An unemployed man walks through a street in Accrington, Lancashire. Photograph: Getty Images
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Decoding the unemployment figures exposes the truth behind the coalition’s spin

It is clear that the coalition is bad for jobs.

In August 2009 George Osborne said it would be “humiliating” if Britain’s AAA credit rating was downgraded and later that it was “absolutely essential we don’t have the downgrade that hangs over the country at the moment”. In the Commons in 2011, our part-time chancellor gloated that “our credit rating had been put on negative watch. Now, however, thanks to the policies of this coalition government, Britain has economic stability again.” Presumably the inference is that, after the Moody’s downgrading of the UK’s AAA rating on 22 February, we now have economic instability. Osborne suggested that maintaining the AAA rating was the number-one benchmark by which he should be judged, so we need to keep him to his word. It isn’t as if he wasn’t warned. And we seem to be heading for a sterling crisis, as there is growing pressure on the pound.

The only bit of apparently good news for the government came from the labour market. On 20 February, the Office for National Statistics reported that in the past quarter UK unemployment had fallen by 14,000 and employment had reached a “record” level of 29.7 million. Many took this as a vindication of the government’s economic strategy but it wasn’t. Youth unemployment was up by 11,000 and real wages fell once again. Also, the working-age population has risen, so the employment rate, calculated as a proportion of the working-age population, was below its old level spanning the entire period from 1997 through to the start of 2008.

The government’s claim that it has created a million private-sector jobs is false. Over the past two years public-sector employment has fallen 521,000 while private-sector employment has increased by just over one million, a net increase of about half a million jobs. But of the one million “new” private-sector jobs the coalition claims were “created”, a fifth were obtained by cheating, because lecturers in further education and sixth-form colleges were reclassified from the public to the private sector last spring. Fiddling the data isn’t the same as creating private-sector jobs.

It turns out that the news on the labour market isn’t very good. In fact, the unemployment rate no longer captures the full picture of spare capacity in the market, as many workers are employed but say they would like to work more hours and well over a million part-timers want to go full-time. These workers are “hours-constrained”. In part, this is related to real wages not growing, and many firms have reduced overtime and extra shift payments. The jobless rate takes no account of this “underutilisation” of the workforce.

Together with David Bell, professor of economics at the University of Stirling, I have devised a new “underemployment index”. It is based on the idea that the best possible outcome for the labour market would be one in which every worker is able to work the number of hours he or she wants. There is a host of reasons why this nirvana will not be realised, but it is a useful concept, in the sense that deviations from it could occur because some workers are unemployed, or because some workers already in a job are offered fewer hours than they would like, or both. The size of the deviation measures the real level of excess capacity in the UK labour market.

We use data on individuals from the Lab - our Force Survey that is released to researchers, and is used to calculate the number of unemployed. We then calculate the number of hours unemployed people would work if they had a job, assuming they work the number of hours that we calculate are consistent with their characteristics. We add these to the extra hours existing workers say they would like to work and we subtract the hours of those who wish to cut their hours. Finally, we calculate a rate that measures the proportion by which actual hours fall short of desired hours. The graph (below) shows both our index and the published unemployment rate for the period 2001-2012.

There are two clear messages from our index. First, underemployment consistently adds to the measured excess labour capacity in the UK labour market. Even though unemployment rates were low between 2001 and 2007, our index exceeded the unemployment rate by 36 per cent on average between 2001 and 2007 and by 38.7 per cent between 2008 and the second quarter of 2010. Those wanting to work more hours consistently exceed those who want to work fewer hours in the UK labour market.

Second, since the start of the recession, underemployment has been contributing an increasing share of overall excess labour capacity in the UK. Unemployment may not have increased much recently, but there has been a substantial rise in the number of extra hours that those already employed would like to work. Our index exceeded the unemployment rate by 42.4 per cent between the second quarter of 2010 and the third quarter of 2012, down from 44.9 per cent in the second quarter of 2012. In the last two quarters for which we have data, our measure of excess capacity is higher – at 43.8 per cent under this coalition – than it has been since our series started in 2001 or the recession began in 2008.

