Tag: UK Welfare

Not laughing on the way to the #foodbank: ‘Marie’ the carer and her sons

Marie (not her real name) is 53 and is separated from her husband,  although they are still legally married.  Despite her many health issues, she has been his full-time carer for four years.  He has dementia, while she lives with chronic arthritis, anxiety and panic attacks, depression and anger management issues. They have four sons in their 20s – three of whom still live with Marie. All four of her sons have mild to moderate learning difficulties.

Left with no benefits, she came into the London food bank last week with three of her sons for some help. Her employment and support allowance (ESA) – a benefit paid to the sick and disabled if they are unable to work – had been withdrawn.  It was stopped following a Work Capability Assessment (WCA) carried out by Atos (whose controversial contract with the government to undertake the tests is ending early). She was declared fit for work and her ESA payments officially stopped on October 16th – a day before her 53rd birthday.

In reality, she says her household hasn’t received any money  – other than one  son’s jobseeker’s allowance (JSA)  – since October 7th. When she began signing last week for JSA, she was not informed by staff at Jobcentre Plus when she would receive a payment. ‘I was due a payment on my birthday week, and that’s when I was told I wouldn’t get anything. I was beside myself  – I was crying a lot. I didn’t know how I was going to pay my bills.’ Another son who lives with her has been told he has to go back on ESA, and her third son who lives at home is in the process of applying for ESA.

She’s very concerned about the impact of her dire financial situation on her housing. ‘Before the ESA was stopped they (the housing association) said that if I did not pay a certain amount of money I would be kicked out. They know my situation and I’ve got a month to let them know what payment I’m going to get.’

Marie broke down in tears as she explained her situation. One of the food bank volunteers brought her a cup of tea. She said that she’s the only person in her house who can read and write, and that she’s been trying to explain to Jobcentre Plus about her sons’ learning disabilities. She described a disconnect between what staff there are asking the young men to do and what their mother believes they can realistically manage. She’s also worried about the impact of the staffs’ approach on one son’s state of mind. ‘They had been telling my sons to do certain things – to meet certain criteria. They are trying – but they don’t meet the criteria required by work plans. They’ve got to look on the computer for jobs (on Universal Jobmatch).’

‘What upset me the most was that my youngest son, who’s 23, saw a disability officer at Jobcentre Plus – and she told him that he didn’t know anything. She was implying that my son was thick and that upset him and he was crying.’

Marie has applied for a mandatory reconsideration of the decision to turn down her ESA application. She is most concerned about having to stop caring for her husband, if she has to now actively search for work. ‘I can’t leave my husband, as my sons wouldn’t know what to do then things get tricky. I’m very loyal to him. I get upset because he’s got dementia and his memory is getting quite bad now. The life expectancy for what he’s got is about eight years. Because he’s been my rock, it’s been hard for me. In the past I could go and ask his advice.’

She adds: ‘My husband is on a low budget  – yet he’s been giving us a little money and food. It makes me feel awkward, because he’s on a tight budget himself.’ Her house is cold, she has to use key cards for her gas and electricity and put a little money at a time on them.  To wash, they have to fill up the kettle and use the sink. Her sons and herself suffer from chest problems. Places like the food bank (this is the fourth time she’s had to use it) have ‘ taken the pressure off, but it’s hit my self-esteem and dignity.’ But she says that if it hadn’t been for the food bank she doesn’t know what she would have done – as she has no support network.

A month ago she says she was recovering from a nervous breakdown, ‘because stuff was getting too much and I felt like ending my life – but I’ve got responsibilities to my husband and kids’. She says the stress she’s under is causing her to lose weight and ‘my hair is falling out’. She talks to mental health charity Mind and to her GP. She says her GP, who has known her for 30 years,  is ‘disgusted’ about the way the welfare system has handled her case.

She says she expects a decision on the mandatory reconsideration this week, and that if the answer is another refusal, she will immediately make an appointment with Citizens Advice to discuss next steps.

