This morning the Improvement Service, the
organisation that is “Supporting Scottish Local Government and its partners to
deliver better outcomes for communities” has a lot
of coverage in Holyrood magazine
for some research
it has done looking at the “outcomes” in the most deprived 330 datazones in Scotland,
the middle 330 datazones, and the least deprived 330 datazones, according to SIMD.
This has got me extremely riled and angry, but I am going to
try and remain reasonably calm as I argue my case. The head of the Improvement
Service, Colin Mair, is quoted as saying:
“The relationships examined represent neighbourhoods rather
than individuals or households, which raises another significant observation:
people born into a deprived neighbourhood in Scotland have a higher chance of
being income deprived, of needing emergency hospitalisation, being a victim of
crime, and achieving poorly in education. In this respect, the neighbourhood in
which you live can have a substantial impact on your future experiences and
outcomes.”
Now, essentially, this boils down to the Improvement Service
proving that margarine
causes people to get divorced. I cannot easily find the full report of the
IS’s research to see if these points are addressed in it, but here’s the
reasons why the reporting of this report, and seemingly its interpretation, are
wrong.
Firstly, the SIMD is an index of measures of things like
income deprivation, emergency hospitalisation, crime victimisation and
educational attainment. If lots of people do badly in these indicators in a
neighbourhood, then it will be low down in the index. That is what the index
measures. Basically, all they are reporting is auto-correlation – that something
is correlated to itself. If every single person in Scotland had the same
outcomes, there would still be a “most deprived” and “least deprived”
neighbourhoods in Scotland due to natural variation, it’s just the differences
between them would be very slight and down to natural variation.
Secondly, Colin Mair speaks of people “born into” deprived
neighbourhoods. The only longitudinal measure – i.e. a measure of the same
thing over different points in time – that the SIMD includes is the datazone
boundaries themselves. We can say nothing about the individuals within it.
Between any two data points of the SIMD, the population of the neighbourhood
might have completely changed. We can see this happening as the most deprived neighbourhoods
slowly depopulate – by the 2013 SIMD they had about 14% of the population, as
opposed to 15% if the population was randomly distributed – and the least
deprived neighbourhoods increase in population. In the most
recent SIMD the least deprived neighbourhood – Meggetland in Edinburgh –
had a population 800 people too high. The Scottish Government know this and are thinking of redrawing the datazone boundaries, the trouble is if you do that the data is no longer comparable over time.
Thirdly, the SIMD is a relative measure of deprivation. This
means two things that weaken this study. It cannot measure “affluence”; the
indicators chosen mean that once you get into the top of the index it becomes
pointless, as all the measures are focused on characteristics of deprivation.
You cannot meaningfully say there is something different between a
neighbourhood with one unemployed person and a neighbourhood with two
unemployed people. Secondly, the datazone rankings move around a lot because
neighbourhoods change. The most succinct way of summing this up is the
knowledge of the residents of Ferguslie Park that there neighbourhood “became”
the most deprived in Scotland not because it got any worse, but because places
that were more deprived in Glasgow were demolished and the populations
dispersed.
All we can say is that a third of all Scotland’s socially
rented housing is in the most deprived neighbourhoods in Scotland making up
two-thirds of the housing in these neighbourhoods, and house prices are
substantially lower. Subsequently it is
housing allocations, spatial planning and housing markets that create deprived
communities. Basically, we have
historically put all our social housing in large estates; now it is people in
greatest need who need social housing, so these neighbourhoods become concentrations
of need and deprivation.
If people “born
into” these neighbourhoods had worse outcomes, then we would be talking about
neighbourhood effects existing – that is, an effect on life chances from living
in a neighbourhood, that is over-and-above the effects of poverty, unemployment
and other factors on the individual. And it’s fair to say that the evidence for
the existence of neighbourhood effects in Scotland is mixed. A few years back Atkinson and Kintrea(£)
identified very small effects on education and health, but nothing to justify
the sort of language used by Colin Mair. More recently, van Ham and Manley
(£) used actual longitudinal data from the Scottish Census, via the Scottish
Longitudinal Survey, to look at whether neighbourhood had any impact on the
chances of being employed on individuals. They found no evidence for a
neighbourhood effect – the higher concentration of poor employment outcomes
(i.e. being unemployed) was simply down to people having to access housing in
these neighbourhoods.
From this though, I do not want to say that the
neighbourhood does not matter at all. It just does not matter in the way the
Improvement Service argue. Services should be targeted at deprived
neighbourhoods, but not because if we “fix” these neighbourhoods we suddenly
will solve the problems of inequality – we will not as the majority of people experiencing poverty do
not live in the most deprived neighbourhoods. But you can make specific
useful interventions: there is evidence that targeting employment initiatives
at people living in deprived neighbourhoods gets you a bit more “bang for your
buck”; the concentration of socially rented housing in these neighbourhoods
means a third of all disabled people in
Scotland live in these neighbourhoods, so you’d disproportionately help
those people. Also, we do need to recognise because of the specific
concentration of poverty and deprivation in these neighbourhoods they do need
greater investment in basic services like environmental
services (street cleaning etc.). The inverse
care law is still in place.
What worries me is that the language used by the Improvement
Service does two very bad things. Firstly, as I’ve argued
here, it continues the pathologising of deprived neighbourhoods – blaming them
for the problems that other people have lumped on them, without recognising the
broader structural causes, especially the operation of housing allocations and
markets. Secondly, it feeds into the deeply problematic “early intervention”
agenda that has been the rage since the “cycles of poverty” literature of the
1960s, and as I highlighted last week was utterly
demolished in the 1970s. Like the idea that there are “families with three
generations of people who are workless” this idea that if the all-powerful
bureaucrat sails into households and communities and tells them to pull up
their socks and behave in a good, middle-class way, then they won’t be deprived
keeps coming back again and again. To borrow a phrase used to described
intergenerational worklessness myth, it’s like shooting
zombies(£). But it’s a zombie I’ll keep shooting. As I argue here, yes we need a
focus on place in Scottish social policy, but we cannot pretend this is going
to solve wider structural problems in our whole society regarding wealth and
income inequality, poor public services and entrenched spatial inequality as a
result of historic planning decisions.
Finally, if we were serious about changing outcomes in neighbourhoods in Scotland then we would stop focusing on the bottom and focus at the top – demolish Morningside and Milngavie and turn them into mixed communities.
And I’ve written this in a rage and
quite quickly, so apologies for any egregious errors; as I say I could not
easily access the Improvement Service’s actual report, so this is more of a
reflection on the way it was interpreted by Holyrood
Magazine.