrouped, romped to victory in the New Hampshire primary and rode a wave of popular support all the way to the White House.

Trump might hope to replicate that success and has made a point of pushing the Reagan analogy more generally. Yet it is a comparison that exposes Trump’s weaknesses and his strengths.

Both men were once Democrats who came later in life to the Republican Party, projecting toughness, certainty and unabashed patriotism. Trump has even adopted Reagan’s 1980 campaign promise to “make America great again”. Like Reagan, he has shown he can appeal to evangelicals despite question marks over his religious conviction and divorces. In his ability to deflect criticism, too, Trump has shown himself as adept as Reagan – if by defiance rather than by charm – and redefined what it means to be “Teflon” in the age of Twitter.

That defiance, however, points to a huge difference in tone between Reagan’s candidacy and Trump’s. Reagan’s vision was a positive, optimistic one, even as he castigated “big government” and the perceived decline of US power. Reagan’s America was meant to be “a city upon a hill” offering a shining example of liberty to the world – in rhetoric at least. Trump’s vision is of an America closed off from the world. His rhetoric invokes fear as often as it does freedom.

On a personal level, Reagan avoided the vituperative attacks that have been the hallmark of Trump’s campaign, even as he took on the then“establishment” of the Republican Party – a moderate, urban, east coast elite. In his first run for the nomination, in 1976, Reagan even challenged an incumbent Republican president, Gerald Ford, and came close to defeating him. But he mounted the challenge on policy grounds, advocating the so-called “Eleventh Commandment”: “Thou shalt not speak ill of any fellow Republican.” Trump, as the TV debates between the Republican presidential candidates made clear, does not subscribe to the same precept.

More importantly, Reagan in 1976 and 1980 was the leader of a resurgent conservative movement, with deep wells of political experience. He had been president of the Screen Actors Guild in the late 1940s, waging a campaign to root out communist infiltrators. He had gone on to work for General Electric in the 1950s as a TV pitchman and after-dinner speaker, honing a business message that resonated beyond the “rubber chicken circuit”.

In 1964 he grabbed headlines with a televised speech on behalf of the Republican presidential candidate, Barry Goldwater – a bright spot in Goldwater’s otherwise ignominious campaign. Two years later he was elected governor of California – serving for eight years as chief executive of the nation’s most populous state. He built a conservative record on welfare reform, law and order, and business regulation that he pushed on to the federal agenda when he ran for president.

All this is to say that Reagan’s candidacy was built on more than his celebrity. By contrast, Trump not only lacks experience as an elected official, he isn’t part of any organised political movement – which enhanced his “outsider” status, perhaps, but not his ground game. So far, he has run on opportunism, tapping in to popular frustration, channelled through a media megaphone.

In Iowa, this wasn’t enough. To win the nomination he will have to do much more to build his organisation. He will be hoping that in the primaries to come, voters do remember who came in second. 

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war