It might seem better to have some work rather than none and, therefore, there might be a tendency to discount short-time working as not much of a problem. But our latest research also suggests that this group is almost as unhappy as the unemployed. Furthermore, when (and if) the upturn comes, reductions in unemployment will be delayed, as it is likely that those already employed will be offered extra hours before new workers are hired.

It is clear that the coalition is bad for jobs.

David Blanchflower is economics editor of the New Statesman. This column is written jointly with David Bell

David Blanchflower is economics editor of the New Statesman and professor of economics at Dartmouth College, New Hampshire

This article first appeared in the 04 March 2013 issue of the New Statesman, The fall of Pistorius

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As bad as stealing bacon – why did the Victorians treat acid attacks so leniently?

In an era of executions and transportation, 19th century courts were surprisingly laissez-faire about acid attacks. 

"We are rather anxious to see the punishment of death rescinded in all cases except that of Murder," stated the Glasgow publication, The Loyal Reformers’ Gazette, in 1831. But it did not share this opinion when it came to Hugh Kennedy.

Previously of “irreproachable character", Kennedy fell out with a fellow servant and decided to take his revenge by pouring acid on the man while he was asleep. “He awoke in agony, one of his eyes being literally burned out,” The Gazette reported.

Lamenting the rise in acid attacks, the otherwise progressive journal recommended “the severest punishment” for Kennedy:

“We would have their arms cut off by the shoulders, and, in that state, send them to roam as outcasts from society without the power of throwing vitriol again."

More than 180 years later, there are echoes of this sentiment in the home secretary’s response to a spate of acid attacks in London. “I quite understand when victims say they feel the perpetrators themselves should have a life sentence,” Amber Rudd told Sky News. She warned attackers would feel “the full force of the law”.

Acid attacks leave the victims permanently disfigured, and often blinded. Surprisingly, though, the kind of hardline punishment advocated by The Gazette was actually highly unusual, according to Dr Katherine Watson, a lecturer in the history of medicine at Oxford Brookes University. Hugh Kennedy was in fact the only person hung for an acid attack.

“If you look at the cases that made it to court, you see there is a huge amount of sympathy for the perpetrators,” she says.

"You want your victim to suffer but you don’t want them to die”

Acid attacks emerged with the industrial revolution in Britain. From the late 1700s, acid was needed to bleach cotton and prevent metals from rusting, and as a result became widely available.

At first, acid was a weapon of insurrection. “Vitriol throwing (that is, the throwing of corrosive substances like sulphuric acid) was a big problem in 1820s Glasgow trade disputes,” says Shane Ewen, an urban historian at Leeds Beckett University. Other cases involved revenge attacks on landlords and employers.

Faced with this anarchic threat, the authorities struck back. Scotland introduced a strict law against acid attacks in the 1820s, while the 1861 Offences Against the Person Act s.29 placed provided for a maximum sentence of life in England and Wales.

In reality, though, acid attackers could expect to receive far more lenient sentences. Why?

“They had sad stories,” says Watson, a leading historian of acid attacks. “Although they had done something terrible, the journalists and juries could empathise with them.”

Acid attacks were seen as expressions of revenge, even glorified as crimes of passion. As Watson puts it: “The point is you want your victim to suffer but you don’t want them to die.”

Although today, around the world, acid attacks are associated with violence against women, both genders used acid as a weapon in 19th century and early 20th century Britain. Acid crept into popular culture. Arthur Conan Doyle’s 1924 Sherlock Holmes story, The Adventure of the Illustrious Client, featured a mistress throwing vitriol in her former lover’s face. In Brighton Rock, Graham Greene’s 1938 novel, the gangster Pinkie attacks his female nemesis Ida Arnold with his vial of acid, before falling to his death.

Lucy Williams, the author of Wayward Women: Female Offending in Victorian England, agrees that Victorians took a lenient attitude to acid attacks. “Historically speaking sentences for acid attacks were quite low,” she says. “Serious terms of imprisonment would only usually be given if the injury caused permanent blindness, death, or was life-threatening.

“If this was not the case, a defendant might spend just a few months in prison - sometimes even less.”

Courts would weigh up factors including the gender of the attacker and victim, and the strength of the substance.

