Labour should respond to Osborne's benefits cuts with a jobs guarantee

A jobs guarantee would allow Labour to defend benefits from a position that resonates with the public.

Osborne has set Labour a trap. As Rafael Behr clearly explains, either Labour supports the benefits changes that see devastating real-term cuts to the most vulnerable, or they are left arguing in the Commons in support of people on benefits, playing into the hands of the worst stereotypes of the party in terms of public spending and supporting so called "scroungers". So what to do?

The party has to be clear about one thing. Work is the best way to support people out of poverty and get the economy moving again. Labour. The clue is in the name. Talk to some members, and you would think the worst news from the Autumn Statement for poorer people were the benefit cuts. It wasn’t. The worst news for poorer people was that growth will be negative this year and stagnate for much longer than we thought. Without jobs, there is no hope.

The first point the party has rightly emphasised is that most people being hit by these benefit cuts will be in work. Ed Balls has been good at articulating this so far, breaking down the false stereotype the chancellor presents us with between "strivers" and "scroungers".

But I'm not talking about that argument, which I believe we've already won with the public. I'm talking about how we defend benefits for those who are out of work. The "strivers" who spend eight to ten hours a day applying for jobs without so much as a word back. How do we make their benefits seem fair to the working person who lives next door?

One answer - which I’m putting out for discussion rather than a definitive solution - is a jobs guarantee. If someone capable of working has been unable to find work in a year, then the state guarantees them a job and pays them at least the minimum wage. Labour shouldn't support any further erosion of benefits in parliament until that promise has been kept.

Evidence suggests that this scheme worked well under the Future Jobs Fund, which offered a six month placement to unemployed young people until the government axed it. In fact DWP’s own research showed it delivered a net benefit of £7,750 per participant. Others such as Stephen Timms and Richard Layard have researched what it would be like to extend it to all ages.

Putting this suggestion to someone in Ed’s office, they reasonably argued that it still does nothing for those people who are in work on benefits. That's true, and a devastatingly sad reality for those struggling to afford Christmas and pay their bills in the new year. But as I’ve argued before, pushing the living wage is a much better way of helping the working poor than subsidising low wage jobs through tax credits, particularly when money is tight. 

Obviously the most important reason for a jobs guarantee is that it gives people a chance to help themselves. But it also has strategic advantages. It shows that Labour is being constructive and allows us to defend benefits from a position that resonates with the public. At a time when there are so many more claimants than jobs, it shows the Conservatives up for hitting people who are desperate to find work but can't find it. And on a deeper and more fundamental level, it may even cause a rebellion among the Liberal Democrats and give them cause to side with us in the Commons, defeating the government’s present measures altogether.

Labour leader Ed Miliband and shadow chancellor Ed Balls speak at a press conference at Labour headquarters. Photograph: Getty Images.

Rowenna Davis is Labour PPC for Southampton Itchen and a councillor for Peckham

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Byron burgers and bacon sandwiches: can any politician get away with eating on camera?

Memo to aspirant world leaders: eating in public is a political minefield.

Miliband’s sandwich. Cameron’s hot dog. Osborne’s burger. The other Miliband’s banana. As well as excellent names for up-and-coming indie bands, these are just a few examples of now infamous food faux pas committed by British politicians.

During his entire mayoral campaign, Sadiq Khan refused to eat anything in public. When journalist Simon Hattenstone met him in his local curry house for the Guardian, the now-mayor didn’t eat a single bite despite “dish after dish” arriving at the table. Who can blame him? Though Ed Miliband had been pictured blunderingly eating a bacon sandwich an entire year earlier, the national furore around the incident had not yet died down. “He can make me look Clooneyesque or make me look like Ed eating a bacon sandwich,” Khan said of the photographer at the time.

Miliband’s bacon sandwich is now so infamous that I need offer no explanation for the event other than those words. There is an entire Wikipedia page dedicated to the photograph of Ed, lips curled and eyes rolling, as he tucks into that fateful sarnie. Yet politicians frequently bite off more than they can chew – why did Ed’s mishap inspire multiple headlines and an entire front page of The Sun?

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“The momentum got behind the bacon sandwich story because he was awkward, it showed him in a light which was true - he was an awkward candidate in that election,” says Paul Baines, a professor of political marketing at Cranfield University. “He didn’t come across right.”

The photograph of Miliband fit neatly within a pre-existing image of the politician – that he was bumbling, incompetent, and unable to take control. Similarly, when David Cameron was pictured eating a hot dog with a knife and fork months later, the story reinforced popular notions of him as a posh, out-of-touch, champagne-swilling old Etonian. Though Oxford-educated, two-kitchen Miliband is nearly as privileged as Cameron, and Brexit-inducing Dave equally as incompetent as Ed, the pictures would not gain the same popularity in reverse. There are many, many less-than-flattering pictures of Cameron eating, but they didn’t fit into a workable narrative.

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No one, for example, focused on the price of Ed’s sandwich. Purchased at New Covenant Garden Market, it was undoubtedly more expensive than Greggs’ £1.75 bacon roll – but no one cared. When George Osborne was pictured eating an £8 Byron burger whilst cutting £11.5 million from the British budget, however, the picture spoke to many. The then-chancellor was forced to explain that “McDonalds doesn't deliver”, although, as it turned out, Byron didn’t either.

“The idea was to try and display him in a good light – here's a guy eating a burger just like everyone else. The only problem was it was a posh burger and of course he didn't look like everyone else because he was spending ten quid on a burger,” explains Baines.

But Dave, Ed, and George are just the latest in a long, long line of politicians who have been mocked for their eating habits. Across the ocean, Donald Trump has been lambasted for liking his steak well done, while in 1976, Gerald Ford was mocked after biting into the inedible corn husk of a tamale. Why then, do politicians not copy Khan, and avoid being pictured around food altogether?

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“Food connects everybody, food is essentially a connection to culture and the 'every person',” explains Baines. “[Nigel] Farage's appearance in the pub has definitely had a positive impact on how he's perceived by a big chunk of the working class electorate which is an important, sizeable group.” Though Cameron, too, has been pictured with pints, his undeniably weird grasp on the glass make the pictures seem inauthentic, compared to Farage whose pints are clearly at home in his hands. In America, Joe Biden managed to capture the same authenticity with an ice-cream cone.

“I think when it comes across badly is when it comes across as inauthentic,” says Baines. “If I were advising, I certainly wouldn't advise Theresa May to be seen in the pub having a pint, that would not shine with her particular character or style. But could Tim Farron come across better in that way? Possibly but it does have to be authentic.”

Food, then, can instantly make a politician seem in or out of touch. This is especially true when food connects to national identity. Tony Blair, for example, publicly claimed his favourite dish was fish and chips despite earlier saying it was fettuccine with olive oil, sundried tomatoes and capers. In the 1980s, Lord Mandelson allegedly mistook mushy peas for guacamole, insulting us all. In the States, you’d be hard pressed to find a politician who hasn’t been pictured with a hot dog, and there are entire articles dedicated to US politicians who eat pizza with a knife and fork. Again, the food fits a narrative – politicians out of touch with the common person.  

Then again, sometimes, just sometimes, no narrative is needed. We’d advise any candidate who seriously wants a shot in the 2017 General Election to not, under any circumstances, be pictured casually feeding a Solero to an unidentified young woman. 

Amelia Tait is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman.

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