Why benefit loans still aren't the answer to Labour's welfare problems

A salary insurance scheme that would impose a 9 per cent tax on jobseekers after they return to work isn't worthy of the name.

I think it’s important to clear up some of the arguments made by IPPR’s associate director Graeme Cook in his response to criticisms of the think-tank’s idea for benefit loans. If you haven’t been following, you can read my original criticism of the plan here.

Graeme says:

To clear up one thing straight away: this proposal is in addition to existing entitlements to Jobseeker's Allowance (we do not want to turn JSA into a loan). This means that, contrary to one claim, it wouldn’t mean people who hadn’t worked get more than those who had.

People who hadn’t worked wouldn’t get access to this scheme, because access is based on NI contributions, so clearly they’re not getting more within the confines of the proposal – that’s not up for dispute. The point is that when looking at welfare benefits as a whole there would be people who hadn’t contributed and who were on benefits who got more in non-repayable benefits than people who were on repayable benefit loans and who had contributed. This would create resentment.

If it’s not immediately obvious why this would be, consider a typical staple of negative press welfare coverage – a workless household with a large family receiving child benefit for each child, and on housing benefit.  There are plenty of examples of this kind of piece, and it is these intensively reported, atypical outliers that shape the negative public perception of welfare.

Yes, these articles are unfair and ridiculous for countless reasons. But now consider sums like £30,000 being banded around for supposedly 'feckless' families in the context of other people who find themselves unemployed, receive less than that because they’re not eligible for housing benefit (maybe they have a mortgage) or child benefit (maybe they don’t have any children) and are then told they have to repay most of their benefits - unlike the person they’ve been told is a 'scrounger'. If Labour are planning to successfully explain to the public why this isn’t as unfair as it looks, they’re in for a shock.

If the policy is aiming to destroy the notion that the welfare state "pays out too much to people who have not worked, but also that it offers so little protection to those who have" (Graeme’s words), treating contributors as second class will not help. This policy has the potential to create a whole new genre of articles about how the welfare state is on the side of the wrong people, even if its intention is to do the opposite.

Graeme:

Some have argued that repayment will create a disincentive for people to return to work. Clearly this risk should be monitored on implementation, and the point at which repayments began and the repayment rate could be amended to reduce this concern.

Apart from this being a bit of a cop-out, I think it seriously misses a wider point: even if there was no deterrent to work from a 9 per cent hike in your tax rate, it’s just not fair to tax people for losing their jobs. To paraphrase Tony Benn: you don’t tax people because they lose their job, you tax people because they can afford it. The fact that it’s probably economically the absolute worst situation you could levy a tax on someone is probably secondary.

If you thought the ‘bedroom tax’ or the ‘jobs tax’ were politically toxic, wait until you hear about the ‘unemployment tax’. It’ would be the Poll Tax and the 10p rate rolled into one, and for good reason.

Graeme:

Critics of this idea have questioned why the extra income protection provided by NSI cannot be attained simply by increasing the level of contributory JSA. The problem of course is where the money would come from (we estimated the upfront cost at somewhere between £1.8bn and £2.6bn, though it is hard to be precise).

The first thing to say to this is that if you’re not prepared to actually spend any money on a group, don’t expect them to actually thank you. There are no free political lunches here: If Labour or IPPR are merely trying to address the perception that some people don’t get enough out of the welfare state, rather than the fact, then they haven’t learned the lessons from the empty, headline-grabbing, initiative-driven spin years of New Labour.

But this needn’t be a problem. The £2bn or so a year needed to substantially increase contributory JSA is roughly what the coalition is planning on spending on the Universal Credit, so it’s hardly a fanciful sum of money for a flagship welfare policy.

IPPR also misses that someone is going to pay this money, it’s just a question of who. Under their proposals, it’s funded by a 9 per cent tax on people who have lost their jobs. A fairer approach would be for everyone to pay before they were made unemployed, as is conventional in any kind of insurance scheme I’ve come across. Why is the think-tank calling this an insurance scheme if the costs are borne by the person who suffers the accident? It’s not really worthy of the name. In its current form it’s more of a bank than an insurance policy.

But the killer here is that the policy doesn’t need to be – and indeed ought not to be – deficit neutral. Businesses are not investing because there is no demand in the economy; putting money in the hands of consumers is a good thing because it creates demand, which allows businesses to invest, which results in growth. There are better and worse places to spend a demand stimulus, and giving it to the unemployed as disposable income one of the best: unemployed people have low incomes, therefore they spend all their money and have a very low propensity to save. This means the money has what is called a "high velocity" in that it changes hands very quickly and has a multiplier effect throughout the economy.

Labour has to some extent been talking the language of stimulus, but politically is scared of committing to spending anything. It should be jumping at the chance to combine Keynesianism with a politically savvy commitment that would restore the political reputation of the welfare state.

A man stands outside the Jobcentre Plus on January 18, 2012 in Trowbridge, England. Photograph: Getty Images.

Jon Stone is a political journalist. He tweets as @joncstone.

ILONA WELLMANN/MILLENNIUM IMAGES, UK
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How the internet has democratised pornography

With people now free to circumvent the big studios, different bodies, tastes and even pubic hair styles are being represented online.

Our opinions and tastes are influenced by the media we consume: that much is obvious. But although it’s easy to have that conversation if the medium we are discussing is “safe for work”, pornography carries so much stigma that we only engage with it on simple terms. Porn is either “good” or “bad”: a magical tool for ­empowerment or a destructive influence on society. Many “pro-porn” campaigners shy away from nuanced critique, fearing it could lead to censorship. “Anti-porn” campaigners, convinced that porn is harmful by definition, need look no further than the mainstream tube sites – essentially, aggregators of clips from elsewhere – to gather examples that will back them up.

When we talk about the influence of porn, the emphasis is usually on a particular type of video – hardcore sex scenes featuring mostly slim, pubic-hairless women and faceless men: porn made for men about women. This kind of porn is credited with everything from the pornification of pop music to changing what we actually do in bed. Last year the UK government released a policy note that suggested porn was responsible for a rise in the number of young people trying anal sex. Although the original researcher, Cicely Marston, pointed out that there was no clear link between the two, the note prompted a broad debate about the impact of porn. But in doing so, we have already lost – by accepting a definition of “porn” shaped less by our desires than by the dominant players in the industry.

On the day you read this, one single site, PornHub, will get somewhere between four and five million visits from within the UK. Millions more will visit YouPorn, Tube8, Redtube or similar sites. It’s clear that they’re influential. Perhaps less clear is that they are not unbiased aggregators: they don’t just reflect our tastes, they shape what we think and how we live. We can see this even in simple editorial decisions such as categorisation: PornHub offers 14 categories by default, including anal, threesome and milf (“mum I’d like to f***”), and then “For Women” as a separate category. So standard is it for mainstream sites to assume their audience is straight and male that “point of view” porn has become synonymous with “top-down view of a man getting a blow job”. Tropes that have entered everyday life – such as shaved pubic hair – abound here.

Alongside categories and tags, tube sites also decide what you see at the top of their results and on the home page. Hence the videos you see at the top tend towards escalation to get clicks: biggest gang bang ever. Dirtiest slut. Horniest milf. To find porn that doesn’t fit this mould you must go out of your way to search for it. Few people do, of course, so the clickbait gets promoted more frequently, and this in turn shapes what we click on next time. Is it any wonder we’ve ended up with such a narrow definition of porn? In reality, the front page of PornHub reflects our desires about as accurately as the Daily Mail “sidebar of shame” reflects Kim Kardashian.

Perhaps what we need is more competition? All the sites I have mentioned are owned by the same company – MindGeek. Besides porn tube sites, MindGeek has a stake in other adult websites and production companies: Brazzers, Digital Playground, Twistys, PornMD and many more. Even tube sites not owned by MindGeek, such as Xhamster, usually follow the same model: lots of free content, plus algorithms that chase page views aggressively, so tending towards hardcore clickbait.

Because porn is increasingly defined by these sites, steps taken to tackle its spread often end up doing the opposite of what was intended. For instance, the British government’s Digital Economy Bill aims to reduce the influence of porn on young people by forcing porn sites to age-verify users, but will in fact hand more power to large companies. The big players have the resources to implement age verification easily, and even to use legislation as a way to expand further into the market. MindGeek is already developing age-verification software that can be licensed to other websites; so it’s likely that, when the bill’s rules come in, small porn producers will either go out of business or be compelled to license software from the big players.

There are glimmers of hope for the ethical porn consumer. Tube sites may dominate search results, but the internet has also helped revolutionise porn production. Aspiring producers and performers no longer need a contract with a studio – all that’s required is a camera and a platform to distribute their work. That platform might be their own website, a dedicated cam site, or even something as simple as Snapchat.

This democratisation of porn has had positive effects. There’s more diversity of body shape, sexual taste and even pubic hair style on a cam site than on the home page of PornHub. Pleasure takes a more central role, too: one of the most popular “games” on the webcam site Chaturbate is for performers to hook up sex toys to the website, with users paying to try to give them an orgasm. Crucially, without a studio, performers can set their own boundaries.

Kelly Pierce, a performer who now works mostly on cam, told me that one of the main benefits of working independently is a sense of security. “As long as you put time in you know you are going to make money doing it,” she said. “You don’t spend your time searching for shoots, but actually working towards monetary gain.” She also has more freedom in her work: “You have nobody to answer to but yourself, and obviously your fans. Sometimes politics comes into play when you work for others than yourself.”

Cam sites are also big business, and the next logical step in the trickle-down of power is for performers to have their own distribution platforms. Unfortunately, no matter how well-meaning your indie porn project, the “Adult” label makes it most likely you’ll fail. Mainstream payment providers won’t work with adult businesses, and specialist providers take a huge cut of revenue. Major ad networks avoid porn, so the only advertising option is to sign up to an “adult” network, which is probably owned by a large porn company and will fill your site with bouncing-boob gifs and hot milfs “in your area”: exactly the kind of thing you’re trying to fight against. Those who are trying to take on the might of Big Porn need not just to change what we watch, but challenge what we think porn is, too.

The internet has given the porn industry a huge boost – cheaper production and distribution, the potential for more variety, and an influence that it would be ridiculous to ignore. But in our failure properly to analyse the industry, we are accepting a definition of porn that has been handed to us by the dominant players in the market.

Girl on the Net writes one of the UK’s most popular sex blogs: girlonthenet.com

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times