2020 job market projected to push poverty even higher

Tackling poverty means tackling the weak job market

Research we publish today looks at the impact of the projected job market in 2020 on poverty in the UK. Unfortunately, it’s more bad news. The implication is that we should target jobs and training assistance on the basis of household, not just individual, need and focus unerringly on the creation of more and better jobs.

The research uses a forecast of the type of job market we expect to have in 2020 and combines this with a model of household incomes that includes announced tax and benefit changes. The central forecast for 2020 is for many long-term trends to continue, including shifts towards a knowledge- and service-based economy and increases in high- and low-paid jobs. We already know that cuts to benefits and Tax Credits are likely to undermine the beneficial effects of Universal Credit. This will lead to (in combination with demographic and earnings change) rising poverty rates over the rest of the decade. Adding in an estimate of changes in the job market increases inequality further, although it does offset some of the rise in absolute child poverty.

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So, changes to taxes, benefits, demography and earnings (the blue bars) increase absolute child poverty in 2020 by just over 6 per cent but job market changes (the red bar) offset this a tad. Turning to the relative measure, tax and benefit changes raise poverty by around 5 per cent and the projected job market adds another 1 per cent by 2020. All groups except households headed by someone aged over 65 see rising absolute and relative poverty from tax and benefit changes, with lone parents hit particularly hard. Employment change makes things worse for everyone except for absolute poverty among families with children.

We weren’t naive enough to expect the central forecast to eradicate poverty, so the plan was then to try out some different scenarios that JRF, the research team and our advisory group thought might have a positive impact. These variations were all based on changing the distribution (but not increasing the number) of jobs, and we didn’t vary the tax and benefit system. The second chart shows the impact of some of these scenarios on relative child poverty rates (the long bar shows the predicted 2020 rate of 25.7 per cent).

None of the alternative scenarios (the short bars) have any meaningful impact on that central child poverty projection. Keeping the employment structure as it is now would decrease poverty by a tiny 1.2 per cent. This is the biggest difference. A general rise in qualification levels across the workforce and reduced pay for the highest qualified, for example, actually increases child poverty more than in the central forecast (by 1.0 per cent). Most other scenarios have virtually zero effect by 2020.

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There are two core reasons for this disappointing lack of impact. The first is that low paid and poorly qualified workers, along with women and part time workers, are spread across the whole household income distribution. This means targeting these workers is not an especially effective way of targeting poverty. The second is the huge ‘drag’ on poverty rates of the large number of workless households in the UK.

What do we do about these worrying findings? It is clear that interventions such as training and skills development need to be targeted on the basis of household need, not just individual need if we are to have a serious impact on poverty. It is also clear that we need more jobs. A lot more, because the 1.5 million new jobs included in these forecasts is going to be nowhere near enough when 6 million people in the UK are currently seeking more work.

A child in the Gorton estate in Manchester, where 27% of children live under the poverty line. Photograph: Getty Images

Chris Goulden is deputy director of policy and research at the independent Joseph Rowntree Foundation (JRF).

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Byron burgers and bacon sandwiches: can any politician get away with eating on camera?

Memo to aspirant world leaders: eating in public is a political minefield.

Miliband’s sandwich. Cameron’s hot dog. Osborne’s burger. The other Miliband’s banana. As well as excellent names for up-and-coming indie bands, these are just a few examples of now infamous food faux pas committed by British politicians.

During his entire mayoral campaign, Sadiq Khan refused to eat anything in public. When journalist Simon Hattenstone met him in his local curry house for the Guardian, the now-mayor didn’t eat a single bite despite “dish after dish” arriving at the table. Who can blame him? Though Ed Miliband had been pictured blunderingly eating a bacon sandwich an entire year earlier, the national furore around the incident had not yet died down. “He can make me look Clooneyesque or make me look like Ed eating a bacon sandwich,” Khan said of the photographer at the time.

Miliband’s bacon sandwich is now so infamous that I need offer no explanation for the event other than those words. There is an entire Wikipedia page dedicated to the photograph of Ed, lips curled and eyes rolling, as he tucks into that fateful sarnie. Yet politicians frequently bite off more than they can chew – why did Ed’s mishap inspire multiple headlines and an entire front page of The Sun?

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“The momentum got behind the bacon sandwich story because he was awkward, it showed him in a light which was true - he was an awkward candidate in that election,” says Paul Baines, a professor of political marketing at Cranfield University. “He didn’t come across right.”

The photograph of Miliband fit neatly within a pre-existing image of the politician – that he was bumbling, incompetent, and unable to take control. Similarly, when David Cameron was pictured eating a hot dog with a knife and fork months later, the story reinforced popular notions of him as a posh, out-of-touch, champagne-swilling old Etonian. Though Oxford-educated, two-kitchen Miliband is nearly as privileged as Cameron, and Brexit-inducing Dave equally as incompetent as Ed, the pictures would not gain the same popularity in reverse. There are many, many less-than-flattering pictures of Cameron eating, but they didn’t fit into a workable narrative.

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No one, for example, focused on the price of Ed’s sandwich. Purchased at New Covenant Garden Market, it was undoubtedly more expensive than Greggs’ £1.75 bacon roll – but no one cared. When George Osborne was pictured eating an £8 Byron burger whilst cutting £11.5 million from the British budget, however, the picture spoke to many. The then-chancellor was forced to explain that “McDonalds doesn't deliver”, although, as it turned out, Byron didn’t either.

“The idea was to try and display him in a good light – here's a guy eating a burger just like everyone else. The only problem was it was a posh burger and of course he didn't look like everyone else because he was spending ten quid on a burger,” explains Baines.

But Dave, Ed, and George are just the latest in a long, long line of politicians who have been mocked for their eating habits. Across the ocean, Donald Trump has been lambasted for liking his steak well done, while in 1976, Gerald Ford was mocked after biting into the inedible corn husk of a tamale. Why then, do politicians not copy Khan, and avoid being pictured around food altogether?

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“Food connects everybody, food is essentially a connection to culture and the 'every person',” explains Baines. “[Nigel] Farage's appearance in the pub has definitely had a positive impact on how he's perceived by a big chunk of the working class electorate which is an important, sizeable group.” Though Cameron, too, has been pictured with pints, his undeniably weird grasp on the glass make the pictures seem inauthentic, compared to Farage whose pints are clearly at home in his hands. In America, Joe Biden managed to capture the same authenticity with an ice-cream cone.

“I think when it comes across badly is when it comes across as inauthentic,” says Baines. “If I were advising, I certainly wouldn't advise Theresa May to be seen in the pub having a pint, that would not shine with her particular character or style. But could Tim Farron come across better in that way? Possibly but it does have to be authentic.”

Food, then, can instantly make a politician seem in or out of touch. This is especially true when food connects to national identity. Tony Blair, for example, publicly claimed his favourite dish was fish and chips despite earlier saying it was fettuccine with olive oil, sundried tomatoes and capers. In the 1980s, Lord Mandelson allegedly mistook mushy peas for guacamole, insulting us all. In the States, you’d be hard pressed to find a politician who hasn’t been pictured with a hot dog, and there are entire articles dedicated to US politicians who eat pizza with a knife and fork. Again, the food fits a narrative – politicians out of touch with the common person.  

Then again, sometimes, just sometimes, no narrative is needed. We’d advise any candidate who seriously wants a shot in the 2017 General Election to not, under any circumstances, be pictured casually feeding a Solero to an unidentified young woman. 

Amelia Tait is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman.

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