How the Disability Living Allowance is being reformed

A response from the Minister for Disabled People.

I was concerned to read the recent New Statesman blog about reforms to Disability Living Allowance (DLA) which was based on a number of factual inaccuracies about the new benefit - the Personal Independence Payment (PIP). I’d like to address those inaccuracies to prevent unnecessary concern and hopefully address those the writer had for people in their care.

PIP is very much a ‘personal’ payment and recognises that everyone is different. Even two people with the same condition can be affected in different ways - so a key part of the new benefit is making sure that we have a fuller understanding of how someone’s disability or condition affects them.

Face-to-face consultations help us do just that and give claimants the opportunity to discuss in person with a healthcare professional how their condition affects their ability to live an independent life.

In the article, the writer expresses concern that some claimants will find travelling to a PIP assessment difficult and stressful. Not everyone will be asked to attend a face-to-face consultation – for example where there is sufficient supporting evidence available the assessment can be carried out on a paper basis. These decisions will be made case by case.

Your readers might also be interested to know that Capita are taking a new approach and will provide many consultations in a claimant’s own home. They also aspire to make sure that around 40 per cent of their advisers; centre hosts and administrators will themselves have long-term health conditions or be disabled.

The writer says that the assessment will prioritise testimonies from GPs, over other evidence. This is not the case. The decision to award the benefit will be based on all of the available evidence, including the claim form, the report from the assessment provider and any other evidence provided.

The writer mentions ‘Jane’ who has Parkinson’s disease - and suggested the assessment might be inaccurate and overlook the practical tasks she cannot complete and the social interactions she cannot have.

The new PIP assessment focuses on exactly that – the challenges that individuals face. Unlike DLA, people claiming PIP are given the opportunity to describe their condition both on good and bad days, and the new assessment has been specifically designed to better recognise fluctuating and mental health conditions. The assessment also looks at reading, verbal communication and how someone engages with other people.

The writer also mentioned her concerns about eligibility for the mobility component of PIP, specifically around the distances a claimant can move. The assessment will look at the claimant’s ability to move around without severe discomfort, and will also consider whether the individual can walk – or undertake any of the activities - safely, to an acceptable standard, repeatedly and in a reasonable time period. This means, for example, that someone who can move more than 20 metres, but can’t do it in a safe and reliable way, would actually get the enhanced rate.

The writer also asked why people should be regularly re-assessed, especially if their disability or illness is not going to change. PIP is based on how a person’s condition affects them, not the condition they have. So although someone’s condition may not change, the impact it has on their life may do so. That is why we will be regularly contacting people to make sure they are getting the right levels of support as their needs change over time.

Under the current system 71 per cent of claimants get an indefinite award without any systematic reassessments and every year this has led to hundreds of millions of pounds of both over-payments – and more worryingly - under-payments.

Disability Living Allowance was introduced over twenty years ago and it was widely accepted by all political parties that it was badly in need of reform to better reflect today's understanding of disability. The new face-to-face assessments and regular reviews, which are missing under the current system, will ensure that the billions we spend on the benefit gives more targeted support to those who need it most.

We rightly continue to spend around £50bn a year on disabled people and their services and I am proud that we are one of the world leaders in the rights for disabled people with the UK spending on disability-related benefits a fifth higher than the EU average.

We are not 'moving the goal posts' to reduce welfare spending. Funding on this benefit will in fact increase over the course of this Parliament, and what we are doing is making sure every penny of the £13bn budget we continue to spend is targeted at those who need it most.

Esther McVey is the Conservative MP for Wirral West and the Minister for Disabled People at

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I can’t follow Marie Kondo's advice – even an empty Wotsits packet “sparks joy” in me

I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

I have been brooding lately on the Japanese tidying freak Marie Kondo. (I forgot her name so I typed “Japanese tidying freak” into Google, and it was a great help.) The “Japanese” bit is excusable in this context, and explains a bit, as I gather Japan is more on the case with the whole “being tidy” thing than Britain, but still.

Apart from telling us that we need to take an enormous amount of care, to the point where we perform origami when we fold our underpants, which is pretty much where she lost me, she advises us to throw away anything that does not, when you hold it, “spark joy”. Perhaps I have too much joy in my life. I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

After a while I gave up on this because I was getting a bit too happy with all the memories, so then I thought to myself, about her: “This is someone who isn’t getting laid enough,” and then I decided that was a crude and ungallant thought, and besides, who am I to wag the finger? At least if she invites someone to her bedroom no one is going to run screaming from it, as they would if I invited anyone to my boudoir. (Etym: from the French “bouder”, to sulk. How very apt in my case.) Marie Kondo – should bizarre circumstance ever conspire to bring her to the threshold – would run screaming from the Hovel before she’d even alighted the stairs from the front door.

I contemplate my bedroom. As I write, the cleaning lady is in it. To say that I have to spend half an hour cleaning out empty Wotsits packets, and indeed wotnot, before I let her in there should give you some idea of how shameful it has got. And even then I have to pay her to do so.

A girlfriend who used to be referred to often in these pages, though I think the term should be a rather less flippant one than “girlfriend”, managed to get round my natural messiness problem by inventing a game called “keep or chuck”.

She even made up a theme song for it, to the tune from the old Spiderman TV show. She would show me some object, which was not really rubbish, but usually a book (it may not surprise you to learn that it is the piles of books that cause most of the clutter here), and say, “Keep or chuck?” in the manner of a high-speed game show host. At one point I vacillated and so she then pointed at herself and said, “Keep or chuck?” I got the message.

These days the chances of a woman getting into the bedroom are remote. For one thing, you can’t just walk down the street and whistle for one much as one would hail a cab, although my daughter is often baffled by my ability to attract females, and suspects I have some kind of “mind ray”. Well, if I ever did it’s on the blink now, and not only that – right now, I’m not even particularly bothered that it’s on the blink. Because, for another thing, I would frankly not care to inflict myself upon anyone else at the moment.

It was all a bit of a giggle eight years ago, when I was wheeled out of the family home and left to my own devices. Of course, when I say “a bit of a giggle”, I mean “terrifying and miserable”, but I had rather fewer miles on the clock than I do now, and a man can, I think, get away with a little bit more scampish behaviour, and entertain a few more illusions about the future and his own plausibility as a character, when he is squarely in his mid-forties than when he is approaching, at speed, his middle fifties.

Death has rather a lot to do with it, I suppose. I had not actually seen, or touched, a dead body until I saw, and touched, my own father’s a few weeks ago. That’s what turns an abstract into a concrete reality. You finally put that to one side and gird up your loins – and then bloody David Bowie snuffs it, and you find yourself watching the videos for “Blackstar” and “Lazarus” over and over again, and reach the inescapable conclusion that death is not only incredibly unpleasant, it is also remorseless and very much nearer than you think.

And would you, dear reader, want to be involved with anyone who kept thinking along those lines? I mean, even if he learned how to fold his undercrackers into an upright cylinder, like a napkin at a fancy restaurant, before putting them in his drawer? When he doesn’t even have a drawer?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war