Cameron hands Labour an attack line by hinting the 45p tax rate could be cut

The PM's loose talk on tax has distracted from his popular pledge to maintain the triple lock on the state pension.

David Cameron has started 2014 with his biggest spending pledge to date: to maintain the triple lock on the state pension for the entirety of the next parliament. This means that pensions will continue to rise in line with inflation, earnings, or 2.5%, whichever is highest. He tells the Sunday Times: "This is the first plank of the next general election manifesto. Pensions are protected. I think that is really important. In a civilised society ... knowing you’re going to have a decent state pension ... is, I think, a really powerful thing."

This is undoubtedly smart politics. Pensioners are the most likely age group to vote (76 per cent did in 2010 compared to 65 per cent of the total population) and the Tories have become the first party to pledge to maintain the triple lock beyond 2015. But Cameron's promise is competing for attention this morning with his suggestion that the top rate of tax, which was reduced from 50p to 45p last year, could be cut again. He comments: "It just seemed to me that if your top rate of tax is not raising the money that it should, and it’s holding back the competitiveness of the economy, then even if it’s politically unpopular to change it, you must do it. I’m trying to sweep away all the things that hold back the chance of Britain being a real success story in the 21st century. And you know, having a top rate of tax of 50p is just going to hold Britain back. And what we’ve seen since the change is actually the growth of tax revenues."

And adds: "I’m always interested in listening to the experts. Tax rates should be set to raise money, not to send messages. I’m interested in making sure that the rich in this country pay a lot of tax, which they do. They’re paying a bigger share ... than they were. If people can bring forward arguments about how to maximise the revenue from the top rate of tax, I’m always interested to read them."

So, has Art Laffer (of the eponymous "curve") been vindicated? Do lower rates, as the right has long claimed, produce higher revenues? Not quite. The recent spike in tax receipts was most likely due to the income shifted from 2012 to 2013 in order to benefit from the lower rate. As the IFS noted: "Receipts in April will have been boosted by high income individuals shifting income such as bonuses and special dividends from 2012–13 to 2013–14 in anticipation of the fall in the top rate of income tax from 50 per cent to 45 per cent".  This, of course, is a trick the rich can only play once (unless the rate is reduced again), just as, in the opposite direction, they shifted £16bn into the previous tax year when the rate was still 40p (the reason the 50p rate raised less than forecast, although £1bn is hardly a trivial sum). Cameron should also avoid confusing correlation with cause. If revenues rise this year, it will likely owe more to the return of growth than lower taxes.

But regardless of the policy implications, Cameron's hint that the rate could be cut again ("If people can bring forward arguments...I'm always interested to read them") is terrible politics. Every poll published on the subject has shown that the public opposed the decision to reduce the 50p rate (one put support for the higher rate at 68%), while 48% favour a 60p rate. By suggesting, nevertheless, that the highest earners could be awarded another tax cut, Cameron has gifted Labour an attack line. Shadow chief secretary to the Treasury Chris Leslie wasted no time in declaring that "While ordinary families are facing a cost-of-living crisis it seems David Cameron wants to give people earning over £150,000 yet another tax cut. Working people are on average £1,600 a year worse off since the Tories came to office. But once again this Prime Minister seems determined to be on the side of the privileged few."

This should have been a good news day for the Tories, with Cameron promising continued increases in the state pension for all pensioners (not just some). But the PM's loose talk on tax has allowed Labour to once again portray him as being on the side of the few, not the many.

Update: Cameron tried to recover some ground on The Andrew Marr Show by saying that if he had "money in the coffers", he would target tax cuts at "the lowest paid", but he still refused to rule out cutting the 45p rate. If he wants to avoid allowing Labour to claim that he's planning another "millionaire's tax cut" throughout the election campaign, he would be wise to do so.

David Cameron gives a press conference after an EU summit in Brussels on December 20, 2013. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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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