Alice in the Age of Austerity

Originally written in February 2011. Heartfelt apologies to Lewis Carroll. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

To be honest, it took me all morning to realise that he was a robot. In retrospect his overuse of the word 'synergies' in the 9am meeting should have aroused my suspicions, but I was too busy coaxing the coffee pot. When he stood up and opened fire with a pencilgun it was quite a surprise, and the bullet-proof boardroom glass suddenly seemed like a wise investment. We all dived under the table in time, although Councillor Q's ear was clipped by a bullet, sending him into a somewhat hysterical state. Between us, J and I managed to wrap a laptop cable around the robot's ankles whilst he was reloading and take him down.

The Strategic Infrastructure Community Kickoff meeting thus irrevocably disrupted, we dosed Councillor Q with brandy and tied our cyborg infiltrator to the Chief Executive's posture chair for interrogation. More than likely it was sent by Human Resources (recently and ominously renamed Meat Assets) to destroy us all, thus saving money on redundancy payments. Unluckily for them, we actually read our contracts, noticed the 'waiver in case of death by robot' clause, and put in place appropriate procedures. The robot had little of interest to tell us, other than the name of the company HR had rented it from, so the admin team deprogrammed it and repurposed some circuits to enhance the water cooler. I flipped a coin with D for its natty leather briefcase. None of us were exactly sure how the pencilgun worked, so I filed it under 'Programme Management procedures' where it is unlikely to ever be found.

That little incident resulted in the Termination Threat Level in the building being raised to Mauve, which will be somewhat tedious if I end up leaving the office last, as I'll need to release the war termites. At least I never arrive first; those little menaces are harder to gather up than set free. Threat Level Mauve also means random DNA, personality, and Voight-Kampff tests, which generally mean learning more than you ever wanted to know about your colleagues. I'm still trying to forget the extent of enhancements that P has had.

After lunch I wrote up minutes, hesitant as to whether 'Homicidal robot attack' was best noted under Action Planning or Any Other Business. The Chief Executive gathered us together to give a pep talk, which was well meant but made me think he was taking the whole thing a little too seriously. There wasn't really any need to wave an AK-47 around, even if it was neatly embossed with our corporate branding. We don't have the budget for military training courses, so he suggested push-ups during team meetings. The idea wasn't greeted with much enthusiasm, but the AK-47 impeded serious debate about it.

Once all that had settled down, it was my turn to sweep the fire escape for mines. I found 3 cheap Tesco minelets and a delux Waitrose tank-buster, which is usual for the middle of the week. Dropped them off in the specially-reinforced recycling bin; hopefully they'll be turned into something more useful. A couple of phone calls followed, on such flimsy pretexts that I suspect they were checking whether the robot had been successful. I mean, who phones local government to ask what the time is?

Donned helmet and knuckle-duster fingerless gloves for the cycle home, although unfortunately I left my greaves at home. The Local Army of Local Arbury have been setting up roadblocks, which don't appear to serve much purpose beyond reminding those passing through that they still exist. I think Arbury took it a bit personally when the council decided to strategically ignore areas with lower than average house prices. After a initial period of chaos and warlord-ism, though, their big society bin collection service has become a lesson to us all. The lesson being, 'Don't throw anything away that you wouldn't want thrown back at your face'.

The pothole slalom in Chesterton continues to get more exciting. I zig-zag raced some guy on a red mountain bike; he won by a whisker after very nearly crashing into a van. Several people outside the pub applauded. A bus driver beeped, but I don't think that was meant to be appreciative. No call to use the brass knuckles this evening as the motorists seemed peaceable, probably as a result of the ceasefire on the A14. I gather the lorry drivers have agreed to hold talks and start clearing the razorwire off sliproads.

I had to show my Neighbourhood Identity Tag at the top of the road, and picked up this week's local vegetable vouchers. The People's Community Market had a nice selection of potatoes, but no onions at the moment. It's a pity that I don't like beetroot as there's quite a glut. Perhaps I could use beetroot juice to dye the curtains magenta?

It was my turn to make supper, which I successfully managed under strict supervision. The herb garden on the morning room roof is flourishing nicely, it was definitely worth shoring up the whole structure with pallets (which also make it more defensible). A troupe of Jobless called round at about 8 to ask if we had any odd tasks. They looked so sad that I got them to sort my bookshelf by colour, in return for some stew and cups of tea. Apparently they have a big encampment on Coldham's Common and are considering taking over the empty retail park. Sounds like a good plan to me, those empty units are havens for wolf-cockroaches at the moment.

The powerdown was scheduled for 10pm, and we just managed to get the washing up done by then. As it was a warm night, we sat outside around a campfire, telling stories, making up new obscenities, and playing the Yes and No game. There were some stunning shooting stars to be seen - although L insisted they were Girton weapons tests rather than astrological phenomena. If so, their range has markedly improved.

