Osborne's cuts will cost Britain in the long run

Through his narrow focus on making the books add up now, the Chancellor is piling up social costs for the future.

George Osborne today set out the grim departmental spending settlement for 2015-16: the year after the next general election and so, in some ways, no more than a starting point for whoever wins. Yet it is a critical baseline: whatever its political colour, if the government of the day wishes to deviate from these plans they will either need to set out how they will reallocate cuts between departments, or how they will replace these cuts by either increasing taxes or increasing borrowing. It is also likely, then, to mark a turning point in the framing of the political debate about austerity.

Unless there has been no or very little pick up in the economy by 2015, (in which case the economy is in much more serious trouble than many think) it looks increasingly likely that Labour will go into the general election with a 1997-style type pledge to match Conservative spending plans, at least on current spending. Even if that isn’t the position, all of the parties are signed up to medium-term fiscal consolidation. As the debate moves away from the here and now, and towards what happens after the next election, "too far, too fast" will become increasingly irrelevant.

This is why Miliband and Balls have shifted the debate away from the pace of deficit reduction towards starting to set out how Labour might seek to make savings. The debate is not so much about the size of the state but about how fiscal consolidation is to be achieved. There are some major flaws in the way Osborne is cutting and the centre-left should be highlighting these while still emphasising the need for medium-term cuts.

A smart corporate looking to take almost a fifth of its cost base out over an eight-year period would probably start with three principles. First, it would look right across its activities and investments to take a comparative view of what adds most value to its business, and would start by taking out the lowest-value expenditure. Second, it would take a long-term view spanning decades not months: ensuring cuts made today would not create higher costs over a ten or twenty year period. Last, it would have its best and smartest minds focused on the significant task at hand: it certainly wouldn’t be letting its top performers go, or distract its board and mid-level management with big restructures or expansion into new markets.

Osborne’s approach couldn’t be further from this sort of strategy. First, the government is not looking at what it does in the round, taking a comparative view of the value of its activities. Thus it is ring-fencing universal pensioner benefits, such as the Winter Fuel Allowance and free bus passes, some of which are paid to older people with an income far in excess of average earnings in retirement, while cutting working-age benefits and services for young people. Four out of five pounds of every welfare cut are hitting families in work, for example through cuts to childcare tax credits. Despite historically high levels of long-term youth unemployment, the Future Jobs Fund and the Education Maintenance Allowance have also been cut. The cumulative result of Osborne’s decisions, from his first emergency Budget up until today, is a big redistribution from the young to the old, further consolidating the intergenerational transfer that’s happened via the housing price bubble and shifts in pension provision away from defined benefit towards defined contriubution.

Second, Osborne is taking a short-term view, pursuing cuts that may make the books add up that year but which risk creating big long-term costs for the state. The short-sightedness of his decision to cut the Future Jobs Fund, proven to work in reducing youth unemployment, is a perfect example: the long-term costs of youth unemployment through the 'scarring' impact it has on a young person’s lifetime employment opportunities are well-established. But there are many others. Cutbacks to the early years services offered in children’s centres risk manifesting themselves in higher costs later on, for example through poorer school results and employment outcomes for the young children who no longer benefit from them. The government has forecast its increased tuition fees will save money based on some highly optimistic predictions about the rate at which graduates will pay back loans: the Higher Education Policy Institute have said the new system could actually end up costing more than the old system, despite a £9,000 a year price tag on most degrees. Some decisions will end up costing more in the even shorter term. The bedroom tax is forcing local authorities to move those who cannot afford it to more expensive bed and breakfast accommodation when there are no smaller homes available. Social care cuts simply shift the load over to the NHS as hospitals are forced to keep older people on wards longer than necessary because of a lack of community care, an even more expensive solution.

Osborne would claim that in the case of social care and children’s centres, it is local authorities choosing to make these cuts in light of their reduced settlement, not him. But if Whitehall were taking the long view it would be incentivising local government to think longer-term, for example by enacting a settlement that allows councils that do achieve long-term savings to keep a proportion to reinvest.

Last, the government certainly does not seem to be creating space for its brightest and best minds to focus on the challenge in hand without distraction. Cutting headcounts is an inevitable part of any austerity programme. But this has not been used as an opportunity to performance-manage out the poor performers. Instead, in many Whitehall departments, the best staff have taken voluntary redundancy packages and left. And the government’s misguided public service reform programme is absorbing huge amounts of energy at a time when morale is low. The NHS faces its tightest spending settlement since the Second World War: demographic pressures and social care cuts mean the ring-fence will feel very much like a cut. Yet health commissioners are focused not on the challenge at hand but on a massive structural reorganisation with no clear rationale as to why this will improve the quality of healthcare. In education, primary schools in several local authorities are being forced to become academies, getting grants of tens of thousands of pounds from central government to figure out how to recreate back-office and school improvement economies of scale. Ofsted has said this risks distracting school leaders from their core mission of improving standards at a time when cuts to children’s services are loading more onto schools.

The centre-left cannot make these sorts of critiques without saying more about how it would be cutting differently. Yet by setting out what he would do were he still Chancellor in 2015, Osborne is effectively forcing Labour onto this territory. Miliband and Balls made a good start a couple of weeks ago in making it clear universal pensioner benefits are no longer sacrosanct in light of what that means for support for young people and working families, and insetting out how a Labour government would seek to bring down the medium-term cost of social security by investing upfront in house building and encouraging businesses to pay the living wage. Eventually though, and before the next general election, Labour will need to say exactly how their plans would differ from Osborne’s; with the assumption that unless they set out more tax rises or accept higher levels of borrowing to pay for current spending, they will need to accept his cuts unless they are reapportioned elsewhere. This is what Ed Miliband signalled is to come in a recent speech: it will represent a marked shift in the tone of the political debate.

Sonia Sodha is a former policy adviser to Ed Miliband and writes in a personal capacity

George Osborne and Danny Alexander leave the Treasury for the House of Commons before the Spending Review. Photograph: Getty Images.

Sonia Sodha is head of policy and strategy at the Social Research Unit and a former senior policy adviser to Ed Miliband. She tweets @soniasodha.

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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