Marie left the food bank, with her sons helping her carry the bags of food.

This is how what some policy gurus  might call ‘radical changes to  the welfare system in the UK’  are converging to impact one family in London – the capital city of the world’s sixth richest economy by GDP.

 

Linda Tirado: ‘We’re stuck entertaining each other because cable is ridiculously expensive.’

Linda Tirado is a genius of a writer whose honest, direct, and unblinking book about what it’s like to be poor in the USA was published recently.  Hand to Mouth – The Truth About Being Poor in a Wealthy World describes her life as a young woman struggling to get by – which essentially means little more than to survive – in minimum wage jobs. She’s also funny and dry as a bone.

Her experiences with poor and insecure housing, little money for food or anything that might ever count as a treat, and the struggle to stay in decent health echo many of the accounts of the people I’ve interviewed at this London food bank during the last year and more.

Before she wrote her book, a post she had written went viral last autumn. It was in answer to a question she’d seen on a forum – ‘Why do poor people do things that seem so self-destructive?’ That essay, written after a ‘particularly gruelling shift at work’, nails the array of  difficulties that cause poverty, and leads them to make what seem like poor decisions.

We often get academics and think tanks outlining what effect this or that policy might be having on the behaviour of those in poverty. Politicians are fond of speculating about the motivations and needs of various groups – ‘lone parents’, ‘skivers’, ‘hard-working families’, ‘problem families’ and so on. But at last in Linda Tirado we find a woman who has by voicing her experiences, articulated something about the daily struggles of  many of those in poverty. These are stories that very seldom get any real exposure in the mainstream media.

She also showed those who have no idea – who literally have either a failure of imagination or have forgotten – what it could be like to not meet their own or their family’s basic needs.  It’s also a much-needed challenge to those who have a vested interest in telling us that poor people are lazy and feckless, or who continue to peddle myths about all work or workfare being a sure-fire way out of poverty. In the essay that led in the end to her book, she describes life as a low wage worker, with a husband employed erratically and with two small children to provide for. Some of her truths are (and all the words are Linda’s):

  • Rest is a luxury for the rich
  • Planning isn’t in the mix
  • We’ve learned not to try too hard to be middle class (it never works out well and always makes you feel worse for having tried and failed yet again)
  • Better not to try (see above)
  • Junk food is a pleasure that we are allowed to have; why would we give that up?
  • Convenience food is just that
  • It’s hard to get a bank account
  • Nobody gives enough thought to depression.
  • I make a lot of poor financial decisions. None of them matter in the long term. I will never not be poor
  • I smoke. It’s expensive. It’s also the best option. You see. I am always, always exhausted. It’s a stimulant

The essay gets things kick-started. The book goes on to talk about a host of issues including sex, having children (‘We Do Not Have Babies for Welfare Money), and the cost of being poor (‘Poverty is Fucking Expensive’). In one chapter – ‘Being Poor Isn’t a Crime – It Just Feels Like It’ – she describes how she is ‘so used to seeing people beng punished for things they haven’t done wrong’.

She describes how in the USA ‘people seem to be increasingly afraid of the poor – building gated communities and taking separate entrances – but it’s not like criminal behaviour as we think of it has suddenly skyrocketed. We’ve just made more shit illegal. And once you have a criminal conviction, best of motherfucking luck getting a job if unemployment is above zero.’ All the chapters in the book resonated – but particularly this one. I thought of  what appears to be a growing anti-poor and anti-homeless culture here in London, where ‘defensive architecture’ such as metal spikes have been appearing on alcoves outside buildings where people might try to sleep. A policing operation in parts of London involved seizing tents and sleeping bags to ‘reduce the negative impact of rough sleepers’.

