To avoid further cuts, Osborne should raise taxes and reduce benefits

Rather than cutting over-stretched public services, the Chancellor should raise more from the wealthy through tax rises and cuts to universal benefits.

In the build-up to the Budget, most of the debate has been on the here and now, with the Chancellor being urged to boost growth through capital investment or temporary tax cuts. But this will also be a critical Budget for the medium term as George Osborne sets the public spending envelope for 2015/16 ahead of June’s spending review. There’s still time for him to avert another historic public spending mistake.

As part of the Fabian Society Commission on Future Spending Choices we analysed the impact of Osborne’s existing plans as implied by the 2012 Autumn Statement. On the basis of his current commitments to protect spending on the NHS, schools and international development, in 2015/16 we can expect another cut to unprotected public services of £5bn. The services affected include defence, police, social care and local government. Across unprotected departmental spending this would be a real-terms cut of 3.8 per cent compared to 2014/15.

The public services at risk have already been the worst hit by austerity and a further year of reductions would bring the total real cut to these areas since 2011/12 to £36bn or 22 per cent. It is surely unwise to plan further cuts to those budgets that have been hit the most already. Indeed, many areas will face significant pressures even if their budgets stand still in real terms, while an aggregate freeze would still mean cuts to many budgets to make space for growth in other priority areas.

The £5bn pounds required to prevent these further cuts could be found in four ways: cutting the NHS, schools and international development; slowing the pace of deficit reduction and increasing the stock of debt; further cuts to social security; or raising taxes.

Cutting spending on the NHS and schools is not attractive given the rising demand both of these areas face as a result of our ageing population and the new baby-boom. International development spending plans, meanwhile, are part of a long-term international commitment which has cross-party support.

Increasing debt to pay for everyday public service spending is also unattractive. On the current economic outlook, more debt-financed spending is needed but to stimulate the economy today through temporary stimulus and capital investment, not for ordinary government activity. Extra borrowing may also be required in the medium-term if economic growth comes in below the OBR’s previous projections, which are likely to be downgraded this week. But this would merely be to achieve George Osborne’s existing spending plans. Since a future government may well need to push its deficit reduction programme beyond 2017/18 simply because of the state of the economy, it would be unwise to plan for extra discretionary debt-funded spending too.

Instead, the £5bn to prevent further public service cuts should be found through tax rises and social security cuts for 2015/16. These changes should be pre-announced but only implemented if the economy has returned to growth by then (and there is nothing to stop this policy sitting alongside temporary tax cuts in the meantime).

Choices regarding tax and welfare changes should be taken together, since they are both financial transfers between citizens and government. Decisions should be made from the perspective of who has the greatest capacity to absorb changes. This means that any reforms should target the top half of the income distribution, who both have the broadest shoulders and have escaped lightly from austerity until now. There is also a case for increasing the burden placed on older people. Relatively speaking, retired households are lightly taxed and have not suffered welfare cuts to the extent of younger families.

In isolation the idea of up to £5bn of tax rises may appear alarming (it is equivalent to 1 per cent on VAT or income tax). But at present the brunt of deficit reduction is being born by public spending, not tax rises. On current plans, the chancellor is expecting to close the deficit through a combination of 85 per cent spending cuts and 15 per cent tax rises, compared to his original 2010 plan for 27 per cent to come through tax rises and Alistair Darling’s plans of 30 per cent.

So it’s time to shift the balance of deficit reduction away from public service cuts. The good news is that another year of public service cuts can be prevented at the ‘low’ cost of £5bn. The Chancellor should announce 2015/16 tax and benefit plans to generate this money from those who can bear the burden best.

Chancellor of the Exchequer George Osborne leaves 11 Downing Street on March 18, 2013 in London. Photograph: Getty Images.

Andrew Harrop is general secretary of the Fabian Society.

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Why Game of Thrones is the perfect show for the modern age

There is something horribly relatable about George R R Martin’s world of Westeros, whose characters have now become part of public myth.

By now, it feels as if George R R Martin – the author of Game of Thrones, narrative sadist and ruiner of all things beautiful and good – has been appointed scriptwriter for the news. I am not the first to observe this. Martin is famous for killing off everyone’s favourite characters and sending his stories careering into pits of bleak uncertainty just when you thought everything might turn out all right. Since Prince became the latest beloved star to die this year, it has become abundantly clear that life is imitating Game of Thrones, and there’s nothing to do but watch the next bit through your fingers and try to avoid spoilers.

