Good news on the jobs front, but why is the Youth Contract not working?

A year on from its launch, the Youth Contract looks feeble in comparison to the problem it is trying to solve. It's time for a jobs guarantee.

Today’s labour market statistics continued the good news of recent months. Employment rose at the fastest annual rate since 1989, and the inactivity rate, the proportion of the population neither in work or looking for a job, is at its lowest level since 1991. Whilst there are legitimate questions about how this 'jobs miracle' is possible given the poor state of the economy, we should be very encouraged that of all the issues the UK faces, job creation does not appear to be one of them at the moment.

But behind the positive headline numbers there are still some sections of the population facing a very difficult jobs market. Youth unemployment, which was falling at an encouraging pace until a few months ago, appears now to be stuck in reverse, with the number of young people unemployed rising 11,000 in the latest quarter. Even more worrying, the number of young people unemployed for over a year, and in danger of permanent wage scarring and disconnection from the labour market, is up by 10,000. There are some positive signs, with the numbers of economically inactive youth falling and employment amongst the group rising, but the high level of unemployment points towards a large proportion of the young being left behind as the labour market improves overall.

And what is being done about it? The coalition’s Youth Contract, launched over a year ago, aimed for a radical increase in support for young people’s entry into work, providing incentives for employers to take on young employees, increases in apprenticeship numbers, and greater provision of work experience placements. It was hoped to be, in the words of Nick Clegg, "a major moment for Britain’s unemployed young people".

And where are we now? Today’s data shows that youth unemployment remains stubbornly high. A week ago Cait Reilly succeeded in challenging the DWP over its mandatory work activity scheme. And last month the latest apprenticeships data showed that new places were disproportionately going to the over-25s, with the number of school-leavers moving into apprenticeships actually falling. A year on, the Youth Contract looks feeble in comparison to the problem it is trying to solve.

A better approach would be to tackle both the short and long-term causes of youth unemployment head on. Firstly, IPPR has suggested that a jobs guarantee be adopted, with anyone unemployed and claiming Jobseeker's Allowance (JSA) for over 12 months offered a paid job at the minimum wage. There were almost 80,000 young people in this group in December, a rise of 35,000 on a year ago. This would offer instant help to them, and is a fundamentally better policy than making people work for their JSA.

Over the longer-term, we need a revolution in how the system of transition from school to work operates. At the moment, most of the 50 per cent of young people who don’t go to university are faced with poorly-funded careers advice, low-quality or non-existent apprenticeship places, and a confusing plethora of vocational education options of variable worth. This group are being ill-served by the system, which doesn’t offer the skills or the experience needed for them to fully flourish in 21st century Britain.

Changing the deeply ingrained transition system will be difficult, but the evidence from other countries suggests it is not impossible, if the will from politicians, employers, unions and wider society is there. IPPR is currently carrying out a major research project in order to learn valuable international lessons on youth unemployment that can be applied to a UK context.

Today’s jobs data was great on most fronts. But if we fail to tackle the deeply-set issues around marginal groups in the labour force, including youth unemployment, we are in danger of a recovery for some, but one that misses out on those most in need.

Spencer Thompson is economic analyst at IPPR

Nick Clegg claimed the Youth Jobs Contract would be "a major moment for Britain’s unemployed young people". Photograph: Getty Images.

Spencer Thompson is economic analyst at IPPR

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MP Michelle Thomson's full speech on rape at 14: "I am a survivor"

The MP was attacked as a teenager. 

On Thursday, the independent MP for Edinburgh West Michelle Thomson used a debate marking the UN’s International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women to describe her own experience of rape. Thomson, 51, said she wanted to break the taboo among her generation about speaking about the subject.

MPs listening were visibly moved by the speech, and afterwards Thomson tweeted she was "overwhelmed" by the response. 

Here is her speech in full:

I am going to relay an event that happened to me many years ago. I want to give a very personal perspective to help people, both in this place and outside, understand one element of sexual violence against women.

When I was 14, I was raped. As is common, it was by somebody who was known to me. He had offered to walk me home from a youth event. In those days, everybody walked everywhere - it was quite common. It was early evening. It was not dark. I was wearing— I am imagining and guessing—jeans and a sweatshirt. I knew my way around where I lived - I was very comfortable - and we went a slightly differently way, but I did not think anything of it. He told me that he wanted to show me something in a wooded area. At that point, I must admit that I was alarmed. I did have a warning bell, but I overrode that warning bell because I knew him and, therefore, there was a level of trust in place. To be honest, looking back at that point, I do not think I knew what rape was. It was not something that was talked about. My mother never talked to me about it, and I did not hear other girls or women talking about it.

