More than 1 in 10 children are trapped in child labour

The number of child labourers has decreased by a third since 2000, but there are still 168 million child workers.

The number of child labourers has declined by a third since 2000, a report by the International Labour Organisation (ILO) has found, but there are still 168 million child labourers, accounting for 11 per cent of children aged 5-17. 

The ILO definition of child labour does not include all children in employment, but refers to “work that deprives children of their childhood, their potential and their dignity, and that is harmful to physical and mental development.” Of the 168 million child labourers, 85 million are engaged in hazardous work, defined as work that directly endangers their health, safety and moral development.

Sub-Sahara Africa has the highest rate of child labour, with 59 million or 1 in 5 children affected, but Asia-Pacific has the highest overall number of child workers, with 78 million.

The report reveals a few unexpected features of child labour. Firstly, it finds that child labour is not limited to the world’s poorest countries, suggesting that the factors affecting the number of child workers are more complex than poverty alone. Although the percentage of child labourers is highest in low income countries, the overall numbers of child workers is greater in middle income countries. Within countries, child labour isn’t confined to the poorest households.

Secondly, it notes that while child labour is highest in the agricultural sector, as might be expected, the number of children employed in the service sector has increased. This means policy-makers need to ensure that their interventions target the service and manufacturing industries as well as farming.

Finally, the report has found that child labour has decreased at a faster rate for girls than for boys (40 per cent versus 25 per cent.) However, it says it can be harder to monitor child labour among girls, particularly if they are doing domestic work in private households. This points to a broader problem with child labour: it’s very hard to measure. It’s often illegal and concentrated in the informal economy, and governments in the countries with the highest rates of child labour are unlikely to have strong data collection abilities.

UNICEF, for instance, publishes data on child labour by country, but many countries don’t submit any data for this. Of the countries reported on in its State of the World’s Children 2013 publication, Somalia, Benin and Burkina Faso were the worst offenders, with the percentage of child labour at 49 per cent, 46 per cent and 39 per cent respectively. Beyond Sub-Saharan Africa, Cambodia has the highest rate of child labour, at 36 per cent.

Even accounting for significant constraints in data collection, however,  the rate of child labour is worryingly high, with ILO set to miss its target of eliminating the worst forms of child labour by 2016.

 

Indian children work nearby to their parents at a construction project in Delhi, 2010. Photo: Getty.

Sophie McBain is a freelance writer based in Cairo. She was previously an assistant editor at the New Statesman. She is on Twitter as @SEMcBain.

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Following Donald Trump in New Hampshire

It would be easy to dismiss the 69-year-old property mogul - but Trump is impossible to ignore.

Donald Trump doesn’t miss a beat. When a man in the front row of a packed school auditorium shouted, “We don’t want a scripted president,” he bellowed straight back, “No you don’t! And you don’t want a politically correct president,” a comment that sent the thousand-strong audience into a raucous standing ovation.

It was classic Trump: a move aimed at underlining his credentials as a populist, anti-politics insurgent. For bemused outsiders, his stump speech on 14 August at Winnacunnet High School in the tidy New Hampshire town of Hampton offered fresh insights into the methods by which Donald Trump has successfully hijacked the Republican race for the White House.

It would be easy to dismiss the 69-year-old property mogul. Trump’s campaign is powered by little more than personality and wealth. His pitch features few policies beyond building a giant wall along the Mexican border and putting his business associates in positions where they can strike better deals than the current administration. His campaign shtick resembles nothing so much as a stand-up comedy show. On Iraq: “It isn’t even a country. It’s a bunch of corrupt people.” On oil: “Iran, Isis, everybody has it but us.” And on China: “You hear that sucking sound? You know what that means . . . jobs, money.”

And yet he is impossible to ignore. Trump has led the polls for the Republican nomination since declaring his intention to run on 16 June – in a speech that accused Mexico of sending both rapists and murderers to the US. In New Hampshire he has a double-digit lead over Jeb Bush, who remains the favourite to win the nod, given his record as governor of Florida and his party connections – not least his father, George, and brother George W. This makes Trump the people’s choice.

Something similar is happening among Democrats. Although Hillary Clinton has a monopoly on donors and party grandees, Bernie Sanders, the self-proclaimed socialist senator from Vermont, is making a move in the polls. The US version of Jeremy Corbyn – the unreconstructed lefty selected to balance the debate – offers a different way of doing things from Clinton, who comes from a tired elite, or so runs the familiar argument.

And this is Trump’s main message: the rich are running politics for their advantage, donating money to the establishment in return for favours when they return to office. “Who knows it better than me?” he boasted to more whoops from the audience. “I’ve contributed to everyone.”

Trump acts like a heckler on stage. It’s his brash honesty that appeals to the likes of Bob Pennell, an orthopaedic surgeon who had travelled from neighbouring Massachusetts to see him speak. “He is shining the light on the rich and how they use the government,” Pennell said. “I always suspected it. But now I know.”

The result of such poor leadership, Trump argues, is that the US has lost its place as the dominant global economy – hence that sucking sound from China. It’s a message that strikes a chord with an audience that feels squeezed financially at home and sees its country adrift in the world.

Trump’s larger-than-life persona – and frequent, unverifiable boasts that his net worth stands at $10bn – felt like a throwback to days gone by, when “the American dream still meant something”, according to Jimmy Riordan, a diesel engine parts engineer. “It’s a cut-throat world and he’s the best businessman,” he said.

Quite what a Trump administration would look like, however, is anyone’s guess. In a rapid-fire question-and-answer session, he committed to federal investigations into the treatment of army veterans and the Environmental Protection Agency. An audience member asked if he would send astronauts to Mars. Trump smiled, saying he would first fix the US’s crumbling roads and airports. “Who’s better at infrastructure than Trump?” he asked, to more laughter.

Even a string of glaring gaffes has failed to dent his lead. Most recently he tried to undermine Megyn Kelly of Fox News after she probed his attitude towards women. Her dogged questioning, Trump said, was down to “blood coming out of her wherever”.

Yet to his supporters in the school auditorium, this kind of comment is not a misstep but a breath of fresh air. They say it shows he is his own man, that his personal fortune frees him from the need for spin doctors, lobbyists or donors who would seek favours should he reach office. Even his opponents can sense the appeal. “He doesn’t have to have their influence,” said Kerri Ruggiero, who is campaigning in the state for George Pataki, the Republican former New York governor, who is failing to gain traction. “It’s just him.”

Not everyone at the stump speech was a supporter. In New Hampshire, people take their responsibility as an early primary state seriously. A good showing here in February can make or break a candidate’s campaign. In the 1968 Democratic primaries, Eugene McCarthy came within 7 per cent of Lyndon B Johnson, a close enough result to force the sitting president to announce he would not run for re-election. Some showed up last Friday to gauge whether Trump was a credible figure. Others came to make a point. Noah Thompson, an 18-year-old student, wore a giant golden sombrero to protest against Trump’s comments about Mexicans.

“I probably would have voted for him,” Thompson confessed as the crowd headed for the exits, “if he hadn’t opened his mouth for two months.”

This article first appeared in the 20 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Corbyn wars