New polls show Labour can win the argument on benefits

Fewer than half of voters support Osborne's 1 per cent cap on benefit rises in new poll.

When George Osborne announced in his Autumn Statement that benefits would be uprated by just 1 per cent for the next three years, the move was hailed as a political masterstroke. Polls typically show that between 70 and 80 per cent of the public support the £26,000 cap on benefits and it was widely assumed that voters would back the new policy by a similar margin. By positioning Labour on the side of the 'scroungers' and the Conservatives on the side of the 'strivers', Osborne believed he would aid his party's quest for a majority. But what the Tories forgot (or gave the appearance of forgetting) was that many of those same 'strivers' would be hit by the below-inflation rise. As the Resolution Foundation was quick to highlight, 60 per cent of the real-terms cut falls on working families. When Labour, rather than walking into Osborne's trap, chose to point out as much, the debate began to shift in its favour.

Today's ComRes poll for the Independent shows that 49 per cent support the 1 per cent rise, with 43 per cent opposed. The public, for now, are on Osborne's side but in far smaller numbers than expected. When Labour announced that it would oppose the Welfare Uprating Bill, which is published today, it appeared to many that the party would go down to an honourable defeat. But the message from the ComRes poll is that this is an argument that can be won. A previous poll by Ipsos MORI, which, unlike others, named some of the benefits that would be affected (Jobseeker's Allowance, Income Support and Child Benefit), found that 69 per cent believe that benefits should increase in line with inflation or more. Labour will begin 2013 with a new campaign contrasting the coalition's decision to reduce the top rate of tax from 50p to 45p (a move that will benefit the average income-millionaire by £107,500), with its decision to cut support for the working poor. As prices continue to outpace wages, it's a line of attack that should resonate with the public.

You might have noticed another poll on benefits, reported in today's Sun. A Populus survey, commissioned by the Conservatives, found that 63 per cent of people support the 1 per cent rise, with just 25 per cent opposed. But read the questions asked (ConservativeHome has them in full) and it becomes clear why the results should be treated with a large dollop of scepticism. For instance, those polled were asked whether they agreed or disagreed with the following statement: "Benefits have been rising twice as fast as wages since the crisis began so it's fair to cap in-work and out-of-work benefits rises at 1 per cent for a temporary period." That's what pollsters refer to as a leading question, one designed to guide the respondent to the desired answer. It includes a statistic of questionable relevance and invites the reader to agree that the cap is "fair". Imagine a Labour survey that stated, "Those earning a million pounds a year will benefit by £107,500 from the cut in the top rate of tax so it's unfair to cap in-work and out-of-work benefits", and you'll begin to see the arm-twisting involved.

But what all the polling on benefits reveals is just how malleable public opinion is. Based on the question asked, as many as 69 per cent oppose Osborne and as many as 63 per cent support him. As I said before, so long as it makes the right arguments, this is a battle Labour can win.

Chancellor George Osborne is seen during a visit to the offices of HM Revenue & Customs. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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In defence of orientalism, the case against Twenty20, and why Ken should watch Son of Saul

My week, from Age Concern to anti-semitism.

Returning late from a party I never much wanted to go to, I leap up and down in the middle of the Harrow Road in the hope of flagging down a taxi, but the drivers don’t notice me. Either they’re haring down the fast lane or they’re too preoccupied cursing Uber to one another on their mobile phones. My father drove a black cab, so I have a deep loyalty to them. But there’s nothing like being left stranded in NW10 in the dead of night to make one reconsider one’s options. I just wish Uber wasn’t called Uber.

Just not cricket

Tired and irritable, I spend the next day watching sport on television – snooker, darts, cricket, anything I can find. But I won’t be following the Indian Premier League’s Twenty20 cricket again. It’s greedy, cynical, over-sponsored and naff. Whenever somebody hits a boundary, cheerleaders in cast-off gym kit previously worn by fourth-form Roedean girls wave tinsel mops.

Matches go to the final over where they’re decided in a thrashathon of sixes hit by mercenaries wielding bats as wide as shovels. Why, in that case, don’t both teams just play a final over each and dispense with the previous 19? I can’t wait for the elegant ennui of a five-day Test match.