It was mercifully quick and I remember first of all feeling surprise, then fear, then horror as I realised that I quite simply could not escape, because obviously he was stronger than me. There was no sense, even initially, of any sexual desire from him, which, looking back again, I suppose I find odd. My senses were absolutely numbed, and thinking about it now, 37 years later, I cannot remember hearing anything when I replay it in my mind. As a former professional musician who is very auditory, I find that quite telling. I now understand that your subconscious brain—not your conscious brain—decides on your behalf how you should respond: whether you take flight, whether you fight or whether you freeze. And I froze, I must be honest.

Afterwards I walked home alone. I was crying, I was cold and I was shivering. I now realise, of course, that that was the shock response. I did not tell my mother. I did not tell my father. I did not tell my friends. And I did not tell the police. I bottled it all up inside me. I hoped briefly—and appallingly—that I might be pregnant so that that would force a situation to help me control it. Of course, without support, the capacity and resources that I had within me to process it were very limited.

I was very ashamed. I was ashamed that I had “allowed this to happen to me”. I had a whole range of internal conversations: “I should have known. Why did I go that way? Why did I walk home with him? Why didn’t I understand the danger? I deserved it because I was too this, too that.” I felt that I was spoiled and impure, and I really felt revulsion towards myself.

Of course, I detached from the child that I had been up until then. Although in reality, at the age of 14, that was probably the start of my sexual awakening, at that time, remembering back, sex was “something that men did to women”, and perhaps this incident reinforced that early belief.​
I briefly sought favour elsewhere and I now understand that even a brief period of hypersexuality is about trying to make sense of an incident and reframing the most intimate of acts. My oldest friends, with whom I am still friends, must have sensed a change in me, but because I never told them they did not know of the cause. I allowed myself to drift away from them for quite a few years. Indeed, I found myself taking time off school and staying at home on my own, listening to music and reading and so on.

I did have a boyfriend in the later years of school and he was very supportive when I told him about it, but I could not make sense of my response - and it is my response that gives weight to the event. I carried that guilt, anger, fear, sadness and bitterness for years.

When I got married 12 years later, I felt that I had a duty tell my husband. I wanted him to understand why there was this swaddled kernel of extreme emotion at the very heart of me, which I knew he could sense. But for many years I simply could not say the words without crying—I could not say the words. It was only in my mid-40s that I took some steps to go and get help.

It had a huge effect on me and it fundamentally - and fatally - undermined my self-esteem, my confidence and my sense of self-worth. Despite this, I am blessed in my life: I have been happily married for 25 years. But if this was the effect of one small, albeit significant, event in my life stage, how must it be for those women who are carrying it on a day-by-day basis?

I thought carefully about whether I should speak about this today, and it was people’s intake of breath and the comment, “What? You’re going to talk about this?”, that motivated me to do it, because there is still a taboo about sharing this kind of information. Certainly for people of my generation, it is truly shocking to talk in public about this sort of thing.

As has been said, rape does not just affect the woman; it affects the family as well. Before my mother died early of cancer, I really wanted to tell her, but I could not bring myself to do it. I have a daughter and if something happened to her and she could not share it with me, I would be appalled. It was possibly cowardly, but it was an act of love that meant that I protected my mother.

As an adult, of course I now know that rape is not about sex at all - it is all about power and control, and it is a crime of violence. I still pick up on when the myths of rape are perpetuated form a male perspective: “Surely you could have fought him off. Did you scream loudly enough?” And the suggestion by some men that a woman is giving subtle hints or is making it up is outrageous. Those assumptions put the woman at the heart of cause, when she should be at the heart of effect. A rape happens when a man makes a decision to hurt someone he feels he can control. Rapes happen because of the rapist, not because of the victim.

We women in our society have to stand up for each other. We have to be courageous. We have to call things out and say where things are wrong. We have to support and nurture our sisters as we do with our sons. Like many women of my age, I have on occasion encountered other aggressive actions towards me, both in business and in politics. But one thing that I realise now is that I am not scared and he was. I am not scared. I am not a victim. I am a survivor.

Julia Rampen is the editor of The Staggers, The New Statesman's online rolling politics blog. She was previously deputy editor at Mirror Money Online and has worked as a financial journalist for several trade magazines.