Poverty in the UK is also driving people towards criminal acts. I thought of the people – Kevin among them –  that I’ve spoken to at foodbanks and elsewhere  in London who say that they’ve broken the law by stealing food. They’ve done this because they’ve had their benefits sanctioned and have ended up with criminal convictions that will make their return to work even harder and with fines that are impossible to pay. They’ve had their benefits sanctioned, you see.

In the UK, programmes such as Benefits Street that purport to show what life’s like for the poor, seem to be designed to fill an empathy vacuum that’s growing between those with enough  – or maybe just enough –  to live on, and those who need to claim benefits.

Instead of relying on the media to tell you what you should be thinking about those on low incomes, why not get out and  have a direct conversation with someone who might be living around the corner from you about their life? Maybe you could offer to help out at your local foodbank? The Trussell Trust, for example, franchises a  fast-growing network of foodbanks throughout the UK. Even in the global financial centre and metropolis that is London I can guarantee there’ll be a foodbank closer to you than you ever might have imagined.

If this doesn’t work for you, then please give Linda’s book a go. It’s a real eye-opener of a read.

I’ll leave the last words to Linda:  ‘There are poor and working-class people everywhere, guys. You can just have a conversation with one, like a real human being. Give it a try. You’ll like it. We’re entertaining. We have to be; we’re stuck entertaining each other because cable is ridiculously expensive.’

The wait for disability benefit and the impact of being declined: Tales from the London foodbank and beyond

The existence of  a massive  waiting list for decisions on Personal Independence Payments (PIP) and accounts of long waits faced by individuals is becoming better known. The Department for Work and Pensions (DWP) says this social security payment is designed to ‘help with some of the extra costs caused by long-term ill-health or a disability’ for those aged between 16 and 64. According to DWP figures, of the 529,400 cases registered for PIP between April 2013 and the end of July this year,  just over 206,000 have been cleared (awarded, declined or withdrawn).

Yesterday in the House of Commons Mark Harper the current Minster of State for Disabled People said that by the end of the year no-one would be waiting for longer than 16 weeks for a PIP decision.

How deliverable is this, given the scale of the fiasco?

Statistics capture one aspect of  the saga, of course. But they do not show how long people are waiting within this 16 month period. Mark Harper has said: ‘The delays faced by some people are unacceptable and we are committed to putting that right’. According to an article in the Guardian here, the figures show that 51 per cent of new claimants had been awarded PIP, and it had been granted in 72 per cent of reassessment cases to people previously in receipt of Disability Living Allowance (the benefit that has been replaced by PIP for all new claimants).

But what about the day-to-day lives and feelings of the people caught up in this catastrophe, many of whom have been waiting eight months and longer for that life-changing letter to drop through the post? Also, what happens when that long-awaited decision turns out to be a ‘no’?

One of the worst cases – reported on the Same Difference blog and elsewhere –  involved Lyn Ward, who applied for PIP after she was diagnosed with breast cancer. In March this year she was still waiting for help  – 11 months after applying for this help and having undergone an operation to remove the tumour, her lymph nodes, a mastectomy, chemotherapy and radiotherapy. While PIP itself is not a means-tested benefit, finances were so tight that the delay forced Lyn to go back to work just days after completing her radiotherapy.

It’s worth stating the unavoidably obvious fact that people who apply for PIP are some of the poorest people in society – those with long-term ill-health and disabilities that more often than not impact on their ability to work. The ill-health can be physical, mental or a combination of both. Richard Hawkes, the chief executive of disability charity Scope, is quoted in the Guardian article saying that ‘Scope’s helpline has been inundated with disabled people phoning for advice on their PIP claim, and many are facing extreme delays of well over six months’.