Stop! Culture police!

I go to the Delacroix exhibition at the National Gallery to shake off the sensation of all-consuming kitsch. Immediately I realise I have always confused Delacroix with someone else but I can’t decide who. Maybe Jacques-Louis David. The show convincingly argues that Delacroix influenced every artist who came after him except Jeff Koons, who in that case must have been influenced by David. It’s turbulent, moody work, some of the best of it, again to my surprise, being religious painting with the religion taken out. Christ’s followers lamenting his death don’t appear to be expecting miracles. This is a man they loved, cruelly executed. The colours are the colours of insupportable grief.

I love the show but wish the curators hadn’t felt they must apologise for Delacroix finding the North Africans he painted “exotic”. Cultural studies jargon screams from the wall. You can hear the lecturer inveighing against the “appropriating colonial gaze” – John Berger and Edward Said taking all the fun out of marvelling at what’s foreign and desirable. I find myself wondering where they’d stand on the Roedean cheer-leaders of Mumbai.

Taking leave of the senses

My wife drags me to a play at Age Concern’s headquarters in Bloomsbury. When I see where she’s taking me I wonder if she plans to leave me there. The play is called Don’t Leave Me Now and is written by Brian Daniels. It is, to keep it simple, about the effects of dementia on the families and lovers of sufferers. I am not, in all honesty, expecting a good time. It is a reading only, the actors sitting in a long line like a board of examiners, and the audience hunched forward in the attitude of the professionally caring.  My wife is a therapist so this is her world.

Here, unlike in my study, an educated empathy prevails and no one is furious. I fear that art is going to get lost in good intention. But the play turns out to be subtly powerful, sympathetic and sharp, sad and funny; and hearing it read engages me as seeing it performed might not have done. Spared the spectacle of actors throwing their bodies around and singing about their dreams against a backdrop painted by a lesser, Les Mis version of Delacroix, you can concentrate on the words. And where dementia is the villain, words are priceless.

Mixing with the proles

In Bloomsbury again the next day for a bank holiday design and craft fair at Mary Ward House. I have a soft spot for craft fairs, having helped run a craft shop once, and I feel a kinship with the designers sitting bored behind their stalls, answering inane questions about kilns and receiving empty compliments. But it’s the venue that steals the show, a lovely Arts and Crafts house, founded in the 1890s by the novelist Mary Ward with the intention of enabling the wealthy and educated to live among the poor and introduce them to the consolations of beauty and knowledge. We’d call that patronising. We’re wrong. It’s a high ideal, to ease the burden of poverty and ignorance and, in Ward’s words, save us from “the darker, coarser temptations of our human road”.

An Oscar-winning argument for Zionism

Speaking of which, I am unable to empty my mind of Ken Livingstone and his apologists as I sit in the cinema and watch the just-released Academy Award-winning Son of Saul, a devastating film about one prisoner’s attempt to hold on to a vestige of humanity in a Nazi death camp. If you think you know of hell from Dante or Michelangelo, think again. The inferno bodied forth in Son of Saul is no theological apportioning of justice or deserts. It is the evisceration of meaning, the negation of every grand illusion about itself mankind has ever harboured. There has been a fashion, lately, to invoke Gaza as proof that the Holocaust is a lesson that Jews failed to learn – as though one cruelty drives out another, as though suffering is forfeit, and as though we, the observers, must choose between horrors.

I defy even Livingstone to watch this film, in which the Jews, once gassed, become “pieces” – Stücke – and not grasp the overwhelming case for a Jewish place of refuge. Zionism pre-dated the camps, and its fulfilment, if we can call it that, came too late for those millions reduced to the grey powder mountains the Sonderkommandos were tasked with sweeping away. It diminishes one’s sympathy for the Palestinian cause not a jot to recognise the arguments, in a world of dehumanising hate, for Zionism. Indeed, not to recognise those arguments is to embrace the moral insentience whose murderous consequence Son of Saul confronts with numbed horror. 

This article first appeared in the 05 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The longest hatred