I do think that the benefit system needs to be tightened, but PIP is not sick pay - it is to mitigate the impact of disability so that people can work, or live dignified lives. It is meant to be spent on things like mobility aids, or incontinence pads, or taxis, so that the lives of the disabled are not entirely miserable.
We all know instances where people play the system (like my daughter's ex-SIL who claimed to be unable to work because of agoraphobia, yet went shopping in daughter's town a few miles from her own home, so she could get a lift back from her brother (my daughter's ex) and have lunch with friends whilst she was there - a day out, basically, which is not something most agoraphobics can do. But that doesn't mean that everyone on benefits is doing that.
I would prefer there to be an expectation that everyone works in some capacity - she could have worked from home, for instance - and been encouraged into some sort of work that allowed that. If people were genuinely helped (or coerced) into some sort of work, the lead-swingers would recover and find more sociable jobs, and the genuine cases would have the dignity of earning a living and contributing to society.
Julie Burchill writes in today's i paper about how she works aged 67, despite being a wheelchair user with multiple disabilities.
Enjoy spending your PIP on cocktails! an embittered ex-friend wrote to me, in what was obviously meant to be a devastating end to our tempestuous alliance. (She has spent much of her adult life spending her own benefits on holidays in the sun; her various mental ailments have been rediagnosed repeatedly.) But it’s not my PIP I spend on my copious cocktails – I spend my PIP on the expensive business of being disabled. I spend it on adult nappies, night pads, enough cleaning products to stock a small hospital, an endless supply of bed-sheets and towels, three types of wipe, a cleaning service to keep my flat decent now I can no longer use the vacuum cleaner without being in danger of being pulled over by it, personal assistants and physiotherapists. In short, it makes my life a little bit easier after suffering the life-changing devastation two years ago which saw me attempt suicide soon after the finality of my injuries sunk in.
The money I spend on cocktails is the money I earn, at 67, by dragging my broken body out of bed every morning at sunrise, then positioning my halfling-haunches on the couch and turning on my laptop, and using my brain to make my living, the way I’ve done since I was 17.
Yes, sometimes I long to lie a-bed, but I’m glad I don’t when I meet my daily deadline, and when my time comes to leave this mortal coil, I’m pretty sure that my last thoughts won’t be “O, I wish I’d spent more time googling new symptoms that might make me unfit for making my own living!” I’m happy to leave that to others, with their desperate, disparate Desert Island Disabilities.
That all seems fair to me. JB is not a particularly sympathetic character (much of the article is about how others should be denied disability benefits), but love her or hate her she can't be accused of being a scrounger, and the same is true of a lot of benefit claimants.
As I say, I have little sympathy with those who don't pay in but expect to take out, whether they are disabled or not - and obviously the profoundly disabled are amongst those the welfare state has to protect with no expectation of payback. But I think we need to fight shy of tarring whole groups with the same brush. Some disabled claimants could work, but so could some able bodied people who choose not to, and not all claimants are scroungers.