Recently at this London food bank, I spoke to Theresa (not her real name),  who has recently been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder (BPD), which can make people at risk of self harm and suicidal behaviour. Theresa, a single person,  told me that her experiences while on Workfare – working for no pay while in receipt of jobseeker’s allowance (JSA) – had driven her to take an overdose. Now on the waiting list for specialist counselling, she has just filled in the forms to apply for PIP. But she has no idea at this stage how long it will be before she hears if her application has been successful. Even if it is successful she has no idea how much she’s likely to receive. Applicants could get between £21.55 and £138.05 a week, depending on how their health needs have been assessed – ie how many points they accrue. If she’s turned down for the payment she faces the decision of whether to go down the route of a mandatory reconsideration and if that’s not successful then an appeal to an independent panel. This would  – and again it merits hammering home  –  be particularly stressful in her circumstances.

I’ll be keeping in touch with Theresa to find the outcome of the decision and to keep track of how long it takes to come through. In the meantime, she is trying to survive and pay all bills including rent on her employment and support allowance (ESA) payment of £140.80 a fortnight – a challenge that has driven her to ask for support from the food bank.

Amy (not her real name) is 29 and lives in Sheffield. She’s had an extended wait for a decision on a PIP application. Her circumstances are slightly different to Theresa’s – but she like Theresa is struggling daily with the impact of  serious mental health issues. She lives with her 35-year-old partner in a rented flat, and her mental health issues include, but are not limited to, anxiety, agoraphobia and hearing voices. She has previously had to spend time in hospital. Amy’s partner had been a full-time student, but ended up working during the day and staying up all night to finish his dissertation. Her partner currently earns £16,000 a  year, and they both depend on his income. He is hoping that his contract-based job is extended from this December. Their rent of £440 a month is paid to a private landlord. She says their situation, though hard, would be worse if they lived somewhere like London where private rents are much higher. The couple, who have no children, receive no benefits. I’ve suggested she and her partner immediately get some advice on whether he can apply for Working Tax Credit – worth up to £1,940 a year –  based on the level of  his income. A useful benefits calculator is here.

She applied for PIP in March, and she was helped to do this by her mental health home treatment team, whom she says give her good support. She also has a social worker. She supplied medical evidence, including a report from her psychiatrist. There was an eight month wait, then the decision came two weeks ago – her application was turned down. Her mental health team had thought that she might only get the lowest rate of just over £20 a week – but even that lowest level of PIP would have covered her food bill of £15 to £20  for the week. Amy eats a vegan diet and is skilled at making a little bit of food go a long way. Her partner has a lot of food allergies, so she uses a lot of tinned vegetables and cooks from fresh when she feels able enough to do that. They couldn’t afford ready meals, even if he was able to eat them.

But the decision to reject her application was devastating. She says that if she’d got the money – and particularly if it had been backdated – she could have used it to pay for the tiny extras for herself or someone else that might make the occasional difference between existing and living. Not that she goes out much, being agoraphobic. But the extra bit of cash might have paid for the odd trip to swim at the local leisure centre – which she used to find relaxing. It might also pay for a birthday present or a card for someone. She likes cooking and said a few extra pounds a week might also give her the chance to risk trying out one or two different things. She can’t risk experimenting when she cooks at the moment, because when you’re on the sort of budget she’s on, you can’t afford even one mistake.

Before she got ill, Amy worked as a cleaner. She had been able to put aside some savings during that time, but by the start of this year that money had run out. ‘I thought – I don’t want to be a burden. I think it precipitated me into being very unwell, which is why mental health services helped me apply for PIP. They recognised that the financial worries were making me more unwell. I think they (the DWP) do want to put people off applying by making people wait too long.’

I asked her if she’s going to request a mandatory reconsideration of the decision, which would potentially lead her to an independent panel appeal. But she says that she won’t do this. ‘Most claims go to appeal and I can’t face the stress of  it being turned down. My partner says he’d rather we scraped through than for me to get ill again. I feel the risk wouldn’t be worth it. I know that I do very badly under stress. The worry about going back to hospital outweighs any benefit that money would bring.’

She added: ‘The system can make you more unwell. What they try to save by not giving me £20 a week makes me ill and anxious. They are not saving any money overall. Social care costs more than benefits would cost.’