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Mind the gap: how charities are mopping up after the government’s failure to care

Under austerity, charities are regularly having to substitute for government. We live in a twenty-first century Britain where poorer citizens are back to relying on handouts to live.

“Twelve bags, mainly men’s and baby’s clothes. All washed and clean,” Dawn Wilson lists, pleased, as she checks through the latest donations collected from her local area.

Wilson, in her forties, has been co-running the Durham Socialist Clothes bank for three months now. She’s a full-time carer for her disabled husband and is characteristic of what is emerging as a makeshift frontline service up and down the country: volunteers, often on benefits or low wages themselves, filling in the gaps now being left by the state.

Wilson tells me she formed the idea for the bank with a friend last year after seeing a woman crying in a local shoe shop.

“This mother was saying to her young son, ‘it’s your sister’s turn, I’m sorry son’. It spurred us on to do something to help, to help people on benefits or who’ve been sanctioned or are homeless,” she says.   

With help from regional union funding, Wilson and friends began running the clothes bank out of their local community centre in October 2014. By mid-December, they were handing out around a hundred and fifty bags of clothing, with toys on top for Christmas, and seeing over a hundred people through the door in a day.

“We thought we’d be starting with two tables,” Wilson says. “But it’s just ballooned.”

Demand is so high that they are now looking for a permanent storage facility for the donations (Wilson currently uses her house and garage). Two more, separate north east clothes banks – one in Teeside and one in Stanley – are due to open in the coming month, she tells me.

Clothes banks are perhaps the latest stage of what the “safety net” has become under austerity. A few years ago, not many of us would have believed that food banks – at last count, having fed a million people – would be entrenched into our towns and cities on a national scale. The reality is they are now only one part of a much wider trend of charity substituting for government: a twenty-first century Britain where poorer citizens are back to relying on handouts to live.

The clothes bank in Durham

Since coming into office, the coalition has presided over “a dramatic decline in support for some of the most vulnerable groups in society”, as researchers behind an extensive study put it last month (pdf). Benefits are being cut and sanctioned at the same time as crisis funds are being removed. This is turning out to be a lethal two-tier loss of state support: where policies like the introduction of the bedroom tax, the removal of council tax exemption for the poorest, and failing reforms to disability benefits push people into financial crisis as ongoing abolition to local welfare funds removes where they can go for emergency help.  

“People haven’t got money for rent, gas, or food, never mind clothing. That comes way down the list,” Wilson tells me. “It’s a mixture of people who come to us but mostly they’re unemployed, disabled, homeless…but also ones who are employed and struggling on child tax credits. Zero hour contracts are a nightmare, as they don't know when their next money’s coming in.

“I remember, we saw a pregnant girl,” she says. “Twenty-six weeks pregnant but she’d been without money for over ten weeks because she’d had her benefits sanctioned. We put a plea out for her and we got her a lot of baby things. Clothing, a buggy, things like that.”

It’s telling of the scale of the problems leading people through the doors that the title “clothes banks” only goes some way to describing the needs being met by services like the one Wilson runs. These banks are keeping people warm (there are bags of jumpers, hats and winter coats in what Wilson tells me are for all ages and sizes) or fed. But there are bigger items, notably often for children and babies: buggies, car seats, and cots. Shampoo bottles and nappies sit on other tables. Boxes of tampons wait for women who can’t afford to buy their own.

“We find a lot of people are embarrassed to ask for help,” Wilson says. “We have this one woman in her seventies… She got so upset that she had to ask for help. Her pension just didn't go far enough due to her heating bills.”

 

***

 

“Wherever possible we prefer to give money so that people can feel that they have some autonomy and control over their own life,” Jemima Hunt* tells me over email, writing from her London home. “I’ve always said that if we gave a family money for food and they bought cake as well as fruit and vegetables then that should be their choice.”

Hunt, 35, is the founding member of the Biscuit Fund: a charity project that gives small grants, advice, and gifts to “people who are struggling and at their wit's end”. Hunt herself relies on disability benefits due to having severe chronic fatigue syndrome and anxiety and much of the work is done from bed.

Hunt tells me she had the idea for the project in 2013 when, seeing a friend was struggling, she put a plea on social media for help. She raised £100 in around ten minutes and had what she calls a “eureka” moment. Formed with a few people who had offered help in Hunt’s original post, the Biscuit Fund has now assisted just fewer than 250 people, providing anything from money to help pay the bills to delivering a washing machine.  

What is particularly striking is the way the fund actively seeks out its recipients. Forty-six volunteers – from Newcastle to Cornwall – now keep an eye on their own communities through local papers and trusted officials as well as scouring online, from bedroom tax forums to disabled advisory groups, for people who need help. It clearly meets what are basic practical needs but, each time I talk to Hunt, it’s the emotional impact of the donations that is most evident. (Hunt tells me one recipient who was given a new fridge invited her father over simply to “admire it”. Another took a photo of herself with her donated oven.) The aim, she says, is to offer “a reminder that there are people who care”. 

“I’ve never seen the Biscuit Fund as a political project,” Hunt explains. “It’s purely an exercise in hope and bringing a sense of relief. It’s deeply upsetting that there’s a need for us to exist, but while that need is there we will be here.”

The majority of people the fund finds in need have disabilities or health problems and are struggling on benefits or low wages, or are one of the many who have encountered the sudden loss of money that comes with a growing sanction system – or, as Hunt says, are a combination of each as they “frequently roll into one giant issue”.  

“One quite poignant case for me was a gentleman who’d previously had substance abuse issues and had several quite serious heath issues,” she tells me. “He’d managed to get clean specifically so that he could have contact with his daughter [and] it was to be the first Christmas in a long time that she spent with him, but due to a sanction he was struggling for food. In fact he was missing meals so that he could feed her when she visited twice a week.”

The Biscuit Fund team sent the man some shopping, and then another food order “so he could do a full Christmas dinner with his daughter”, along with a couple of stocking fillers for her and a few baubles.

He reported that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been excited about Christmas and that he’d been dreading it because he couldn’t provide her with the kind of Christmas they had both dreamed of,” Hunt says. “Apparently they had an absolutely wonderful Christmas together.”

“It still often amazes me, though, how little it can cost to help someone and restore a bit of hope,” she adds. “Quite frequently, we’ve had cases where the client has actually been considering suicide… Once in a while, something as insignificant as £50 can actually…restore a bit of faith in humanity.” 

Sarah Timothy*, 35, is a previous recipient of the Biscuit Fund and, after being touched by the help she received, their newest volunteer. Her gratitude beams from her.

“They’re the reason I’m still here today and able to help others who are now how I once was,” she tells me from her flat in a small town she asks to keep anonymous. “I was blown away by them. They offered me that tiny glimmer of hope which I very much had thought impossible at the time to have.” 

Timothy, who has emphysema, mobility problems and agoraphobia, is classed as a vulnerable adult. She lives in supported housing with the help of nurses who visit her daily but after being attacked in her home by a man known to her in February 2014, had to move to the first flat available. The floors had been left without carpet, the curtains needed replacing and there was no oven or washing machine. Timothy found herself in a situation familiar to many on a fixed or low income: forced to live hand to mouth and when a crisis hits, there are no savings or spare money to fix it.

“I tried all things [to get help] but I met with a brick wall each time,” she tells me. “The DWP were little support and every agency I approached said no. I did try a lot of places and each time I’d go back to the lady and she’d say ‘No, they can’t help.’ I did honestly try everyone, I even rung the council for help. Every suggestion was met with a ‘no’.”  

Timothy was eventually given a no-interest Budgetary Loan – a government pot designed to pay for essential items such as household equipment or furniture – for £113. It had cost £150 for removals alone and, by nature of a loan, she now has to pay it all back to the social fund. She tells me her application form still had a slot for Community Care grants on, despite the fact these were abolished in April 2013 as part of the “reforms” to local welfare funding.

