The poor are still paying more for basic utilities and financial services

Payment structures and price plans in utilities and financial services continue to inflict higher costs on the poorest in society. Regulators and the government need to do more.

The poor pay more. It is a well-worn phrase but we must not let that undermine the impact of what it means in real life for real people.
A new report, published today, calculates the premium paid by poor people on essential utilities and access to financial services is as much as 10p in the pound - a significant extra cost for those that are already struggling to make ends meet.

This has a hugely detrimental impact on people's living standards, risking hardship and poverty. Taking what the public determine as an acceptable minimum standard of living in the UK today as its basis, the research shows a single person working full-time earning the minimum wage already falls £52 a week short of having a sufficient income to reach an adequate standard of living. If they're living in a house with high energy needs and subject to a poverty premium, this shortfall increases to £77 per week.

The gap is even greater still for those out of work and in receipt of benefits. If they live in a house with high energy needs, their low-income and the poverty premium combines to leave them some £135 per week short of a socially acceptable standard of living.

These additional costs are driven by a number of factors. For example, in some instances general market failures result in uncompetitive or unfair practices that hit low income consumers particularly hard, as they are less likely to have access to good information and more likely to be risk averse. In particular, worse off consumers are often unable to access the best deals obtained by the most "active" consumers that suppliers are keen to attract. This generates a cross subsidy in favour of better-off groups that is hard to justify.

Specific market failures and lack of competition can also result in the failure to supply products to meet the needs of low income groups at competitive prices. Low-income households can find themselves disadvantaged by the payment methods they tend to favour, different patterns of usage or different credit needs. In some instances cost-reflective premiums - where there is an additional cost of supplying low-income families - result in them facing higher prices, but it is not always clear that the additional price is justified by the additional cost.

So while regulation aims generally to protect consumers by ensuring that markets work in a fair and transparent way, this report begs the question: do low-income consumers need additional protection? And if so, what should regulators and government do?

One response is to ensure fair trading and promote competition, with adequate information for the consumer: this is the central role of regulators. However, it cannot be assumed that this alone will provide sufficient protection to consumers in a weak market position.

At the very least, regulators should monitor the position of low income consumers, looking closely at the products they disproportionately use and whether they are fairly priced. Where problems are identified in the supply of essential services, regulators should have a remit to investigate the structure and level of pricing. In these instances regulators and the government should look together at the case for intervention to ensure basic products are available at affordable prices.

With the cost of living uppermost in many minds, and at a time when many incomes - whether from earnings or benefits - are either static or shrinking, regulators may find themselves with an increasingly important role to play in seeking out and removing poverty premiums. Tentative steps in this direction are already being taken in the financial services and energy markets. Where they are leading, others should follow.

Katie Schmuecker is a Policy and Research Manager for the Joseph Rowntree Foundation (JRF).

New research shows many already falling £52 short of an adequate standard of living. When in a house with high energy needs, this increases to £77. Photograph: Getty Images.
Getty
Show Hide image

At Labour conference, activists and politicians can't avoid each other – but try their best to "unsee"

My week, from havoc in the Labour family to a sublime act of real-life trolling – via a shopping centre.

I like to take a favourite novel with me to party conference for when it all gets too much, and this year I took China Miéville’s The City & the City. It takes place in the fictional cities of Besžel and Ul Qoma, two metropolises that exist in the same geographic space but must dutifully “unsee” one another or risk the sanction of Breach, the secret police force. It turned out to be a better allegory for what was going on outside my hotel than I had expected.

Labour, as I don’t need to tell you, is badly split on almost everything. Now that the acrid leadership race has reached its inevitable conclusion, activists and politicians on both sides are operating as if they had a standing duty to “unsee” each other. The atmosphere feels a bit like a family dinner after a blazing row: everyone is aware that things have been said that will take years to be forgiven, if they ever will be, so the conversation is largely banal and superficial.

The exception is the conference floor, the only place where Corbynites and Corbynsceptics cannot unsee each other, which was therefore the scene of several acrimonious confrontations after tricky votes. It’s difficult to predict where Labour goes from here. The Parliamentary Labour Party (PLP) is largely against a split, but its members surely can’t spend the next four years dutifully pretending not to see one another,or their activists?

 

Chaos and confusion

Would it have been better for Jeremy Corbyn if his defeated challenger, Owen Smith, had done a little bit better against him – not just in the final vote but throughout the contest? All summer, Smith distinguished himself only through his frequent gaffes, to the point where it felt more appropriate to describe him as a participant in the leadership race rather than a combatant.

The difficulty for both Corbyn and his critics is that his opponents in the PLP have no clear leader. As a result, their dissatisfaction is amorphous, rather than being productively channelled into a set of specific demands or criticisms, which Corbyn could then reject or accept. The overwhelming feeling about his leadership among the PLP is that “something must be done”. So whenever an MP embarks on a freelance assault – Margaret Hodge’s no-confidence motion, say, or Clive Betts’s attempt to bring back elections to the shadow cabinet – the majority leaps on the scheme. Corbyn’s critics reason that at least it’s something.

Although fractious Labour MPs might not see it that way, the decision not to restore shadow cabinet elections helps their cause. Taking away the leader’s ability to choose his ministerial team was a recipe for chaos – chaos that would, rightly, have been blamed on them.

 

Custody rights

If the Labour family would be, as I suspect, better off seeking a divorce, there is an irony that one of the things that they all agree on is the fate of the kids. The party is entirely united behind its leader in his opposition to grammar schools – as is almost every serious thinker on education policy, from Policy Exchange on the right through to Melissa Benn on the left.

Still, Labour will encounter a visceral type of resistance to its stance from the alumni of grammars, who, regardless of what the studies show, attribute their success to their attendance at selective schools. I can understand that. Although I went to a comprehensive, the emotional pull of one’s upbringing is hard to escape. I can, for example, read all the studies that show that children in single-parent families do worse – but I find it hard to experience it as anything other than an awful attack on my mother, to whom I owe everything.

Winning the argument over schooling will require a sensitive ear to those for whom the argument against the schools seems like an attack on their parents.

 

Pudding and pie

One of the nice things about being from a single-parent family is that I don’t have to admit to flaws – merely to unresolved kinks that would have been ironed out had my absent father stuck around. One such kink is my capacity for procrastination, which
results in my making decisions too often at the last minute.

This always comes back to bite me at party conference. At dinner events, I frequently put off picking my meal options to the point that I have to eat whatever the kitchen has left. At one meal this year, I was lucky enough to have three courses of pudding, but at another, my hastily cobbled-together starter seemed to consist entirely of pesto, taramasalata and rocket.

 

Too late

The best thing about party conference is sharing a panel with a politician you don’t know very much about who turns out to be highly impressive. It’s particularly cheering now, when my optimism about politics is at a low ebb. I try to meet them properly for coffee afterwards, although because of my capacity for putting things off, that doesn’t always happen.

Last year, I was chairing a particularly testy fringe on the Israel-Palestine conflict. The then shadow foreign secretary, Hilary Benn, was running late and an MP from the 2015 intake had to field all the questions on her own. She did this with immense poise and knowledge, while clearly having a sense of how unhelpful some of the louder, angrier voices were – during one lengthy monologue from the floor, she turned and rolled her eyes at me. Her name was Jo Cox.

I kept meaning to get to know her, but I never got around to ringing her office, and now I never will.

 

Banter and bargains

A colleague alerts me to a sublime act of real-life trolling. When Everton opened a second branch of its team store in Liverpool’s shopping centre, it picked an innocuous name: Everton Two. Innocuous, that is, until you realise that the shopping centre is called Liverpool One. 

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. He usually writes about politics. 

This article first appeared in the 29 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, May’s new Tories