How did they get away with it? George Osborne’s evidence to the Covid-19 inquiry this week was a useful reminder of how cleverly he persuaded voters that his state-shrinking austerity was not an ideology but an economic necessity, “essential to rebuild fiscal space to provide scope to respond to future economic shocks”.
To charges from the inquiry’s inquisitor that he pulled down the roof on “depleted health and social care capacity, and rising inequality”, Osborne replied: “Most certainly not. I completely reject that”. He even claimed he tried to “ring-fence” the NHS, despite cutting its funding per capita.
He simply rejected the evidence of Dame Sally Davies, the former chief medical officer, who was close to tears as she said the UK did not have enough resilience to cope with the pandemic, with fewer doctors, nurses or hospital beds than similar countries, echoing Sir Michael Marmot’s damning testimony on the impact of inequality.
It may be beyond this inquiry’s remit, but Osborne’s austerity failed: the UK’s growth fell below that of equivalent countries, never recovering its former levels under Labour.
Boris Johnson has no monopoly on untruth, nor on oozing disingenuousness. Osborne began with a little homily on his “heartfelt sympathy” for the bereaved, sounding about as sincere as the wolf grieving over eating up Little Red Riding Hood’s granny.
But most jaw-dropping was this: asked if there was no link between austerity and how Covid disproportionately affected the most disadvantaged, he said: “That’s absolutely my contention. It is true that pandemics will affect poorer people more severely and that is one of the great tragedies, which is why we tried to alleviate poverty and direct services towards them … things like universal credit which were introduced, all of these things were done to try and protect the poorest part of the population.”
Alleviate child poverty? The number of children in poverty rose following his austerity policies, to 4.2 million by last year, caused by his benefit cuts stripping £37bn mostly from families with children. Worst was his two-child limit, currently keeping an extra 250,000 children below the poverty line. Add in his bedroom tax, his benefit cap, the lowest sickness benefit of any similar country and his cuts to universal credit: the wolf was licking his lips. Even if you accept his economic analysis that cuts were necessary, there was no excuse for piling them on to children, while protecting old people and wealthy people.
Evidence of the life-scarring damage done to children keeps pouring in, though at last public sentiment grows more concerned, according to British Social Attitudes. A Joseph Rowntree Foundation and Trussell Trust report this week urged the government to implement an essentials guarantee, to ensure that the basic rate of universal credit at least covers life’s essentials.
A Child Poverty Action Group survey shows how heavily the cost of living crisis weighs on children, even among families that are not technically poor. More than two-thirds of parents (67%) say their children have too many money worries to be able to enjoy their childhood, affecting their mental and physical health. Children express deep anxieties about their families’ lack of money. The CPAG says the minimum immediate need is free school meals for all and a return of the £20 a week taken from universal credit. But response to the latest inflation figures focuses less on these families than on the “mortgage timebomb”, because that’s the political dynamite.
Osborne policy has taken its toll in measurable ways: on average, British children are shrinking in height in relation to those from other countries, falling 30 places down the international leagues measured at aged five. Those who grew up in austerity between 2010 and 2020 are now shorter than children in Bulgaria and Lithuania.
One person who wouldn’t be surprised is the Luton primary school headteacher I talked to this week, who didn’t want her school – where 40% of pupils are on free school meals – to be named. She describes how her teachers cope with hungry children. “Kids try to hide it so we watch at lunchtime as there’s often almost nothing in lunch boxes, or a mush of potatoes and rice a few days old. We can always find an extra meal for them, though they try to refuse as they worry their parents will have to pay, or be ashamed. Over and over, we talk to parents and say there’s no shame in being poor.”
Some can’t afford the bus fare to a food bank, so the school collects their parcels. She has just dealt with a little girl crying inconsolably as she fell playing football and ripped her tights, knowing her mother couldn’t buy her any more. “We got her some new tights. It happens a lot, boys ripping their trousers. They’re not afraid of their parents, but horrified at costing them anything extra.”
Clever fundraiser that she is, this head has breakfasts for all provided by Greggs: “They all come in for it,” she says. The loss of that £20 in benefits, followed by soaring food inflation and rents is far worse now, she says, than Covid.
As for the government’s promise to narrow the attainment gap between children of different social backgrounds, she thinks it impossible with such deep deprivation. Covid catch-up never happened: “There was no way we could do Google classes, when so many were in houses too crowded.” Some didn’t have wifi: some children perch on the steps of the Co-op, using its free wifi with their mother’s mobile phone to do their homework. She cadges free zoo, cinema and swimming trips where she can, but talks of the widening difference in life experiences. A lot of children have never seen the sea, and many have never left Luton.
By the time the Covid inquiry publishes its conclusions, the Conservatives will be long gone. But from the opening salvoes, the evidence is already in and waiting to be written on the gravestone of this government.
Polly Toynbee is a Guardian columnist
