David Cameron during a joint press conference with his Slovenian counterpart at Brdo Castle on June 18, 2015. Photograph: Getty Images.
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David Cameron has retreated from his promises on child poverty – but will it cost him?

Labour will not prosper if it is viewed merely as a repository of protest. 

History has reduced David Cameron’s modernising phase to gay rights and greenery. “White-collar liberalism” was pursued to the neglect of “blue-collar conservatism”. Yet in his quest to make his party electable he roamed more widely than is commonly thought. He unambiguously committed the Conservatives to a free NHS, pledged to match Labour’s public spending plans for three years and vowed to end the “moral disgrace” of poverty. In his 2006 Scarman Lecture, the then opposition leader declared, “I want this message to go out loud and clear: the Conservative Party recognises, will measure and will act on relative poverty . . . Poverty is relative – and those who pretend otherwise are wrong . . . Even if we are not destitute, we still experience poverty if we cannot afford things that society regards as essential.”

His words were a repudiation of the Thatcherite belief that once a minimum standard of living has been attained, the level of income inequality is irrelevant. After tripling under the Conservatives from one in nine children to one in three, child poverty fell by 800,000 under Labour. To date, Cameron has been able to boast that this progress has continued during his premiership. Child poverty fell by 300,000 to 2.3 million in 2010/11 as middle-class earnings declined and benefits protected the incomes of the poorest. It then remained flat for the following two years. Against expectations, the figures published on 25 June for 2013/14 continued this trend. But the panoply of austerity measures imposed – the household benefit cap, the bedroom tax and the 1 per cent cap on benefit increases – and the nascent recovery in average incomes means it is unlikely to endure. It is forecast that by 2020, the year that Tony Blair earmarked for its abolition, child poverty will have increased by one-third to one in four children.

Just as it was the provision of welfare that enabled the fall in child poverty, so its removal precipitated its rise. Few Conservatives expected to be in a position to impose the £12bn of cuts they promised during the election. The Lib Dems privately planned to negotiate the figure down to £9bn or £10bn in the event that the Tories fell short of a majority – a deal that some Tories willingly would have accepted. The confirmation by George Osborne and Iain Duncan Smith that they will indeed use their mandate to make £12bn of cuts likely guarantees increases in child poverty. Because of Cameron’s decision to ring-fence all benefits for pensioners, the axe will inevitably fall on families and the working poor. The cuts announced so far – a two-year freeze in working-age benefits, the reduction of the benefit cap from £26,000 to £23,000 and the removal of housing benefit from 18-to-21-year-olds – amount to just £1.5bn. The remaining £10.5bn will not be itemised in full until the Spending Review this autumn.

After £21bn of cuts in the last parliament left few low-hanging fruit, it is tax credits that are viewed as the weakest link. They are the largest of the unprotected areas (accounting for £30bn) and have long been regarded by the Tories as emblematic of Labour’s statist meddling. Cameron denounced the payments as a “ridiculous merry-go-round”; Duncan Smith accused the opposition of using them to “buy votes” while in office (his party has performed precisely this trick in the case of the elderly, 47 per cent of whom voted Tory in May). In recent days, Cameron and other Conservatives have sounded like their Labour counterparts as they have denounced companies for failing to pay their employees higher wages. Sarah Wollaston MP told me that large firms were “taking us all for a ride” by forcing the taxpayer to “subsidise their profits” through the welfare system.

Cameron has identified a problem but he does not yet have anything resembling a solution. Unless the Tories annex Labour’s policy of “make work pay” contracts (as some opposition MPs fear they will), which would provide a tax rebate to companies that sign up to become living wage employers, they have no means of ensuring higher salaries. Mere exhortation will not suffice. The fashion for deriding tax credits on the left and the right elides the reality that they are a policy for an imperfect world. Neither salaries nor the personal tax allowance, for instance, take account of family size.

The relative poverty measure that Cameron lauded when it was in his interests to do so is now derided as meaningless. He cited “the absurd situation where if we increase the state pension, child poverty actually goes up”. Yet that example reflects precisely the fiscal gerontocracy that troubles so many. Relative to the old, the young are unambiguously worse off.

Conservatives fear that the rise in child poverty and the coming raid on tax credits will provide a depleted Labour Party with vital ammunition. But the opposition has its own problems to contend with. If the Tories are thought to be too unwilling to spend money on the poorest, Labour must counter the impression that it is all too willing to do so. The shadow work and pensions secretary, Rachel Reeves, fought hard in private to ensure that the party committed to voting for the reduced out-of-work benefit cap. A sharper distinction between welfare for the employed and for the unemployed is regarded as an unavoidable consequence of Labour’s defeat. As the working poor lose tax credits, they are even less tolerant of those perceived to be gaming the system.

Even in this case, however, Labour will not prosper if it is viewed merely as a repository of protest. It must convince voters that it is as devoted to saving public money as the Tories. As Cameron’s 2006 speech showed, uncharacteristic clothes must be worn in opposition – even if they are later discarded in government. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 26 June 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Bush v Clinton 2

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times