David Cameron, the politics of doublethink and contemporary discourses of disability in the United Kingdom

Abstract

The expiry of the Coalition Government has prompted analyses of its track record regarding disabled UK citizens. While others have adeptly reviewed the government’s actions in the policy arena, this article considers the Conservative–Liberal Democrat coalition in terms of its construction of, and influence on, political discourses surrounding disability in the United Kingdom. This is important because language has the power to shape material realities.

Keywords:

• disability
• political discourse
• David Cameron
• coalition government

The expiry of the Coalition Government has prompted analyses of its track record regarding disabled UK citizens. While others have adeptly reviewed the government’s actions in the policy arena (see, for example, Bawden 2010; Brennan 2010; Smith 2015), this article considers the Conservative–Liberal Democrat coalition in terms of its construction of, and influence on, political discourses surrounding disability in the United Kingdom. This is important because language has the power to shape material realities (Foucault 1979).

The initial hope for the UK Coalition Government was that it would take inclusive policy decisions because it was led by David Cameron – the father of a disabled child, and a man who publicly avowed that this paternal experience had fundamentally shaped his consciousness about the experiences of disabled people. For example, at the 2012 Paralympic Games in London he said:

When I used to push my son Ivan around in his wheelchair, I always thought that some people saw the wheelchair and not the boy. (Quoted in Atkinson 2015)

One commentator noted that she initially had high expectations of Cameron, and high hopes for his government based on these kinds of remarks. Further analysis might lead one to question Cameron’s commitment to disabled citizens of the United Kingdom. Cameron’s personal constructions, the coalition and arguably the new government’s (elected May 2015) thinking might be assumed to be congruent. Indeed, the stance on disability issues came to the fore most dramatically in the wake of Lord Freud’s pronouncement last October that some disabled people were ‘not worth’ paying the minimum wage. When asked about Freud’s words by the opposition leader Ed Miliband during Prime Minister’s Questions in the House of Commons, Cameron disowned the remarks and evinced outrage at the suggestion that he, or anyone in his government, could cause offence to disabled people, either through their actions or words. Also, just as he had done at his party conference the previous year, he alluded to his late son Ivan’s disability, adding:

Let me tell you, I don’t need lectures from anyone about looking after disabled people. (Quoted in Hansard 2014)

It seems fair to link Cameron’s record on disability issues as Prime Minister to his role as father to a disabled child, because he himself does this repeatedly. The personal and political at times seemed clearly aligned. While the coverage of Cameron’s love for his late son was touching, and no one can fail to be moved by the deep sadness felt by any parent who loses a child, it seems strange that the Prime Minister should claim that he is beyond reproach on all matters of policy relating to disability because a member of his family was disabled. This suggests a binary assumption that individuals are either entirely supportive or dismissive of disabled people, as if there are no gradations or nuanced positions between these two extremes. The Prime Minister’s indignation seemed to stem from the view that because he had a son who was disabled, it was inappropriate to ask him about discriminatory remarks about disabled people made by members of his government.

Examining the record of Cameron’s government, the facts might support some scepticism that he is beyond reproach on all issues pertaining to disability. For example, his late son Ivan received National Health Service (NHS) care, about which Cameron waxed lyrical, and yet key elements of the service are being turned over to forms of privatisation, including the management of general practitioner surgeries. One experiment with moving a hospital to the private-sector provider Circle was recently deemed to have failed. Even Cameron’s personal interactions with, and purported emotional investment in, the NHS are not enough to prevent a divestment from the service. Another example pertains to the Disability Living Allowance (DLA), recently transformed into the Personal Independence Payment, resulting in a net deduction in benefits for some disabled people (Roulstone 2015). Cameron’s own experience of claiming the DLA for his son has not prevented his government from making it more difficult for others to do so. When asked about cuts to the DLA, Cameron denied that this was in fact happening, instead citing his personal experience of applying for the allowance:

As someone who has actually filled out the form for disability allowance and had a child with cerebral palsy, I know how long it takes to fill in that form. (Hansard 2012)

This is not an answer to the question about cuts to the DLA; Cameron changed the discussion into one about the length of time required to fill in a form, a complete non-sequitur. More importantly, the fact that Cameron claimed the DLA for his son has not prevented his government from complicating the eligibility rules for this benefit. The government’s actions on the DLA invalidate his line of reasoning, which appears to be: ‘I had a disabled son, therefore I am not capable of taking policy decisions which negatively affect disabled people.’

The 2015 election produced a flurry of comments from Cameron about his late son Ivan, along with increasing responses from the commentariat, who seem emboldened by his frequent invoking of the child. For example, in the 27 March 2015 election campaign interviews of Cameron and Miliband (not a debate, as Cameron would not agree to such a format), Cameron said ‘I love our NHS. It has done amazing things for my family’ and referred to his experience of having observed NHS nurses treating Ivan (quoted in Riley-Smith 2015). Cameron has sustained a doublethink in personal and policy terms – that health provision should be supported in its current form and disability provision reduced dramatically. It is perhaps no coincidence that the question of his son’s experience should be framed as a healthcare issue. Health policy and investment – good. Disability policy and investment – bad.

As one journalist asked after the debate, ‘was using the tragedy of his son’s short life a good defence of the NHS or do people wince?’ (Toynbee 2015). At least one commentator characterised Cameron’s line of reasoning as:

I love the NHS, did I tell you about my dead son? (Shameless beyond belief with that one). (A comment in response to Wintour 2015)

In fact, Ivan Cameron has become so often referred to that others have started invoking the deceased child as well. For example, Ian Birrell (2015), a former speech writer, described meeting Cameron, ‘then a rising star’, as ‘affable, with a self-deprecation rare among front-rank politicians and a sunny spirit even when we discussed life as parents of profoundly disabled children’ – suggesting that Ivan is a symbol of Cameron’s moral rectitude. The corollary to Birrell’s assertion is that less worthy individuals would not be able to maintain positive dispositions if they were parents to a child like Ivan. Depending on one’s perspective, Ivan Cameron appears either as a symbol of Cameron’s complete lack of enabling attitudes, or as a kind of oracle representing Cameron’s moral infallibility. In this latter trope, Cameron is the Prime Minister whose disabled son proves his saintliness as a father, and Ivan is the son whose loss makes his father irreproachable on all issues relating to disability.

Returning to the furore surrounding Freud’s caustic remarks, and Cameron’s many attempts to protect himself from questions about his government’s actions and words with an Ivan-fronted shield, the question raised by Miliband during Prime Minister’s questions had to do with Freud’s offensive remarks about disabled people, not about whether or not Cameron, and by extension his government, cared for disabled people. Following the kerfuffle in the House of Commons, it was revealed that Cameron had ordered Freud to issue an apology as follows:

I would like to offer a full and unreserved apology. I was foolish to accept the premise of the question. To be clear, all disabled people should be paid at least the minimum wage, without exception, and I accept it is offensive to suggest anything else. I care passionately about disabled people. (Quoted in Watt and Wintour 2014)

Of all Freud’s statements, the last one – ‘I care passionately about disabled people’ – most merits analysis. It seems to defy the definition of passion (‘any powerful or compelling emotion or feeling, as love or hate’¹), given that only hours prior to this apology Freud stated that some disabled people were not worthy of being paid the minimum wage. These two statements are so fundamentally at odds with each other that they require circumspection. As his first comment was one from which no political gain could be expected to accrue, one might assume that it represents Freud’s authentic views. Furthermore, it is an odd rhetorical flourish to say ‘I care passionately about disabled people.’ Thinking of a comparable context, in which a politician is accused of sexism, racism or homophobia, it is inconceivable that she/he would issue an apology which includes ‘I care passionately about women’, ‘I care passionately about Polish people’ or ‘I care passionately about lesbians and gay men’.

It is remarkable that it is still possible to classify disabled people as a group of citizens about whom a politician cares. It is not necessary to detail the problematic notions associated with the concept of ‘care’ for readers of this journal. It is difficult to imagine this language being used in relation to any other constituency. It is paternalising and demeaning: disabled people seek equality, not ‘care’. By his very apology, Freud reinforces how far off the mark the government really is; voices of disabled people have been noticeably absent from the halls of power. While the government’s actions have exacerbated already difficult conditions for disabled people in the United Kingdom, these patronising statements also have material impacts, sullying public discourses and making disabled people feel less welcome in their own communities. The Coalition Government ought to have evinced an understanding of the discrimination against disabled people; instead, David Cameron has used his late son Ivan as political cover for all manner of unsavoury pronouncements about disabled people from members of his government, as well as radical policy changes which have already negatively affected disabled UK citizens.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.

Notes

1. See Dictionaryreference.com.