Does the Racist van save money?

I know I’m a little late to talk about the #racistvan but I think there’s an interesting angle that has not yet been covered. According to the Home Office the #racistvan is a pilot for a project which if successful could be rolled out across the country. Now suppose we took them at their word and asked what are the measures of success (as Zoe Williams tried and failed toget an answer on). The quotes and statement circulating is that if the policy saved money it should be rolled out nationally. Now assuming that’s their goal it’s worth looking at the figures that they are using. According to the statement the pilot cost £10,000. They state that if it succeeded in getting a single person to voluntarily go home then it will have saved money because voluntary deportations cost on average £739 whereas forced deportations cost £15,000 on average. Aside from wanting to look at these figures in more detail (deportation costs aren’t my area) there are a couple of problems with this calculation.

Firstly as has been pointed out by the Lib Dems this scheme has gotten a massive amount of free publicity and so will therefore more likely get attract more of a response than it would otherwise have gotten. Whilst this is a fair point, it’s difficult to control for (possibly those evaluating it could look at the number of contacts made before it hit national news) and it’s a bit of a moot point as it’s already had the press so that’s part of its effect. You would, however, be able to say is that the effect will not increase proportionately if the scheme is rolled out nationwide. But all of this is unimportant if it really is the case that a single person voluntary returning through the scheme makes it value for money.

It doesn’t take much thought to realise that this isn’t the case. The implicit assumption in the Home Office’s statement is that each person who chooses to voluntary return because of this scheme would have otherwise been a forced deportation. Obviously this is not the case. It’s quite possible that many of those who have responded and are voluntarily returning would have done so otherwise. For these people it’s possible the government has either gained no saving or made a net loss. It would generate a loss where a person would have otherwise voluntarily returned home without government assistant and all the government has done is alerted them that they could get some help with that.

There is a further possibility that the scheme can generate a further net loss. This is the case where a person who would have otherwise stayed in the UK and not have been forcibly deported. What we know about illegal immigrants in this country suggests that the majority of them do not end up being forcibly deported. Although reports that 1 in 100 illegalimmigrants are deported are almost definitely an understatement there seems to be no good data suggesting that the majority or anywhere near that level are forciblydeported. Forced deportations are rare and occur half as often as voluntary deportations. Therefore it would be reasonable to assume that the vast majority of those who are voluntarily returned through this scheme who wouldn’t otherwise have forcibly removed. This means that for each person deported a reasonable assumption would be that a loss is generated.

I’d be interested to read a government evaluation of the racist vans to see how they can try and justify it on other basis. But as far as I can tell as a cost saving exercise it really doesn’t work.  

Immigration, religion and the liberal dilemma

I’m quite a fan of John Rawls and I think of a lot of what he wrote was completely spot on even if it is challenging to live up to. One of the things he wrote about was the way in which political conversations should take place in a liberal society. Although people can have a variety of beliefs and inner viewpoints, the political discussion has to be conducted in terms everyone can understand and could possibly come to accept. Whilst I can deal with quite a few issues in this way, some I struggle to articulate an argument which isn’t ridden with my Christian values.

The key example for me right now is immigration and more generally the treatment of foreign citizens. As a Christian the value issues are pretty straightforward. Jesus said there are two great commandments; Love God and Love your neighbour. When Jesus is asked who is my neighbour his response is to tell the story of the Good Samaritan. The answer given in that story is that your neighbour is the Samaritan who in that context is thought to be the foreigner and an enemy. To me the story and Jesus’ point is clear, our neighbour is not defined by our nation or heritage but by our shared humanity. This puts the immigration debate and questions of asylum in sharp relief. Morally it is not justifiable to give preferential treatment to those born in our country to those in need born in another. Every Asylum seeker is my neighbour, even Abu Qatada is my neighbour. As a Christian this is the goal I believe all policy should work towards and have in mind. That’s why I was fully in sympathy with SarahTeather in the Beckly lecture earlier this week when she asked for the Churches to talk more about immigration and then on Saturdaywhen she spoke out against the current immigration debate.

But the problem is how to express this in moral and political principles that are not explicitly Christian. I tend to favour using the Human Rights narrative that we have inalienable rights and currently these are being violated. But that argument doesn’t seem to gain much traction with most of the public and is hard to justify using non Christian statements. There’s no easy answer to why we have these inalienable rights and why human dignity should be protected. Another argument I quite like is the drowning childthought experiment from Peter Singer. But lots of people aren't persuaded by that. At the same time thought experiment isn’t easily amenable to being used in political debate. The issue of our obligations to those born far away isn’t easily argued from the liberal viewpoint and plenty of people seem happy to argue for an extraordinary priority to be given to those closer to us. I can’t find that morally justifiable but I can’t find a political response either. 

Privilege and representation

Privilege is a topic I have great difficulty with. In many cases I can see the arguments of both sides and I can’t quite find a practical way forward. By practical, I mean something that I can put into practice in my life and in my action. The questions I ask in this blog are not rhetorical. I want answers to them so if you have more of an opinion let me know. I am one of the more privileged people out there, and that puts me in a difficult position when talking about this stuff. But that is part of the point I want to address, so let me have at it and if my privilege is blinding me then let me know.

What matters: who we are or what we say?
This isn’t an example of me being discriminated against but it got me thinking. A few years ago I went with my family to a taping of Any Questions and I submitted a question. My question was chosen as one of 9 potential questions that could have been asked on the show but it was not picked. Instead, all of the selected questions were from people who appeared to be over the age of 50 (as did most of the audience apart from me).

After the show my mother complained to the producer that my question should have been selected to improve the representativeness of the show and of Radio 4 generally. I disagreed with my mother: I thought that if my question should be selected it should be because of the merit of my question rather than who I was. Representation only mattered if I was going to say something different to anyone else (my question was a politicsy question that any age group could have written).

Was I right? I’m not sure. Partly representation matters to show that the group doesn’t just care about its own issues. My question could have shown that young people are just as much politics nerds as old people.

Declaring privilege
But youth is one of the less difficult areas as stigma associated with it is minor and it can’t be hidden. A far more complicated area is mental health. Personally I’ve had relatively good mental health and so am speaking here from a position of privilege. Elsewhere a brilliant blog post by Glosswitch was written on the subject of mental health and privilege (but it’s sadly now been deleted). The writer raises their personal dislike of declaring privilege, or lack of it, because they do not wish to be defined by their issues and their past. I completely agree that no one should be forced to declare their own history in order to make a more meaningful contribution to a debate. But by explaining my own privilege am I inadvertently outing others by their absence of such a declaration (especially in certain areas of debate where this kind of declaration is expected)? Should I therefore stop?

Nothing about us without us
In campaigning circles it is generally agreed that campaigns should include in a meaningful way those who the campaign concerns. From what I’ve seen, the reality of making this work is rather difficult. Unless the group or organisation already contains someone from that group it can be quite expensive to do this properly. For this reason I’ve seen groups not challenge an apparent injustice because they have no representation in that area and don’t feel they therefore have the capacity to speak about it. This troubles me, as an ideal we should include but surely we should do our best if we can’t?

A cheap and convenient way of doing this can be including already existing qualitative research into a campaign so that the people from that group’s voices are included but I’m not sure this sufficient. Is picking and choosing a small portion of a group’s thoughts enough to count as representing them? There are very few good examples that I’ve seen of a group effectively campaigning whilst also being good at including. It often seems to be the case that by putting more resources towards one a group becomes worse at the other. Some of the most effective campaigns are the least inclusive.

Are you better at representing us by being like us?
To what extent parliament or politics in general is representative is seen as a very important issue. Polls in parliament have indicated that politicians are representative of the general population in terms of mental health. Possibly partly due to its hidden nature, many people have been elected who either have had mental health issues in the past or currently do so. However the number who speak up for mental health services is far lower. Are politicians with a history of good mental health but who campaign for better mental health services better representing their constituents with mental health issues? It seems that both are important.

Bill Clinton has been called the first black president but that did not diminish the importance of Barack Obama’s election. But what if you have to choose between the two? If someone who represents a group runs against someone who campaigns for that group’s interest? What if Colin Powell had run against Hillary Clinton in 2008?

There is a hidden worry under this: what if you can only fight an issue if you understand it, and can only truly understand it if you have experienced it? But this is counter balanced by another problem: being from that group might blind you to that group’s experience. Thatcher partly thought that feminism was no longer needed because she was PM - and if she as a woman could do it, then there couldn’t have been much of a problem.

As might be obvious from what I’ve written, I tend to think that the issue matters more than person. However, I am worried that in thinking this I’m blinded to parts of these issues by my own privilege. Like I said above I’m not happy with any of my answers and I consider these questions still very open and unanswered. I don’t however think they are unanswerable, so I’d like to discuss them some more.   

UAV, Drones, video games and “Playstation warfare”

I recently wrote a blog about how a video game I had played made me consider the choices made by UAV* pilots however this reflected a problem I have with campaigns around UAV usage. Many campaign groups which have attacked the usage of UAV have suggested that UAV make warfare like playing a video game. Whilst I’ll argue till the cows come home that video games can create compelling emotionally connecting experiences I will say that from what I know about piloting a UAV, it is less like a video game than other forms of warfare.

Whilst working for the Methodist Church I had the opportunity to take minutes whilst experts on the Morality of UAVs helped create a report on the morality of UAV use. There were some very interesting debates around the use of UAVs and I highly recommend reading the report. Something that I found very interesting was some of the arguments on ways in which UAVs could be more ethical than other forms of warfare. The arguments against how UAVs are currently used I wholeheartedly agree with and think that groups should be campaigning against extra judicial killing. My problem is with the idea that UAVs are simply bad and that they resemble playing a game.

A massive portion of what UAV operators spend their time doing is simply watching suspects. They establish what military jargon calls a “pattern of life” but essentially means following a person constantly for days on end to find out where they go and what they do with their lives. If a decision is then made that the person should be killed the UAV operator continues watching afterwards. In order to confirm the kill a UAV operator watches as weeping relatives dig through the rubble to find bodies. The psychological costs of being a UAV pilot are only just being recognised. Unlike other military operations, UAV operators return to civilian life at the end of the day. After spending the day watching someone in Pakistan going to the market, they may go into a supermarket on the way home to pick up some milk.

In this way UAVs are completely unlike video games and for that matter unlike high altitude bombers. Neither of these involve observing the banalities of a person’s life. Violent video games spend seconds dealing with the lives of people on the screens, high altitude bombers see the targets house for less than that. UAV operators may be more distant physically from their victims but they get to know them far better than anyone else does. To simplify the job of UAV pilot to playing a video game undermines the emotional and psychological scars that it can cause them.

If you read descriptions of life as a UAV pilot there are some superficial similarities with playing video games. Whilst both involve operating a computer in a dark room there is a crucial difference, the person playing the video games knows nothing that is going on is real. A UAV pilot knows that the person who they see playing with their kids is real and they know that when they have to kill them. Although (as far as I know) there has not been a publicly released systematic study into the prevalence of PTSD amongst UAV pilots there are several accounts out there. One study of 900 drone operators found high levels of stress in 46% of those surveyed.  Video games don’t bring this kind of stress. UAV operators have an incredibly difficult job and it should not be minimised and belittled by talk of PlayStation warfare.

*I use the term UAV (Unmanned Aerial Vehicle) rather than the military preferred RPAS (Remotely Piloted Air System) because it’s better known but doesn't have the same connotations as the colloquial Drones

Payment by results: Doesn't get the results

Upfront, I should say that the debate about whether or not something should be run by a private company or charity rather than the government is not something that I find inherently interesting. I believe that neither are the golden bullet that their supporters claim they are. More important than who runs a service are questions of how that service is resourced, how it’s run and how it’s evaluated. Last week Chris Grayling made amonumentally stupid comment in the House of Commons: “The last Government was obsessed with pilots. Sometimes you just have to believe in something and do it.” This was in reference to his idea that the probation service should be privatised. Now at the moment I have no idea whether or not this is a good idea but a pilot* would be a good way of finding out. Mr Grayling is calling for policy by ideology rather than policy by evidence. Whilst there is a necessary place for ideology in government throwing out evidence is not the smartest idea. But I’ve discussed that before so today instead I’m going to look at why payment by results isn’t a magical cure-all.

To find an example of payment by results being a comprehensive failure you have to look no further than the last project Mr Grayling was in charge of, the Work Programme.  The Work Programme paid providers for every unemployed person that they got back into work for six months. Of course the contracts for these schemes were not that simple because for making privatisation work the devil is in the detail. A recent evaluation of the work programme showed its most glaring flaw. The government was paying out millions of pounds and were seeing fewer people go back to work than if there had been no program at all. As flaws go, that one’s a big one. However, concentrating on the big failure masks the little failures that still have a lot to teach us.

Firstly, the Work Programme nurtured fraud on a large scale. A4E, one of the private organisations that received some of the large contracts from the Work Programme, was found to have been committing fraud in several of its services and to have had a culture which fostered fraud. It was caught not because of government checks but because of a whistleblower. If a scheme pays by results then it encourages behaviour which will fulfil the checks, rather than necessarily getting the results. Fraud is more likely to happen when you incentivise it. There’s an interesting discussion on whether bonuses incentivise risky behaviour and whether that was partly responsible for the economic crisis. Payment by results may create a similar culture and need strong checking systems to make sure the results are ones worth paying for.   

Those who were given priority in the work programme were not those that needed the most help butinstead those most likely to get a job. As many of these were already perfectly capable of getting a job the work programme took up their time from when they could have been seeking a job and then got paid for “helping” them despite them already being job ready. This artificially buoyed the performance of work programme contractors.

The Work Programme also ended up damaging some of the most effective service providers. Although I’ve not seen the evidence for it, many in the sector believed that small charitable organisations were the most efficient at helping those with multiple problems return to the job market. Additionally one of the stated aims of the Work Programme was for more people to be helped by these small highly effective organisations and for their funding to increase. However by many accounts the opposite has happened. Due to the nature of the contracting process many of these organisations saw a dramatic decrease in funding and have been forced to close. This was not due to them being ineffective but rather because they had a lack of referrals.

For the power of the market to have full effect there needs to be true competition, innovation and failure. A recent talk I went to featured John Kay from the FT talking about what makes capitalism great. He used the example of the computing industry. No single company had the all the successful ideas which ended up transforming the sector and placing a computer in every home. Many of those that had successful ideas still went bust as they failed to come up with the next idea. Public service markets don’t work this way though. Provision comes from one of a handful of very large companies, G4S, A4E, Serco etc. Government contracts work against small organisations that would encourage innovation and against these big companies failing if they can’t be the most efficient providers.       

Small companies are not the answer by themselves either though. The problem with using small companies in payment by results schemes can be seen in TV license enforcement. In TV license enforcement companies are paid for every household they find illegally using a TV without a license. As anyone who has had contact with these deeply unpleasant companies (or done any research on it) will know the sector is rife with abuse, houses are illegally searched, people are pressured into signing forms admitting wrongdoing when they have done and people are frequently mislead as to their actual legal rights and duties. When misconduct is found and punished rather than it being stamped out many of these small companies dissolve and return to the same practices as a new company with almost the exact same people.

The point I want to make is not that payment by results is a bad idea but rather that it is very difficult to get right. To neglect to do a pilot and get as much information as possible to help design the best scheme that you can is a moronic show of arrogance.

*Just to be clear that this is not a partisan idea, a pilot of this very idea was set up by Grayling’s predecessor Kenneth Clarke.