The debt collector's hammering at the front door. Will this be a wake-up call for Westminster?

Unexpected people are struggling. The middle is getting closer to the bottom. So what is the way out?

Charleen is talking to me by phone, and I can hear her three kids screaming in the background. She’s been working from 7am at home because she can’t afford the childcare to go into the office. The rent is due on Monday, and she’s running out of options. The TV and kids’ computer games have already gone to the pawnbrokers and her private landlord doesn’t give a damn. She already owes £2,000 to pay day lenders. Now she’s choosing between eating and heating.

“You can’t win, no matter how you look," she says, "I’m getting all sorts of panic attacks, I’m stressing about keeping a roof over me and my children’s heads… A lot of people feel the same. You can't afford to rent privately, pay the bills and eat.”

Millions of people around the UK are now finding themselves in the same position. As the credit card bills for Christmas thud through the letterbox, January 14 has been labelled “debt day”.

Those suffering are no longer just in the lowest income groups. They are not irresponsible spenders and they often work overtime. Charleen works as an accountant. She manages a company’s finances, but she can’t make the books balance at home. The cost of living is rising like a tide, and when wages don’t keep up, even middle-income earners struggle to stay afloat. The household buget on the back of an envelope goes in the bin. We borrow to plug the gap.

“People ask me why I’m lending from these places (pay day lenders) when there’s so much to pay back, but I have no choice. I just have to pay my rent. I’m Robbing Peter and Paul to pay Mike. I’ll try and catch up but everyone just wants their money.”

“To be honest it’s crossing into the family home – I’ve got arguments with the other half and I’m shouting at the kids constantly. I try not to burden the kids. I don’t want them to have a bad life . . . They ask why I’m not eating and I just say I’m not hungry, or I ate a bite whilst I was cooking. This is just the stuff you say.”

This government talks a lot about cutting state debt. But the figure it talks less about is personal debt held by individuals on loans and credit cards. According to Credit Action, that figure now stands at a whopping £1.4 trillion – and it’s growing.

In a twisted irony, experts say that some of the government’s desperate attempts to cut state debt may actually increase personal debt. When the benefit cap kicks in, Charleen says she will be borrowing more to plug the gap. Parents will go to pay day lenders to compensate for housing benefit changes. Students are already borrowing more for higher tuition fees to cover education cuts. Without doing more to help people, reductions in the state debt are being met by an increase in personal debt as Britons try to compensate.

Anna Hall knows all about this. She works as a money advice manager at Citizens Advice, a charity that registered 2.1 million debt problems last year alone. In the wake of the Christmas holidays, she knows that all advisers will be on call as the telephones ring off the hook. She says this year, it’s only predicted to increase.

“At the moment most of our calls are about benefit changes, but we’re expecting a knock-on effect as people take on more debt just to get through it. We’re all expecting it to get much worse. Meanwhile one of the cuts to hit local authorities is Citizens Advice services so we can’t even provide all the advice we want. It’s a perfect storm really.”

Hall says it’s hard to stereotype the people who are asking for help. In the last round of figures, 61 per cent of Citizens Advice callers were in some form of work. Most survive on the edge with low wages and high costs, so a sudden change can quickly push them under. A relationship breakdown. A dentist bill. A fridge malfunction. A funeral. With no financial space to meet these surprises, the debt spiral starts.

But Hall says it’s not just borrowers that are changing. It’s also the lenders.

“Before the crash it was easy to access to cheap credit,” says Hall, “Now people are turning to pay day loan companies and credit cards for rent, food and clothes – the really basic stuff. That’s the big shift. Benefits are already incredibly tight, including for those in work, and it’s harder to make ends meet.”

Walk down your local high street and you’ll see evidence of this growing borrowing culture just about anywhere in the UK. Wonga. Peaches. The Money Shop. In London the adverts are plastered on red buses. "Money in minutes!" scream local billboards. Money in seconds is available on phone apps from your bedroom. By the age of ten, a third of children have used their parent’s credit card to make an online purchase. We are a nation of borrowers and lenders. We don’t produce goods, we shuffle credit.

To put this problem in perspective, look at the graph (below) produced by Morgan Stanley. We can see that the UK is the most indebted country in the developed world – we are deeper in the red than Japan, the USA and Europe. But only a tiny fraction of our total debt is held by government. Most is held by the financial sector, but a good chunk of it is also held by households. In fact, the level of household debt in this country is actually greater than government debt.

