Why benefit loans still aren't the answer to Labour's welfare problems

A salary insurance scheme that would impose a 9 per cent tax on jobseekers after they return to work isn't worthy of the name.

I think it’s important to clear up some of the arguments made by IPPR’s associate director Graeme Cook in his response to criticisms of the think-tank’s idea for benefit loans. If you haven’t been following, you can read my original criticism of the plan here.

Graeme says:

To clear up one thing straight away: this proposal is in addition to existing entitlements to Jobseeker's Allowance (we do not want to turn JSA into a loan). This means that, contrary to one claim, it wouldn’t mean people who hadn’t worked get more than those who had.

People who hadn’t worked wouldn’t get access to this scheme, because access is based on NI contributions, so clearly they’re not getting more within the confines of the proposal – that’s not up for dispute. The point is that when looking at welfare benefits as a whole there would be people who hadn’t contributed and who were on benefits who got more in non-repayable benefits than people who were on repayable benefit loans and who had contributed. This would create resentment.

If it’s not immediately obvious why this would be, consider a typical staple of negative press welfare coverage – a workless household with a large family receiving child benefit for each child, and on housing benefit.  There are plenty of examples of this kind of piece, and it is these intensively reported, atypical outliers that shape the negative public perception of welfare.

Yes, these articles are unfair and ridiculous for countless reasons. But now consider sums like £30,000 being banded around for supposedly 'feckless' families in the context of other people who find themselves unemployed, receive less than that because they’re not eligible for housing benefit (maybe they have a mortgage) or child benefit (maybe they don’t have any children) and are then told they have to repay most of their benefits - unlike the person they’ve been told is a 'scrounger'. If Labour are planning to successfully explain to the public why this isn’t as unfair as it looks, they’re in for a shock.

If the policy is aiming to destroy the notion that the welfare state "pays out too much to people who have not worked, but also that it offers so little protection to those who have" (Graeme’s words), treating contributors as second class will not help. This policy has the potential to create a whole new genre of articles about how the welfare state is on the side of the wrong people, even if its intention is to do the opposite.

Graeme:

Some have argued that repayment will create a disincentive for people to return to work. Clearly this risk should be monitored on implementation, and the point at which repayments began and the repayment rate could be amended to reduce this concern.

Apart from this being a bit of a cop-out, I think it seriously misses a wider point: even if there was no deterrent to work from a 9 per cent hike in your tax rate, it’s just not fair to tax people for losing their jobs. To paraphrase Tony Benn: you don’t tax people because they lose their job, you tax people because they can afford it. The fact that it’s probably economically the absolute worst situation you could levy a tax on someone is probably secondary.

If you thought the ‘bedroom tax’ or the ‘jobs tax’ were politically toxic, wait until you hear about the ‘unemployment tax’. It’ would be the Poll Tax and the 10p rate rolled into one, and for good reason.

Graeme:

Critics of this idea have questioned why the extra income protection provided by NSI cannot be attained simply by increasing the level of contributory JSA. The problem of course is where the money would come from (we estimated the upfront cost at somewhere between £1.8bn and £2.6bn, though it is hard to be precise).

The first thing to say to this is that if you’re not prepared to actually spend any money on a group, don’t expect them to actually thank you. There are no free political lunches here: If Labour or IPPR are merely trying to address the perception that some people don’t get enough out of the welfare state, rather than the fact, then they haven’t learned the lessons from the empty, headline-grabbing, initiative-driven spin years of New Labour.

But this needn’t be a problem. The £2bn or so a year needed to substantially increase contributory JSA is roughly what the coalition is planning on spending on the Universal Credit, so it’s hardly a fanciful sum of money for a flagship welfare policy.

IPPR also misses that someone is going to pay this money, it’s just a question of who. Under their proposals, it’s funded by a 9 per cent tax on people who have lost their jobs. A fairer approach would be for everyone to pay before they were made unemployed, as is conventional in any kind of insurance scheme I’ve come across. Why is the think-tank calling this an insurance scheme if the costs are borne by the person who suffers the accident? It’s not really worthy of the name. In its current form it’s more of a bank than an insurance policy.

But the killer here is that the policy doesn’t need to be – and indeed ought not to be – deficit neutral. Businesses are not investing because there is no demand in the economy; putting money in the hands of consumers is a good thing because it creates demand, which allows businesses to invest, which results in growth. There are better and worse places to spend a demand stimulus, and giving it to the unemployed as disposable income one of the best: unemployed people have low incomes, therefore they spend all their money and have a very low propensity to save. This means the money has what is called a "high velocity" in that it changes hands very quickly and has a multiplier effect throughout the economy.

Labour has to some extent been talking the language of stimulus, but politically is scared of committing to spending anything. It should be jumping at the chance to combine Keynesianism with a politically savvy commitment that would restore the political reputation of the welfare state.

A man stands outside the Jobcentre Plus on January 18, 2012 in Trowbridge, England. Photograph: Getty Images.

Jon Stone is a political journalist. He tweets as @joncstone.

