The DWP’s fit-for-work tests are a national catastrophe
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Version 0 of 1. The tragic case of Michael O’Sullivan, who killed himself after being found fit for work by the government’s disability assessors, has briefly cast a welcome spotlight on the utter disgrace that is the work capability assessment, in relation to people with mental health problems. Despite providing reports from three doctors, including his GP, stating that he had long-term depression and agoraphobia, and was unable to work, O’Sullivan was taken off employment support allowance (ESA) and placed on jobseeker’s allowance. The decision to find him fit for work was made after an assessment by a Department for Work and Pensions (DWP) doctor, a former orthopaedic surgeon, who did not factor in the views of any of the three doctors treating O’Sullivan. At an inquest last year, it was found that O’Sullivan killed himself as a direct result of this decision. According to the coroner, Mary Hassell, “the intense anxiety which triggered his suicide was caused by his recent assessment by the DWP as being fit for work and his view of the likely consequences of that”. I’ve written before about the farcical quality of DWP medical assessments. A few years ago, a friend with severe mental health problems, who was obliged to attend one such assessment to determine if she should continue to receive incapacity benefit, found herself undergoing a foot examination. But perhaps farcical is the wrong word, because farce suggests something comic or with comedic potential. And there is nothing even vaguely funny about the intolerable levels of stress and financial hardship some of the most vulnerable people in our society are being subjected to. Related: Fitness-for-work tests unfair on people with mental health problems, court says Though O’Sullivan’s suicide is the first to have been judged a direct consequence of being found fit for work, the DWP has conducted 49 internal reviews into benefit-related deaths since 2012, according to data released following freedom of information requests by the Disability News Service. Of these, no fewer than 40 were conducted following the suicide, or apparent suicide, of a benefit claimant. This is both profoundly shocking and entirely unsurprising. It is the wholly predictable result of a system designed and operated by people who appear to lack even the most basic understanding of the realities of living with mental illness. Or perhaps I’m being too generous. And it’s not just the suicides, devastating as they are for everyone who knew and loved the deceased (these are lives, not figures, whatever statistics may suggest). What goes unmeasured, and largely unreported, are the relapses, instances of self-harm and the intolerable levels of stress imposed on people who may well feel they have nowhere left to turn. Cuts to social care mean that many people have lost their support workers. Day centres have closed; advice centres too. There used to be a brilliant service in my borough, providing benefits, housing and legal advice to people with mental health problems. It doesn’t exist any more. Neither does legal aid, in most cases. Inpatient beds have been cut and cut, thousands of people have been discharged from outpatient services, told to see their GP if they have a problem. But many GP services are under such pressure, especially in inner city areas, that the concept of a personal GP, with whom you can build a relationship, has little meaning any more. Unless you are able to wait weeks for an appointment, you’ll see whoever’s going, and very often a locum. Imposing these sort of changes on vulnerable people in this situation has resulted in what one can only describe as a national catastrophe. In a report to the DWP, Hassell said: “There is a risk that future deaths will occur unless action is taken.” I’d call it a certainty. |