Why Miliband’s tax move is good news for the Lib Dems

The Labour leader's speech has reminded voters of two distinctive and popular Lib Dem policies: increasing the personal allowance and introducing a mansion tax.

Attempting to predict the issues that are likely to feature in a future general election is as foolhardy as it is difficult. However great the plans of those competing, however well honed their message calendars, the one thing we all know for certain is that events come along like storms in the desert and change the political landscape before our eyes.

But we speculate anyway, and occasionally we get it right. Probably the surest prediction we can make about the issues likely to be at play in the 2015 general election is that tax policy will feature heavily. Ed Miliband’s speech yesterday makes that as close to a certainty as possible.
 
The official Liberal Democrat response to Miliband’s speech was dismissive of his overall proposals: the Liberal Democrats in government have reduced the income tax paid by those on the lowest incomes by more in three years than Labour did in thirteen.
 
And the analysis of the speech by the Institute for Fiscal Studies supported the party’s assertion that the Lib Dem policy of raising the threshold at which people begin to pay income tax is a less complex and more effective way of helping the low paid than re-introducing the 10p rate.
 
Yet despite criticising the content, Liberal Democrats will be secretly rather happy with the Labour leader’s speech, for two reasons.
 
First, it shifts the political debate to the area where the Lib Dems are at their strongest: tax policy. For whatever else the party has done in government, it is the implementation of a £10,000 tax-free allowance that is cutting through the fog and being recognised by voters as a distinctive achievement.
 
In the run-up to the next general election, Liberal Democrats will want to talk of little else. Raising the threshold further – to the level of the average earnings of those on the national minimum wage – is already party policy. The party reasons that the combined message of having delivered the £10,000 threshold and seeking to go further in the next parliament is a very strong one indeed.
 
The second reason Liberal Democrats will be pleased with the speech is Miliband’s embrace of a mansion tax. You might think that the party would be annoyed by Labour’s blatant theft of one of its key policies, but actually the reverse is true.
 
The mansion tax is embedded in the minds of the public as a Lib Dem policy. It is unlikely that a random conversion to the merits of the idea will convince voters that if they want a mansion tax they should vote Labour. So by adopting the policy Miliband’s main achievement is to remind voters of the mansion tax, and to increase its importance in the political debate over taxation. Why would Liberal Democrats not welcome such a boost for one of the party’s most distinctive policies?
 
Labour's adoption of the policy also helps when it comes to negotiations in the event of another hung parliament, particularly if (as looks distinctly possible) the arithmetic allows for an arrangement between the Liberal Democrats and either Labour or the Tories. Most party members will not welcome Miliband’s change of heart because it is more likely to lead to a Labour-Lib Dem government. Contrary to popular belief, only a small number of party members would actively prefer that option.
 
Most Liberal Democrats would prefer to enter into an arrangement with whichever party agrees to implement more Lib Dem policies. And just as Labour’s warmer feelings towards electoral reform strengthened the Lib Dem hand in 2010 sufficiently to force the Tories into agreeing a referendum on the alternative vote, so the party’s embrace of a mansion tax makes it more likely that the policy will be implemented if Liberal Democrats end up in government, be it with Labour or the Tories.
 
Whether Miliband’s speech does Labour any good in the long-term remains to be seen, but Liberal Democrats should welcome it: there is every chance it will help Clegg’s party even more.
 
Nick Thornsby is a Liberal Democrat member and activist. His own blog can be found here
Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg and Business Secretary Vince Cable during a visit to the Ricardo Engine Assembly plant on September 24, 2012 in Shoreham-by-Sea. Photograph: Getty Images.
Getty
Show Hide image

The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era