The left should applaud Osborne's inheritance tax U-turn

The Chancellor's decision to freeze the inheritance tax threshold at £325,000, rather than raise it to a £1m, is an opportunity to put the principled case for the tax.

Back in 2007, when the Tories as much as Labour assumed that boom and bust had been abolished, George Osborne told his party's conference that a Conservative government would raise the inheritance tax threshold to £1m. It was unacceptable, he said, that a tax "designed to hit the very rich" was increasingly borne by "ordinary people". The pledge was a political masterstroke, prompting a surge in support for the Tories and spooking Gordon Brown into abandoning plans for an early election. 

But the policy looked less impressive by the time of the general election when Osborne's declaration of an "age of austerity" sat uneasily with a pledge to cut taxes by £200,000 for the wealthiest 3,000 estates. The Chancellor, according to Janan Ganesh's recent biography, was secretely glad when the Liberal Democrats gave him political cover to abandon the pledge.

In last year's Autumn Statement, he announced that the inheritance tax threshold, frozen since 2009 at £325,000 (£650,000 for couples), would rise by a paltry 1 per cent in 2015-16 to £329,000. Now he's set to announce that, in fact, it won't rise at all. Instead, to help meet the £1bn a year cost of the coalition's social care plan, the threshold will be frozen at £329,000 until at least 2019. Many more "ordinary people", to use Osborne's phrase (although the average house price is £249,958), will be hit by inheritance tax. Were the threshold to rise in line with inflation, it would stand at £420,000 in 2019. 

In other words, Osborne is effectively increasing the tax - and he is right to do so. If "equality of opportunity" is to be more than merely a slogan, a progressive inheritance tax system is essential to prevent privilege being automatically transferred from one generation to the next. As Warren Buffett sagely observed when he campaigned against George W. Bush's plan to abolish "the death tax", one would not choose the 2020 Olympic team "by picking the eldest sons of the gold-medal winners in the 2000 Olympics". It would, he added, replace a meritocracy with an "aristocracy of wealth". Inheritance tax is currently levied at 40 per cent; a progressive government would consider introducing a higher band for the wealthiest estates. 

Osborne's U-turn may have more to do with his desperate need for revenue than any conversion to progressive taxation but it is an opportunity for Labour to finally make the principled case for the tax. 

George Osborne plans to freeze the inheritance tax threshold at £325,000 until 2019. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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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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