The DWP's bogus psychometric tests are dystopian, but randomised trials aren't the problem

The solution is more trials, not fewer.

The DWP is under fire for mandating benefit claimants to carry out bogus psychometric tests. The Guardian's Shiv Malik reports:

The test called My Strengths, devised by Downing Street's behavioural insights or "nudge" unit, has been exposed by bloggers as a sham with results having no relation to the answers given.

Some of the 48 statements on the DWP test include: "I never go out of my way to visit museums," and: "I have not created anything of beauty in the last year." People are asked to grade their answers from "very much like me" to "very much unlike me".

When those being tested complete the official online questionnaire, they are assigned a set of five positive "strengths" including "love of learning" and "curiosity" and "originality".

However, those taking the supposed psychological survey have found that by clicking on the same answer repeatedly, users will get the same set of personality results as those entering a completely opposite set of answers.

The aim behind the "test" is apparently to prevent the claimants with motivating statements about themselves, in an effort to encourage them to find work. The behavioural insight team itself describes the process as:

Building psychological resilience and wellbeing for those who are still claiming after 8 weeks through ‘expressive writing’ and strengths identification.

But it's worth being clear about why "My Strengths" is so unpleasant. The problem with it is that unemployed people are being lied to in an effort to psychologically manipulate them into a mental state where they will do what the Government want. That sounds like a sentence from a dystopian future, but it's a fairly straight description of what is happening.

But Steve Walker, the blogger who broke the story, goes further, attacking the test because it's part of a government trial.

Walker writes that the trial breaches principals established by the EU's body for co-ordinating R&D which state that the medical rule of informed consent "remains valid for any other kind of research".

Principles aren't laws, so there's not a legal case to answer here; but even if we're just arguing morality, establishing medical-grade requirements of informed consent in social research would be a terrible idea.

The rise of randomised controlled trials (and, to a lesser extent, randomised trials and controlled trials – not everything can be both randomised and controlled) in social research is one of the most promising trends of the last decade. It's good not only because it can increase our knowledge of how to fight social problems in employment, education and crime, but because it's barely different from what's being done anyway.

Most providers of the government's work programme – which involves more than just the unpaid mandatory labour that has made it infamous –  have neither the staff, time or money to offer every service to every person who comes through their doors. When they're trying to decide who gets to go on the CV workshops and who doesn't, the obvious thing to do is to chart which groups improve the most when given the workshops. This is doubly true if you don't actually know whether CV workshops help or harm; keeping a good eye on the results is invaluable.

When it comes to trials, the biggest crime of the BIT isn't that they did them, but that they didn't do them enough. As a report from December shows, the team aggregated together three completely different changes:

  1. Making sure every customer talks about getting back to work on their first day (not after 2 weeks) by cutting down and reorganising processes;
  2. Introducing stretching commitment devices which focus on what the job seeker will do for the whole of the next fortnight. This replaces the present system where advisors ask if job seekers have done three job search activities in each of the previous two weeks;
  3. Building psychological resilience and wellbeing for those who are still claiming after 8 weeks through ‘expressive writing’ and strengths identification.

Overall, apparently, "job seekers in the treatment group are 15-20 per cent more likely than those in the control group to be off benefits 13 weeks after signing on" – but the trial is so badly designed that we can't see which of these treatments helped the most. It could well be the case that the My Strengths test actually hindered jobseekers, but the effect was hidden by the benefits of "cutting down and reorganising processes".

The government needs to behave ethically when dealing with its citizens, and that goes whether or not it is done in the framework of a formal trial. But if it does try a new ethical way of helping jobseekers, the last thing we want to do is discourage it from measuring the results.

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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"We repealed, then forgot": the long shadow of Section 28 homophobia

Why are deeply conservative views about the "promotion" of homosexuality still being reiterated to Scottish school pupils? 

Grim stories of LGBTI children being bullied in school are all too common. But one which emerged over the weekend garnered particular attention - because of the echoes of the infamous Section 28, nearly two decades after it was scrapped.

