Why the 2021 UK census highlights a frequently-overlooked societal problem
Like all households in the UK, we got a letter recently about the 2021 census. Carried out every 10 years since 1801 (with the exception of 1941 for obvious reasons), it provides a remarkable record of the make-up of the UK population.
What was also noticeable was that the call to action was to fill it out online — the first time this has been done.
Now obviously, this is a good thing. Not only will this make it easier to collate the data, but it saves paper and money.
As someone whose job has been primarily about digital for more than a decade, I clearly support the method of collection for the census, but there’s a part of me that nags away in the background.
That part worries for the people who are being left behind.
Digital exclusion
The last time figures were published — in 2019 — there were still 5.3m adults in the UK categorised as ‘digitally excluded’. ‘Digitally excluded’ means someone who has either never used the internet or not in the previous 3 months.
That 5.3m equates to 10% of the UK’s adult population — a sizeable figure, whichever way you cut it.
You may well argue that many of those 5.3m people will live with internet users. This is possible, but a report from the Guardian in April 2020 cited 1.9m households as having no access to the internet.
Factor that number against the 2019 Government data that says that there are 19.2m households in the UK, and you come up with a similar 10% figure.
For both of the above categories, completing the census (a legal obligation I might add) will be tricky.
But it’s not just completing the census that’s the problem here. Digital exclusion has been an issue for more than a decade and, while the numbers have definitely improved, those still unconnected are missing out in many ways.
Digital divide
The Covid-19 pandemic brought this into stark focus. Many charities were unable to transition their services online, simply because the people they help and support had no access to the Internet.
Similarly, as schools transitioned to online teaching, the children who lived in unconnected households were being left further behind.
The Government were stung into action when this became apparent, but it was clearly a kneejerk reaction and symptomatic of an administration that just hadn’t recognised the problem, and required a pandemic to try to address the problem.
Other examples of how digital exclusion affected many during the early days of the pandemic came when supermarkets stepped up to offer priority delivery slots to those in vulnerable groups, and councils compiled shielding lists, but it became apparent that many of the very people they wanted to help couldn’t register because they weren’t online.
Day-to-day difficulties
The pandemic has shone a light on these particular problems, but other basic services have been going the same way for a while.
Many local bus companies try to force you to use their apps when buying tickets — admittedly they’re cheaper than paying by cash, but what if you don’t have a smartphone? You’re losing out by virtue of being digitally excluded.
In Brighton, where I live, parking your car on the street requires you to use an app (again discrimating against those without a smartphone), or do battle with some of the most complicated parking meters I’ve ever seen.
This sort of service not only works against the digitally excluded, but is also highly inaccessible. Many of those without access to the Internet have learning difficulties or are older people, who simply can’t keep up with the speed of technological advance.
Anecdotally, I have heard of many older people who get flustered when faced with an automated phoneline that requires you to key in details or answer ‘a robot’. It may save the corresponding company money, but all most of these customers want to do is talk to someone human.
Two-factor frustration
Those older people who are ‘savvy’ enough to have phones or internet access can easily be left floundering when faced with modern two-factor authentication. The code that a bank or a website sends — one that’s required to use the service — can easily disappear into junk or get missed in the text message app.
I put myself at ‘expert’ level when it comes to using digital technology, yet I found myself frustrated recently when I was given just 60 seconds to authenticate an app — it took fully 45 seconds for the email to come through, and even then into my Spam folder.
I also have similar frustrations with the banking system. While I appreciate the need to make the set-up as secure as possible, I find it baffling that my bank no longer allows me to set up a new payee over the phone anymore.
The process has to be done online using their card reader, a piece of kit that repeatedly fails. I’m currently on my 4th one in less than two years. If I find the whole thing tricky, how does someone with a lower skill level cope?
Falling through the gaps
To conclude, I’m returning to the census. Although you can ring up a freephone number and request a paper form (and there is an option to talk to a person), that just highlights the added level of complication for people not online.
Ironically, this census runs the risk of omitting the most vulnerable people. The very same people who are most in need of the ‘services such as transport, education and healthcare’ that the census letter cites. The services which will be planned thanks to the information gathered via the census. You see the conundrum?
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