The staggeringly popular HBO show based on Martin’s books is in its sixth season, and it is wild, glorious trash. I mean that as a compliment. I love this horrible, problematic show more than I can possibly justify, so I’ve stopped trying. It is hardly a social-justice warrior’s dream, given that it seems to be racing against itself to sexually degrade as many female characters as possible in the space of a 45-minute episode.

The argument for the endless misogynist violence is that it has to be shown, not to titillate viewers, absolutely not, but because that sort of thing just happened back in the murky medieval past. This would be a decent excuse if sexual violence were indeed a thing of the past; or, come to that, if Game of Thrones was actually set in the past, instead of in a fictional fantasy world where there are shape-shifters, zombies and dragons.

There is one aspect, however, in which Game of Thrones has a claim to being the most realistic show on television. Despite the wizards, the wights and the way every character manages to maintain perfect hair even when they’re being pointlessly tortured to death, there is something horribly relatable about Martin’s world of Westeros, whose characters have now become part of public myth. What sets it apart is not the monsters, the nudity or the festering gallons of gratuitous gore, but the overwhelming sense that the plot got run off the rails three books ago and is being steered towards a terrible precipice by a bunch of bickering, power-mad maniacs. This, coincidentally, happens to be the plot of the entire 21st century so far.

Viewers might tune in for what the actor Ian McShane called the “tits and dragons”, but they stay for the unremitting horror. Martin gleefully tramples over all the tropes of conventional sword-and-sorcery fiction. There are no noble quests or heroes’ journeys. Instead, horrible things happen to good people for no reason. Heroism goes extremely unrewarded. The few times injustice does get punished, it happens by accident. Fair maidens are not saved, protagonists are slaughtered at random, and war is always a stupid idea, even though the ­surviving cast members are still trying to solve all their problems by waging it.

Most fans of the show have idly wondered which warring noble house they’d want to be born into. Are you brave and upstanding like the Starks, an entitled aristocrat like the Lannisters, or a mad pirate bastard like the Greyjoys? Personally, I like to think that I’d be at home in Dorne, where knife-fighting and aggressive bisexuality are forms of greeting, but the truth is that I’d have been dead for at least two seasons by now and so would you. And not excitingly dead, either. Not beheaded-by-the-king dead, or burned-as-a-blood-sacrifice-to-the-god-of-fire-by-your-own-father dead. Statistically speaking, we’d be peasants. We probably wouldn’t even get names. We’d just be eating mud and waiting for the war to be over. You know it’s true.

The moral lessons so far are murky but sensible. Dragons are awesome. Men are invariably dreadful. Following religious zealots into battle is a poor life decision. Honour is a made-up concept that will probably get you killed. Most importantly, there are very few truly evil people in the world: instead, there are just stupid people, and scared people, and petty, vindictive people, and sometimes those people get put in charge of armies and nations, and that’s when the rest of us are really buggered. That’s what Game of Thrones is about.

I’m not even confident of a happy ending. I’ve made peace with knowing that my favourite characters are unlikely to make it out of the series alive, and even if they do, it won’t matter, because a giant army of ice zombies is coming to eat the world.

And that’s what makes it brilliant. There are plenty of horrible, sexy things on television, and in these anxious times every novelist worth his advance seems to be turning his hand to grim dystopian fiction. The problem with most dystopias, though, is that they’re too predictable. They serve up worlds where, however awful things get, someone is at least in charge. They are comforting for that reason, in the same way as conspiracy theories are comforting. It is less distressing to believe, for instance, that a secret race of lizard people is managing the destiny of the human race than to believe that nobody is managing it at all.

Stories help us rehearse trauma. They help us prepare for it. You sit down to watch terrible things happening to made-up people and you imagine how you’d cope if that were you, or someone you loved, and even if the answer is “not at all” you find yourself feeling a bit better. Right now, the really frightening prospect is that the world is actually being run by vicious idiots with only half a plan between them who are too busy fighting each other to pay attention to the weather, which is about to kill us all.

That, along with the epic theme music, is why I still love Game of Thrones. It feels like aversion therapy for the brutal randomness of modern politics, with a side order of CGI monsters and a lot of shagging. There you go. I hope that’s given you all the excuse you need to tune in for season six. I did my best. If you need me, I’ll be behind the sofa. 

Laurie Penny is a contributing editor to the New Statesman. She is the author of five books, most recently Unspeakable Things.

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism