There are not 120,000 "troubled families"

This zombie statistic refuses to die.

The Department for Communities and Local Government has released a report focusing on so-called "troubled families", which presents a compelling case that the worst of these families have problems which need urgent intervention. But it also takes the opportunity to revive one of the department's favourite zombie statistics. A report which is based on formal interviews with 16 families ("although she met and talked with many more") is generalised out to cover 120,000.

This six-figure number is one of the DCLG's favourites. It has been pushing it since at least February, when NIESR's Jonathan Portes first drew attention to the problems with the definition of "troubled". When the Prime Minister quoted the figure, he called these families:

The source of a large proportion of the problems in society. Drug addiction. Alcohol abuse. Crime. A culture of disruption and irresponsibility that cascades through generations.

As Portes pointed out, the actual definition of troubled families focuses far more on them being families with troubles, rather than families causing trouble. The DCLG has an explanatory note on the topic, which defines the families as any holding five or more of the following characteristics:

a) no parent in work
b) poor quality housing,
c) no parent with qualifications,
d) mother with mental health problems
e) one parent with longstanding disability/illness
f) family has low income,
g) Family cannot afford some food/clothing items                                                        

So back in February, the overarching problem with the statistic was how it was used, rather than the number itself. Whether or not there were 120,000 of them, these troubled families are in no way "irresponsible".

But last month, the dishonesty became clearer. Perhaps realising that the rhetoric didn't match up with the definition, the department published a new explanatory note, which claimed that troubled families were:

Characterised by there being no adult in the family working, children not being in school and family members being involved in crime and anti-social behaviour.

That definition does sound much more like one of a family suffering "a culture of disruption and irresponsibility", certainly. But normally, when one changes a definition of something, the number of cases falling under that definition also changes. Not so with the troubled families. The department continued – and continues – to refer to "120,000" of them.

Even worse, when the Prime Minister first referred to the families (using the kinder definition), he did so with an extraordinary level of granularity, saying:

There are an estimated 4,500 of these families in Birmingham, 2,500 in Manchester, and 1,115 here in Sandwell.

Once the definition changed, had the location? Like hell.

As Jonathan Portes concluded his post:

It is difficult to conclude anything except that the Department, and the governnment, have become hung up on the 120,000 number despite the fact that they are well aware that it is now completely discredited, either as a national estimate of the number of "troubled families" or as a sensible guide to local policy.

The release of today's report just confirms that feeling. The figure of 120,000 is mentioned exactly twice in the 30,000 word report (pdf), once in author Louise Casey's foreword and once in the introduction. It is also mentioned twice in the 600 word press release, and twice in each of the Guardian and Mail's reports on the topic. It seems like something which has little to do with the content of the report (an admirable qualititative study of what it's like to live in an incredibly disfunctional household, but one which offers little guidance as to how widespread the problems are) and everything to do with a need to push a continuing narrative.

People like to put numbers on things, so here's one: with the actual information the DCLG has put out, we know of just 16 troubled families, the ones interviewed by Casey. Pick a number any higher than that and you're getting into the same voodoo mathematics the government has been performing for the last six months.

Syringes lie on the floor. But are they from a "troubled family"? Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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The footie is back. Three weeks in and what have we learned so far?

Barcleys, boots and big names... the Prem is back.

Another season, another reason for making whoopee cushions and giving them to Spurs fans to cheer them up during the long winter afternoons ahead. What have we learned so far?

Big names are vital. Just ask the manager of the Man United shop. The arrival of Schneiderlin and Schweinsteiger has done wonders for the sale of repro tops and they’ve run out of letters. Benedict Cumberbatch, please join Carlisle United. They’re desperate for some extra income.

Beards are still in. The whole Prem is bristling with them, the skinniest, weediest player convinced he’s Andrea Pirlo. Even my young friend and neighbour Ed Miliband has grown a beard, according to his holiday snaps. Sign him.

Boots Not always had my best specs on, but here and abroad I detect a new form of bootee creeping in – slightly higher on the ankle, not heavy-plated as in the old days but very light, probably made from the bums of newborn babies.

Barclays Still driving me mad. Now it’s screaming from the perimeter boards that it’s “Championing the true Spirit of the Game”. What the hell does that mean? Thank God this is its last season as proud sponsor of the Prem.

Pitches Some groundsmen have clearly been on the weeds. How else can you explain the Stoke pitch suddenly having concentric circles, while Southampton and Portsmouth have acquired tartan stripes? Go easy on the mowers, chaps. Footballers find it hard enough to pass in straight lines.

Strips Have you seen the Everton third kit top? Like a cheap market-stall T-shirt, but the colour, my dears, the colour is gorgeous – it’s Thames green. Yes, the very same we painted our front door back in the Seventies. The whole street copied, then le toot middle classes everywhere.

Scott Spedding Which international team do you think he plays for? I switched on the telly to find it was rugby, heard his name and thought, goodo, must be Scotland, come on, Scotland. Turned out to be the England-France game. Hmm, must be a member of that famous Cumbrian family, the Speddings from Mirehouse, where Tennyson imagined King Arthur’s Excalibur coming out the lake. Blow me, Scott Spedding turns out to be a Frenchman. Though he only acquired French citizenship last year, having been born and bred in South Africa. What’s in a name, eh?

Footballers are just so last season. Wayne Rooney and Harry Kane can’t score. The really good ones won’t come here – all we get is the crocks, the elderly, the bench-warmers, yet still we look to them to be our saviour. Oh my God, let’s hope we sign Falcao, he’s a genius, will make all the difference, so prayed all the Man United fans. Hold on: Chelsea fans. I’ve forgotten now where he went. They seek him here, they seek him there, is he alive or on the stairs, who feckin’ cares?

John Stones of Everton – brilliant season so far, now he is a genius, the solution to all of Chelsea’s problems, the heir to John Terry, captain of England for decades. Once he gets out of short trousers and learns to tie his own laces . . .

Managers are the real interest. So refreshing to have three young British managers in the Prem – Alex Neil at Norwich (34), Eddie Howe at Bournemouth (37) and that old hand at Swansea, Garry Monk, (36). Young Master Howe looks like a ball boy. Or a tea boy.

Mourinho is, of course, the main attraction. He has given us the best start to any of his seasons on this planet. Can you ever take your eyes off him? That handsome hooded look, that sarcastic sneer, the imperious hand in the air – and in his hair – all those languages, he’s so clearly brilliant, and yet, like many clever people, often lacking in common sense. How could he come down so heavily on Eva Carneiro, his Chelsea doctor? Just because you’re losing? Yes, José has been the best fun so far – plus Chelsea’s poor start. God, please don’t let him fall out with Abramovich. José, we need you.

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 27 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Isis and the new barbarism