It is apparently known as the Easterhouse epiphany. One day in 2002, Iain
Duncan Smith, then leader of the Conservative Party, now Work and Pensions
Secretary, walked around the Easterhouse estate in Glasgow. He was reputedly so
shocked by the deprivation he saw there, he decided that the welfare state
needed to be destroyed, or at least completely rethought and rebuilt.
“I am happy to believe that Easterhouse was a critical moment for my
policy,” Duncan Smith has said, “not because I hadn’t thought about this before
– I had been beginning to find my way forward – but because I just realised
there was something more to understand.” According to Iain Martin at the
Telegraph, it was one of “the most remarkable and laudable conversions
in public life for many a decade”.
In this conversion narrative of Conservative dogma, IDS is recast as a
modern-day Siddhartha Gautama. Like the Indian prince who would one day become
the Buddha, the Quiet Man descends from his palace of privilege to walk among
the poor and needy, jolted by his encounter with inequality into a life of
unstinting compassion. Except that nowhere is it written that the Buddha ever
told a Treasury staffer that he would “bite [his] balls off and send them to
[him] in a box”.
I have been attempting of late to write with more kindness. I have been
trying to avoid spurious, ad hominemattacks and to argue with issues, not
individuals.
So when I say that Iain Duncan Smith is a second-rate thinker and a
third-rate leader who is wrecking civil society with his misguided moral
crusade, I want you to understand that I mean it.
IDS, whose abbreviated name makes him sound like a chronic stomach
complaint, is not the only Tory frontbencher to pretend to be on a
quasireligious, reforming crusade. But he seems to approach his work with
particular fervour and self-righteous indignation.
You can see it in his tantrums when someone questions his judgement in
public. You can read about it in reports of aides, staffers and associates being
reduced to tears or filing claims about alleged bullying on the job. When
interrogated about the computer problems – or digital omnishambles, if you like
– that has accompanied the introduction of the Universal Credit, IDS told
parliament that the new benefit reforms aren’t really about practical matters,
such as the proposed IT support system not working at all, but about “cultural
change”.
The choice of wording is significant. It doesn’t matter whether or not
Universal Credit will work in practice – and, indeed, its rollout has already
been scaled back and delayed. What matters is changing the “culture”, from one
in which everyone was entitled to a decent standard of living, and unemployment
or illness did not have to trigger destitution, to one in which poverty and
inequality are morally justified. After all, Universal Credit is intended to
make “work pay” – whatever that means.
It is, we are told, all about morality, all about virtue and not at all
about ability to work. The pittance on which people on unemployment benefit are
expected to live – just 13 per cent of the average wage – is rephrased as care
and concern, in the way Puritan leaders once proposed that whipping, ducking and
dismemberment would not just punish sin but also save the soul.
IDS is, in fact, one of Britain’s most influential Roman Catholics. He
surrounds himself with like-minded advisers, many of whom who are also deeply
religious. The language of sin and shame informs Tory welfare rhetoric, with its
pulpit-thumping over “strivers” and “scroungers”.
One doubts, however, that Jesus would approve of what the Department for
Work and Pensions (DWP) is doing, given that the Nazarene was reputedly quite
keen on feeding the poor. The benefit changes that began in April have already
driven a threefold increase in the number of families relying on food banks. And
yet, when the DWP redefines removing support from those who take home less than
the minimum wage, including many of the 5.5 million Britons now on zero-hours
contracts, as “support[ing] people to increase their earnings”, it is somehow
taken seriously.
Somehow, it is now ethically acceptable for the top 1 per cent of earners
to receive a tax cut worth hundreds of thousands of pounds, even as we are told
that this country can no longer afford basic benefits.
We are told that the new puritan, anti-welfare evangelism is about
compassion and about principle – a real moral crusade against “welfare
dependency”. And if that were true, I could respect it.
New Statesman