Slept peacefully until 3am, when some raucous students flew over in a helicopter, flinging oyster shells and laughing in a distinctly horsey manner. Their hilarity was soon curtailed when the Neighbourhood Order Billet deployed nets. The colleges should really secure their helicopters better, or at least stop teaching first-year engineers how to hotwire them. The rest of the night was quiet, or at least not loud enough to wake me. The morning news (who was apologetically late; apparently his alarm clock broke) said that refugees from Chittering started a bar fight at about 5am, but were soon subdued and thrown in the river.

I fed the frogs in the shed and checked my emails when our internet ration came through at 8am. Lucky that I did, as the Chief Executive had decided on a dispersal strategy and told us all to work at home, in an email sent at 2am. That's all very well for his part of town, but down here if you're found at home and healthy during the day you get press-ganged into tasks involving shovels. Usually digging or repelling invaders. The simplest thing to do was to volunteer as a lookout, which is definitely more fun than joining the argument about the Neighbourhood Plan. It has become increasingly esoteric and focused on tangents of dubious usefulness, like specifying a regulation neighbourhood beard length.

The lookout post is at the apex of the pedestrian railway bridge, which forms the current boundary with our adjacent neighbourhood. The border isn't in dispute, so lookout duty mostly involves spotting dangerous wild animals, tasering Wisbech stowaways, and tagging the odd tourist. There's a gazebo with a two-way radio, and you can usually get some hoodie kid to fetch coffee for a small fee. I read a couple of lengthy legal documents, but reflected that they have little relevance as long as the police continue their siege mentality on Parker's Piece. I hear that their defensive emplacements look rather beautiful from the air, but make them totally unreachable by anything but carrier pigeon. Even those are unreliable since the latest Jamie Oliver cookbook became popular.

One of my colleagues who lives nearby wandered over at lunchtime and kindly shared a cheese sandwich. We discussed the current state of the job market; she's considering going for an IT job that only pays in pumpkins. I think she'd be better trying for employment at the University. They may insist on microchipping and an equity share of your children, but at least their currency can be exchanged before it goes mouldy. We agreed to keep each other updated, then she had to go and take over as Head Mistress at her neighbourhood school.

In the afternoon I drafted a Board paper and after some complex calculations caught up on the house energy bills. We're currently ahead, but must use less electricity next month otherwise the difference will need to be made up in plasma donation or nursing time. I do pity the neighbourhoods with no medical facilities, but having a treaty with Addenbrooke's is a double-edged sword. At 3pm the next shift began and I tried to slip away and get home. The Neighbourhood Order Brigade were having none of that, though, and I was planting saplings and felling traffic lights until nightfall. There was carrot soup and toast on the table when I got back; I love my housemates.

There was also a letter from my parents waiting for me, addressed in Celtic as well as English so that the The Ancient Kingdom of the Iceni (formerly Suffolk) postal service would accept it. Mum says that Dad has been promoted to Wise Old Man on the Parish Council, after telling a historic anecdote that lasted 47 minutes without repetition or hesitation, but plenty of deviation. I'm so proud. Mum is already an official Wise Old Woman, although she isn't too keen on the title. Their alpacas are doing well, and Mum says she's making me a jumper with their wool. The debate about whether tiled roofs are evil and should all be replaced with thatch continues to rage; it seems that a growing minority consider caves to be the preferable alternative. No more noise from Norfolk (or Them Up North, as Mum puts it) although constant vigilance is being maintained. It sounds like both parents are happy and enjoying the picturesque local sport of 'throwing rocks at the Landrover'. Neither of my cousins have returned from their quests yet. They occasionally phone home on stolen iPhones to let us know they're OK. My aunt has started breeding quails.

By the time I'd finished reading this missive it was raining pretty hard, so the campfire was a no go. We checked the sandbags and seagull-repellent, then trekked over to the local pub, which had some rock band and a scrabble tournament. They also have enough independent PV on the roof to avoid powerdowns, so the lights barely even flicker when the neighbourhood grid goes down. Wading home was a little tricky, as the puddles were full of eels. I swear Fenlanders are deliberately introducing the slimy buggers for nefarious purposes. One of them nearly chewed my bootlace off (an eel not a Fenlander, on this occasion).

The house was pretty cold and the mould staging a comeback, so to cheer ourselves up we constructed the community trampoline. Otherwise known as jumping up and down on a pile of mattresses. This confuses the neighbours, which is always fun. They've quietened down a lot since the Neighbourhood Order Brigade discovered they were students and put them on sewer-digging duty. The volume of puddles suggests they're slacking off a bit, I have to say.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow, as it'll be my turn as Neighbourhood Mayor and walk the boundaries, carrying a big stick and giving orders. I intend to ensure that the Neighbourhood Plan must be in haiku, tax tabloids for every capital letter that they use, and outlaw bacon in all its evil forms. Viva Big Society!

Keeping Calm and Carrying On

I haven't been posting lately as reiterations of previously expressed outrage would have been tedious to read and depressing to write. Government policies are still counterproductive, the coalition continues to dismantle public services, and the economic case for austerity continues to weaken. The Localism Bill is dragging itself through parliamentary processes, changed little by amendments. A storm of warning and protest about proposed NHS reforms from nearly every observer is largely being ignored by the PM. The only good news, that the Committee on Climate Change's carbon budget recommendation was accepted, shouldn't even be news. It only was because BIS and the Treasury were being reactionary about recommendations that should have been accepted as a matter of course. Moreover, the agreement to cut emissions by 50% will only be meaningful if actually achieved. That will require significant policy intervention, which is not yet forthcoming.

Rather than concentrate on national policy, I've been thinking about personal lessons from the past year.

Five ways to survive in a dying public sector organisation

1. Set aside a time (just after lunch on Friday is good) when everyone in the office can have a thorough bitch-in about the week's developments in government policy and their negative consequences. Sarcastically reading aloud recent CLG press releases will form part of this cathartic exercise. A current example: Pickles to cut red tape that stops the public from flying flags.
   
   (As an aside, I think it striking to compare the number of press releases from CLG about social care and flags. The former concerns the protection of abused children and vulnerable elderly people, arguably most critical task of local councils; the latter are pieces of fabric waving in the breeze. During April and May thus far, six seperate CLG press releases have been about flags. None have been about social care. See for yourself. What does this tell you about the department's priorities?)
   
   
2. Ensure that you have an exit strategy. Easy for me to say now, as I have a Masters place, but this is a huge source of anxiety for my colleagues. We now have less than five months left, and some are I think beginning to panic that come September they might be left adrift. Options being considered within the office, other than simply getting a similar job are: full-time study, setting up a as a self-employed consultant, charity work, and retraining as a teacher. However risky or speculative it might be, some plan for post-redundancy is essential, and ideally it should be something you feel good about. Rather than gloomily watching the organisation wither away around you, try and look on it as an opportunity for change and to move on with your career. Again, it's all very well for me to say that as I don't have kids or a mortgage. Still, the strange period of knowing your job will vanish is an ideal opportunity to consider what you need and want out of life in general, as well as your career.
   
   
3. Avoid regrets. There are a number of projects that I've put a great deal of time and effort into which will very likely be lost once my organisation has gone. I've had to make peace with this, in order to concentrate on the most important projects that really must continue elsewhere. These things need to be put in perspective. None of the reports that I've prepared or the emails I've sent will be of great interest to historians in a hundred years. They did what was needed at the time and provided me with useful experience, but if the paper copies are recycled and the word documents fossilise on a server somewhere, civilisation isn't going to fall. That does not mean that I wasted my time, just that the situation has changed. Regrets are a waste of energy that is better spent planning for the future.
   
   
4. Don't become isolated, either from your immediate colleagues or other organisations. Mutual support in my team is proving a really powerful thing. My colleagues and I are trying to support each other through hard times, and I consider that extremely important. As well as practical help (reading each other's CVs, sharing information about jobs, etc), we keep up with each other's progress, setbacks, and morale, wishing luck with interviews and providing tea for whoever is having a bad day. At times, three people in my team have all gone for the same job, but amazingly this hasn't caused distrust and excessive competitiveness. The atmosphere in the office is genuinely that of all being in this together. Moreover, the whole public sector is going through seismic changes, with redundancies at every organisation I work with. This certainly provides a heartfelt topic of conversation with any public servant I happen to meet.
   
   
5. Create some lunchtime escapism. Yes, it's all very depressing. The government is waging an ideological war on the public sector, there are far more people on the dole than there are job vacancies (the current ratio is five to one), and the future can seem bleak. It's important to avoid reading the news until it makes you cry with rage during your lunchbreak, and instead use the time for distraction. I tend to go for a walk, or read a bit of a book (novels and popular science, no current affairs or economics), or send a long email to a friend, or just talk to colleagues about something totally unrelated to work. Usually involving anecdotes about the wanton destructiveness of their children.

Even if you're not in the lovely situation of impending redundancy from the public sector, you will likely have some financial anxieties. Inflation is up to 4.5% and 42% of households expect to have less money to spend over the next year. You might notice some common themes in my pieces of advice to handle this: firstly, each would also reduce your carbon footprint, and secondly, each would be much easier to follow if you happen to be young, have no children, and live in an urban area. That would be my inherent bias as a twentisomething childless urban dweller, sorry.

