24.11.04
The Guardian
False dawn
The Good Friday Agreement heralded a period of economic prosperity for Northern Ireland. But beyond the luxury flats, second homes and flashy cars, the region's poorest people continue to endure some of the UK's most desperate poverty. Mary O'Hara reports
Wednesday November 24, 2004
The Guardian
Orla McManus has decided not to cook roast dinners for the six weeks leading up to Christmas. Money is so tight that she cannot give her children "a proper Christmas", so she has decided to manufacture a sense of occasion. By denying them roast chicken now, she hopes the turkey she serves up on the big day will feel like a treat. "It's Christmas, for God's sake," she says. "It should still be special. How do you look your children in the eye and tell them you can't afford decent presents?"
This is not the way it was supposed to be in post-Troubles Northern Ireland. With the signing of the Good Friday Agreement in 1998, people such as McManus for the first time allowed themselves to believe that they could look ahead to a better and brighter future. But while many people in the region are indeed more prosperous as a result of the peace process, thousands of families in some of the poorest areas remain trapped in a cycle of chronic poverty.
As a whole, Northern Ireland has benefited greatly from the "peace dividend" - and in more ways than the reduced threat of terrorism. Since the Good Friday Agreement, it has acquired all the hallmarks of an area on the up economically: unemployment is at an all-time low; tourists are pouring in, and so is their cash; house prices have soared; and second homes have been springing up like daisies around popular coastal resorts.
In Belfast - now a popular short-break destination - the trappings of a boom are everywhere. The city centre boasts heaving bars, packed restaurants and trendy new boutique hotels. Luxury flats now line what was previously wasteland along the river Lagan, taking their place alongside landmarks of a bygone industrial age, such as the gigantic yellow cranes of the Harland and Wolff shipyard.
But scratch the glossy surface and it quickly loses some of its sheen. The tourist-friendly image of renewal -what consultancy firm PricewaterhouseCoopers last year referred to as the "veneer of prosperity" - is just one part of the picture. Behind its facade are thousands of disadvantaged children and their families enduring some of the worst levels of poverty in the UK.
According to a new study by Save the Children and Queen's University Belfast, there are currently 32,000 children across Northern Ireland living in severe poverty - 8% of all youngsters.
The full report will be published imminently, but included in a summary of the report seen by Society Guardian is the warning that these are children living in "unacceptable circumstances", deprived of many of life's necessities. It says: "One in five do not have fresh fruit or vegetables, and one in seven do not have three meals a day. These children do not have enough clothing or a warm, safe and healthy environment."
Forty per cent of these children live in households where the gas, electricity or telephone have been cut off. Half live with a lone parent, while 27% have parents with health problems or disabilities.
Sheri Chamberlain, programme director for Save the Children in Northern Ireland, says the findings are "stark" and "extremely worrying". Hers is a far from isolated view. Other studies suggest child poverty is even more widespread and entrenched. For example, research for the Office of the First Minister and Deputy First Minister found that 38% of children across the region are living in low income households. The Poverty and Social Exclusion Survey for Northern Ireland found that 37.4% of children in low income households lack three or more basic necessities, such as adequate clothing - compared with 28% in the rest of Britain.
The Northern Ireland Anti-Poverty Network (NIAPT) argues that the brighter future dreamed of after the Good Friday Agreement has failed to materialise for the most disadvantaged. "It might look like everything is rosy, and it might be convenient for some in government to let this be the prevailing view, but the fact is that we have utterly unacceptable levels of child poverty," says Goretti Horgan, an academic at the University of Ulster and a NIAPT campaigner.
"It's a disgrace," she adds. "For a start, the whole concept of a 'renewed Northern Ireland' is based on a low-pay economy. People further up the social ladder have done well out of the peace - the gap between rich and poor is higher than in the rest of Britain, and is widening. The reality is that ordinary people are working for wages much lower than the rest of the UK. Invest Northern Ireland - the body that promotes investment here - even boasts on its website about wages being 25% less than the rest of Europe."
The areas most affected are those that suffered disproportionately during the Troubles. The three worst areas for child poverty are in the city of Derry. The fourth is the Falls Road, Belfast - notorious for the severity of its street riots during the 30 years of conflict. The figures demonstrate a "patchwork" of poverty, Horgan says. In some parts of west Belfast, for example, almost 90% of children live in poverty, even though unemployment is nowhere near as bad as it was in the 1980s and 1990s.
When a delegation of Westminster MPs visited the Shankill and Falls Road areas of Belfast last January to assess the situation, they were told by local politicians that, without more funds to tackle child poverty, the crisis would escalate. "We have the highest levels of underweight children, teenage pregnancies, respiratory problems ... suicide problems and low levels of educational attainment," Sinn Fein assembly member Alex Ferguson told MPs.
Horgan, and others such as Patricia Lewesly, a member of the Northern Ireland Assembly and spokeswoman on poverty issues for the Social Democratic and Labour Party (SDLP), say the troubled history of such areas is only part of the story. "An anti-poverty strategy was put in place, but no money was put behind it," Horgan says. "A neighbourhood renewal programme was also introduced, but there were no funds for that either. How is that supposed to make any real difference?"
Poverty levels are compounded by a number of factors, according to Lewesly. Along with a culture of low pay, a lack of affordable childcare is central to the problem, she says. Northern Ireland has one of the lowest provisions for childcare in Europe. In 2002, the number of nursery places per 1,000 children was 62.4. In England, it was 95. The flagship New Labour early years initiative, Sure Start, was launched in Northern Ireland in July 2001, one-and-a-half years after England. "But it was on a much smaller scale, with funding for three years instead of five," Lewesly says. "Why?"
In a community centre with other local women supping cups of tea, McManus, a young mother who is bringing up her kids in one of the most deprived areas of north Belfast, believes better childcare would help, but that too many odds are stacked against them. "I would never have thought it possible, but I'm worse off than I was two years ago," she says. Another woman in the group adds: "You see the flash cars on the street. You know some people are better off. But it's the people who were already better off in the first place, not the likes of us. Wages are a joke, public transport is expensive, and fuel prices have gone through the roof. These can push families already struggling over the edge."
Words like "frustration", "depression" and "desperate" pepper the women's conversation. They are beleaguered. But the last thing they want is anyone's pity - they asked to remain anonymous because of it. "People want to work, they want the best for their kids," McManus says.
The women all feel let down by government. "It drives you to depression," McManus says, shaking her head. "And what does that cost? You know, there is not a single childcare place in our area now. Tony Blair wants women to go to work to get their kids out of poverty, does he? Well, find us better-paying jobs and build childcare centres. You can't do one without the other."
A spokeswoman for Barnado's, which runs family community projects in poverty-ridden areas all across Northern Ireland, says one of the bitterest pills is that before the regional assembly was suspended two years ago, progress - albeit slow - was beginning to be made. First was the appointment of a children's commissioner, which gave child poverty previously unimagined prominence. Second, a Children's Fund was set up, with a slice of it dedicated to anti-poverty initiatives. "Innovative projects got up and running," the spokeswoman says. "Local politicians of all hues began to take the issue of child poverty seriously. It was finally on the agenda."
The ongoing political deadlock over weapons decommissioning (it is unlikely the assembly will be reinstated soon) has scuppered momentum on children's issues, poverty campaigners say, and they are also worried about uncertainties surrounding the future of the Children's Fund. In the latest Northern Ireland budget, there is no mention of any new money for the fund, and it looks as if the broader families and children's budget is facing cuts.
"We are really worried," the Barnardo's spokeswoman adds. "If the budget is not available, a lot of vital anti-poverty projects will go to the wall."
False dawn
The Good Friday Agreement heralded a period of economic prosperity for Northern Ireland. But beyond the luxury flats, second homes and flashy cars, the region's poorest people continue to endure some of the UK's most desperate poverty. Mary O'Hara reports
Wednesday November 24, 2004
The Guardian
Orla McManus has decided not to cook roast dinners for the six weeks leading up to Christmas. Money is so tight that she cannot give her children "a proper Christmas", so she has decided to manufacture a sense of occasion. By denying them roast chicken now, she hopes the turkey she serves up on the big day will feel like a treat. "It's Christmas, for God's sake," she says. "It should still be special. How do you look your children in the eye and tell them you can't afford decent presents?"
This is not the way it was supposed to be in post-Troubles Northern Ireland. With the signing of the Good Friday Agreement in 1998, people such as McManus for the first time allowed themselves to believe that they could look ahead to a better and brighter future. But while many people in the region are indeed more prosperous as a result of the peace process, thousands of families in some of the poorest areas remain trapped in a cycle of chronic poverty.
As a whole, Northern Ireland has benefited greatly from the "peace dividend" - and in more ways than the reduced threat of terrorism. Since the Good Friday Agreement, it has acquired all the hallmarks of an area on the up economically: unemployment is at an all-time low; tourists are pouring in, and so is their cash; house prices have soared; and second homes have been springing up like daisies around popular coastal resorts.
In Belfast - now a popular short-break destination - the trappings of a boom are everywhere. The city centre boasts heaving bars, packed restaurants and trendy new boutique hotels. Luxury flats now line what was previously wasteland along the river Lagan, taking their place alongside landmarks of a bygone industrial age, such as the gigantic yellow cranes of the Harland and Wolff shipyard.
But scratch the glossy surface and it quickly loses some of its sheen. The tourist-friendly image of renewal -what consultancy firm PricewaterhouseCoopers last year referred to as the "veneer of prosperity" - is just one part of the picture. Behind its facade are thousands of disadvantaged children and their families enduring some of the worst levels of poverty in the UK.
According to a new study by Save the Children and Queen's University Belfast, there are currently 32,000 children across Northern Ireland living in severe poverty - 8% of all youngsters.
The full report will be published imminently, but included in a summary of the report seen by Society Guardian is the warning that these are children living in "unacceptable circumstances", deprived of many of life's necessities. It says: "One in five do not have fresh fruit or vegetables, and one in seven do not have three meals a day. These children do not have enough clothing or a warm, safe and healthy environment."
Forty per cent of these children live in households where the gas, electricity or telephone have been cut off. Half live with a lone parent, while 27% have parents with health problems or disabilities.
Sheri Chamberlain, programme director for Save the Children in Northern Ireland, says the findings are "stark" and "extremely worrying". Hers is a far from isolated view. Other studies suggest child poverty is even more widespread and entrenched. For example, research for the Office of the First Minister and Deputy First Minister found that 38% of children across the region are living in low income households. The Poverty and Social Exclusion Survey for Northern Ireland found that 37.4% of children in low income households lack three or more basic necessities, such as adequate clothing - compared with 28% in the rest of Britain.
The Northern Ireland Anti-Poverty Network (NIAPT) argues that the brighter future dreamed of after the Good Friday Agreement has failed to materialise for the most disadvantaged. "It might look like everything is rosy, and it might be convenient for some in government to let this be the prevailing view, but the fact is that we have utterly unacceptable levels of child poverty," says Goretti Horgan, an academic at the University of Ulster and a NIAPT campaigner.
"It's a disgrace," she adds. "For a start, the whole concept of a 'renewed Northern Ireland' is based on a low-pay economy. People further up the social ladder have done well out of the peace - the gap between rich and poor is higher than in the rest of Britain, and is widening. The reality is that ordinary people are working for wages much lower than the rest of the UK. Invest Northern Ireland - the body that promotes investment here - even boasts on its website about wages being 25% less than the rest of Europe."
The areas most affected are those that suffered disproportionately during the Troubles. The three worst areas for child poverty are in the city of Derry. The fourth is the Falls Road, Belfast - notorious for the severity of its street riots during the 30 years of conflict. The figures demonstrate a "patchwork" of poverty, Horgan says. In some parts of west Belfast, for example, almost 90% of children live in poverty, even though unemployment is nowhere near as bad as it was in the 1980s and 1990s.
When a delegation of Westminster MPs visited the Shankill and Falls Road areas of Belfast last January to assess the situation, they were told by local politicians that, without more funds to tackle child poverty, the crisis would escalate. "We have the highest levels of underweight children, teenage pregnancies, respiratory problems ... suicide problems and low levels of educational attainment," Sinn Fein assembly member Alex Ferguson told MPs.
Horgan, and others such as Patricia Lewesly, a member of the Northern Ireland Assembly and spokeswoman on poverty issues for the Social Democratic and Labour Party (SDLP), say the troubled history of such areas is only part of the story. "An anti-poverty strategy was put in place, but no money was put behind it," Horgan says. "A neighbourhood renewal programme was also introduced, but there were no funds for that either. How is that supposed to make any real difference?"
Poverty levels are compounded by a number of factors, according to Lewesly. Along with a culture of low pay, a lack of affordable childcare is central to the problem, she says. Northern Ireland has one of the lowest provisions for childcare in Europe. In 2002, the number of nursery places per 1,000 children was 62.4. In England, it was 95. The flagship New Labour early years initiative, Sure Start, was launched in Northern Ireland in July 2001, one-and-a-half years after England. "But it was on a much smaller scale, with funding for three years instead of five," Lewesly says. "Why?"
In a community centre with other local women supping cups of tea, McManus, a young mother who is bringing up her kids in one of the most deprived areas of north Belfast, believes better childcare would help, but that too many odds are stacked against them. "I would never have thought it possible, but I'm worse off than I was two years ago," she says. Another woman in the group adds: "You see the flash cars on the street. You know some people are better off. But it's the people who were already better off in the first place, not the likes of us. Wages are a joke, public transport is expensive, and fuel prices have gone through the roof. These can push families already struggling over the edge."
Words like "frustration", "depression" and "desperate" pepper the women's conversation. They are beleaguered. But the last thing they want is anyone's pity - they asked to remain anonymous because of it. "People want to work, they want the best for their kids," McManus says.
The women all feel let down by government. "It drives you to depression," McManus says, shaking her head. "And what does that cost? You know, there is not a single childcare place in our area now. Tony Blair wants women to go to work to get their kids out of poverty, does he? Well, find us better-paying jobs and build childcare centres. You can't do one without the other."
A spokeswoman for Barnado's, which runs family community projects in poverty-ridden areas all across Northern Ireland, says one of the bitterest pills is that before the regional assembly was suspended two years ago, progress - albeit slow - was beginning to be made. First was the appointment of a children's commissioner, which gave child poverty previously unimagined prominence. Second, a Children's Fund was set up, with a slice of it dedicated to anti-poverty initiatives. "Innovative projects got up and running," the spokeswoman says. "Local politicians of all hues began to take the issue of child poverty seriously. It was finally on the agenda."
The ongoing political deadlock over weapons decommissioning (it is unlikely the assembly will be reinstated soon) has scuppered momentum on children's issues, poverty campaigners say, and they are also worried about uncertainties surrounding the future of the Children's Fund. In the latest Northern Ireland budget, there is no mention of any new money for the fund, and it looks as if the broader families and children's budget is facing cuts.
"We are really worried," the Barnardo's spokeswoman adds. "If the budget is not available, a lot of vital anti-poverty projects will go to the wall."
