David Cameron should freeze energy bills to help freezing pensioners

With excess winter deaths up by 29% and bills up by £300 since the election, it's time for the government to act.

Winter in Britain has traditionally been a major public health challenge, with temperatures dropping and a spike in the number of people falling ill, having accidents, going to A&E, or even succumbing to the cold. But two chilling statistics out this week show us all too clearly that Britain can do better than this.

First it was revealed that episodes of hypothermia have jumped by 40% over the three years since the 2010 election. Doctors treated more than 28,000 cases in NHS hospitals in England last year alone. Then on Tuesday, we learnt that there was a 29% surge in the number of people who died unnecessarily last winter.

The technical term for the figures published by the Office for National Statistics is 'excess winter deaths' – this is the number of additional deaths that occur during winter months compared to the rest of the year. In total, 31,100 more people died between December and last March. That’s 31,100 deaths that by their very definition were entirely preventable.

This isn’t just a one-off that can be explained away by a single cold winter. It’s reflective of the huge pressures being felt across our NHS because people are struggling to keep themselves warm. For every person who tragically loses their life over the winter months, eight more have to be admitted to hospital. That works out at just under a quarter of a million extra patients at a time when David Cameron has put our A&E services into crisis.

Our NHS spends a staggering £850m each year treating winter-related diseases brought on by cold housing. And that’s the key point. According to the World Health Organisation, as many as 30% of excess winter deaths are directly caused by people living in homes that aren’t warm enough.

There are three things the government should be doing right now to address this very serious problem. First, we can’t combat fuel poverty without addressing the fact that our energy market is broken and too many people are being charged sky high prices for their gas and electricity. Energy bills have gone up by £300 since the last election and a typical household now pays an eye-watering £1,400 a year. But while wholesale energy prices have risen just 1.6% since 2011, the Big Six energy giants have hiked prices by an average 10.4% a year over the same period.

That’s why Labour has pledged to freeze gas and electricity prices, break up the Big Six and reset the market to deliver fairer prices in the future. We would also move all pensioners aged over 75 onto the cheapest energy tariff. When over 80% of the people who lose their lives in winter are 75 or older, it makes sense to do this for the age group most vulnerable to cold weather and least likely to be able to access the cheapest energy deals online.

Second, we need to tackle the cost of living crisis. It’s no surprise many people feel nervous about turning their thermostat up when households are £1,600 worse off since 2010 and prices have risen faster than wages in 40 of the last 41 months. That’s why we need to put money in people’s pockets by incentivising firms to pay a living wage, extending childcare and building an economy that works for working people.

Third, much more needs to be done to improve the thermal efficiency of our homes. It’s no coincidence that the region I represent, the North West, has both the highest rate of excess winter deaths and one of the deepest levels of fuel poverty in the country. Ultimately, the best way to help people who can’t afford to properly heat their homes is by reducing the amount of gas and electricity they need to use in the first place.

But as a country we have some of the most energy inefficient domestic properties in Europe. Conversely, countries like Germany, the Netherlands and across Scandinavia have far lower levels of winter mortality than the UK despite many of them having a much harsher winter climate. Take Sweden for instance. The weather there is 7 degrees colder on average, but a home in Dudley uses 4 to 5 times more energy than a typical house in Malmo.

Yet progress in insulating our homes under this government has been utterly lamentable. More than 10,000 people were supposed to sign up to the Green Deal this year, but only 219 have had measures installed so far under the flagship energy efficiency scheme. Its twin ECO scheme is poorly targeted and estimated to lift just 250,000 households out of fuel poverty over the next 10 years. That’s 50,000 fewer than fell into fuel poverty last winter alone.

It’s time David Cameron took some real action to help people most threatened by the cold this winter. Too many pensioners will be freezing tonight - the Prime Minister would do far better to freeze energy bills instead. 

David Cameron during a press conference held on the second day of the Commonwealth Heads Of Government Meeting (CHOGM) in Colombo in Sri Lanka on 16 November 2013. Photograph: Getty Images.

Luciana Berger is the Labour and Co-operative MP for Liverpool Wavertree and Shadow Minister for Energy & Climate Change.

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In defence of orientalism, the case against Twenty20, and why Ken should watch Son of Saul

My week, from Age Concern to anti-semitism.

Returning late from a party I never much wanted to go to, I leap up and down in the middle of the Harrow Road in the hope of flagging down a taxi, but the drivers don’t notice me. Either they’re haring down the fast lane or they’re too preoccupied cursing Uber to one another on their mobile phones. My father drove a black cab, so I have a deep loyalty to them. But there’s nothing like being left stranded in NW10 in the dead of night to make one reconsider one’s options. I just wish Uber wasn’t called Uber.

Just not cricket

Tired and irritable, I spend the next day watching sport on television – snooker, darts, cricket, anything I can find. But I won’t be following the Indian Premier League’s Twenty20 cricket again. It’s greedy, cynical, over-sponsored and naff. Whenever somebody hits a boundary, cheerleaders in cast-off gym kit previously worn by fourth-form Roedean girls wave tinsel mops.

Matches go to the final over where they’re decided in a thrashathon of sixes hit by mercenaries wielding bats as wide as shovels. Why, in that case, don’t both teams just play a final over each and dispense with the previous 19? I can’t wait for the elegant ennui of a five-day Test match.

Stop! Culture police!

I go to the Delacroix exhibition at the National Gallery to shake off the sensation of all-consuming kitsch. Immediately I realise I have always confused Delacroix with someone else but I can’t decide who. Maybe Jacques-Louis David. The show convincingly argues that Delacroix influenced every artist who came after him except Jeff Koons, who in that case must have been influenced by David. It’s turbulent, moody work, some of the best of it, again to my surprise, being religious painting with the religion taken out. Christ’s followers lamenting his death don’t appear to be expecting miracles. This is a man they loved, cruelly executed. The colours are the colours of insupportable grief.

I love the show but wish the curators hadn’t felt they must apologise for Delacroix finding the North Africans he painted “exotic”. Cultural studies jargon screams from the wall. You can hear the lecturer inveighing against the “appropriating colonial gaze” – John Berger and Edward Said taking all the fun out of marvelling at what’s foreign and desirable. I find myself wondering where they’d stand on the Roedean cheer-leaders of Mumbai.

Taking leave of the senses

My wife drags me to a play at Age Concern’s headquarters in Bloomsbury. When I see where she’s taking me I wonder if she plans to leave me there. The play is called Don’t Leave Me Now and is written by Brian Daniels. It is, to keep it simple, about the effects of dementia on the families and lovers of sufferers. I am not, in all honesty, expecting a good time. It is a reading only, the actors sitting in a long line like a board of examiners, and the audience hunched forward in the attitude of the professionally caring.  My wife is a therapist so this is her world.

Here, unlike in my study, an educated empathy prevails and no one is furious. I fear that art is going to get lost in good intention. But the play turns out to be subtly powerful, sympathetic and sharp, sad and funny; and hearing it read engages me as seeing it performed might not have done. Spared the spectacle of actors throwing their bodies around and singing about their dreams against a backdrop painted by a lesser, Les Mis version of Delacroix, you can concentrate on the words. And where dementia is the villain, words are priceless.

Mixing with the proles

In Bloomsbury again the next day for a bank holiday design and craft fair at Mary Ward House. I have a soft spot for craft fairs, having helped run a craft shop once, and I feel a kinship with the designers sitting bored behind their stalls, answering inane questions about kilns and receiving empty compliments. But it’s the venue that steals the show, a lovely Arts and Crafts house, founded in the 1890s by the novelist Mary Ward with the intention of enabling the wealthy and educated to live among the poor and introduce them to the consolations of beauty and knowledge. We’d call that patronising. We’re wrong. It’s a high ideal, to ease the burden of poverty and ignorance and, in Ward’s words, save us from “the darker, coarser temptations of our human road”.

An Oscar-winning argument for Zionism

Speaking of which, I am unable to empty my mind of Ken Livingstone and his apologists as I sit in the cinema and watch the just-released Academy Award-winning Son of Saul, a devastating film about one prisoner’s attempt to hold on to a vestige of humanity in a Nazi death camp. If you think you know of hell from Dante or Michelangelo, think again. The inferno bodied forth in Son of Saul is no theological apportioning of justice or deserts. It is the evisceration of meaning, the negation of every grand illusion about itself mankind has ever harboured. There has been a fashion, lately, to invoke Gaza as proof that the Holocaust is a lesson that Jews failed to learn – as though one cruelty drives out another, as though suffering is forfeit, and as though we, the observers, must choose between horrors.

I defy even Livingstone to watch this film, in which the Jews, once gassed, become “pieces” – Stücke – and not grasp the overwhelming case for a Jewish place of refuge. Zionism pre-dated the camps, and its fulfilment, if we can call it that, came too late for those millions reduced to the grey powder mountains the Sonderkommandos were tasked with sweeping away. It diminishes one’s sympathy for the Palestinian cause not a jot to recognise the arguments, in a world of dehumanising hate, for Zionism. Indeed, not to recognise those arguments is to embrace the moral insentience whose murderous consequence Son of Saul confronts with numbed horror. 

This article first appeared in the 06 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The longest hatred