A 16-year-old pupil of a West Lothian school, who does not wish to be named, told Pink News that staff asked him to remove his small rainbow pride badge because, though they had "no problem" with his sexuality, it was not appropriate to "promote it" in school. It's a blast from the past - the rules against "promoting" homosexuality were repealed in 2000 in Scotland, but the long legacy of Section 28 seems hard to shake off. 

The local authority responsible said in a statement that non-school related badges are not permitted on uniforms, and says it is "committed to equal rights for LGBT people". 

The small badge depicted a rainbow-striped heart, which the pupil said he had brought back from the Edinburgh Pride march the previous weekend. He reportedly "no longer feels comfortable going to school", and said homophobia from staff members felt "much more scar[y] than when I encountered the same from other pupils". 

At a time when four Scottish party leaders are gay, and the new Westminster parliament included a record number of LGBTQ MPs, the political world is making progress in promoting equality. But education, it seems, has not kept up. According to research from LGBT rights campaigners Stonewall, 40 per cent of LGBT pupils across the UK reported being taught nothing about LGBT issues at school. Among trans students, 44 per cent said school staff didn’t know what "trans" even means.

The need for teacher training and curriculum reform is at the top of campaigners' agendas. "We're disappointed but not surprised by this example," says Jordan Daly, the co-founder of Time for Inclusive Education [TIE]. His grassroots campaign focuses on making politicians and wider society aware of the reality LGBTI school students in Scotland face. "We're in schools on a monthly basis, so we know this is by no means an isolated incident." 

Studies have repeatedly shown a startling level of self-harm and mental illness reported by LGBTI school students. Trans students are particularly at risk. In 2015, Daly and colleagues began a tour of schools. Shocking stories included one in which a teacher singled out a trans pupils for ridicule in front of the class. More commonly, though, staff told them the same story: we just don't know what we're allowed to say about gay relationships. 

This is the point, according to Daly - retraining, or rather the lack of it. For some of those teachers trained during the 1980s and 1990s, when Section 28 prevented local authorities from "promoting homosexuality", confusion still reigns about what they can and cannot teach - or even mention in front of their pupils. 

The infamous clause was specific in its homophobia: the "acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship" could not be mentioned in schools. But it's been 17 years since the clause was repealed in Scotland - indeed, it was one of the very first acts of the new Scottish Parliament (the rest of the UK followed suit three years later). Why are we still hearing this archaic language? 

"We repealed, we clapped and cheered, and then we just forgot," Daly says. After the bitter campaign in Scotland, in which an alliance of churches led by millionaire businessman Brian Souter poured money into "Keeping the Clause", the government was pleased with its victory, which seemed to establish Holyrood as a progressive political space early on in the life of the parliament. But without updating the curriculum or retraining teaching staff, Daly argues, it left a "massive vacuum" of uncertainty. 

The Stonewall research suggests a similar confusion is likely across the UK. Daly doesn't believe the situation in Scotland is notably worse than in England, and disputes the oft-cited allegation that the issue is somehow worse in Scotland's denominational schools. Homophobia may be "wrapped up in the language of religious belief" in certain schools, he says, but it's "just as much of a problem elsewhere. The TIE campaign doesn't have different strategies for different schools." 

After initial disappointments - their thousands-strong petition to change the curriculum was thrown out by parliament in 2016 - the campaign has won the support of leaders such as Nicola Sturgeon and Kezia Dugdale, and recently, the backing of a majority of MSPs. The Scottish government has set up a working group, and promised a national strategy. 

But for Daly, who himself struggled at a young age with his sexuality and society's failure to accept it, the matter remains an urgent one.  At just 21, he can reel off countless painful stories of young LGBTI students - some of which end in tragedy. One of the saddest elements of the story from St Kentigern's is that the pupil claimed his school was the safest place he had to express his identity, because he was not out at home. Perhaps for a gay pupil in ten years time, that will be a guarantee. 

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