The Tax Credit fiddle.

I don't think tax credits are a very good idea. Not only do they encourage employers to pay low wages, (and some employers need no encouragement) but they are not well administered, and
there have been some appalling errors.
Towards the end of last year, those of us working at the DWP began to hear rumours that our identities had been used to make false claims for tax credits. On ringing the tax credit helpline, we were informed that we could be told nothing, but that our enquiries would be noted, and passed to a superviser for further action. Since our management were concerned that we did not use any of the corporate systems available to the DWP to check our personal information, (why not?) some of us exercised our right under the Data Protection Act to see all the information held on us by HM Revenue and Customs, which manages the tax credit benefit.
On our internal web site, we were informed that about 8,800 staff identities had been stolen, and that 6,8oo of these had been used in an attempt to defraud the tax credits system. Staff information was also stolen from Network Rail, I don't know the number of staff involved there.
While this is not particularly surprising in itself, (there are three inevitable things in this world, death, taxes, and people being on the fiddle) what is shocking is the ease with which the fraud was apparently carried out. Claims to the tax credit benefit were made online, and no checks appear to have been made.
In my own case, the claim was made with my name, national insurance number and date of birth. Although we had been assured that our home addresses had not been stolen, mine was there, and it had been changed to a town that I have never even visited, let alone lived in. Did no one check the address? The fictitious me ran a little business from home, but was unable to make much money because she was severely disabled, and claimed the highest rate of Disability Living Allowance. How could someone who is perfectly healthy be on DLA? (That was a silly question, actually, it happens all the time). But did no one ask for proof that I was, in fact, receiving it? Or for proof that I had a child? (I've never had any children). A new bank account had been opened for me, (did the bank do no checks?) and into it was paid my tax credit benefit, about £1,8oo.oo in all. (The fictitious me was entitled to more that £100.00 per week). Not very much from me perhaps, but we were informed that the overall loss from the fraud was limited to an estimated £2.7 million. What's a couple of million pounds here or there?
But when the initial claim was received why did no one check whether I was already employed? My national insurance number was there. They would have discovered that I was not in fact entitled to any tax credit, as I was already employed full time, and earning a reasonable wage. I have never claimed any tax credit, but some of our staff do, and were told that they should not worry because: 'The design of the system maintains the existing payment when a second claim for the same national insurance number is made!!!!!!!!!' What is the point of a system that relies on people being honest, when so many of them are not?
What's really shocking, however, is the way that nothing seems to have been done about this, nobody called to account over it. It's as if £2.7 million of money paid by the taxpayer can be written off, with no problems at all.
However, when you consider that in the financial year 2004-2005 the DWP paid out £113.2 billion pounds, in the financial year 2005-2006 £118.2 billion pounds, fraud and error accounts for nearly £3 billion pounds, and the accounts of the DWP have not been qualified, (from our internal web site) perhaps it really doesn't matter very much. There's always plenty more money where that came from, after all!

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More about lone parents

How do you define a lone parent? Officially, a lone parent is someone without a partner who is looking after a child under sixteen, and for whom they are in receipt of child benefit. Or, if they are not eligible for child benefit, (perhaps they have not been in the country long enough) then at least nobody else must be in receipt of child benefit for the same child.

When do you stop being a lone parent? On the day the youngest child turns sixteen. Then, the LP ceases to receive income support, and must register for work. When the sixteenth birthday of the youngest child approaches, we send out a letter to the LP, and it actually tells them that they must either register for work, or obtain medical certificates. Why put the idea of medical certificates into their heads? Or anyway into the heads of those (very few) who do not know the system.

What do we do for our LPs? They get their rent and council tax paid, (most of it, anyway), their income support (to which they always refer as their 'pay') plus free school meals, help towards their children's school uniforms, free prescriptions, the list goes on and on. I'll never forget one woman complaining to me that in Sweden, where she had lived previously, the government provided taxis to take her children to school, and why couldn't we? I attempted to ask her why she thought she had a right to these things, why the taxpayer should support her in this way instead of her going out to work and earning her keep, but either the question was too difficult for her to understand, or her ability to speak quite good English had suddenly disappeared.

What do LPs do in return? They attend a 'work-focused interview' every six months. It is a condition of their benefit entitlement that they come to the interview, and that they participate when they are there, but that is as far as it goes. There's no compulsion involved. We can't force them to take a job, or enrol for a training course. If, however, they do say that they are interested in work, there are other things we have to offer. A cheap travel card, money to buy clothes suitable for interviews, help with child care, free training courses, help with writing a CV, free internet access and stationery, everything short of actually doing the job for them. Their benefits continue for a few weeks after they start work, so that they won't be disadvantaged by having to wait for their first wage packet. I even know an adviser who rings one of her claimants every morning, to make sure he gets up and goes to work. When I first heard that, I honestly thought it was a wind-up.

And then, of course, there's housing. Because council housing is cheap, a great many people want it. There is a waiting list of several thousand in this borough alone. A single person has almost no chance at all unless they are elderly, or have a serious health condition, but with a child, or children, the council has an obligation to house you. And once you have a council flat or house, your heating will be serviced by the council, repairs will be done, and you will never have to worry about selling it to meet the cost of care in your old age. The rent is not high either, at least compared with renting privately, but then you won't be paying it, so why should you care?

So there you are, all set. A secure 'wage', and secure housing. The cost of council tax doesn't worry you, neither does the thought of rising interest rates. Prescriptions may go up, but you don't have to pay them. Just tick the little box on the back that says you're on income support. Let the tax payer worry about such things.

Lone Parents

On my way to work this morning, I got off the bus several stops early because I wanted to walk. It was a fine morning, bright and sunny with no wind, just a breath of coldness in the air. The trees were still mostly green, just beginning to turn yellow and brown and gold in patches. We've had a lovely October, and November, so far, seems just as good. I've travelled in Europe and Africa, but it's still my firm conviction that England is the most beautiful country in the world. The natives, however, are a different story.

Last night, I watched a programme on Channel Four, 'Too Big To Walk,' about how a group of foul-mouthed lard-buckets waddled their way from Devon in the south of England, to Edinburgh in Scotland, a walk of five hundred miles. Only a few of them finished, but all praise to those few, for their feet were in a shocking state, with blisters, sores, and dead skin. But what made me think was something said by the one young woman who made it to the end. She declared that before she had done this walk, she would have 'popped out a couple of kids by somebody I didn't know, and spent my life on benefits.' Now, she said, she knew she was capable of actually achieving something. I was glad for her, but unfortunately her way of thinking is by no means uncommon. We have several hundred lone parents on our office caseload, and I want to introduce you to one of them, whom I'll call Tia, and who came for an interview the other day.

Tia is just seventeen years old, and left care not long ago. She was pregnant. That's not surprising, half the girls leaving care in this part of London are pregnant. She had been moved into a council flat, and she had come to the office to request a community care grant (not a loan), to furnish it. She is very thin, (she has just suffered a miscarriage) and has dark circles under her eyes. Tia's mother, 'Alice' is thirty-eight, and works as a professional benefit claimant. Who was Tia's father? Tia doesn't know, and probably her mother doesn't know either. Alice began her career at sixteen, when she fell pregnant with Tia's older brother, who died a few years ago of a drugs overdose. She has lived on benefits all her life, and has never had a job. Nor does she intend to, for she has now found a doctor who will supply her with medical certificates for the usual ailments, depression, nervous debility, and back pain, and lives with her latest partner, who is also her carer.

Tia has been in and out of council care all her life, coming home to Alice when Alice was temporarily without a partner, and being sent back to a council home when her mother was, in her own words, 'too busy to look after her properly.' Busy doing what, I'd like to know? Certainly not working for a living. Tia has filled in the form for her grant, and hands it to me to check. Surprisingly, it is written in very neat handwriting, and the spelling is correct. This is because Tia has spent some time at a boarding school for children in care, and has at least learned to read and write properly, if nothing else.

I then try to interest Tia in some of the training and college courses we have to offer young people. She listens politely enough, but I can tell she thinks that nothing I am saying has any relevance to her own life. I tell her that she has lost her baby, and that's very sad, but she can't sit around doing nothing (lots of them do though) and she looks up at me and says 'I'm pregnant again.' I am really angry, although I'm not allowed to show it. It's not for us to judge other people's lives, we're just here to pay benefits and help them into work. I ask about the child's father, and receive a blank stare. So the story for the CSA will be the usual, 'I met him at a party, and I never saw him again.' The life of Alice will be repeated by her daughter.

Why? Tia is not a stupid girl. She simply has no ambition, and no expectation that her life will be any different from that of her mother. The tragedy is not so much that she will live her life on benefits, but that she does not mind doing so.

Saturday

Has anyone else wondered why we all seem so angry nowadays? I'll give you an example. This morning I walked down to the library, passing the bus stop on the way. A young, bespectacled Indian man stood at the stop, reading a newspaper, and a pretty black girl was beside him, with a young child in a push chair. When the bus he wanted approached, the Indian man stepped forward to board it, accidentally bumping the push chair, and giving it a small jolt. He apologised at once, and stood back to allow the girl to precede him on to the bus.

The girl went crazy! That's the only way I can describe it, her pretty face twisted into a malevolent snarl, and she screamed at the man: 'Go and f... your mother!' over and over again. The poor man stood there with his mouth open, an elderly black woman in the bus queue tried to pacify her, and everyone else (including me) looked the other way. The Indian man thought better of boarding the bus, and made off down the street. But why the overreaction? And what about the child? If s/he grows up to see mother behaving like that, how will it in turn behave?

The problem, of course, is that that was not an isolated incident. People lose their tempers and scream over the slightest little thing. I was on the top deck of a bus the other day, and watched a man descending the stairs to get off. He kicked, quite by accident, the bag of another man, who was standing actually on the stairs where he should not have been, where it was difficult to squeeze past him. The man with the bag shouted and swore, and finished up with: 'No wonder people get stabbed!(?????)

Why is everyone so bad tempered? There was a time, believe it or not, when the inhabitants of this land were actually known as 'the polite British.'

Friday afternoon

In the afternoon, we have what is termed an 'incident.' Someone is refused a social fund loan. The social fund lends money to people in need, for example to buy a new cooker if the old one breaks down. The money is paid back at a few pounds per week, taken directly out of the benefit money. Anyone wanting a social fund loan fills in a form, then sits and waits until a decision is reached as to whether a loan can be given or not. The social fund officer must determine several things, such as if there is enough money left in the budget, if the person can afford to pay back a loan, (perhaps they are already paying back a former loan), if the money is really needed. Social fund decisions are always given from behind a screen, for obvious reasons.

This particular customer is a cocaine addict. Although we are given training in interviewing skills, and delivering unwelcome news, no matter how nicely it is said, this customer hears only one word, 'no.' No, he cannot have any money, so he cannot have any drugs. He goes berserk, shouting and thumping on the screen, and as he can't reach the social fund officer he tears back into the waiting area of the main job centre and grabs another officer by the throat. Some other members of staff struggle to drag him away, but he is so maddened that it takes eight men to hold him down, and Dennis (the officer he grabbed) is bleeding quite badly. The customer had actually been holding a small, sharp penknife. I trot up with a fire extinguisher, but am told by a manager that if I wallop the bloke over the head with that he'll be badly injured. Yes? And the manager's point is?

The job centre is cleared and closed, and the police and an ambulance arrive. Somebody has called a national newspaper, who send along a reporter and photographer, but they are not allowed in. Dennis is taken off to hospital, and the customer taken off by the police. Those of us who saw the incident are questioned by the police.

Attacks on members of staff are not frequent, but when they occur they upset all of us. I think that anyone who does assault one of us should be banned from receiving benefit for life. I remember an attack on a security guard in another office, when the management took pains to reassure us that the assault resulted in 'only cuts and bruises.' Presumably, that made it acceptable. But all those who work with the public, especially NHS staff, are accustomed to threats and attacks.

When I was young, (admittedly a long time ago), if you were sitting on a bus and saw a nurse in uniform standing, you would get up and give her your seat. Does that ever happen these days?

Friday

There is an announcement on our internal website, informing us that we pay out more than £100 million in benefits per day. Of course, the actual cash amount of Income Support is not a great deal, but it is bumped up by other things. Housing and council tax benefit, free prescriptions, free eye tests and glasses, free dental treatment, and free milk and vitamins in some cases. Then there are maternity grants, funeral payments, and if you are on benefit and have a relative in prison, the tax-payer will pay for you to visit them. If you live so far away that you could not be expected to travel there and back in one day, such as if, for example, you live in Northern Scotland and your loved one is banged up in Wormwood Scrubs, the tax-payer will pay for a night spent in a hotel. So if there are any British tax-payers out there wondering why they have to pay so much Income Tax, wonder no more.

Thursday

I have an interview with someone who entered the country five years ago as an asylum seeker. He arrives one and a half hours late for his interview, and when I ask him why he is so late he says he has been somewhere else, putting me in a bad mood at once. He has never worked, and when I ask him which disability or health condition prevents him from doing so, he says: 'I have to take tablets,' and suggests I should talk to his social worker. Since I would rather stick red hot pins in my eyeballs, I commence what we call a work-focused interview, in which we try to persuade someone that working is far better for them than living on benefits. As that is sometimes patently untrue, and we cannot actually force someone to take a job, our success is limited.

This particular customer says he has never worked, has no skills or qualifications and has never been to school, even though he can read and write. I ask him what work he would like to do, and get no response. (The answer he would clearly like to give is no work at all). I talk about the various training schemes we have in place to get our customers 'work-ready' and get no response to that either. As I sit there with my blood pressure mounting, he asks me a question. Can he have some more money? With gritted teeth, I point out that he is already getting the amount of money laid down by Parliament, plus housing benefit, plus council tax benefit, plus free prescriptions...... I am beginning to sound a little hysterical, so I terminate the interview and send him on his way. After he has gone, I fill in some forms to send to our processing centre. It is a condition of his benefit entitlement that he must both attend and participate in work-focused interviews, and although he attended, I don't think he participated, so I'm going to try and get his benefit cut. I probably won't succeed. Is it wrong to expect a little gratitude, after feeding and housing someone for five years?