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Starting next week, child benefit will gradually be withdrawn from over a million families with the aim of saving the government around £1.3bn a year.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families claiming child benefit, where one partner earns over £50,000, will have one per cent of their child benefit withdrawn for every additional £100 of income they earn up to the threshold of £60,000, at which point the benefit is completely withdrawn.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.
Getty
Show Hide image

Miners against coal: the pit where former Welsh miners are protesting alongside climate change activists

The Merthyr Tydfil miners’ long history of struggle is spurring them on to a whole new form of action.

The retired miners and factory workers at the working men's club in the Welsh town of Merthyr Tydfil are no strangers to hard times. Our second son was born during the 1984 strike and we had nothing for 12 months, one member tells me. The town continues to struggle with unemployment – last year the rate for men was nearly double that of the UK as a whole – over three decades on from the miners’ strike. But these days the atmosphere at the club is more resigned than radical. A singer croons his way through “Only the Lonely”, while talk at the bar is of better times: days when work was plentiful, days when, “you went down the mine a boy and came up a man”.

When the deep pits closed in the 1980s, Merthyr became a dumping ground – quite literally. Not only is the nearby landfill one of Europe's biggest, the valley is now home to the largest opencast (open-pit) mining operation in the UK. Its towering spoil tips throw a Mordor-esque shadow over the community below, coating homes and lungs alike in dust. 

Even former miners lament the small number of poorly-regulated jobs the Ffos-Y-Fran pit currently provides. Opencast is lorry driving, not mining, is a sentiment I hear repeated across the town, from the club bar to chip shops to the office of the miners’ union itself.

Just as the town's fortunes rose with coal, so they have plummeted as the industry has declined. While the fuel still accounts for around 10 per cent of UK electricity generation on any given day, last year generation fell to its lowest level since the 1950s. The need to decarbonise also looks set to reduce demand further. The effects of last December's Paris climate agreement – and its aim to limit warming below 2C  are already being felt in Wales: the Aberthaw power station is a key destination for Welsh coal, but recently announced plans to reduce its output.

The club's secretary can only think of one member who still works in the mine. Others I encounter chase shifts at the local meat-packing factory, or have to travel for over an hour outside the town. Support for jobs unsurprisingly usually trumps support for climate change deals: “If it brings in work, we don’t have a problem with it,” is the general consensus inside the club. If someone tells you they're against the mine, they're probably from England, not Wales, says a resident of the nearby village of Fochriw. Meanwhile, in Appalachia, mining companies dish out licence plates and stickers saying: Shoot a tree hugger.

The people of Merthyr, however, are also no strangers to fighting perceived injustice. In the early nineteenth century, Merthyr's thriving ironworks made it the largest town in Wales. But when depression hit in 1831, low wages and sudden dismissals drove many to despair. By the start of June that year, thousands gathered to march against the iron masters and coal barons. And for the very first time, the red flag of revolution was raised on British soil.

185 years later, while club members sipped their drinks, others are writing Merthyr's history afresh. Up on the hills above the town  beyond the litter-strewn fields and the “Danger: No trespass” signs  around 300 campaigners from across the UK gathered to call for an end to coal.

Led by the climate activist group Reclaim the Power, many of the camp’s young attendees work for Westminster MPs and NGOs. A litter-pick was followed by the rapid erection of communal kitchens and sustainable loos. There were safe spaces, legal training, and warnings not to disturb the nearby nesting birds.

On Tuesday morning, the activists occupied and (temporarily) shut down operations at the mine – tying themselves to machinery and lying across access roads in an attempt to symbolise the red line that carbon emissions must not cross. Their action is the first in a fortnight of global anti-fossil fuel protests  from plans for train heists in Albany, to protesting in kayaks in Vancouver. And while global reach counts for little without local support, the climate campaigners at Ffos-Y-Fran are not alone.

Since 2007, members of the United Valleys Action Group (UVAG), a group of local residents and ex-miners, have also fought the mine's planned expansion into the nextdoor valley. On Tuesday, many joined with the activists to blockade the entrance to the mine's headquarters. One member, 56-year-old Phil Duggan, has worked in the pits from the age of 16. And while he is “no tree-hugger”, he is tired of accepting jobs at any cost.

I don't want my children to suffer the ill health I have,” he says. “To some extent we [ex-miners] have been able to claim compensation. But the way things are going now you're not going to be able to claim anything. The deregulation of employment is making people desperate  we're going back to an era that our fore-fathers unionised to put right.”

In a strange twist of fate, it’s these Merthyr miners history of struggle – their long fight to protect their livelihoods and communities  which now spurs them to action against new mines.


Phil Duggan entered the pits aged 16. Photos: India Bourke

Wayne Thomas at the National Union of Mineworkers says he recognises that, unless carbon capture technology can develop apace, the Paris agreement. But he also believes that British coal has its place in responsibly managing the transition to renewables – a place that includes reducing foreign imports, cleaning up the dirty acts of private mining companies, and putting control back in the hands of local communities. If you're going to phase out an industry, you've got to put something in place to limit the damage.

For evidence, he need point no further than the co-operatively run mine at Tower colliery, where an independently-managed fund ensures that, when the time comes, the opencast site will be carefully regenerated. Sadly, the same cannot be said of the privately-owned operation at Ffos-Y-Fran for certain.

Last year, the Welsh Assembly voted in favour of a moratorium on opencast mining. The government has yet to act, but this may change depending on how the balance of power falls after Thursday's elections. Assembly candidates from both the Green party and Liberal Democrats voiced their support for the UVAG campaigners at a meeting in one of the villages effected by the new pit proposals.

Utlimately, the decline of some of Welsh coal's main customers  the steel works at Port Talbot and the power station at Aberthaw  is likely do more to undermine UK coal than the red lines campaigners draw. But, along the way, new alliances between climate idealists and unions could breathe new life into both movements. In the words of Merthyr Tydfil’s ancient motto: “Nid cadarn ond brodyrdde”  Only brotherhood is strong.


Chris and Alyson, founders of United Valleys Action Group.

India Bourke is the New Statesman's editorial assistant.