The bulk of this household debt is not from credit cards or payday loan companies, but mortgages. But owning your own home doesn’t mean you’re secure. Take Christine, who works as a 999 call operator in Oxfordshire. She was just two years away from paying off her mortgage and taking several holidays a year until her husband walked out on her. Then everything changed. Making mortgage repayments and household bills with just one earner was impossible, and she racked up some £6,000 worth of debt on credit cards just buying basics and working overtime.

“Yes there are people who spend irresponsibly,” she says, “People say they have to have things but they don’t really. People say they have to buy their kids certain Christmas presents, but all they’ve got to do is say No. For me, it wasn’t like that. Everything was affordable until we broke up. It was an accidental debt.”

“Only now do I realise how little room there is to manoeuvre,” she goes on, “I’m over the moon if I get to the end of the month and have £20 in my account, but if something went wrong with the car or something then that would be it.”

But can’t she just move to a smaller place? Christine already moved out of her home to rent a £700 a month flat, and the only cheaper alternative she could find was full of cockroaches and still left her struggling. For others, moving often means leaving their job and family and friendship networks, not to mention uprooting their children’s education. For too many people, it doesn’t seem possible to work your way out.

“It breaks your heart sometimes”, says Christine, “I put in forty or fifty hours a week and what’s it for? Charity shops and egg on toast for tea. You can make a joke of it, but sometimes it wears a bit thin. It can happen to anyone at the toss of a coin.”

Given that the financial crisis was triggered by irresponsible lending, why doesn’t the government talk more about this? The answer from experts is worrying. When two thirds of the British economy is built on household spending, and when a large bulk of that spending is fuelled by debt, no one wants to pop the bubble. David Cameron found this out the hard way when he was forced to remove calls for Britons to pay off their credit card bills in his 2011 conference speech. He hadn’t clocked that this would plunge the economy into a much deeper recession.

“There is a bit of denialism about the role of debt in the recovery,” says James Plunkett, director of policy at the Resolution Foundation, “there is only just starting to be a realisation that this needs to be looked at.”

In fact, Plunkett argues, one of the biggest problems with the government’s recovery plan is that people aren’t borrowing enough:

“Early projections from the Office of Budget Responsibility assumed that households would borrow more than they have to compensate for declining real wages. The fact that they haven’t is one of the key reasons why growth isn’t going as well as we thought.”

In other words, the government was hoping for a more debt-fuelled recovery than the British people have given them.

But the fact that Britons, on average, are paying off more than we predicted, does not mean that debt isn’t a growing problem. Looking at averages hides the fact that there’s a long tail of people who are getting into deeper trouble. Some 3.6 million people in the UK are now “debt loaded” which means they spend more than a quarter of their income on debt repayments, and middle income earners are starting to be effected.

The scale of the problem was brought home to me last week when I was talking about this article with friend in a pub. Sitting opposite me with neat blonde hair and getting ready to leave early for work the next day as a middle manager, this highly educated and hard working woman told me she’d been forced to take out pay day loans several times last year to cover basic living costs. She’d not told anyone before then. People we don’t expect are struggling. The middle is getting closer to the bottom.

So what is the way out? Financial education is part of it, but that doesn't help when the cost of living is higher than wages. To make a real difference, we need to make work pay for the bottom half. The Resolution Foundation has put forward proposals for a £2bn childcare programme for example, which Plunkett argues could be funded in part by cutting universal pension credits:

“Part of the problem is that work related costs like childcare and transport have gone up. That’s why childcare is so important, and the living wage. For many families it doesn’t make sense for the second parent to go out to work because it doesn’t cover the cost of childcare.”

None of this is easy. The last government also failed to do enough. But for many outside Westminster the wake up call has already started. Charleen still hasn’t paid the rent. She’s on sleeping pills, and the anxiety is running high. The last financial crisis was built on private lending to insecure individuals. We can't afford the human or financial cost of repeating that mistake. We need to talk again about debt, and this time it’s personal.

Photograph: Getty Images

Rowenna Davis is Labour PPC for Southampton Itchen and a councillor for Peckham

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Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue