There's a lot to be said about the ConDem Coalition and their latest Spending Review but I've been holding my tongue. I'm largely too overwhelmed by the scale and the savagery of the spending cuts for detailed analysis. But there is something I just have to put out there because I am sick to death of not hearing anyone counter one particular argument about welfare reform.
BENEFITS REFORM: Reform of the benefits system so that people are always better off when they take work than when they are on benefits.
Throughout the comments on articles in The Guardian, The Independent and the Telegraph this nonsense is repeated over and over again by ConDem supporters. Of all the things that has been said by Gideon & Co, this is by far the most insidious and revolting spin on "compassion" I have ever read.
Here's the deal: reforming the benefit system so that "people are always better off when they work than when they are on benefits" means millions of people accepting extremely low paid work. That's the reality of that statement. It means staving people into accepting exploitation by companies forced to pay a minimum wage, but not a living one. It means starving people into working 80-120 hours/week, performing back breaking, unskilled, monotonous tasks, and still living their lives in debt. It means starving people into living in over-crowded situations, sharing rooms and homes with strangers. This is not "compassion". This is not "fair".
People don't remain on the dole because it "pays not to work". They remain on the dole because they cannot afford to accept low paid work and pay their bills. For many, taking that job in a sandwich shop for 35 hours/week at minimum wage means having to take another part-time job to pay for that job. Fine and dandy if you're single but absolutely no good if you have any dependants whatsoever. (And by "dependants" I don't just mean children, I mean relatives who are dependent on all kinds of undocumented, unrecognised social care support systems). Trapping people into dignity draining, emotionally debilitating lifestyles by gouging the welfare state is not compassionate, it's barbaric.
The other idea I must contradict is the one that suggests that the the richest 2% will be "hit hardest" by the spending review because they are contributing the most money. These people will still be able to feed and clothe themselves and their children and do so in the manner in which they have long been accustomed. They will lose some money, but very little else. Their dignity, their sense of self and belonging will remain intact while those forced into becoming under-employed and over exploited will find themselves increasingly alienated from the rest of society.
I grew up on a council estate in South London in the 1980s. It was Thatcher's Britain. One of five children, I lived with my mother and two of my brothers in a tiny little house while my older brother and sister were housed in a flat on the same estate but across the road. There were no council houses available that would fit us all in.
One of my brothers has a learning disability and couldn't share a bedroom. As a result I was required to share a room with my other brother; we're six years apart and he hated sharing a room with his little sister. I was only ever in the room to sleep and get dressed as the space was limited and big brothers take up lots of room.
We had no money. We lived on benefits. We ate the same things over and over. I dreamed of coming from a family where they had huge overly stocked refrigerators filled with coke and juice and tasty snacks.. I also wanted a BMX and a skateboard. At other times I wanted a new winter coat but we couldn't afford one.
I had free school dinners, a free bus pass, school uniform vouchers, when there was a school trip my mum only ever had to pay a small proportion of the cost because she was unwaged.
At school we never had enough text books or footballs or netballs or anything. The teachers were fed up constantly and for most of the final two years - during my GCSEs - I didn't have a permanent Maths teacher. Often there was no substitute teacher at all and so we were left to our own devices, free to talk, draw, quietly mess about, waiting for our statutory formal education to conclude.
When I left school I went to FE college (our six form had been closed down) and spent a lot of time drinking in the pub and smoking in the common room. To supplement my child benefit (which my mum was kind enough to give to me) I worked in a McDs. I scraped my way to A levels good enough to get to a "New University". I was entitled to a grant which was intended to be supplemented by the new student loans system. I still had to keep my job because there was no one back home who could help me out so I transferred to a McD's in my New University town.
Now, I'm not telling this as a sob story (by and large I had it easier than a lot of people on our estate). No, I'm detailing all this in order to contextualise my hatred for Blair. You see, the thread that runs through that narrative, (which is perhaps unseen by a white, middle class, privileged male like Rentoul), is a burning hatred for Margaret Thatcher.
Every time I opened that fridge and wanted juice or cola or a snack that wasn't Jacobs cream crackers and marge, I blamed Maggie. She was the one that cut benefits we needed. When I got a D for GCSE Maths, I blamed Maggie. She was the one that launched a war against teachers. Every time I longed for a room of my own, I blamed Maggie. She was the one that eroded the housing stock. When I couldn't pay my rent, I blamed Maggie - how was anyone supposed to live on grants and loans that totalled £3600 a year?
I was also acutely aware about how Maggie was destroying the lives of miners, nurses, social workers - public servants up and down the land, similar to the ones who had helped my family. I was aware that as I had grown up things had become worse on my estate: so many jobless, so many penniless, so many depressed.
It was in that context I first perceived Tony Blair. I didn't read a single word of New Labour's manifesto, I just knew that they were Labour. They were Labour and they would take back all the things that Maggie had done to make life so dreadful for so many of us. I just thought "New Labour" was a tactic to get all those mug Sun voters to get behind them. If I had known that New Labour was a stop gap in Thatcherite neo-liberalism, maybe I would have been less optimistic and ultimately less disappointed.
I suppose Rentoul is right. It is self loathing. My hatred of Blair is partially disappointment in myself for trusting him on the basis of very little. I allowed my tribal loyalty to suspend criticism of him and his administration for years because I simply refused to believe I had could be so easily duped. I can't speak for everyone, but I think we hate him so much because he made such fools of us all for so long. We trusted him implicitly and ignored the creeping doubts until it was too late. By the time he crossed the final line (Iraq War), we had been completely humiliated and exploited. We were left perplexed as to how we had fallen for such an obvious confidence trick and allowed ourselves to we vote in our very own Maggie. The policies may not have been the same but the deception identical and so is the end result: blind hatred.
Of course I don't hate Blair with the same kind of irrational, personalised hatred my younger self had for Maggie. But I am filled with outrage and anger on behalf of a 17 year old Iraqi counterpart who might not know to say "fucking Tony Blair" when she's contemplating how much worse things have become during her lifetime. My loathing for Tony Blair will remain on her behalf, just as I retain my antipathy for Maggie for my 17 year old self. It's the least he deserves.
I have been trying to examine why I feel so incensed by the calls for sympathy for David Laws. Journalists, politicians, various bloggers and an editorial in today's Observer, insist that we feel some sympathy for this man who claims he cheated on his MP's expenses because he was too scared to come out of the closet.
I have been in the closet, I know it can be terrifying. It's a close, suffocating place, filled with fear of both imaginary and real horrors. You imagine an ex-lover breaking your mother's heart by sending her photographs of the two of you in a casual embrace. You fantasise about your best friend shutting her front door in your face after she realises you have been lying to her for years. You visualise work colleagues scurrying for the exits every time you walk into the bathroom. Whenever someone asks "How was your weekend?" or "What did you do for your birthday?" you flinch before muttering one of several previously prepared evasive, dismissive answers.
Sometimes, tired of all the deception and "privacy", you think about coming out. You envy the freedom enjoyed by your (seemingly) heterosexual friends and colleagues. They share anecdotes and cute little stories about their loved ones. They expresses their crushes and desires, endlessly droning on about Colin Firth or Russell Crowe. They talk freely about their holidays or refurbishments to their homes. They don't have to pretend to have separate bedrooms. How much closer to people would you be if you didn't have to hide so much of your life? How much easier would it be to escape the isolation?
But then you look at all those out queers and you see so many of them struggling. Because you're closeted you hear the homophobic remarks that follow behind them. You see the looks secretly exchanged by the homophobes when some queen sashays by. You hear stories about people being ostracised by their families, about people being attacked, beaten up - killed! The closet might be a horribly suffocating, painfully isolating, terribly cold and dreary place, but at least it's safe. It's safe and most of the time it's comfortable. "Anyway", you say to yourself, "there's something slightly delicious about having a secret lover". The two of you don't need anyone else. You enjoy each other immensely, alone in your little bubble, why mess that all up by telling people about it? Stay safe, stay comfortable.
I imagine that the closet is much more comfortable for someone like David Laws than it was for me. As a black woman from a council estate in South London one could argue that I had a lot less to lose. I was already missing out on the privileges that come with being male, being white, being wealthy, why not abandon the heterosexual privileges as well? You see, because as well as being stifling, the closet is a place you remain to maintain your privileges. Which is all well and good for a private citizen, but for someone in political office it's completely unacceptable.
By hiding his homosexuality David Laws was sending the message that he understood, (subconsciously at least), that sexuality is more than just a private matter. He's saying he knows that by coming out people put themselves at risk and, to a certain extent, become second class citizens in this country. He's saying he understands that there are very real economic, social and health inequalities brought about through capitalism, and these inequalities are disproportionately experienced by queers. He saying he understands these inequalities have a substantial impact on well being of millions of LGBT people worldwide. By extension, he's saying he understands that the proposed age of austerity will disproportionately affect queers because they are queer. He's saying he understands that if queers are going to be disproportionately affected, then so are women, people from black Asian and minority ethnic communities, people living with disabilities and the working class. By staying in the closet he's saying he understand all that, but he doesn't give a shit.
Well, Fuck Him. He's basically a HUGE fucking hypocrite. I understand the pain and discomfort of being dragged out of the closet. However, his desire for wealth and political power in a neo-liberal government hell-bent on destroying public services means he can get stuffed. If he wants to be part of a government that insists there needs to be inequality, then he deserves to experience the sharp end of that inequality like so many queers already do. Go straight to the back benches, Do Not Pass Go and count yourself lucky you ain't sleeping on the streets tonight.