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It's easy to see where Berlin is being rebuilt – just hit the streets

My week, from walking the streets of Berlin to class snobbery and the right kind of gentrification.

Brick by brick, block by block, the people are rebuilding the city once called Faust’s Metropolis. To see it clearly, put your boots on. One of the most bracing walks starts by the Gethsemane Church, which served as a haven for dissenters in the last days of the GDR and takes you down ­towards the Hackescher Markt.

Here, in what is still the eastern half of a divided city that wears its division more lightly, is a Berlin experience both old and new. In three decades of frequent visits, it has been fascinating to note how much this part of town has changed. Even a decade ago these streets were rundown. With crumbling buildings showing bulletholes, it wasn’t hard to imagine what the place looked like in 1945. Now there are lilacs, blues, and yellows. Cafés, bars and restaurants abound, serving the young professionals attracted to the city by cheap rents and a renewed sense of community.

 

Breaking the fourth wall

Looking north along Schliemannstraße, you’ll find a delightful vista of well-tended balconies. It’s a pleasant place to live, notwithstanding the gaggle of grotesques who gather round the corner in the square. On Kastanienallee, which forms the second leg of the walk, an old city feels young. It’s a kind of gentrification but the right kind. There’s more to eat, to drink, to buy, for all.

Berlin, where Bertolt Brecht staged his unwatchable plays, was supposed to have been transformed by a proletarian revolution. Instead, it has been restored to health by a very middle-class one. Germany has always had a well-educated middle class, and the nation’s restoration would have impossible without such people. The irony is delicious – not that irony buttered many parsnips for “dirty Bertie”.

 

The new snobbery

The British Museum’s survey of German history “Memories of a Nation” is being presented at the Martin-Gropius-Bau as “The British View”. Germans, natürlich, are curious to see how we observe them. But how do they see us?

A German friend recently in England  said that the images that struck him most forcibly were the tins of food and cheap booze people piled up in supermarkets, and the number of teenage girls pushing prams. Perhaps Neil MacGregor, the former director of the British Museum who will shortly take up a similar role here at the new Humboldt Forum, may turn his attention to a “German View” of the United Kingdom.

There’s no shortage of material. In Schlawinchen, a bar that typifies Kreuzberg’s hobohemia, a college-educated English girl was trying to explain northern England to an American she had just met. Speaking in an ugly modern Mancunian voice that can only be acquired through years of practice (sugar pronounced as “sug-oar”), she refer­red to Durham and York as “middle class, you know, posh”, because those cities had magnificent cathedrals.

When it comes to inverted snobbery, no nation can match us. To be middle class in Germany is an indication of civic value. In modern England, it can mark you as a leper.

 

Culture vultures

The Humboldt Forum, taking shape by the banks of the Spree, reconsecrates the former site of the GDR’s Palace of the Republic. When it opens in 2018 it will be a “living exhibition”, dedicated to all the cultures of the world. Alexander von Humboldt, the naturalist and explorer, was the brother of Wilhelm, the diplomat and philosopher, whose name lives on in the nearby university.

In Potsdamerplatz there are plans to build a modern art museum, crammed in between the Neue Nationalgalerie and the Philharmonie, home to the Berlin Philharmonic. Meanwhile, the overhaul of the Deutsche Staatsoper, where Daniel Barenboim is music director for life, is likely to be completed, fingers crossed, next autumn.

Culture everywhere! Or perhaps that should be Kultur, which has a slightly different meaning in Germany. They take these things more seriously, and there is no hint of bogus populism. In London, plans for a new concert hall have been shelved. Sir Peter Hall’s words remain true: “England is a philistine country that loves the arts.”

 

European neighbours

When Germans speak of freedom, wrote A J P Taylor, a historian who seems to have fallen from favour, they mean the freedom to be German. No longer. When modern Germans speak of freedom, they observe it through the filter of the European Union.

But nation states are shaped by different forces. “We are educated to be obedient,” a Berlin friend who spent a year at an English school once told me. “You are educated to be independent.” To turn around Taylor’s dictum: when the English speak of freedom,
they mean the freedom to be English.

No matter what you may have heard, the Germans have always admired our independence of spirit. We shall, however, always see “Europe” in different ways. Europe, good: we can all agree on that. The European Union, not so good. It doesn’t mean we have to fall out, and the Germans are good friends to have.

 

Hook, line and sinker

There are fine walks to be had in the west, too. In Charlottenburg, the Kensington of Berlin, the mood is gentler, yet you can still feel the city humming. Here, there are some classic places to eat and drink – the Literaturhauscafé for breakfast and, for dinner, Marjellchen, a treasure trove of east Prussian forest delights. Anything that can be shot and put in a pot!

For a real Berlin experience, though, head at nightfall for Zwiebelfisch, the great tavern on Savignyplatz, and watch the trains glide by on the other side of Kantstraße. Hartmut Volmerhaus, a most amusing host, has been the guvnor here for more than 30 years and there are no signs that his race is run. The “Fisch” at twilight: there’s nowhere better to feel the pulse of this remarkable city. 

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage