War of the widows

One in five life insurance claims is refused by the insurers, often on technicalities. Here, Juliet

When my 47-year-old husband, Nikolai, died of cancer he left me and our three dependent children with a £146,000 mortgage and a £250,000 life insurance policy to tide us over the next few difficult years. He died knowing his family would be cared for by Scottish Widows. Six weeks later, regarded by psychologists as the lowest point following bereavement, the insurance company sent me a letter refusing to pay the claim, citing "non-disclosure of material facts".

I was faced with repossession of the house and moving the children (aged nine, 12 and 15) out of their schools and away from friends. My friends told me to put the insurance issue behind me and move on: who was I, a housewife with a part-time job, to take on a huge corporation? But I knew my husband of 20 years to be an honest man. He would never have deliberately withheld medical information.

I, too, had been at the meeting where a Lloyds TSB adviser (Scottish Widows is the bank's life and pensions subsidiary business) had completed our application form for us on her laptop. So what had gone wrong?

Nikolai told her he had been suffering from unexplained fevers for about three months, but that they had recently stopped and he believed he had recovered. Hospital tests and scans had come back negative but he was due to go for more. The adviser, probably accidentally rather than intentionally (though commissions for policies can run into thousands of pounds), wrongly recorded that his fevers had ceased almost a year before our meeting rather than a month before. She also failed to detail the hospital tests. In fact, she made a number of glaring errors on the three-page computer printout application, including wrongly identifying us both as smokers, spelling our address and our names incorrectly, transposing vital dates and giving one-word answers about medical conditions where the form sought "full details".

We were given no opportunity to see the form, which was sent electronically to the Scottish Widows underwriting system immediately. We were then asked to sign a declaration saying we had read through the form and agreed with its content and to sign against our wrongly spelt names. We were told that the completed application form would be sent to us in the post.

I later discovered that it was never meant to be printed out let alone seen by us. Incredibly, the £250,000 contract came into effect three months later with our names still wrongly spelt. I was outraged when the company dismissed this as part of "a few typographical errors".

The automatic underwriting process loaded Nikolai's premiums by 75 per cent with no explanation and no further medical inquiries. Meanwhile, Nikolai naturally presumed this was because Scottish Widows had taken out a GP report following his disclosure of ongoing tests for his former fevers - and also because he had told the adviser he wasn't in good health. Yet it was only when the claim was made that the company decided it required a GP report and then began looking for evidence of non-disclosure - irrespective of whether it was linked to his death. This common practice is odious and devastating for the policyholder.

In fact, one in five life insurance claims is not met because of this kind of "post-claim underwriting". We knew none of this at the time and completely trusted the adviser and the underwriting system. Nikolai, Russian by birth, was an internationally acclaimed photojournalist and had seen a great deal of global corruption. He wanted to bring his children up in an honest, moral society with rules by which both corporations and public abide. He believed that Britain was such a society and would have trusted implicitly a big-brand insurance company.

But, like many insurance companies, Scottish Widows had abandoned its mutual status to become a public company whose sole responsibility is to maximise profits for shareholders at the expense of policyholders. The iconic, caped Scottish widow is just a PR path to profits now. Yet, ironically, the company was originally set up to protect real young widows during the Napoleonic Wars.

Like 548,337 other people that year, I took my case to the financial ombudsman. This service has seen a general upsurge in complaints from people like myself. It took me three years of intense internet research, mounds of paperwork and many weekends and evenings, time that should have been spent with the children.

The company was determined to see me off. I was forced to sell our family home and move to Somerset. Eventually, to my immense relief, three years after my initial complaint, the ombudsman finally upheld my case, finding that, "although the firm's decision to cover the complainant's husband may have been due to a mistake, this mistake cannot be attributed to the complainant's husband; in my judgement, it is attributable to its own automated underwriting processes and data entry error by its agent".

This system of selling policies has now been changed industry-wide, says Scottish Widows. After the final ruling in my favour on 17 August it issued the following statement, which it reiterated to the NS: "In June 2004, Scottish Widows received a life policy claim following the death of Mr Ignatiev. In July 2004 this claim was declined. We do not take lightly the decision to decline a claim, but in this case we were, and still are, of the view that there was material non-disclosure of relevant information. We recognise the important role of the Financial Ombudsman Service in such cases and have always maintained we will accept the final FOS ruling. This final ruling was received on 17 August 2007 and, as a result, we will be settling the claim."

Since Nikolai's death I have uncovered many pitiful and heart-rending stories, where bereaved or terminally ill people have been refused what was rightfully theirs.

Jan Trainer appealed to the ombudsman when her 43-year-old husband Dave was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Scottish Widows refused to pay out, relying on the innocent non-disclosure of an unrelated medical condition. "It's a blatant and cruel use of a technicality to renege on an agreement," says Jan. "As a solicitor, I am up against insurance companies on a daily basis; my work involves obtaining compensation for individuals injured in often very serious accidents. It never ceases to amaze me what tactics are used to avoid meeting their obligation to victims. And the people who have to take on these powerful companies are mostly vulnerable individuals already crippled with emotional pain."

It took the ombudsman's office only three days to uphold Jan and Dave's complaint.

Jerry and Rosemary Horsman, both farmers, were devastated when their daughter Alice was crushed in a farm accident, leaving two small children. Scottish Widows denied her claim because of innocent non-disclosure of a medical condition. Her parents took the case to the ombudsman, but had to battle for two and a half years for justice. "What still horrifies me," says Jerry, "is that the 2001 application form was ludicrously flawed. It was a cheap and cheerful policy to scoop up premiums.

"The inadequate application process makes it ridiculously easy for companies to cherry-pick medical evidence in order to wriggle out of paying. It's shocking to think how many of us are living in a fools' paradise thinking we have cover when we don't."

The ombudsman looks at what is fair and reasonable as opposed to the strict letter of archaic law. However, the Law Commission is now reviewing the 100-year-old insurance law and forward-looking judges, such as Lord Eassie (former chairman of the Scottish Law Commission), are aligning themselves with the ombudsman in recognising that the law is heavily biased against the consumer. Last year, Valerie Cuthbertson, a theatre manager, won a landmark ruling in court when Lord Eassie ruled that Friends Provident was wrong in denying her critical illness cover. Her appeal to the ombudsman had not been upheld but she fought on with the help of legal aid and won through the courts.

We are being mugged by the corporate world. Perhaps ordinary individuals who stand up against the big corporations are the have-a-go-heroes of personal finance.

Do we make a difference? I would certainly like to think so.

548,337 number of complaints each year to insurance ombudsman

1 in 10 UK adults admit to having cheated on an insurance claim

52% of people fail to check life policy details to ensure they have adequate cover

1st reason for life assurance after age 60 is to minimise inheritance-tax liability

70% of insurance sales included hidden extras of which customer oblivious

49% of people never know precisely what they have insurance for

10% rise in complaints about insurance to ombudsman in the year to 2006/2007

£750,000 paid in fines by one insurer after flaws in handling complaints

Research by Jo Barrett

This article first appeared in the 17 September 2007 issue of the New Statesman, How the Americans misled Blair over Iraq

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Tweeting terror: what social media reveals about how we respond to tragedy

From sharing graphic images to posting a selfie, what compels online behaviours that can often outwardly seem improper?

Why did they post that? Why did they share a traumatising image? Why did they tell a joke? Why are they making this about themselves? Did they… just post a selfie? Why are they spreading fake news?

These are questions social media users almost inevitably ask themselves in the immediate aftermath of a tragedy such as Wednesday’s Westminster attack. Yet we ask not because of genuine curiosity, but out of shock and judgement provoked by what we see as the wrong way to respond online. But these are still questions worth answering. What drives the behaviours we see time and again on social media in the wake of a disaster?

The fake image

“I really didn't think it was going to become a big deal,” says Dr Ranj Singh. “I shared it just because I thought it was very pertinent, I didn't expect it to be picked up by so many people.”

Singh was one of the first people to share a fake Tube sign on Twitter that was later read out in Parliament and on BBC Radio 4. The TfL sign – a board in stations which normally provides service information but can often feature an inspiring quote – read: “All terrorists are politely reminded that THIS IS LONDON and whatever you do to us we will drink tea and jolly well carry on thank you.”

Singh found it on the Facebook page of a man called John (who later explained to me why he created the fake image) and posted it on his own Twitter account, which has over 40,000 followers. After it went viral, many began pointing out that the sign was faked.

“At a time like this is it really helpful to point out that its fake?” asks Singh – who believes it is the message, not the medium, that matters most. “The sentiment is real and that's what's important.”

Singh tells me that he first shared the sign because he found it to be profound and was then pleased with the initial “sense of solidarity” that the first retweets brought. “I don't think you can fact-check sentiments,” he says, explaining why he didn’t delete the tweet.

Dr Grainne Kirwan, a cyberpsychology lecturer and author, explains that much of the behaviour we see on social media in the aftermath of an attack can be explained by this desire for solidarity. “It is part of a mechanism called social processing,” she says. “By discussing a sudden event of such negative impact it helps the individual to come to terms with it… When shocked, scared, horrified, or appalled by an event we search for evidence that others have similar reactions so that our response is validated.”

The selfies and the self-involved

Yet often, the most maligned social media behaviour in these situations seems less about solidarity and more about selfishness. Why did YouTuber Jack Jones post a since-deleted selfie with the words “The outmost [sic] respect to our public services”? Why did your friend, who works nowhere near Westminster, mark themselves as “Safe” using Facebook’s Safety Check feature? Why did New Statesman writer Laurie Penny say in a tweet that her “atheist prayers” were with the victims?

“It was the thought of a moment, and not a considered statement,” says Penny. The rushed nature of social media posts during times of crisis can often lead to misunderstandings. “My atheism is not a political statement, or something I'm particularly proud of, it just is.”

Penny received backlash on the site for her tweet, with one user gaining 836 likes on a tweet that read: “No need to shout 'I'm an atheist!' while trying to offer solidarity”. She explains that she posted her tweet due to the “nonsensical” belief that holding others in her heart makes a difference at tragic times, and was “shocked” when people became angry at her.

“I was shouted at for making it all about me, which is hard to avoid at the best of times on your own Twitter feed,” she says. “Over the years I've learned that 'making it about you' and 'attention seeking' are familiar accusations for any woman who has any sort of public profile – the problem seems to be not with what we do but with who we are.”

Penny raises a valid point that social media is inherently self-involved, and Dr Kirwan explains that in emotionally-charged situations it is easy to say things that are unclear, or can in hindsight seem callous or insincere.

“Our online society may make it feel like we need to show a response to events quickly to demonstrate solidarity or disdain for the individuals or parties directly involved in the incident, and so we put into writing and make publicly available something which we wrote in haste and without full knowledge of the circumstances.”

The joke

Arguably the most condemned behaviour in the aftermath of a tragedy is the sharing of an ill-timed joke. Julia Fraustino, a research affiliate at the National Consortium for the Study of Terrorism and Responses to Terrorism (START), reflects on this often seemingly inexplicable behaviour. “There’s research dating back to the US 9/11 terror attacks that shows lower rates of disaster-related depression and anxiety for people who evoke positive emotions before, during and after tragic events,” she says, stating that humour can be a coping mechanism.

“The offensiveness or appropriateness of humor seems, at least in part, to be tied to people’s perceived severity of the crisis,” she adds. “An analysis of tweets during a health pandemic showed that humorous posts rose and fell along with the seriousness of the situation, with more perceived seriousness resulting in fewer humour-based posts.”

The silence

If you can’t say anything nice, why say anything at all? Bambi's best friend Thumper's quote might be behind the silence we see from some social media users. Rather than simply being uncaring, there are factors which can predict whether someone will be active or passive on social media after a disaster, notes Fraustino.

“A couple of areas that factor into whether a person will post on social media during a disaster are issue-involvement and self-involvement,” she says. “When people perceive that the disaster is important and they believe they can or should do something about it, they may be more likely to share others’ posts or create their own content. Combine issue-involvement with self-involvement, which in this context refers to a desire for self-confirmation such as through gaining attention by being perceived as a story pioneer or thought leader, and the likelihood goes up that this person will create or curate disaster-related content on social media.”

“I just don’t like to make it about me,” one anonymous social media user tells me when asked why he doesn’t post anything himself – but instead shares or retweets posts – during disasters. “I feel like people just want likes and retweets and aren’t really being sincere, and I would hate to do that. Instead I just share stuff from important people, or stuff that needs to be said – like reminders not to share graphic images.”

The graphic image

The sharing of graphic and explicit images is often widely condemned, as many see this as both pointless and potentially psychologically damaging. After the attack, BBC Newsbeat collated tens of tweets by people angry that passersby took pictures instead of helping, with multiple users branding it “absolutely disgusting”.

Dr Kirwan explains that those near the scene may feel a “social responsibility” to share their knowledge, particularly in situations where there is a fear of media bias. It is also important to remember that shock and panic can make us behave differently than we normally would.

Yet the reason this behaviour often jars is because we all know what motivates most of us to post on social media: attention. It is well-documented that Likes and Shares give us a psychological boost, so it is hard to feel that this disappears in tragic circumstances. If we imagine someone is somehow “profiting” from posting traumatic images, this can inspire disgust. Fraustino even notes that posts with an image are significantly more likely to be clicked on, liked, or shared.

Yet, as Dr Kiwarn explains, Likes don’t simply make us happy on such occasions, they actually make us feel less alone. “In situations where people are sharing terrible information we may still appreciate likes, retweets, [and] shares as it helps to reinforce and validate our beliefs and position on the situation,” she says. “It tells us that others feel the same way, and so it is okay for us to feel this way.”

Fraustino also argues that these posts can be valuable, as they “can break through the noise and clutter and grab attention” and thereby bring awareness to a disaster issue. “As positive effects, emotion-evoking images can potentially increase empathy and motivation to contribute to relief efforts.”

The judgement

The common thread isn’t simply the accusation that such social media behaviours are “insensitive”, it is that there is an abundance of people ready to point the finger and criticise others, even – and especially – at a time when they should focus on their own grief. VICE writer Joel Golby sarcastically summed it up best in a single tweet: “please look out for my essay, 'Why Everyone's Reaction to the News is Imperfect (But My Own)', filed just now up this afternoon”.

“When already emotional other users see something which they don't perceive as quite right, they may use that opportunity to vent anger or frustration,” says Dr Kirwan, explaining that we are especially quick to judge the posts of people we don’t personally know. “We can be very quick to form opinions of others using very little information, and if our only information about a person is a post which we feel is inappropriate we will tend to form a stereotyped opinion of this individual as holding negative personality traits.

“This stereotype makes it easier to target them with hateful speech. When strong emotions are present, we frequently neglect to consider if we may have misinterpreted the content, or if the person's apparently negative tone was intentional or not.”

Fraustino agrees that people are attempting to reduce their own uncertainty or anxiety when assigning blame. “In a terror attack setting where emotions are high, uncertainty is high, and anxiety is high, blaming or scapegoating can relieve some of those negative emotions for some people.”

Amelia Tait is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman.