Improving motherhood means reducing inequality, not just poverty

The UK is a worse country in which to be a mother than many poorer nations, according to Save the Children.

Yesterday’s papers painted a gloomy picture for mums in the UK. According to research by Save the Children, the UK is only the 23rd best country to be a mother, behind Portugal, Greece and a number of other countries suffering economic torpor. If we are to have any chance of improving the lives of mothers in the UK it is crucial to look at the measurements used to determine a mother’s wellbeing, and the drivers behind these?  

The report, which looks at 176 countries, assesses mothers' wellbeing against five indicators: lifetime risk of maternal death, under-five mortality rate, expected number of years of formal schooling, gross national income per capita and the participation of women in national government. 

For those at the bottom of the index it delivers a harrowing account of motherhood in developing countries.  One of the report’s main findings is that “Babies born to mothers living in the greatest poverty face the greatest challenges to survival.” With the bottom 10 countries on the index all residing in sub-Saharan Africa, an area of the world blighted by poverty and poor investment in education and health services, this seems an astute observation. Poverty clearly impacts significantly on the wellbeing of mothers and babies across the globe.

But is poverty the only indicator of wellbeing for mothers? If this is the case, presumably the richest nations are also the best countries to be a mother. Not exactly. The US, the world’s wealthiest nation, is only 30th on the list – below Lithuania and Belarus. By most measures Luxembourg and Qatar are in the top three countries for GDP per capita, but they are just 29th and 58th respectively on the index.

The top spot is instead reserved for Finland, the world’s 41st richest nation. If wealth alone cannot explain positive outcomes for mothers, we must look at other reasons. We know that more unequal countries in the developed world have higher rates of infant mortality, lower scores for child wellbeing and poorer educational performances for children than more equal countries. The top three countries (Finland, Sweden and Norway) on the Mother’s Index are also all in the top 7 OECD countries for income distribution equality.

Reducing poverty is an important measure in lifting the living standards of women and children in the poorest countries. But for those in the richest countries, we must look to reduce income inequality, in addition to raising the incomes of the poorest, to provide better outcomes for all mothers. 

Photograph: Getty Images

Duncan Exley is the director of the Equality Trust

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Fears over Notting Hill Carnival reveal more about racism than reality

Statistically, the event is about as safe as Glastonbury.

Notting Hill carnival is terrifying. As soon as the sun sets, gangs emerge ready to prey on unsuspecting attendees with Red Stripe cans fashioned into knives. Children barter for drugs. Dancing is punctuated by ceremonial burials for those killed in between every dancehall tune. And that's just on the kids’ day.

Except, it's not true. Statistically, the event is about as safe as Glastonbury - if not safer, judging by the number of arrests. In 2015, Glasto was praised for its low arrest rate (75 arrests for a crowd of 135,000), but in the same year carnival had ten times the capacity and fewer than ten times the offences.

Despite these statistics, the police, MPs and newspapers seem desperate to paint carnival as a gang-run danger zone. The Met Police recently tweeted about a kilo of heroin seized in the run up to carnival, despite not even knowing whether the perpetrators were going to the event. MPs, such as former Kensington MP Victoria Borwick, are happy to fuel this fire, claiming to be concerned about the supposed “year on year increase in violence and physical harm to our police officers and members of the public”. Newspapers revel in publishing large spreads about the raids in the run up to the two days, despite lacking evidence they’re even connected. Break this down and it’s clear: this dislike towards carnival roots itself in racism - the presumption that a festival celebrating black, West Indian culture, frequented by a higher proportion of black British punters, must inevitably, be violent.

I have been attending carnival since the age of six, when my parents moved to the area (90s gentrification alert). I used to sell Ribena for a markup on my street, took part in the float my primary school ran and every year witnessed the incredible recontextualisation of the area. Gone is the whitewashing for a moment: the streets and houses become splattered in neon paint, jerk chicken boxes and Red Stripe cans. It is one of the best things to happen to the area, and its vast cultural value exceeds the bougie cafes and boutique clothing stalls that span the area.

And yet, every year, I have to dodge questions from relatives and friends about how dangerous it supposedly is. “Ooh, Notting Hill carnival. Bit scary, isn't it? Lots of angry youth who can get quite violent I hear. Didn't someone get stabbed last year?” Perhaps a viable question to ask anyone going to a crowded event. Except, why weren’t they asking me this when I flew to Amsterdam this year to go to a music festival?

There's another side of critiquing carnival that is equally infuriating, and that's that the fact that the event in some ways stands as a consolation prize to the original tenants of the area. In the middle of the 20th Century, Notting Hill was far from the Russian oligarch haven it is today. It was the Windrush Era, when black immigrants began arriving from the Caribbean. They came not out of some overwhelming desire to be freezing for 11 months, but because Britain was struggling after the Second World War, and desperately needed a labour force. Despite the demand, the West Indians were met with hostility and racism, forced to live in the worst areas of London. One of those places was Notting Hill.

Imagine, then, the audacity of shaming carnival. Imagine being forced by racism into a rundown neighbourhood, turning it into something fashionable, and then being priced out by middle-class white people. Imagine on top of that, having your legacy celebration degraded under the guise of safety concerns.

This year will feel different. It will be the first year ever under a Labour MP. It will also come two months and a half months after the Grenfell fire, where many of its residents and victims will have taken part in the event. Whilst there’s something defiant in these parades, it will be hard for the collective joy not to be marred by a knowledge that somewhere in this borough, bodies are being buried because of our council.

We need to see carnival for what it is: a celebration of a culture struggling to stay afloat in the area. Kensington continues to edge out those who may not be living in £2.5m homes - whether it’s with rising house prices, creating anxiety around an event or even putting lives at risk due to sheer disregard and greed. If you’re worried about going, I would avoid all large, crowded events in general, because there’s no use believing the vacuous and racist hype. Beyond getting splattered with paint and dancing too enthusiastically to Bashment, there’s nothing to fear.