How Cameron changed his tune on child poverty

In a 2006 speech, the Prime Minister praised the concept of relative poverty.

"I want this message to go out loud and clear: the Conservative Party recognises, will measure and will act on relative poverty.

Poverty is relative – and those who pretend otherwise are wrong."

David Cameron, Scarman lecture, 22 November 2006

David Cameron's government has failed to reduce child poverty, so it will redefine it. That, in short, is the explanation for Iain Duncan Smith's speech today in which the Work and Pensions Secretary will announce that the government is consulting on changing the current measure.

While Labour reduced child poverty by 900,000, soon-to-be-released figures will show that it has risen significantly under the coalition. Indeed, the Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS) has forecast that by 2015 the number of children in relative poverty (defined as households with less than 60 per cent of the median income) will have risen by 400,000, and that by 2020, 23 per cent of British children will live in poverty.

It this internationally-recognised definition of poverty that Duncan Smith has rejected. In his appearance on the Today programme this morning, IDS contended that it was too narrow (focusing solely on income) and that it could lead to perverse results. For instance, if average incomes fall, the poverty line falls too. Yet it was precisely for this reason that Labour's poverty target also included an absolute poverty line.

Absolute poverty is defined by the UN as "a condition characterised by severe deprivation of basic human needs, including food, safe drinking water, sanitation facilities, health, shelter, education and information. It depends not only on income but also on access to services." Yet in a developed country such as Britain, poverty is both absolute and relative.

Relative poverty denotes those who are unable to live to a similar standard to the majority of the population. As the Joseph Rowntree Foundation notes, those  affected may lack "new and not second hand clothes, adequate shoes, a meal with meat or fish once every two days, adequate heating, a television, being able to go to the pub or a social outing with friends once a week, having an annual holiday". And high levels of relative poverty are typically disastrous for a modern society. As the empirical masterpiece The Spirit Level (a book which Ed Miliband asked all his staff to read last summer) showed, those countries with higher levels of inequality suffer from higher levels of crime, educational failure, social immobility, depression, drug abuse and obesity.

There was a time when Cameron appeared to recognise as much. In his 2006 Scarman lecture (quoted above), the-then leader of the opposition declared:

We need to think of poverty in relative terms – the fact that some people lack those things which others in society take for granted.

I want this message to go out loud and clear: the Conservative Party recognises, will measure and will act on relative poverty.

Poverty is relative – and those who pretend otherwise are wrong.

Even if we are not destitute, we still experience poverty if we cannot afford things that society regards as essential.

Fighting relative poverty [is] a central policy goal.

Fine words indeed. Yet he now cynically rejects this measure in order to mask his failure on child poverty and Labour's success. Was Cameron's brief flirtation with the concept of relative poverty merely an exercise in detoxification, or has the Prime Minister undergone a genuine intellectual shift? It is hard to say, but we should ensure he is forced to explain.

The IFS has forecast that child poverty will rise by 500,000 to 3 million by 2015. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

Reuters/New Statesman composite.
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When it comes to social media, we all have a responsibility to avoid sharing upsetting images

If Twitter is the new journalism, we are all editors – and responsible for treating our fellow humans with dignity.

“I wish I hadn’t seen that”, my colleague says from across the desk. It’s been an hour since the first reports came in of a shooting outside Parliament, and the news agency Reuters has started posting photographs of injured people, knocked down by the terrorist as he drove across Westminster Bridge.

In one, a brunette woman leans over a victim whose blood is beginning to stain the wet pavement. Lying on her back, she is framed by scattered postcards sold for tourists which have been knocked to the floor. She is clutching the arm of the woman helping her, but her eyes are staring dead into the photographer’s lens.

Another photograph – the one that my colleague is referring to – disturbs me even more: a man who has fallen (or been pushed?) off the bridge onto a stairwell. He is face down in a pool of blood, his left leg at an unnatural angle. It is impossible to tell if he is alive or not.

Briefly, before I scroll past, I wonder if someone, somewhere is seeing the same picture and experiencing a shock of recognition as they recognise their friend’s clothes.

And then there is one picture which I now cannot find on Twitter, but which, lying in bed last night, I could not stop thinking of: a woman’s legs extended from under the wheel of a bus, her skirt hiked up to show her underwear, her shoes missing.

We are a desk of journalists covering an attack on the Houses of Parliament, so I keep scrolling. It is only later, in an article by the Telegraph, that I learn a junior doctor has declared the woman dead.

Of course, the shock of seeing images like these is nothing compared to what war reporters, doctors or police go through on a regular basis. But a 2015 study at the University of Toronto found that extended exposure to violent or disturbing material can have a severe effect on journalists’ mental health.

The impact can be particularly confusing when one does not anticipate seeing violence.On social media, we increasingly encounter images this way: without warning and without a chance to steel ourselves. This is particularly a problem when it comes to members of the public, whose jobs don’t require them to look at shocking material but who can nevertheless be exposed to it just by virtue of using a social media network.

It is for this reason that, shortly after Reuters published their photographs of the Westminster victims, prominent journalists began posting asking their colleagues not to retweet them. Some protested the fact that Reuters had published them at all.

In today’s media landscape, news moves fast and social media faster. Where a picture editor would have previously had until their print deadline to decide which images to run, now photographers are able to send their work back to the office almost instantaneously, and editors must make a snap decision about what to release.

Deciding what images to use can be a difficult call – especially under pressure. On the one hand, there is the urge to not turn away, to bear witness to the full magnitude of what has happened, even if it is shocking and upsetting. On the other, there is the need to treat fellow human beings with dignity, and particularly to avoid, where possible, showing images of victims whose families have not yet been informed.

Social media makes this process even more difficult. Once released online, photographs of the Westminster attack were quickly saved and re-posted by private individuals, stripped of context or warning. One can choose not to follow the Reuters Pictures account, but one cannot necessarily avoid seeing an image once it is being retweeted, reposted and recycled by private accounts.

As the line between traditional news and social media blurs and we increasingly become participants in the news, as well as consumers of it, our sense of responsibility also shifts. On Twitter, we are our own editors, each charged with making sure we extend dignity to our fellow humans, even – especially – when the news is dramatic and fast-moving.

I was glad, this morning, to encounter fewer and fewer photographs – to not see the girl lying under the bus again. But at 3am last night, I thought about her, and about her family; about them knowing that journalists on desks across Britain had seen up their loved one’s skirt during the last moments of her life. It was, without putting too fine a point on it, no way to encounter a fellow human being.

Over the next few days, we will find out more about who the victims were. The media will release images of them in happier times, tell us about their jobs and careers and children – as is already happening with Keith Palmer, the policeman who we now know died on the Parliamentary Estate.

It is those images which I hope will be shared: not just as a way to resist fear, but as a way of acknowledging them as more than victims – of forging a different connection, based not in horror and voyeurism, but in a small moment of shared humanity.

There is no shame in being affected by graphic images, however removed one “ought” to feel. If you would like someone to talk to, Mind can provide details of local services.

The BBC also provides advice for those upset by the news.

Find out how to turn off Twitter image previews here.

Stephanie Boland is digital assistant at the New Statesman. She tweets at @stephanieboland