The political problem of parents priced out of work

The government is slowly waking up to the crisis in affordable childcare.

With the economic climate looking unremittingly bleak, government will have to focus on ways to ease the pain for people on low and middle incomes feeling the famous squeeze. One area that has grabbed ministers' attention is the rising cost of childcare. This is problematic not just because it is a drain on parents' income, but because it can even discourage them from going to work. Eleven per cent of full-time mothers say they stay at home because they can't afford the costs of childcare. Twenty-four per cent of those using childcare say they struggle to meet the cost.

Those statistics -- and plenty more that are equally interesting -- are contained in a new pamphlet by the Social Market Foundation thinktank. It catalogues in some detail the factors that have driven up the cost of childcare as a proportion of household income. Funding and benefits that were introduced at the end of the John Major government (the ability to discount childcare costs from income when applying for housing benefit, for example) and during the Labour government (childcare vouchers, free nursery hours and tax credits) have been frozen or cut, while costs have risen. Meawnhile, as general wages have stagnated, ever more households are relying on two incomes to make ends meet. I recommend the pamphlet -- it isn't too long and is full of useful data -- for a more detailed account of what has happened.

The bottom line is that government will have to step in and rebuild some of the lost subsidy or face more women -- and some men too -- dropping out of the labour market just to look after their children, which is bad for the economy and, in terms of developmental research cited in the report, bad for kids too.

This is an issue that poses a bit of a problem for Iain Duncan Smith, whose Universal Credit (UC) is supposed to make work a more lucrative and attractive option for people currently on benefits. As currently modelled, the UC contains a disincentive for second earners in households with children going back to work (their benefits will be withdrawn faster than would be the case when there is just one earner in a household.) This is either a mistake or, just possibly, the result of a small "c" conservative prejudice about what constitutes a healthy family set-up -- ie. reflecting a view that "second earners", usually mums, should be staying at home with their kids. Official government policy, of course, is to get as many people who can work into work as quickly as possible.

In any case, the government is desperately trying to work out ways to make childcare more affordable, which means finding ways to move money around within a limited pot. Then there is the secondary problem of who in the coalition gets the credit for helping families pay for nursery places. I've written before that this is an area where Nick Clegg and IDS compete for the right to sound compassionate. It is plainly within the DWP remit, but it is Clegg who has flagged up the problem and pushed it at "quad" level -- that is, the committee of four top ministers who coordinate coalition policy.

I understand that an announcement on more childcare support is ready, but that it has been delayed by arguments over who in the coalition should have the privilege of doling out goodies when there is so much doom and gloom dominating the rest of the news agenda.

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

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Why hasn’t British Asian entertainment built on the Goodness Gracious Me golden age?

It is 20 years since the original radio series of Goodness Gracious Me aired. Over two decades, the UK media portrayal of Asians hasn’t used its success to evolve.

Save for a handful of special one-off episodes, Goodness Gracious Me hasn’t occupied a primetime TV slot for nearly two decades. Yet still it remains the measuring stick for British Asian comedy.

The sketch show, which transitioned seamlessly from radio to screen (it started as a BBC Radio 4 series in 1996), has stood the test of time and is as much a staple of modern British Asian culture as Tupperware or turning up an hour late.

What Goodness Gracious Me did so expertly was to take a set of serious issues facing first, second and now, I suppose, third generation migrants, and turn them on their heads. 

In making light of the pressures of academic expectation or family drama, Goodness Gracious Me wasn’t playing down the poignancy of such concerns; it was raising awareness and combatting their uglier side with humour.

It offered resonance and reassurance in equal measure; it was ok to have an embarrassing uncle who insisted he could get you anything much cheaper, including a new kidney, because other people like you did too.

That Goodness Gracious Me was broadcast on a mainstream channel was also a victory for minorities; it made us feel integrated and, perhaps more importantly, accepted. Against the backdrop of Brexit, what wouldn’t we give for that treatment now?

Really, though, the jewel in Goodness Gracious Me’s crown was its willingness to recognise diversity within diversity. It is a relic of a departed era when discourse on TV around Asians was different, when the broad church of that term was truly represented, rather than reduced to one catchall perception of British Muslims.

Goodness Gracious Me offered insight into the experiences and idiosyncrasies – religious or otherwise – of Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Sri Lankans and even English people. It’s what made it so accessible and, in answering why subsequent programmes have failed to reach similar heights, this is a good starting point.

Without the flexible sketch format, the modern Asian sitcom Citizen Khan has struggled to cover multiple topics, and, by being specifically about a Muslim family, it leaves many non-Muslim Asians wondering: where’s ours?

I hasten to add that I feel plenty of sympathy for the British Muslim community, hounded by tabloid headlines that attack their faith, but it would be disingenuous to suggest that non-Muslim Asians are sitting pretty in 2016 and don’t need a similar level of support in terms of positive public perception.

The current volume of British Asian media products is fairly good. The BBC has its dedicated network, The Good Immigrant essay collection was one of the outstanding reads of the year, and we still have champions of comedy in Romesh Ranganathan and Nish Kumar.

But I think ultimately it comes down to the broadness of appeal, rather than the quantity of products. Goodness Gracious Me was not only able to engage the full spectrum of British Asia; it transcended its target audience and was on terrestrial TV.

The British Asian media on offer now is up against it, released as the country’s attitude towards foreigners completes a full circle back to the same suspicion my grandfather encountered in the Sixties.

Fewer outlets are willing to explore the stretch of what it means to be Asian, either by denying it due consideration in mainstream shows or by peddling their own monolithic observations. The BBC Asian Network, for example, is laudable in its existence, but does little to engage the young Asians who aren’t into techno spliced with Bhangra.

The mainstream representations of Asians in Western film and television that are commissioned, meanwhile, are irritatingly limited and sometimes inaccurate. In an article for the Guardian last year, Sara Abassi lamented the disproportionate appetite for “gritty post-9/11 films about conservative Pakistani families”, and that the researchers of American series Homeland failed to realise that the national language of Pakistan isn’t Arabic.

When I interviewed the actor Himesh Patel for the No Country for Brown Men podcast, he suggested that the answer to re-establishing Asians in mainstream media, both here and in America, was three-fold. The first challenge to overcome was for outlets to acknowledge that not all Asians fit the same religious or cultural profile; the second was to be open to placing Asians in non-Asian specific products to better reflect their presence in society.

Patel, who is best known for his portrayal of Tamwar Masood in the soap opera EastEnders, made his third recommendation based on this role. He felt that characters should be written with only their personality in mind, making the ethnicity of the actor who plays them incidental. Tamwar’s awkwardness but underlying kindness, Patel said, was what defined him – not his skin colour.

Goodness Gracious Me, though a primarily Asian show and a comedy at that, actually taught some salient lessons about representation. It succeeded in providing a window into a multiplicity of cultures, but at the same time wasn’t a total slave to the politics of identity – several of the 100-plus characters needn’t have been Asian at all. It was reflexive to the times we lived in and a perfect advertisement for empathy. That is why we still talk about it today.

Rohan Banerjee is a Special Projects Writer at the New Statesman. He co-hosts the No Country For Brown Men podcast.