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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In the 1980s, I went to a rally where Labour Party speakers shared the stage with men in balaclavas

The links between the Labour left and Irish republicanism are worth investigating.

A spat between Jeremy Corbyn’s henchfolk and Conor McGinn, the MP for St Helens North, caught my ear the other evening. McGinn was a guest on BBC Radio 4’s Westminster Hour, and he obligingly revisited the brouhaha for the listeners at home. Apparently, following an interview in May, in which McGinn called for Corbyn to “reach out beyond his comfort zone”, he was first threatened obliquely with the sack, then asked for a retraction (which he refused to give) and finally learned – from someone in the whips’ office – that his party leader was considering phoning up McGinn’s father to whip the errant whipper-in into line. On the programme, McGinn said: “The modus operandi that he [Corbyn] and the people around him were trying to do [sic], involving my family, was to isolate and ostracise me from them and from the community I am very proud to come from – which is an Irish nationalist community in south Armagh.”

Needless to say, the Labour leader’s office has continued to deny any such thing, but while we may nurture some suspicions about his behaviour, McGinn was also indulging in a little airbrushing when he described south Armagh as an “Irish ­nationalist community”. In the most recent elections, Newry and Armagh returned three Sinn Fein members to the Northern Ireland Assembly (as against one Social Democratic and Labour Party member) and one Sinn Fein MP to Westminster. When I last looked, Sinn Fein was still a republican, rather than a nationalist, party – something that McGinn should only be too well aware of, as the paternal hand that was putatively to have been lain on him belongs to Pat McGinn, the former Sinn Fein mayor of Newry and Armagh.

According to the Irish News, a “close friend” of the McGinns poured this cold water on the mini-conflagration: “Anybody who knows the McGinn family knows that Pat is very proud of Conor and that they remain very close.” The friend went on to opine: “He [Pat McGinn] found the whole notion of Corbyn phoning him totally ridiculous – as if Pat is going to criticise his son to save Jeremy Corbyn’s face. They would laugh about it were it not so sinister.”

“Sinister” does seem the mot juste. McGinn, Jr grew up in Bessbrook during the Troubles. I visited the village in the early 1990s on assignment. The skies were full of the chattering of British army Chinooks, and there were fake road signs in the hedgerows bearing pictograms of rifles and captioned: “Sniper at work”. South Armagh had been known for years as “bandit country”. There were army watchtowers standing sentinel in the dinky, green fields and checkpoints everywhere, manned by some of the thousands of the troops who had been deployed to fight what was, in effect, a low-level counter-insurgency war. Nationalist community, my foot.

What lies beneath the Corbyn-McGinn spat is the queered problematics of the ­relationship between the far left wing of the Labour Party and physical-force Irish republicanism. I also recall, during the hunger strikes of the early 1980s, going to a “Smash the H-Blocks” rally in Kilburn, north London, at which Labour Party speakers shared the stage with representatives from Sinn Fein, some of whom wore balaclavas and dark glasses to evade the telephoto lenses of the Met’s anti-terrorist squad.

The shape-shifting relationship between the “political wing” of the IRA and the men with sniper rifles in the south Armagh bocage was always of the essence of the conflict, allowing both sides a convenient fiction around which to posture publicly and privately negotiate. In choosing to appear on platforms with people who might or might not be terrorists, Labour leftists also sprinkled a little of their stardust on themselves: the “stardust” being the implication that they, too, under the right circumstances, might be capable of violence in pursuit of their political ends.

On the far right of British politics, Her Majesty’s Government and its apparatus are referred to derisively as “state”. There were various attempts in the 1970s and 1980s by far-right groupuscules to link up with the Ulster Freedom Fighters and other loyalist paramilitary organisations in their battle against “state”. All foundered on the obvious incompetence of the fascists. The situation on the far left was different. The socialist credentials of Sinn Fein/IRA were too threadbare for genuine expressions of solidarity, but there was a sort of tacit confidence-and-supply arrangement between these factions. The Labour far left provided the republicans with the confidence that, should an appropriately radical government be elected to Westminster, “state” would withdraw from Northern Ireland. What the republicans did for the mainland militants was to cloak them in their penumbra of darkness: without needing to call down on themselves the armed might of “state”, they could imply that they were willing to take it on, should the opportunity arise.

I don’t for a second believe that Corbyn was summoning up these ghosts of the insurrectionary dead when he either did or did not threaten to phone McGinn, Sr. But his supporters need to ask themselves what they’re getting into. Their leader, if he was to have remained true to the positions that he has espoused over many years, should have refused to sit as privy counsellor upon assuming his party office, and refused all the other mummery associated with the monarchical “state”. That he didn’t do so was surely a strategic decision. Such a position would make him utterly unelectable.

The snipers may not be at work in south Armagh just now – but there are rifles out there that could yet be dug up. I wouldn’t be surprised if some in Sinn Fein knew where they are, but one thing’s for certain: Corbyn hasn’t got a clue, bloody or otherwise. 

Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser