Welfare cuts mean a dramatic rise in council tax for the poorest

The decision to reduce the budget for council tax support by 10 per cent means low-income households face a tax increase of up to £600.

Accustomed to the inflated claims of successive governments, readers might be forgiven for rolling their eyes at the phrase "radical welfare reform". Yet for once the bold rhetoric might match reality. Council Tax Benefit, the most widely claimed benefit in the UK, which provides 5.9 million low-income families with help paying their council tax will soon be abolished. From 1 April, responsibility for council tax support will transfer from Whitehall to each of England’s 326 local authorities (and the Scottish and Welsh governments). Few have yet grasped the full implications.

To the reform’s cheerleaders, the change is ‘localism in action,’ and technically they’re right. But it’s localism of the most meagre and restricting kind. Councils must now provide council tax support but from a budget cut by 10 per cent cut. And they must also contend with centrally-set rules that mean that the amount of help pensioners receive is protected. This leaves them with a stark choice: either substantially increase the council tax bills of low income working families or find savings elsewhere to cover the funding shortfall.

Faced with these constraints and unable to make the required extra savings at a time of unprecedented financial challenge, three-quarters of English councils are set to introduce less generous systems of council tax support in just over two months’ time. Over a third are set to introduce schemes that severely reduce support. Only around a quarter of councils – along with both the Scottish and Welsh governments – feel they are able to absorb the funding shortfall and maintain current levels of support.

What does this mean for low income households? The answer is set out in a report released this morning from the Resolution Foundation. It shows that while the government talks up its decision to "freeze" council tax, millions of households – both in and out of work –in fact face swingeing increases.

Both the scale of the hit and the number of people likely to be affected are dramatic. Many of the 2.5 million out-of-work claimants who currently pay no council tax at all will now, often for the first time, face council tax bills of between £96 and £255 a year. Meanwhile, around 670,000 low-paid working families will see their council tax rise by anywhere up to 333 per cent – an increase of £577 for single working parents who look set to be the worst affected. Little wonder that the handful of prescient commentators alive to the possible implications of Council Tax Benefit reform have drawn parallels with the Community Charge, more commonly known as the poll tax.

It remains to be seen whether we see the emergence of the twenty-first century equivalent of anti-poll tax unions but councils are certainly braced for widespread non-payment. Many are setting aside large sums of money to compensate for unpaid bills while also preparing for more extensive use of bailiff powers and the courts.

Reform did not need to look like this. There was no intrinsic rationale to cutting funding at the same time as localising council tax support and experts have long warned of the dangers that a complex patchwork of local schemes poses to the government’s Universal Credit system. For savings of £410m it all seems unduly hazardous.

But the hazards for government are nothing compared to the very real suffering the changes will mean for many low income families. Already struggling to cope with stagnant wages, rising living costs, a series of cuts to the tax credits and – now – three years of below-inflation rises in support, a swingeing increase in council tax may mean the difference between staying afloat and going under.

As yet, there is no sign that ministers recognise the pain the reform is set to cause. Eric Pickles appears more concerned with the prospect of councils "cheating" their residents by planning across-the-board council tax rises of 1.99 per cent than with those soon to face increases of up to 333 per cent. Perhaps they expect a public inured to cuts to meekly accept the change. Yet there is all the difference in the world between stealth reductions in support over time and a large bill landing on your doormat. Revolt or not, the poor are unlikely to take this lying down. 

The Resolution Foundation's new report, No Clear Benefit, is published today

Communities Secretary Eric Pickles speaks at the Conservative conference in Birmingham last year. Photograph: Getty Images.

Matthew Pennycook is MP for Greenwich and Woolwich, and member of the Energy and Climate Change Committee. He is PPS to John Healey. 

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With the BBC Food’s collection under threat, here's how to make the most of online recipes

Do a bit of digging, trust your instincts – and always read the comments.

I don’t think John Humphrys is much of a chef. Recently, as his Today co-presenter Mishal Husain was discussing the implications of the BBC’s decision to axe its Food website (since commuted to transportation to the Good Food platform, run by its commercial arm), sharp-eared listeners heard the Humph claim that fewer recipes on the web could only be a good thing. “It would make it easier!” he bellowed in the background. “We wouldn’t have to choose between so many!”

Husain also seemed puzzled as to why anyone would need more than one recipe for spaghetti bolognese – but, as any keen cook knows, you can never have too many different takes on a dish. Just as you wouldn’t want to get all your news from a single source, it would be a sad thing to eat the same bolognese for the rest of your life. Sometimes only a molto autentico version, as laid down by a fierce Italian donna, rich with tradition and chopped liver, will do – and sometimes, though you would never admit it in a national magazine, you crave the comfort of your mum’s spag bol with grated cheddar.

The world wouldn’t starve without BBC Food’s collection but, given that an online search for “spaghetti bolognese recipe” turns up about a million results, it would have been sad to have lost one of the internet’s more trustworthy sources of information. As someone who spends a large part of each week researching and testing recipes, I can assure you that genuinely reliable ones are rarer than decent chips after closing time. But although it is certainly the only place you’ll find the Most Haunted host Yvette Fielding’s kedgeree alongside Heston Blumenthal’s snail porridge, the BBC website is not the only one that is worth your time.

The good thing about newspaper, magazine and other commercial platforms is that most still have just enough budget to ensure that their recipes will have been made at least twice – once by the writer and once for the accompanying photographs – though sadly the days when everyone employed an independent recipe tester are long gone. Such sites also often have sufficient traffic to generate a useful volume of comments. I never make a recipe without scrolling down to see what other people have said about it. Get past the “Can’t wait to make this!” brigade; ignore the annoying people who swap baked beans for lentils and then complain, “This is nothing like dhal”; and there’s usually some sensible advice in there, too.

But what about when you leave the safety of the big boys and venture into the no man’s land of the personal blog? How do you separate the wheat from the chaff and find a recipe that actually works? You can often tell how much work a writer has put in by the level of detail they go into: if they have indicated how many people it serves, or where to find unusual ingredients, suggested possible tweaks and credited their original sources, they have probably made the dish more than once. The photography is another handy clue. You don’t have to be Annie Leibovitz to provide a good idea of what the finished dish ought to look like.

Do a bit of digging as part of your prep. If you like the look of the rest of the site, the author’s tastes will probably chime with your own. And always, always, wherever the recipe is from, read it all the way through, even before you order the shopping. There is nothing more annoying than getting halfway through and then realising that you need a hand blender to finish the dish, just as the first guest arrives.

Above all, trust your instincts. If the cooking time seems far too short, or the salt content ridiculously high, it probably is, so keep an eye on that oven, check that casserole, keep tasting that sauce. As someone who once published a magic mince pie recipe without any sugar, I’m living proof that, occasionally, even the very best of us make mistakes. 

Felicity Cloake is the New Statesman’s food columnist. Her latest book is The A-Z of Eating: a Flavour Map for Adventurous Cooks.

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad