PERSONAL COLUMN `One of my officers .. .

MARINA LEARMONT

The majority of people in Britain would agree that the idea of the welfare state is a noble one, which however needs to be made more efficient; in the debate on this some people want to see more selectivity while others believe in universal provision of social services. 'Robert Odams' in his articles in the SPECTATOR has concentrated on some anomalies and abuses. But the whole system 1 the welfare state, including these possi- bilities of abuse, is orientated towards the age-earner, for whom benefits are auto- atic. One anomaly which is not so well nown is the position of the self-employed person within the system. My own recent xperience, which may not be typical, is that hile I have had to contribute compulsorily, would be much better off if there were no elfare state at all or if I were allowed to ntract out.

Artists are supposed to be able to get away ith anything nowadays, but there are in act only a certain limited range of styles in t■hich they can do so (op, pop, etc) and you ay still find your work is unsaleable even hen exhibitions consist of collecting boxes, ontraceptives, chunks of felt or piles of • nd. So since leaving art school eight years go I have been earning a living by doing mmercial work—designs and illustrations. or three years I worked in an advertising gency, but since then have been freelance, nd earned plenty of money until the overnment's credit squeeze forced every- dy to cut back on this sort of work.

Since bad patches are likely in any free- ance career I had saved all I could and nvested in securities, which bring in about 0 a year. Their greatest value has been hat they have enabled me to have an over- aft, even in these difficult times. During 968 I often needed one, as I plodded fruit- ssly and frustratingly round publishers, gencies etc trying to sell or get work—a uch harder task than merely doing it. I was arely managing to survive when bills for ast years (£l00 income tax, £40 social curity, etc) knocked my budget flat. The x man curtly informed me that 'provision hould have been made' to pay him, and it as useless to tell him that provision had lso to be made for me to eat. Paying social urity was quite a large item and I had en paying this for eight years; however, veryone told me I wasn't entitled to claim nything but merely to pay. It was eventu- IlY only in desperation that I took the lunge and went along to the Ministry of 'cial Security, which was only a few nutes' walk away from where I live. Here was told to sign on at the Ministry of abour as unemployed.

I now came across the strange dichotomy tween the Ministry of Social Security and he Ministry of Labour which, as 'Robert Adams' has pointed out, is a fundamental aw in the system, since in my area they are ver a mile apart, and in plodding to and ro I have usually found no coordination tween them at all—indeed, in this par- ular case the staffs in the two buildings on't know how the other building functions. d have told me many conflicting things. or a few weeks I paid a weekly visit to sign at the Ministry of Labour (without, of urce, getting any money at all), until I was 'Id that as a self-employed person I was not

eligible for unemployment benefit, since to qualify for that I must have had a job for six months. I was advised to fill up a claim for supplementary benefit, 'and then we will come and visit you'. The purpose of these visits is apparently to check that you really do live where you claim, what your circum- stances are, and whether or not you are living with anybody else.

The first of these claim forms simply vanished into the limbo of officialdom, so a few weeks later I filled up another, and in reply to this along came a small rectangle of paper, saying : 'One of my officers proposes to visit you

on day 19 . This visit will probably be made in the morning/after- noon. I am sorry I cannot be more definite about the time but the officer has a number of other visits to make during the day.

'I hope it will be convenient for you to be at home.'

Though either the morning or afternoon is obviously supposed to be crossed out, it never has been in my case, so one must wait in all day for them.

The visiting officer was a middle-aged man, accompanied by a woman who said nothing and seemed to be learning the job. I had arranged my work all round the room so that he could look at it if he wished, but he showed no interest in this or in the room. presumably because it obviously was a work- place which I didn't share with anyone else. in fact he was interested neither in my sex- life nor in my difficulties, but in one thing only—did I have any money? Supplement- ary benefits are subject to a means test (and 'Robert Odams' has shown that if you simply spend all the money you have you will then qualify). I had to sign a form enabling them to go to my bank, and about a week later another paper rectangle arrived, telling me that the Supplementary Benefits Commission had decided I was entitled to fl per week. 'You have a right of appeal to the local Appeal Tribunal against the Commission's decision.' it said at the bottom, so I appealed —not expecting to produce any improvement in the sum but hoping to find out how on earth it had been arrived at. Even a non- smoking. non-drinking person like myself who never goes out and wears old clothes can't pay £8 a week rent and find something to eat on £1 total income.

I wrote out the necessary statement. A copy of this was returned with a note fixing the time and place of the tribunal and with it came an incredible document called 'Par- ticulars of Assessment' which introduced me to a world of pure bureaucratic paper myth- making. My statement had set out actual facts in a real world—the information they could have confirmed at my bank (my huge overdraft and the securities which enabled me to obtain it), what my rent, light, gas and a bare minimum of food actually amount to, and of course it stressed the hundreds of pounds I had been forced to pay into social 'security'. Their document was pure fantasy; rent allowance was restricted to a few pounds ('accommodation for single persons being available in the area at that figure'— presumably there must have been one room at this figure. but it was no doubt already occupied by an old age pensioner) and my total requirements according to them came out at a figure which would just have paid my rent, without light or gas, and of course without food. My resources, on the other hand, were apparently stupendous, because capital is treated as living expenses, so though my actual bank balance was an over- draft of over £100. this was converted in their figures to an 'equivalent weekly income' of £8 12s 6d. (Try telling that to my bank manager.) My fl allowance therefore was not all I had, but part of a sum of £9 12s 6d. While I waited outside the room where the tribunal met, the widow with three chil- dren whose appointment was before mine told me she was deceiving them by not re- vealing that she had a part-time job. She claimed that she had been open with them until now, but they treated her so badly she felt honesty and responsibility were out of place in contact with such people.

While my statement was being read aloud I had time to examine the man and woman who made up the tribunal, the most prominent characteristic of both of them be- ing a deep rich sun-tan. The moment the statement had been read the man said, 'Now tell me about your capital.' My answer to this was of course that it was providing me with an overdraft, and if only I had all the wretched money I had had to pay into what is laughably called 'social security' I would not now be in difficulties. 'It's the Act', they wailed in unison, like a T. S. Eliot chorus, waving a copy of it at me. There was no answer to my question 'What do I pay in for?', but each did have a suggestion to make, the woman that I should become an au pair girl (don't ask me why), and the man that 'instead of us keeping you, you must sell your securities.' I left at that point say- ing, 'I thought it was me that was keeping you' At least they didn't cut off my pound.

For a few weeks I made regular weekly visits to sign on at the labour exchange. wait- ing in a queue where most people in front would come away shuffling a wad of notes, so that when it was my turn the woman always smiled and made some such joke as 'Don't spend your pound all at once'. After several weeks of this routine along came another 'proposal'. The officer was, however. coming on precisely the day when I col- lected my £1, and when I also had two appointments with publishers as part of my quest for work, so I wrote back suggesting another day which would be more suitable. Nevertheless I waited in just in case he should come, and sure enough at 11.15 a.m. —exactly the moment I should have been at the labour exchange—the hell rang.

If ministry men take part in Brian Rix-like bedroom farces trying to sort out who is sleeping with whom, I was now to take part in a similar farce trying to catch elusive ministry men. He had had to press a top bell, which surely indicated that I lived at the top, in an attic studio. But by the time had raced down the six flights of stairs, the door-step and path were empty. Running to the gate, I was just in time to catch sight of a figure with a brief-case vanishing into a house twelve doors up the road. Since I had said I wouldn't be in, this hit-and-run

raid was excusable, but when the next 'pro- posal', for a visit the following Monday, came, I took the precaution of writing to say I would definitely be in all day. Useless, however; the same farce was repeated, with a different man this time and walking in the other direction, quite young and vanishing very fast round the corner by the pub. I had to run back to shut the front door, but then ran after him as fast as I could. How- ever he had a good start, and was safe back in the bosom of the ministry at the bottom of the road long before I could catch him.

A third 'proposal' came. This time it was on a day when I was expecting a visit, and I tried to get the ministry to choose another day or at least to make sure their man came in the afternoon, since my other visitor was coming in the morning. But although the ministry building is only five minutes' walk away, and I am easily available on the phone for arranging a suitable time, the steamroller was unstoppable. I had written them a long letter explaining in detail what had hap- pened, and this time did at least result in the man waiting on the doorstep this time; but the bell had rung just after my other visitor had arrived. This visiting officer was again young, and again new to me (I've never had the same one twice) and as soon as I opened the door he started up the stairs, racing athletically past me with head down and brief-case forward, saying 'I'm from the Ministry of Social Security'. I said quickly, `no you can't go up, as I don't want my sorry financial plight discussed in front of other people, and I have already written to the ministry telling them I wasn't available this morning, so it would be best if you asked me whatever it is you want to ask me down here.' I still didn't know what they did want, and in fact he didn't seem to want to ask me anything. 'We have to come up and check; you are on supplementary bene- fit and this is what you let yourself in for.'

I felt by this time that I was really earn ing that wretched pound, which was ap- parently being given me out of charity, and not as a very slight return for the hundreds of pounds I had been forced to pay in (with- out my being able to send an inspector along to see whether they were spending it satis- factorily). Btlt when I next went to collect my £1, I found I had in Victorian fashion been cut off without a penny and without notice or warning. I had been a bad girl and hadn't been obedient; so if I wanted the £1 restored I now had to apply all over again from the very beginning, including all the rigmarole of them going to my bank again to check if anything had changed.

The only change in my circumstances in this period has in fact been that my over- draft has gone up and up, and I am heavily in debt to more people. The other check they seemed to want to make all the time is this business of 'cohabitation'. Many single girls and separated wives may in fact be living with men, but not all men who visit girls come for sexual reasons—indeed, my bed- room (which is also my studio) over the past few months has entertained four different men from Social Security, each of whom in- sisted on coming into it. In my case- pre- sumably merely coming in was in itself sufficient check, since it is one large room very fully occupied with my work.

But as the widow had said to me. 'They don't like you to be articulate. you have to toe the line,' so for the last three weeks I have not even had the Li, which did at least help a little (in fact. it is almost exactly the amount put In the meters each week for light and gas). During these three weeks another ministry man came, sat in my arm- chair, made all the usual notes, and set the whole vast machine in operation again. This morning a postal Giro came for' fl, which they have decided I am entitled to for the current week (though not,- apparently for the previous two, when I got nothing), and a note telling me I have the right of appeal to the local appeal tribunal. I shall not, of course, bother, since it would be a complete waste of time seeing that same man and woman again.

According to the ministry's own calcula- tions, what I have already paid them, in a short working career before the age of thirty, should be bringing them in £3 10s. a week, which is three and a half times the sum on which I am expected to be able to live. But, so 'Robert Odams' revealingly tells us, the ministry's staff receive expenses up to £3 10s. per day (excluding travel expenses), which conjures up some nice welfare rackets inside the ministry, since expense accounts are a notorious abuse in any organisation.

In fact, the obvious course for me now seems to be to get some of the benefits of the welfare state by joining the ministry's staff, when I would get a nice regular salary, a lovely expense account, and into the bargain I could, as a totally unqualified person given a little bit of bureaucratic authority, behave like a little tin god and push my way into other people's rooms, probe their resources, search their beds, and then tell them that this is what they let themselves in for'.

Odams also suggests that benefits should be made more difficult to come by. This may be necessary for wage earners, but as far as I am concerned my payments are going to be harder for the ministry to come by. Before I pay any more into the system, I need to satisfy myself that the money is being well spent, so I am preparing a small rectangle of paper to send to the ministry next March, when they demand my card back with a cheque to cover my contribu- tions. It reads: 'One of MY officers proposes to visit YOU...'