Often, these charitable services end up as a last resort for those in crisis

“I’m on benefits and disabled so I had no means of buying an oven or anything,” she tells me. “I had to either choose to eat or keep warm and I chose to stay warm and live on Cuppa Soups.”

“When you’re at rock bottom already, it becomes a mundane task daily to battle to get simple things you need to live,” she adds. “I don’t know why in emergencies like this urgent help can’t be given by the DWP.”

It gives some insight into the extent the coalition has tampered with people’s ability to access “urgent help” that 75 per cent fewer financial awards were made in 2013/14 than before the Community Care Grants and Crisis Loans were abolished. Recent research into the impact of the coalition’s changes concluded that the ability of low-income households to access emergency financial assistance on a repeat basis has now been “virtually lost” in many areas.

Not content at that, the government is currently in a battle to abolish the funding for local Welfare Assistance funds. This, despite warnings from the Keep the Safety Net campaign – backed by a national network of over 100 voluntary sector organisations and local councils – that the government getting its way would be a “present” to loan sharks and further force low-income families to turn to charity.

It was the kindness of strangers and sheer coincidence, rather than structured governmental support, which allowed Timothy to wash her clothes and eat hot food again. Upset, she wrote a post on social media about her situation and a volunteer from the Biscuit Fund happened to spot it. Three days later, a brand new oven and washing machine arrived at her door.

“I remember I sat and cried when they said they’d help,” she tells me. “I hadn't eaten well for weeks or been able to even wash my clothes. At first I kept thinking that it maybe wasn’t true. I still didn’t believe it until they were actually delivered.”

“I do find it hard having to fight for simple needs,” she adds. “The basics, as well. Not luxuries.”

 

***

 

Rob Graham, 45, spent two and half years helping to meet these “simple needs” in his local area. He was one of the original volunteers at “NG7”, an independent food bank in one of the most deprived areas in Nottingham. This was a large-scale operation: table after table of toilet rolls, food tins and crates of fresh fruit and veg given out to people referred by multiple agencies, from refuges to the local Citizen’s Advice Bureau. Since the bank opened in 2012, 45 volunteers helped run the service – including Graham’s three teenage children – feeding over 5,500 people. After holding a final Christmas session, it closed its doors in December.  I ask Graham what happened.

“Unlike the Trussell Trust we chose [from the beginning] not to set up a referral arrangement with the DWP. We created our own referral arrangements with specific organisations…where we could be sure that alongside us providing food there was in place some support to address the issue that had created the food crisis,” he explains. “We started with a clear ethos to be 'a service of last resort', not an alternative for the local authority or the DWP to use instead of their own funds.”

But Graham and others at the bank soon began to be contacted by workers from the local council.

“We spent significant time signposting staff from Nottingham City Council Family and Community Teams from across the city,” he says. “It was individual workers in these teams who informed us of how they were advised to use food bank referrals by their management and felt pressure to not use internal funds.” 

This pattern of using the bank to fill in for statutory services ties in with the Freedom Of Information (FOI) requests that the NG7 volunteers made.

“A mere £68,000 was handed out in emergency hardship payments in 2013/ 2014,” Graham explains. “Our FOI request clearly shows that the council have not addressed the issue of access to emergency hardship support through its local welfare assistance programme, especially around those people who have been sanctioned by the DWP.”

Some of the supplies offered by the NG7 food bank

Graham tells me it reached the point where he and other volunteers were “regularly overwhelmed” by phone calls from support agencies and Nottingham County Council to the extent that in March 2014 they stopped accepting them. 

“[We ended up leaving] a voice message which signposted workers or potential service users to where they could find immediate advice,” he says.   

The experience of the NG7 food bank highlights the lurking fear at the back of any discussion of these expanding charitable services: that this may be exactly what the government wants. It is not clear whether the slow entrenchment of food banks and charitable services are the product of an active attempt to draw back the state or simply the tacit approval of a lack of action.

By the end of 2014, the Institute for Fiscal Studies was stating that “colossal” cuts – both current and those still to come – mean it would be justified to ask whether the government was planning "a fundamental reimagining of the role of the state", changing it “beyond recognition”. It is difficult, as we watch carers open clothes banks and the chronically ill deliver food parcels, to not recall David Cameron’s 2010 promise: a shift “from state power to people power.” Perhaps the “big society” has come to life.

It has been just over a month since the NG7 food bank stopped its service and Graham tells me, as the funding for welfare assistance schemes is planned to come to an end this year, he fears things will only get worse.

I'm aware that some voluntary sector groups, mainly charities, are looking to extend their work into food banks,” he says.Without critical challenges from food banks or campaign groups, councils and the DWP can continue to utilize these free resources unfettered.” 

“When we initially opened there were only five food banks in the city,” he adds. “Now there are thirteen.

Back in Durham, Dawn Wilson is finishing sorting the piles of donations. There will be another session in a few days.

“It's heart breaking to see people on their knees and not getting the help,” she tells me. “We do shed a few tears.

“It's a sad state of affairs,” Wilson adds. “This government has a lot to answer for.”

*Some names have been changed

You can donate to The Biscuit Fund here: www.biscuitfund.org

Frances Ryan is a journalist and political researcher. She writes regularly for the Guardian, New Statesman, and others on disability, feminism, and most areas of equality you throw at her. She has a doctorate in inequality in education. Her website is here.

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Why Jeremy Corbyn is a new leader for the New Times

In an inspired election campaign, he confounded his detractors and showed that he was – more than any other leader – in tune with the times.

There have been two great political turning points in postwar Britain. The first was in 1945 with the election of the Attlee government. Driven by a popular wave of determination that peacetime Britain would look very different from the mass unemployment of the 1930s, and built on the foundations of the solidaristic spirit of the war, the Labour government ushered in full employment, the welfare state (including the NHS) and nationalisation of the basic industries, notably coal and the railways. It was a reforming government the like of which Britain had not previously experienced in the first half of the 20th century. The popular support enjoyed by the reforms was such that the ensuing social-democratic consensus was to last until the end of the 1970s, with Tory as well as Labour governments broadly operating within its framework.

During the 1970s, however, opposition to the social-democratic consensus grew steadily, led by the rise of the radical right, which culminated in 1979 in the election of Margaret Thatcher’s first government. In the process, the Thatcherites redefined the political debate, broadening it beyond the rather institutionalised and truncated forms that it had previously taken: they conducted a highly populist campaign that was for individualism and against collectivism; for the market and against the state; for liberty and against trade unionism; for law and order and against crime.

These ideas were dismissed by the left as just an extreme version of the same old Toryism, entirely failing to recognise their novelty and therefore the kind of threat they posed. The 1979 election, followed by Ronald Reagan’s US victory in 1980, began the neoliberal era, which remained hegemonic in Britain, and more widely in the West, for three decades. Tory and Labour governments alike operated within the terms and by the logic of neoliberalism. The only thing new about New Labour was its acquiescence in neoliberalism; even in this sense, it was not new but derivative of Thatcherism.

The financial crisis of 2007-2008 marked the beginning of the end of neoliberalism. Unlike the social-democratic consensus, which was undermined by the ideological challenge posed by Thatcherism, neoliberalism was brought to its knees not by any ideological alternative – such was the hegemonic sway of neoliberalism – but by the biggest financial crisis since 1931. This was the consequence of the fragility of a financial sector left to its own devices as a result of sweeping deregulation, and the corrupt and extreme practices that this encouraged.

The origin of the crisis lay not in the Labour government – complicit though it was in the neoliberal indulgence of the financial sector – but in the deregulation of the banking sector on both sides of the Atlantic in the 1980s. Neoliberalism limped on in the period after 2007-2008 but as real wages stagnated, recovery proved a mirage, and, with the behaviour of the bankers exposed, a deep disillusionment spread across society. During 2015-16, a populist wave of opposition to the establishment engulfed much of Europe and the United States.

Except at the extremes – Greece perhaps being the most notable example – the left was not a beneficiary: on the contrary it, too, was punished by the people in the same manner as the parties of the mainstream right were. The reason was straightforward enough. The left was tarnished with the same brush as the right: almost everywhere social-democratic parties, albeit to varying degrees, had pursued neoliberal policies. Bill Clinton and Tony Blair became – and presented themselves as – leaders of neoliberalism and as enthusiastic advocates of a strategy of hyper-globalisation, which resulted in growing inequality. In this fundamental respect these parties were more or less ­indistinguishable from the right.

***

The first signs of open revolt against New Labour – the representatives and evangelists of neoliberal ideas in the Labour Party – came in the aftermath of the 2015 ­election and the entirely unpredicted and overwhelming victory of Jeremy Corbyn in the leadership election. Something was happening. Yet much of the left, along with the media, summarily dismissed it as a revival of far-left entryism; that these were for the most part no more than a bunch of Trots. There is a powerful, often overwhelming, tendency to see new phenomena in terms of the past. The new and unfamiliar is much more difficult to understand than the old and familiar: it requires serious intellectual effort and an open and inquiring mind. The left is not alone in this syndrome. The right condemned the 2017 Labour Party manifesto as a replica of Labour’s 1983 manifesto. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

That Corbyn had been a veteran of the far left for so long lent credence to the idea that he was merely a retread of a failed past: there was nothing new about him. In a brilliant election campaign, Corbyn not only gave the lie to this but also demonstrated that he, far more than any of the other party leaders, was in tune with the times, the candidate of modernity.

Crises, great turning points, new conjunctures, new forms of consciousness are by definition incubators of the new. That is one of the great sources of their fascination. We can now see the line of linkage between the thousands of young people who gave Corbyn his overwhelming victory in the leadership election in 2015 and the millions of young people who were enthused by his general election campaign in 2017. It is no accident that it was the young rather than the middle-aged or the seniors who were in the vanguard: the young are the bearers and products of the new, they are the lightning conductors of change. Their elders, by contrast, are steeped in old ways of thinking and doing, having lived through and internalised the values and norms of neoliberalism for more than 30 years.

Yet there is another, rather more important aspect to how we identify the new, namely the way we see politics and how politics is conceived. Electoral politics is a highly institutionalised and tribal activity. There have been, as I argued earlier, two great turning points in postwar politics: the social-democratic era ushered in by the 1945 Labour government and the neoliberal era launched by the Tory government in 1979.

The average Tory MP or activist, no doubt, would interpret history primarily in terms of Tory and Labour governments; Labour MPs and activists would do similarly. But this is a superficial reading of politics based on party labels which ignores the deeper forces that shape different eras, generate crises and result in new paradigms.

Alas, most political journalists and columnists are afflicted with the same inability to distinguish the wood (an understanding of the deeper historical forces at work) from the trees (the day-to-day manoeuvring of parties and politicians). In normal times, this may not be so important, because life continues for the most part as before, but at moments of great paradigmatic change it is absolutely critical.

If the political journalists, and indeed the PLP, had understood the deeper forces and profound changes now at work, they would never have failed en masse to rise above the banal and predictable in their assessment of Corbyn. Something deep, indeed, is happening. A historical era – namely, that of neoliberalism – is in its death throes. All the old assumptions can no longer be assumed. We are in new territory: we haven’t been here before. The smart suits long preferred by New Labour wannabes are no longer a symbol of success and ambition but of alienation from, and rejection of, those who have been left behind; who, from being ignored and dismissed, are in the process of moving to the centre of the political stage.

Corbyn, you may recall, was instantly rejected and ridiculed for his sartorial style, and yet we can now see that, with a little smartening, it conveys an authenticity and affinity with the times that made his style of dress more or less immune from criticism during the general election campaign. Yet fashion is only a way to illustrate a much deeper point.

The end of neoliberalism, once so hegemonic, so commanding, is turning Britain on its head. That is why – extraordinary when you think about it – all the attempts by the right to dismiss Corbyn as a far-left extremist failed miserably, even proved counterproductive, because that was not how people saw him, not how they heard him. He was speaking a language and voicing concerns that a broad cross-section of the public could understand and identify with.

***

The reason a large majority of the PLP was opposed to Corbyn, desperate to be rid of him, was because they were still living in the neoliberal era, still slaves to its ideology, still in thrall to its logic. They knew no other way of thinking or political being. They accused Corbyn of being out of time when in fact it was most of the PLP – not to mention the likes of Mandelson and Blair – who were still imprisoned in an earlier historical era. The end of neoliberalism marks the death of New Labour. In contrast, Corbyn is aligned with the world as it is rather than as it was. What a wonderful irony.

Corbyn’s success in the general election requires us to revisit some of the assumptions that have underpinned much political commentary over the past several years. The turmoil in Labour ranks and the ridiculing of Corbyn persuaded many, including on the left, that Labour stood on the edge of the abyss and that the Tories would continue to dominate for long into the future. With Corbyn having seized the political initiative, the Tories are now cast in a new light. With Labour in the process of burying its New Labour legacy and addressing a very new conjuncture, then the end of neoliberalism poses a much more serious challenge to the Tories than it does the Labour Party.

The Cameron/Osborne leadership was still very much of a neoliberal frame of mind, not least in their emphasis on austerity. It would appear that, in the light of the new popular mood, the government will now be forced to abandon austerity. Theresa May, on taking office, talked about a return to One Nation Toryism and the need to help the worst-off, but that has never moved beyond rhetoric: now she is dead in the water.

Meanwhile, the Tories are in fast retreat over Brexit. They held a referendum over the EU for narrowly party reasons which, from a national point of view, was entirely unnecessary. As a result of the Brexit vote, the Cameron leadership was forced to resign and the Brexiteers took de facto command. But now, after the election, the Tories are in headlong retreat from anything like a “hard Brexit”. In short, they have utterly lost control of the political agenda and are being driven by events. Above all, they are frightened of another election from which Corbyn is likely to emerge as leader with a political agenda that will owe nothing to neoliberalism.

Apart from Corbyn’s extraordinary emergence as a leader who understands – and is entirely comfortable with – the imperatives of the new conjuncture and the need for a new political paradigm, the key to Labour’s transformed position in the eyes of the public was its 2017 manifesto, arguably its best and most important since 1945. You may recall that for three decades the dominant themes were marketisation, privatisation, trickle-down economics, the wastefulness and inefficiencies of the state, the incontrovertible case for hyper-globalisation, and bankers and financiers as the New Gods.

Labour’s manifesto offered a very different vision: a fairer society, bearing down on inequality, a more redistributive tax system, the centrality of the social, proper funding of public services, nationalisation of the railways and water industry, and people as the priority rather than business and the City. The title captured the spirit – For the Many Not the Few. Or, to put in another way, After Neoliberalism. The vision is not yet the answer to the latter question, but it represents the beginnings of an answer.

Ever since the late 1970s, Labour has been on the defensive, struggling to deal with a world where the right has been hegemonic. We can now begin to glimpse a different possibility, one in which the left can begin to take ownership – at least in some degree – of a new, post-neoliberal political settlement. But we should not underestimate the enormous problems that lie in wait. The relative economic prospects for the country are far worse than they have been at any time since 1945. As we saw in the Brexit vote, the forces of conservatism, nativism, racism and imperial nostalgia remain hugely powerful. Not only has the country rejected continued membership of the European Union, but, along with the rest of the West, it is far from reconciled with the new world that is in the process of being created before our very eyes, in which the developing world will be paramount and in which China will be the global leader.

Nonetheless, to be able to entertain a sense of optimism about our own country is a novel experience after 30 years of being out in the cold. No wonder so many are feeling energised again.

This article first appeared in the 15 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Corbyn: revenge of the rebel

Martin Jacques is the former editor of Marxism Today. 

This article first appeared in the 15 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Corbyn: revenge of the rebel

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