The child benefit reforms are a disaster waiting to happen

Osborne has underestimated the perverse incentives that removing the benefit from higher earners will create.

Starting next week, child benefit will gradually be withdrawn from over a million families with the aim of saving the government around £1.3bn a year. But the new system is complex to understand, difficult to administer and costly to implement. After U-turns and climb downs, the government has ended up with a dog’s breakfast.

From Monday, all families claiming child benefit, where one partner earns over £50,000, will have one per cent of their child benefit withdrawn for every additional £100 of income they earn up to the threshold of £60,000, at which point the benefit is completely withdrawn. Although the government has softened its original stance on child benefit withdrawal, it will still affect roughly 1.1 million families.

By complicating what is a very simple benefit, as reflected by its high take-up rate (97 per cent), this reform is set to create all sorts of perverse incentives. The Chancellor will effectively increase the marginal tax rate for families where one person earns between £50,000 and £60,000. The rate of child benefit is £20.30 a week (or £1,056 a year) for the first child, and £13.40 a week (£697 a year) for each additional child. Based on these figures the marginal tax rate for an individual earning over £50,000 with one child will be 52.6 per cent, rather than 42 per cent. But in the extreme case, a person with six children and earnings over £50,000 will face a staggering marginal tax rate of 87.4 per cent. This translates into a net income gain of just 12.6 pence for every pound earned.

Given these high marginal tax rates, the Chancellor may have underestimated the impact this change will have on work incentives. For people with children who earn between £50,000 and £60,000, there may be little incentive to seek promotion, as any increase in their earnings will erode their child benefit entitlement. The benefit withdrawal will also seem unfair to some households. Two people in one household who both earn under £50,000, but together earn, say, £80,000 will not lose any child benefit, while a family with a single earner on £60,000 will lose it all.

The Chancellor may also have overestimated the savings that this move will bring. One logical response for someone facing a very high marginal tax rate due to the withdrawal of child benefit would be to increase their contributions to their pension. If enough people diverting earnings towards their pension pot, it could dramatically reduce the amount the government saves.

Rather than making complex changes to child benefit, the government would do better to conduct a more fundamental review of its support for families. There is evidence to suggest that spending on services for families instead of benefits is more effective in reducing child poverty. The government could extend its freeze on child benefit and use the savings to fund affordable childcare. This would avoid complicated reforms, cliff edges and perverse work incentives. Providing quality universal childcare should be a national strategic priority for public service and welfare reform, particularly as the cost of childcare largely influences parental decisions on whether work pays.

If the government is genuinely committed to welfare reform, then affordable childcare, rather than fiddly means testing, would offer the best help to struggling families.

Amna Silim is a researcher at IPPR

Chancellor George Osborne leaves Number 11 Downing Street. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Rarely has it mattered so little if Manchester United won; rarely has it been so special they did

Team's Europa League victory offers chance for sorely needed celebration of a city's spirit.

Carlo Ancelotti, the Bayern Munich manager, memorably once said that football is “the most important of the least important things”, but he was only partly right. While it is absolutely the case that a bunch of people chasing around a field is insignificant, a bunch of people chasing around a field is not really what football is about.

At a football match can you set aside the strictures that govern real life and freely scream, shout and cuddle strangers. Football tracks life with such unfailing omnipresence, garnishing the mundane with regular doses of drama and suspense; football is amazing, and even when it isn’t there’s always the possibility that it’s about to be.

Football bestows primal paroxysms of intense, transcendent ecstasy, shared both with people who mean everything and people who mean nothing. Football carves out time for people it's important to see and delivers people it becomes important to see. Football is a structure with folklore, mythology, language and symbols; being part of football is being part of something big, special, and eternal. Football is the best thing in the world when things go well, and still the best thing in the world when they don’t. There is nothing remotely like it. Nothing.

Football is about community and identity, friends and family; football is about expression and abandon, laughter and song; football is about love and pride. Football is about all the beauty in the world.

And the world is a beautiful place, even though it doesn’t always seem that way – now especially. But in the horror of terror we’ve seen amazing kindness, uplifting unity and awesome dignity which is the absolute point of everything.

In Stockholm last night, 50,000 or so people gathered for a football match, trying to find a way of celebrating all of these things. Around town before the game the atmosphere was not as boisterous as usual, but in the ground the old conviction gradually returned. The PA played Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds, an Ajax staple with lyrics not entirely appropriate: there is plenty about which to worry, and for some every little thing is never going to be alright.

But somehow the sentiment felt right and the Mancunian contingent joined in with gusto, following it up with “We’ll never die,” – a song of defiance born from the ashes of the Munich air disaster and generally aired at the end of games, often when defeat is imminent. Last night it was needed from the outset, though this time its final line – “we’ll keep the red flag flying high, coz Man United will never die" – was not about a football team but a city, a spirit, and a way of life. 

Over the course of the night, every burst of song and even the minute's silence chorused with that theme: “Manchester, Manchester, Manchester”; “Manchester la la la”; “Oh Manchester is wonderful”. Sparse and simple words, layered and complex meanings.

The match itself was a curious affair. Rarely has it mattered so little whether or not United won; rarely has it been so special that they did. Manchester United do not represent or appeal to everyone in Manchester but they epitomise a similar brilliance to Manchester, brilliance which they take to the world. Brilliance like youthfulness, toughness, swagger and zest; brilliance which has been to the fore these last three days, despite it all.

Last night they drew upon their most prosaic aspects, outfighting and outrunning a willing but callow opponent to win the only trophy to have eluded them. They did not make things better, but they did bring happiness and positivity at a time when happiness and positivity needed to be brought; football is not “the most important of the least important things,” it is the least important of the most important things.

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