The bias towards traditional welfare threatens social justice

Rather than defending existing social security entitlements, politicians need to mobilise public support for a new set of social investment priorities.

Reinforced by the wave of austerity following the financial crisis, a new Policy Network/IPPR report shows that social attitudes to welfare are overwhelmingly biased towards a small ‘c’ ‘conservative’ view of the welfare state – implying protecting higher pension payments, social security entitlements, and public expenditure on healthcare. On the other hand, public support for welfare state policies that are geared towards tackling new social risks – relating to structural changes in labour markets and employability, demography, gender equality and family support that traditional protection systems are poorly equipped to provide – is relatively weak. This is the great dilemma at the heart of the politics of the welfare state, which the present debate about welfare reform in the UK scarcely addresses.

In the ongoing discussion about the future role of the state, defending existing social security entitlements, rather than targeting investment at families and children is the public’s preferred option in many European countries, as new comparative polling data from Britain, France and Denmark highlights. Negative sentiment towards growth-oriented, social investment policies in education, active labour markets and family assistance is occurring at a time when slower growth and productivity are increasing the pace of de-industrialisation among developed economies, to the advantage of the emerging powers. The evidence is that shifting expenditure towards these growth-oriented strategies would help to build human capital and increase the capacity for innovation, while supporting the ‘gender revolution’ in paid work and household labour.

Since 2009, every type of welfare regime, including Germany, Sweden and the UK, has chosen a path of budget consolidation that is leading to severe cuts in social investment as a response to the financial crisis. If we consider the survey data on public attitudes towards the welfare state, it is possible to infer that this is merely a rational response by vote-seeking politicians: it is easier to cut back on "family-friendly" service-oriented aspects of welfare rather than healthcare and pension entitlements, as older citizens are more likely to vote.

This preference for the "traditional" welfare state over growth-oriented social investment policies that enhance equity gives serious cause for concern. Growing inequalities in electoral participation might further entrench the welfare status quo, heightening the risk of intergenerational inequality. Given that electoral participation in advanced democracies is falling quickest amongst the young and least affluent, better off and older votes are able to have a greater influence in the political process. For example, spending cuts in the UK have had a disproportionate effect on the young and poor –two groups that tend to have the lowest voter turnout, while universal benefits for the elderly have been largely untouched.

Indeed, support for the ‘traditional’ welfare state is strongest among the more influential cohort of older voters. In Britain, these voters are most likely to support the NHS (51 to 37 per cent), state pensions (44 to 13 per cent) and policing (36 to 18 per cent) as major public expenditure priorities. Conversely, they are less likely to support increased investment in primary and secondary school education by 16 to 32 per cent, and support cutting back maternity and paternity benefit by 37 to 15 per cent compared to younger voters. 78 per cent of Britons and 80 per cent of French voters believe that social protection for families is already more than sufficient. The diverging support for "traditional" welfare provision and a "social investment state" between young and old voters reflects a political context in which the population in many EU member states is getting older, and voters over 50 are most likely to vote.

Worryingly, the financial crisis seems to be consolidating support for ‘old’ welfare state structures at a time when social investment to tackle ‘new’ social risks is of great importance. Europe’s welfare states should be adapting to conquer new structural challenges, which currently pose a major threat to future equity, growth and social sustainability. The biggest threat to social justice in Europe is not institutional change, but the frozen welfare state landscape, perpetuated by the support of major interest groups that are able to control how welfare states operate. Politicians need to show leadership in order to mobilise public support for a transition to a different model of welfare capitalism based on a new set of social investment priorities, looking ahead to the next decade and beyond.

Patrick Diamond is senior research fellow at Policy Network and co-author with Guy Lodge of European Welfare States after the Crisis: changing public attitudes

Students protest against the abolition of the Educational Maintenance Allowance (EMA) outside Downing Street. Photograph: Getty Images.
Photo: Getty
Show Hide image

We argue over Charlie Gard, but forget those spending whole lives caring for a disabled child

The everyday misery of care work is hidden behind abstract arguments over life and death.

“Sometimes,” says the mother, “I wish we’d let him go. Or that he’d just been allowed to slip away.” The father agrees, sometimes. So too does the child, who is not a child any more.

On good days, nobody thinks this way, but not all days are good. There have been bright spots during the course of the past four decades, occasional moments of real hope, but now everyone is tired, everyone is old and the mundane work of loving takes a ferocious toll.

When we talk about caring for sick children, we usually mean minors. It’s easiest that way. That for some parents, the exhaustion and intensity of those first days with a newborn never, ever ends – that you can be in your fifties, sixties, seventies, caring for a child in their twenties, thirties, forties – is not something the rest of us want to think about.

It’s hard to romanticise devotion strung out over that many hopeless, sleepless nights. Better to imagine the tragic mother holding on to the infant who still fits in her loving arms, not the son who’s now twice her size, himself edging towards middle-age and the cliff edge that comes when mummy’s no longer around.

Writing on the tragic case of Charlie Gard, the Guardian’s Giles Fraser claims that he would “rain fire on the whole world to hold my child for a day longer”. The Gard case, he argues, has “set the cool rational compassion of judicial judgement and clinical expertise against the passion of parental love”: “Which is why those who have never smelled the specific perfume of Charlie’s neck, those who have never held him tight or wept and prayed over his welfare, are deemed better placed to determine how he is to live and die.”

This may be true. It may also be true that right now, countless parents who have smelled their own child’s specific perfume, held them tightly, wept for them, loved them beyond all measure, are wishing only for that child’s suffering to end. What of their love? What of their reluctance to set the world aflame for one day more? And what of their need for a life of their own, away from the fantasies of those who’ll passionately defend a parent’s right to keep their child alive but won’t be there at 5am, night after night, cleaning out feeding tubes and mopping up shit?

Parental – in particular, maternal – devotion is seen as an endlessly renewable resource. A real parent never gets tired of loving. A real parent never wonders whether actually, all things considered, it might have caused less suffering for a child never to have been born at all. Such thoughts are impermissible, not least because they’re dangerous. Everyone’s life matters. Nonetheless, there are parents who have these thoughts, not because they don’t love their children, but because they do.

Reporting on the Gard case reminds me of the sanitised image we have of what constitutes the life of a parent of a sick child. It’s impossible not to feel enormous compassion for Charlie’s parents. As the mother of a toddler, I know that in a similar situation I’d have been torn apart. It’s not difficult to look at photos of Charlie and imagine one’s own child in his place. All babies are small and helpless; all babies cry out to be held.

But attitudes change as children get older. In the case of my own family, I noticed a real dropping away of support for my parents and disabled brother as the latter moved into adulthood. There were people who briefly picked him up as a kind of project and then, upon realising that there would be no schmaltzy ending to the story, dropped him again. Love and compassion don’t conquer all, patience runs out and dignity is clearly best respected from a distance.

All too often, the everyday misery of care work is hidden behind abstract arguments over who gets the right to decide whether an individual lives or dies. I don’t know any parents who truly want that right. Not only would it be morally untenable, it’s also a misrepresentation of what their struggles really are and mean.

What many parents who remain lifelong carers need is adequate respite support, a space in which to talk honestly, and the recognition that actually, sometimes loving is a grim and hopeless pursuit. Those who romanticise parental love – who, like Fraser, wallow in heroic portrayals of “battling, devoted parents” – do nothing to alleviate the suffering of those whose love mingles with resentment, exhaustion and sheer loneliness.

There are parents out there who, just occasionally, would be willing to set the world on fire to have a day’s respite from loving. But regardless of whether your child lives or dies, love never ends. 

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.