Skip to content
Rachel Reeves delivering her spring statement in the Commons. Photograph: House of Commons
Rachel Reeves’s Spring Statement confirms what many suspected: Labour has embraced austerity not as necessity, but as ideology.

When Rachel Reeves stood up to deliver her Spring Statement, she did so beneath the banner of “stability, investment, and reform”. But the most consequential announcements, those with the sharpest, coldest edge, came buried in the detail. £4.8 billion will be cut from the welfare budget. The health element of Universal Credit, worth £390 a month, will be halved for new claimants deemed fit for work. The Office for Budget Responsibility estimates that, across this parliament, 3.2 million families will see their incomes fall by an average of £1,720 a year in real terms.

This is austerity, not just in its outcomes, but in its political logic. Reeves framed her statement around “fiscal rules”, market confidence, and the need to “fix the public finances”. But like George Osborne before her, she is choosing a particular way of doing so: not through taxing wealth or capital, but through disciplining the poor. For a Labour government to do this less than a year into office is significant. It marks not just a shift, but a confirmation: that the Labour Party, under Keir Starmer and Reeves, has completed its absorption into the economic orthodoxy of British capitalism.

The political class, across all parties, remains wedded to the idea that work is not only a means of subsistence, but the only valid measure of human worth. That idea runs deep in British political culture—Protestant in origin, Thatcherite in expression, New Labour in articulation, and now restated in Starmerism’s bureaucratic monotone. “We are the party of work,” Reeves said, as if that settled the matter. But for whom, and on what terms? In the same week, a government-commissioned review was launched into the so-called “sick note culture”, based on the assumption that too many people are feigning illness to avoid the labour market. The goal, ministers said, is to “change the sick note culture”, as though the rising tide of chronic illness, mental ill-health and disability is not the result of structural conditions—poverty, overwork, environmental stress—but a moral failing to be corrected with nudges and conditionality.

In a press briefing after the statement, journalists were told the Chancellor was “delighted” by the OBR’s forecast that 200,000 people would be “incentivised” into work by the changes to disability benefits. In another time, a Labour minister might have baulked at celebrating cuts to support for the sick and disabled. But this is a different Labour Party, one that sees the labour market, not the welfare state, as the site of salvation. It is a party that no longer speaks of dignity in any terms except the dignity of work. It cannot comprehend that human life might have value beyond wage labour, that art, care, study, parenthood, or rest might be worth defending in themselves.

At the same time, Reeves confirmed plans to increase defence spending by £6.4 billion by 2027. The extra funds will be paid for not by borrowing or taxation, but by further cuts, this time to Britain’s already diminished overseas aid budget. As ever, militarism and austerity walk hand in hand. And as always, the working class at home and abroad is made to pay.

There are alternatives. The IPPR has shown that a fairer tax regime, including a modest wealth tax, reform of capital gains, and equalising income from work and wealth, could raise tens of billions without touching a single benefit. But that is not the direction Reeves is taking. Her priority, she said, is to show that “Labour has changed”. The statement made clear what that change entails: a fiscal policy indistinguishable from the Conservatives’, wrapped in the language of technocratic necessity.

This is not a matter of electoral pragmatism. It is a matter of class politics. Austerity is not merely a tool of budgetary restraint; it is a weapon of class power. It disciplines labour, fragments solidarity, and protects capital. Reeves’s statement will, over time, deepen inequality, entrench poverty, and erode what remains of the post-war settlement. And it will do so with the legitimacy granted by Labour’s red rosette.

The great mistake of liberal commentary is to treat austerity as a policy error rather than a political strategy. But as Marx reminds us, the state is not neutral. It is the executive committee of the bourgeoisie. That Labour now wields its instruments should come as no surprise. The only question now is whether resistance can be rebuilt, not through moral outrage, but through political organisation.


Artificial Intelligence (9) Book Review (78) Books (82) Britain (35) Capitalism (9) Conservative Government (35) Creeping Fascism (12) diary (11) Donald J Trump (45) Elon Musk (9) Europe (11) Film (11) France (14) History (9) Imperialism (16) Iran (10) Israel (14) Keir Starmer (10) Labour Government (25) Labour Party (9) Marxist Theory (10) Migrants (13) Nigel Farage (13) Palestine (9) Protest (14) Reform UK (21) Russia (12) Suella Braverman (8) Television (9) Trade Unionism (8) Ukraine (9) United States of America (85) War (19) Work (9) Working Class (9)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Share the Post:

Latest Posts

A vintage revolver mounted on a plain beige wooden wall, evoking the concept of Chekhov’s gun. The weapon is displayed in profile with a dark blued metal frame and a worn wooden grip, lit softly to highlight its aged, utilitarian design.
Alexander Dugin

The Gospel of World War Three: Alexander Dugin and the Death Cult of Civilisation

Alexander Dugin’s latest polemic is not political analysis but fascist sermon—an apocalyptic blueprint in which nuclear war is both inevitable and desirable. Cloaked in the language of sovereignty and tradition, it is a call to arms for a new ideology of holy Russian power. What begins with Fordow ends with the end of humanity. And for that reason alone, it demands scrutiny—not celebration. You listening, tech bros?

Read More »
A square-cropped image featuring the bold black text "THE SAMSON OPTION" in all capital letters on a cream background. The second "O" in "OPTION" is stylised with the upper half containing the Israeli flag and the lower half the American flag, symbolising the book’s geopolitical focus
Iran

The Bomb in the Basement, the Bomb in the Mountains: Israel, Iran, and the Nuclear Hypocrisy of the West

The next state to cross the nuclear threshold won’t be doing anything new. It’ll be following the path Israel already took—building the bomb in secret, shielded by silence and strategic utility. The real precedent was set decades ago in the Negev. That’s the hypocrisy at the heart of the so-called international order: one bomb is a threat to civilisation, the other a pillar of it. This isn’t about non-proliferation. It’s about who gets to own the apocalypse.

Read More »
A stylised, screen-printed poster shows the Spanish PM in a suit walking past large NATO emblems on bold, flat panels. The image is rendered in a 1968 protest aesthetic with a grainy texture and a limited palette of red, navy blue, and beige. The composition evokes vintage political posters, with stark contrast and minimal detail emphasising the symbolism of militarism and conformity.
Donald J Trump

Only Spain Has Got It Right

At The Hague summit, NATO committed to spending 5% of GDP on defence and security by 2035—a figure with no strategic rationale and every sign of submission to Donald Trump. Only Spain said no. Pedro Sánchez broke ranks, arguing that gutting public services to fund rearmament was neither economically justifiable nor politically defensible. In doing so, he exposed what the rest of Europe won’t admit: this isn’t about defence. It’s about deference. And someone had to refuse.

Read More »