But there was another factor, far removed from compassion “Many of the sentences that we would now consider extremely lenient were a product of a judicial system that valued property over people,” says Williams. It was quite common for violent offences to receive just a few weeks or months in prison.

One case Williams has researched is that of the 28 year old Sarah Newman, who threw sulphuric acid at Cornelius Mahoney, and was tried for the “intent to burn and disfigure him” at the Old Bailey in 1883. The attacker and victim had been living together, and had three children together, but Mahoney had abandoned Newman to marry another woman.

Although Mahoney lost the sight in his right eye, his attacker received just 12 months imprisonment with hard labour.

Two other cases, uncovered by Ancestry.co.uk, illustrate the Victorian attitude to people and property. Mary Morrison, a servant in her 40s, threw acid in the face of her estranged husband after he didn’t give her a weekly allowance. The attack disfigured and blinded him.

In 1883, Morrison was jailed for five years, but released after two and a half. The same year, Dorcas Snell, also in her 40s, received a very similar sentence – for stealing a piece of bacon.

"People just had more options"

If Victorian attitudes become clearer with research, why acid attacks receded in the 20th century remains something of a mystery.

“My theory is people just had more options,” says Watson. With manufacturing on the wane, it became a little harder to get hold of corrosive fluid. But more importantly, the underlying motivation for acid attacks was disappearing. “Women can just walk away from relationships, they can get divorced, get a job. And maybe men don’t feel the same shame if women leave.”

Acid attacks did not disappear completely, though. Yardie gangs – mainly comprised of Jamaican immigrants – used acid as a weapon in the 1960s. Other gangs may have used it too, against victims who would rather suffer in silence than reveal themselves to the police.

Meanwhile, in 1967, the first acid attacks in Bangladesh and India were recorded. This would be the start of a disturbing, misogynistic trend of attacks across Asia. “Acid attacks, like other forms of violence against women, are not random or natural phenomena,” Professor Yakin Ertürk, the UN’s special rapporteur on violence against women, wrote in 2011. “Rather, they are social phenomena deeply embedded in a gender order that has historically privileged patriarchal control over women and justified the use of violence to ‘keep women in their places’.”

The re-emergence of acid attacks in Britain has been interpreted by some as another example of multiculturalism gone wrong. “The acid attacks of London’s Muslim no-go zones”, declared the right-wing, US-based Front Page magazine.

In fact, descriptions of the recent attackers include white men, and black and minority ethnic groups are disproportionately among the victims. A protest by delivery drivers against acid attacks was led by Asian men. 

Jaf Shah, from the Acid Survivors Trust International, suspects the current spate of attacks in fact originates from gang-related warfare that has in turn inspired copycat attacks. “In the UK because of the number of men attacked, it goes against the global pattern,” he says. “It’s complicated by multiple motivations behind these attacks.” Unlike other weapons in the UK, acid is easy to obtain and carry, while acid attacks are prosecuted under the non-specific category of grievous bodily harm. 

Among the recent victims is a British Muslim businessman from Luton, who says he was attacked by a bald white man, two teenage boys in east London, a delivery man, also in east London, who had his moped stolen at the same time, and a man in Leicester whose girlfriend – in a move Hugh Kennedy would recognise – poured acid on him while he slept.

Shah believes the current anxiety about acid attacks stems from the fact the general public is being attacked, rather than simply other members of gangs. Perhaps, also, it relates to the fact that, thanks to advances in our understanding of trauma since the Victorian period, 21st century lawmakers are less interested in the theft of a moped than the lifetime of scars left on the driver who was attacked.

With Rudd promising a crackdown, the penalties for acid throwing are only likely to get harsher. “Many survivors feel the sentencing is too lenient,” Shah says. Still, the rise and fall and rise again of acid throwing in the UK suggests the best way to eradicate the crime may lie outside the courts.

Julia Rampen is the digital news editor of the New Statesman (previously editor of The Staggers, The New Statesman's online rolling politics blog). She has also been deputy editor at Mirror Money Online and has worked as a financial journalist for several trade magazines. 

This article first appeared in the 04 March 2013 issue of the New Statesman, The fall of Pistorius