Five ways to cope with the Age of Austerity

1. Get rid of your car, as they are a huge financial drag. Petrol prices are volatile and rising, road maintenance budgets are falling. Cycle or walk whenever possible, try not to rely on public transport. Bus and train fares are rising steeply whilst subsidies fall; frequency and reliability are thus deteriorating and will continue to. Given the quantity of sunk costs to car ownership; purchase, insurance, tax, maintenance; ditching the private vehicle rather than trying to use it less will make a much more significant saving. When bus, bike, train, or feet won't do, there are always taxis and car clubs. Moreover, the additional exercise will help with point two...
   
   
2. Stay as healthy as you can. Of course this is always a priority, but even more so when controversial and risky reforms to the NHS loom. During this kind of chaotic period of cuts and reorganisation, patient care is going to suffer, even with the best will in the world. This is not a good time to need a hospital or GP, at the very least you're likely to have to wait longer.
   
   
3. Shop around for food, buy only what you need, and don't waste it. Travelling on foot or by bike also helps with this, as you can't buy more than you can carry. Vegetarianism is cheaper than being a carnivore. Ready meals are an expensive source of calories. Special offers are only worth it if you would have bought the product anyway. Brands and special luxury ranges are generally a ripoff. It feels like I'm stating the massively obvious here, but these things add up and food is something that you can't buy second hand!
   
   
4. Think about your role in the Big Society. The government is radically changing the social contract and you must expect less from public services and more DIY. How would you cope if your local library, leisure centre, job centre, or Sure Start centre halved its opening times or closed altogether? Could you volunteer to help keep such a centre open? Which public services would you particularly notice reductions to? Which approach would make more sense if your preferred service is threatened: campaign against the cut, or volunteer to mitigate the effect? Do you know who your local councillor is, in case you need to put pressure on them?
   
   
5. Always look on the bright side of life. Happiness is threatened by redundancy and economic slump, but not precluded. Living within your means in the UK is likely to provide you with a good standard of living, even if your means are small. A little more frugality with regard to material goods wouldn't be a bad thing in the western world. There is great truth in the old saw that the best things in life are free. To wit, whenever I need cheering up, there are always pictures of baby animals.

More than five reasons why Cambridge is one of the best places to be in these harsh times

1. As it is 5 miles in diameter and flat, travel within Cambridge can effectively be cost-free. The vast majority of drivers expect and respect cyclists. Some roads do involve a measure of modal warfare, but there is usually an alternative and better route to be found. There are some glorious paths alongside the river Cam, as well as various quiet roads which form the cycling superhighways around the city.
   
   
2. Cambridge is highly aesthetically pleasing and has lots of green open spaces that it would be very difficult to start charging for access to. Admiring historic buildings and lazing on Parker's Piece will remain enjoyable, even if the parlous state of local government finances causes the latter to be mown less often.
   
   
3. Given the concentration of people in the city relative to the rest of the county, outlying villages will inevitably suffer the loss of libraries, leisure centres, and other services before the city itself, simply on the basis of usage. The student contingent (approximately 16,000 of the 130,000 total city population) help to keep the arts cinema and numerous lovely independent cafes viable.
   
   
4. Cambridge is a refuge for the left wing. There isn't a single Conservative on the City Council (whereas they run the County Council, a source of obvious political tension). Whereas the UK voted 68% No to AV, Cambridge voted 54% Yes. We also have a young and enthusiastic Lib Dem MP, Julian Huppert. Although I don't agree with everything he says and does, which is much more than anyone could expect from an MP anyway, he clearly has a lot of energy and interest in reflecting Cambridge's interests. I also admire his habit of communicating what he's doing and asking what he should be doing, for example canvassing twitter for questions he should ask in committees and parliament.
   
   
5. Although housing costs are painful and the rental market vicious, living costs in Cambridge are otherwise relatively low; I've already mentioned transport. There are lots of small independent food shops, which allow comparison shopping in a way that supermarkets simply do not. Obviously the city has supermarkets too, but if you hate them as much as I do you can avoid them. I find that fruit and veg are noticably cheaper from the local grocer than big box supermarkets. The charity shops are excellent for high quality second hand clothes and books.
   
   
6. It's a friendly, safe, pleasant environment that combines useful compactness and access to services with open space and a rural feel. My Suffolk-countyside dwelling family think it cosmopolitan, my London-dwelling friends consider me to be out in the sticks. Cambridge contains fields of cows and multiplex cinemas; truly the best of both worlds.

It has been almost exactly a year since the Coalition government came to power in a cloud of smug Eton bonhomie. I've survived the first year of austerity with my job intact, albeit doomed, and my home city relatively unscathed. This time next year, I expect to be an impoverished student and suspect that the cuts will feel a lot sharper. The important things are to keep calm, carry on, and take note of what may turn out to be a significant fact: since the student protests and March for the Alternative the government has completely lost the trust of the police.

The Big Issue

The phrase Big Society has been ubiquitous recently. Frankly I am getting tired of hearing it, particularly as no-one really knows what it means. Last week I watched Ten O'Clock Live, which was pretty entertaining and is still available on 4od here. The best bit was a loud argument between Johann Hari, Shaun Bailey, and Phillip Blond. Ostensibly this was meant to be about whether the Big Society is a good idea, but was really a debate about what it is. Each panellist had a different view. Amusingly, they apparently continued to argue about this off-air.

Hari described Big Society as a mere phrase, used as a pretext to justify huge cuts in public services.

Bailey saw Big Society as agreement that the government would stop interfering with charities and let them solve social problems in their own way.

Blond enthused that Big Society would lead to co-operatives springing up everywhere, and public services being run by independently by, presumably, enthusiasts.

Evidently, each man's view was entirely shaped by his background and particular hobbyhorses. Bailey is a former Conservative candidate for Hammersmith and now runs a charity there. Hari is a left-wing journalist, columnist for the Independent, and a staunch critic of the cuts. Blond is director of a right-wing libertarian think-tank that has been banging on about mutualisation, collective ownership, and co-operatives for ages.

I can see how all three perspectives have some merit, but overall the debate just gave me the impression that the Big Society is a void into which each individual projects their opinions. This is curious, given the fuzzily-articulated philosophy of collectivity and togetherness that seems to underpin government rhetoric. Of course, for the intended definition of Big Society, it's worth checking with the man who foisted it upon us, Cameron himself. In a recent Guardian article, he laid it out:

...it combines three clear methods to bring people together to improve their lives and the lives of others: devolving power to the lowest level so neighbourhoods take control of their destiny; opening up our public services, putting trust in professionals and power in the hands of the people they serve; and encouraging volunteering and social action so people contribute more to their community.

The article is actually worth reading, as it is a lot clearer than most of the waffle that the government has put out on the subject. Some of it even makes sense, but it is a totally partial approach. Cameron talks of the cuts to public services as an opportunity, but ignores the element of risk. The current government, many of them millionaires, don't see the public sector as a necessary safety net but as an impediment to progress. This post sets out this problem with the Big Society, along with a number of others.

More important than what the Big Society is, though, is what it'll mean. I agree with the David Cameron that the Big Society could transform Britain. It could turn it into a more compassionate, actively involved, resilient place - eventually and in some areas. In others, it could exacebate inequality and tensions between social groups, cause a rapid deterioration in infrastructure and the public realm, and trap people in blighted communities. Basically, diffusing public services into a confusing mass would cause rapid divergence.

That is, if you take David Cameron at face value. Let us look in more detail at his three policy threads, 'devolving power to the lowest level so neighbourhoods take control of their destiny; opening up our public services, putting trust in professionals and power in the hands of the people they serve; and encouraging volunteering and social action'.

Devolving power: the Localism Bill defies its name by containing over a hundred new powers for the Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government, including the ability to decide what constitutes an 'excessive' council tax increase. Urban areas without an established 'neighbourhood forum' won't be able to make use of the planning powers in the Bill, and require local councils to mediate between competing bids to take on this status. They also rely on planning authorities to provide advice and resources, which will not be available. Taking control of your destiny through planning is only meaningful if development of some sort happens, which requires investment. Not much sign of public investment any longer, so this require the private sector. Small, largely inexperienced and unresourced groups vs huge developers; the former may notionally have the statutory planning powers, but I think the public sector is needed as a mediator here, or at least a backup.

Opening up public services: the Localism Bill doesn't give community groups any precedence over private companies in bidding to run public services. Realistically, who is going to bid lower? Who is going to demonstrate economies of scale and a track record of delivery? It'll be the big companies. As for collective ownership, I'm not seeing a lot of enthusiasm for that at the coalface of local government cuts. Where's the support for mutualisation? Where are the precedents? Blond mentions one, a port. Has this been tried for housing services, planning departments, highways? All are being cut back at the moment. How do you take collective ownership of something like that? Anyway, when faced with cuts this sudden, local councils just don't have the time to properly consider outsourcing or 'opening up' services. Budget cuts of 20% will arrive before the Localism bill becomes law.

Putting trust in professionals: TRUST? Don't make me laugh! Have you read any press release from CLG lately? Have some samples:

Mr Pickles has raised strong concerns over the frequency of council papers, politically contentious advertising and use of lobbyists, pledging to rewrite the rule book. He believes councils should redirect resources into protecting front line services.

Whitehall has cut back the red tape which holds local community groups back and councils should now do their bit to support this national day of celebration

The taxpayer has a right to look under the bonnet of their Town Hall and see what decisions are being made on their behalf and where their money is being spent [...] Today I'm publishing a new code that will help decipher the Town Hall maze of middle management, bringing more public information to light. This will also give the few remaining refuseniks a clear game plan to follow.

And those are just from the past week! Also within the week, CLG responded incredibly defensively to a Local Government Chronicle article interrogating the department's published spending information. Quote:

The Local Government Chronicle has made claims that "Eric Pickles has spent millions on consultants since he took the reins in the Department for Communities and Local Government reflecting the cost of the reorganisation under way at Eland House."

This assertion is based on a factually inaccurate analysis of the spending over £500 that the Department now publishes as part of its commitment to transparency.

A spokesperson for the Department for Communities and Local Government said:

"It is completely untrue to suggest that millions have been spent on consultants since the change in administration. Several of the figures quoted are incorrect, refer to spending under the previous administration or have been incorrectly entered as consultancy. [So in most cases, it was their mistake not LGC's interpretation]

So much for trust. No wonder the relationship between local and national government is at an all-time nadir. Public servants are being painted as faceless, wasteful bureaucrats in order to justify making hundreds of thousands of them redundant.

Returning to Cameron's 'power in the hands of people', in general this is not a new power or legal change as such, but the expectation that sudden absence of public services will unleash innovation and creativity in dealing with, say, potholes. There are shades of Shumpeter's 'gales of creative destruction' here, the concept of something new and better emerging from chaos. A very old idea, almost always promulgated by those who would remain entirely unaffected by such chaos.

Last of the Big Society characteristics is the encouragement of volunteering and social action. This is laudable, but should also be bounded by realism. Twenty-four per cent of people volunteered formally at least once a month in April-September 2010, which is a fall from 29% in 2007/8 but still not bad. Can volunteers really replace trained public sector professionals, especially when the volunteers need to earn a living themselves?

Meanwhile, the support mechanisms that would allow people to donate more of their time to the community are being cut. Disabled Living Allowance, Child Benefit, in fact all benefits are being cut and/or capped. Social housing is being phased into 'affordable rent' - 80% of market rent unless circumstances are 'exceptional'. Cutting Education Maintenance Allowance and raising tuition fees will reduce access to further and higher education. None of these developments will foster a sense of security and resilience, both of which seem vital to the Big Society even starting to seed in an area.

I don't feel that I've got my head around the Big Society yet, but it doesn't look like anyone else has yet, either. The point that sticks out in my head is this, though. The reductions to public services, the cuts in benefits, and the retreat of the state are not uncertain. They are happening now. The Big Society is still potential, small-scale, and vague. It will work in some places but not others. It is characterised by a huge risk, that when the public sector withdraws, nothing will fill the space in some places. The government thinks this risk is worth taking and indeed seems quite keen on risk in general (just look at what they're doing, or rather not doing, with the economy). That's all very well for politicians, all they have to lose are votes. The majority of the public could find their life blighted if they make their home in a place where society remains that bit too small.

This society ain't big enough for both of us

The New Economics Foundation have just released an excellent report on the Big Society. After explaining what in fact the Big Society is, which is more than the government have managed, it comprehensively examines the aims, advantages, drawbacks, and risks involved. It's only 32 pages and a really good read - I thoroughly recommend it. There is no point in just restating the whole thing, so I'll give my personal perspective instead.

The NEF report identifies three key determinants of involvement in the Big Society: access, capacity, and time.

Access really depends on networks, and the strength of community bonds. I live in a rented house, in an urban neighbourhood that mixes student houseshares, young professional houseshares, and families. I've only lived in this house for a few months, don't know the names of my neighbours, and don't feel part of the community as such. The insecure nature of private renting means that I've lived in six different places since graduating four years ago, and thus not put down roots in any neighbourhood. I don't even know how I'd go about getting involved in the community; I don't go to church, have no children to take to playgroup/school, and don't belong to a political party or pressure group. I'm very familiar with and fond of where I live, but transient young professionals like me struggle to really engage with our communities. Apart from anything else, I don't know how long I'll be living in this house, but based on past experience, a few years at the very most.

The way around this might be to use the main community resource where all the young professionals can at some point be found - the local food shop. If you were going to pounce on me and ask if I'd like to get involved in the Big Society, it'd be easiest to do whilst I was staring at shelves of yogurt.

Capacity relates to what anyone can usefully do. Hopefully I've got some experience and skills that would be useful to the Big Society - like project management, diplomacy, and procurement. I'm also quite energetic and not easily bored. At risk of sounding like a CV, I think I've got things to offer. Most twentisomething graduate professionals would probably say the same.

The third factor is the one gives me the most pause: time. I work full-time, at least forty hours a week. Being single, I also do my own food-shopping, cooking, laundry, and housework (although the chore-sharing aspect of shared living is a great boon in this respect). This doesn't leave me with an awful lot of spare hours, or indeed a great deal of spare energy. Obviously there are weekends, but I probably spend less than half of them in Cambridge, as my family and plenty of my friends live elsewhere.

Thinking this through produces an ethical dilemma - assuming I continue to work full-time, in order to get involved in the Big Society I'd have to sacrifice seeing my friends and family so often. The selfish part of me resents that prospect. If I'm already working five days a week in the public sector, surely that's my bit done for society? Obviously I'm paid for that time, but I'm also paying taxes like everyone else. On the other hand, I think participation in society is really important and see the utopian appeal of local areas transforming themselves. What volunteering I've done has been really satisfying and rewarding, always temporary though.

I can't speak for anyone other than myself, but suspect that my generation have become accustomed to the simple social contract of paying taxes in return for having public services provided. The more complex level of involvement required by the Big Society is something I find hard to imagine fitting into my life. I was born in the eighties, and despite a left wing upbringing have internalised the individualist message that working is the most important thing. The current government is if anything strengthening that message, whilst stacking involvement with the Big Society on top of it. They have so far ignored that gap that this opens up between many people's expectations of society and the new reality. Whatever good intentions I might have towards the community, earning money to ensure my own independence and taking care of my family are my priorities.

On the other hand, if I was working three or four days a week, or even not at all, there wouldn't be a dilemma. I'd have spare time and energy to spend volunteering at a library, community centre, or similar. This assumes that I could earn enough to live on working part-time - which I'm certain I could, as my lifestyle isn't costly. That's the optimistic view, but at the moment wages are flat, inflation is rising, and jobs (full- or part-time) are scarce. Moreover, if unemployed you have to spend all your time searching for a full-time job in order to qualify for Job Seeker's Allowance.

I honestly don't know how lifestyles like mine can be reconciled with localism and the Big Society. I don't feel bound to my neighbourhood by residence (short-term renting), by employment (threatened by cuts), or by family (no relatives here, don't have children), or by friends (an urban tribe with much the same transience as me). I am accustomed to working five days a week then having total flexibility as to how I spend the rest of my time. I have the vague idea that I'd like to contribute to society, but no idea how to practically do so. And I very much doubt that I'm the only one who feels this way.

Just Keep Moving

On Friday Iain Duncan Smith advised the unemployed to 'get on a bus' to find work. As well as being incredibly patronising, this talk of the 'flexible labour market' ignores both economic theory and observable reality.

For a start, there is no economic rule that there will ever be enough jobs for everyone. At the moment, jobseekers outnumber vacancies to an almost farcical degree in economically weaker areas of the country. In the area of Wales Iain was discussing in his speech, for instance, there are approximately nine unemployed people for every vacancy. Presumably Mr. Duncan Smith would suggest that all those unable to get a job either commute further or move out of Wales.

Helpfully, the government will be making both options much more expensive in coming months and years. The costs of road, rail and bus travel will all rise. Petrol prices are creeping up again, VAT hits 20% in January, and the fuel escalator kicks back in next year. Road pricing is back on the cards. Bus subsidies are being cut by 20%. Rail fares will rise by 3% plus the Retail Price Index (currently 4.6%) each of the next three years. In fact, it looks like the best option will indeed be to get on your bike, as Norman Tebbit so famously suggested. Unfortunately, cycling from Wales to London on a daily basis is scarcely practical.

Moving house to get a job, though, would be even harder. Housing benefit is being substantially cut, the affordable housing budget has been hung, drawn and quartered (post on this to follow), and those in social housing have a newly created massive disincentive to move. New social tenancies will be on a novel and deceptively named 'affordable rent' basis, constituting 80% of market rent. That might sound reasonable, but in London would result in rents tripling. In Cambridge, I gather social rent would double under the new terms. Existing tenancies will remain on the same terms as they were created. If moving house would inevitably result in a vast increase in your rent, it would take a very attractive job to get you packing.

As with all the policy currently being made, Iain Duncan Smith's approach is entirely predicated on reducing spending, in this case on welfare. The Department of Work and Pensions isn't trying to strengthen the economy, reduce regional inequality, tackle long-term unemployment, or improve business confidence. It is assumed that swiftly reducing the deficit will cause these things to magically occur all by themselves. A number of nobel prize winning economists are sceptical of this.

Crudely cutting benefits, especially housing benefit, isn't going to make the labour market more flexible or create jobs. Indeed, jobs will be rapidly lost as the cuts bite. Encouraging people to move, or indeed forcing them to, is useless when there aren't jobs available. In the UK, housing costs strongly correlate with job availability, as house building has failed to keep up with demand in successful areas. Cuts to housing benefit and the affordable housing budget will move the unemployed away from jobs. Further away than they can commute, even if travel costs weren't rising steeply.

There's another significant problem here, and it concerns the Big Society. If communities are to unite in order to provide their own public services, as the coalition expects, they will need to be stable and cohesive. Housing benefit cuts will force hundreds of thousands of people to move, causing huge social upheaval. What hope have unsettled and precarious communities of successfully running libraries, community centres, and schools?

High levels of spending on welfare are a symptom of a geographically unbalanced economy and hugely dysfunctional housing market. Coalition policy is ignoring these causes in favour of the idea that anyone without a job just isn't trying hard enough. Again, it's hard to reconcile this insistence on believing the worst of people with a sudden flowering of voluntary work and community enterprise. All I can conclude is the government doesn't understand that things are connected, things like jobs and housing and transport. I wouldn't have thought that was too complex an idea to grasp, but unfortunately the Diary of a Civil Servant confirms that it is.

Up in Flames

The phrase 'bonfire of the quangos' has had a lot of airing from all political parties in decades past. It seems to be the done thing with a new administration, to condemn all the previous government's quangos and then set up a new quango to investigate the fact that there are too many quangos.

All this proves is that if you read the word quango enough times it loses any meaning it may once have had. It is supposed to stand for quasi-autonomous non-governmental organisation, but is generally used to label any public sector body that isn't a government department, a local council or a hospital. For variety, you can also try a qualgo, or quasi-autonomous local governmental organisation. I might have made that one up, though.

To date, the coalition government have set up the Office for Budget Responsibility, falling into the trap of setting up a new organisation in order to get rid of other ones. This is precisely how quangos proliferate so - ministers say they want to do something, and in order for the new thing to be announced with a fanfare, it must have a new organisation attached. Or an old one which has been renamed and restructured. I've heard this process called re-disorganisation, unsurprisingly.

At the present moment, though, cutting is the order of the day, and public sector organisations are dropping almost daily. I have naturally been taking a particular interest in those with offices in Cambridge.

Today's victim was the Government Office of the East of England, as eight regional government offices were abolished. The London one remains, incidentally, as CLG's accusations of inefficiency, ineffectivity, and unpopularity do not apply there, I can only assume. The Government Office of the East of England (GO-East) employs quite a few people in Cambridge. As does the East of England Regional Development Agency, which has two offices round here and has also been abolished.

In the case of both these organisations, it is not that their functions and thus their jobs are being moved or reorganised. The government has taken the view that their functions are just not needed, and their jobs likewise. Meanwhile, all local authorities are undertaking restructuring exercises; the current polite phrase for trying to shed people faster than natural wastage can achieve.

All this points to a rather worrying situation next year. Many highly-skilled, considerably experienced people will be searching for jobs, and I might well be among them. I've got a healthy CV, but that's not much help if I'm competing with 500 other candidates. Public sector job opportunities simply won't exist, so the private and third sectors will be inundated. On the one hand, I agree that some layers of bureaucracy were in need of slimming back. Moreover, the expertise being lost from the public sector could envigorate and influence the private and voluntary sectors. One the other hand, increased unemployment is inevitable. Where are we going to work?

There is an understandably high level of anxiety amongst local government employees at the moment. Everyone knows someone, who knows someone, who is seconded to someone who works in a government department and tells tales of policy mayhem. Nobody is certain that their job will exist next year, or whether their workload will be made irrelevant by tomorrow's policy announcement. Everyone wonders whether the Big Society means getting fired and then doing the same job as an unpaid volunteer. Confusion about localism abounds.

The fact is, most public sector workers don't really want to work in the private sector. Personally, I just don't care about profit. I want to be paid enough to live on, which I am. The prospect of a bonus won't make me work harder; an interesting new project will. I am motivated by a desire to try and understand how the world works and how to make it a better place. Even if I never make more than the most infinitesimal progress with either, at least it will have been worth getting up in the morning.

That makes me sound naïve and idealistic, but I'm not without pragmatism. I'd take an unsatisfactory job in order to pay the rent; I've been a cleaner before, that definitely lacked intellectual stimulation. Thinking about job opportunities over the next few years, I can imagine a couple...

Big Society Enforcement Officer. Being anti-social is no longer to be allowed; you are part of the Big Society, whether you like it or not. This might not be a paid job, but you'd probably get a uniform and a taser.

Local Opinion Assessor. True localism means understanding what local people think about everything, all the time. Someone needs to measure that opinion, using whatever means necessary.

More seriously, some occupations are needed even if the entire fabric of civilisation collapses. Plumbers, takeaways, bike repairs, doctors, and second hand shops perhaps. Cambridgeshire's high-tech cluster is doing very nicely despite the downturn, which is encouraging. And despite our moribund history in the sector, hopefully the UK can manage a few more jobs in renewable energy and other cleantech.

However it seems that the days of the quangocrat are numbered.