Don’t Ask Me to Trust the Promise—Show Me Why It Will Work, and How You’ll Answer for It if It Doesn’t

If I employed somebody to do a job, I would expect more than a convincing speech about how good they were going to be. I would want to know what they intended to do, whether they had the skills and resources to do it, and when I could expect the results.

So why should we expect anything less from the people asking to run this country?

I have been looking at the promises coming out of the party conferences. Different parties, different priorities, different speeches. Some want lower taxes. Some want greater public ownership. Others talk about immigration, housing, public services or getting people back into work.

There are differences, and those differences matter. But whatever the party, I keep coming back to one question: don’t ask me to trust the promise. Show me why it will work, and how you’ll answer for it if it doesn’t.

A promise is easy to make. Delivering it is another matter. When delivery fails, the consequences don’t end when the conference hall empties or the politician leaves office. People carry on living with them.

The people who bear the consequences

I’m seventy now. I have heard a great many promises over the years: promises to create jobs, get tough on crime, improve public services and make things different this time.

I don’t expect any government to perform miracles. Running a country is difficult. There are international events, financial pressures and circumstances nobody can completely control. But difficulty should make honest explanations more necessary. It shouldn’t become a permanent excuse for failing to provide them.

People carry on paying the bills, waiting for treatment and trying to find work that pays enough to keep a roof over their heads. Political accountability needs to begin with the people who bear the consequences.

Adapt—but to what?

When I started work, my experience was that you could leave one job and find another remarkably quickly. Sometimes you could finish somewhere on a Monday and be working for somebody else by Tuesday. That wasn’t everybody’s experience, everywhere. But it was mine, and it shaped what employment meant to us.

Then came the loss of industries and the long, difficult changes that followed. When a major employer disappears, a community loses far more than a collection of wages. It loses opportunities for school-leavers. Local shops lose customers. Families lose security. Skills that took years to develop may suddenly have nowhere to go.

You can tell people they need to adapt. But adapt to what? Where are the replacement jobs? What do they pay? How far away are they? What training is needed, and how does somebody pay their bills while they do it?

Those are practical questions. They deserve practical answers.

A vacancy is not necessarily a livelihood

The same applies when politicians propose reducing support after someone has been unemployed for a set period. A deadline may sound firm, but the calendar doesn’t explain why somebody is unemployed. It doesn’t tell you whether suitable vacancies exist, whether the applicant can get to them, or whether an employer will take them on.

Finding a job isn’t automatically the same as earning a living. I have seen a job advertised for eight hours a week. Eight hours is work, and it may suit somebody who only wants a few hours. But for someone who needs to pay rent, council tax, energy bills and food, where does the rest of the money come from?

A vacancy is an opportunity. It isn’t necessarily a livelihood. Before anybody threatens to take support away, I want them to explain what the person is expected to live on.

Start with the cost of living

Consider an illustrative budget for a single adult renting a flat: £900 a month in rent, £150 in council tax and another £150 for gas and electricity. That is £1,200 before any food, water, transport, phone costs, washing powder or replacement shoes.

These figures are an example, not a national average or an official minimum-income calculation. Actual costs, council tax discounts and support vary. But the example shows why a serious discussion has to start with unavoidable expenses.

You cannot decide whether somebody has enough simply by looking at the amount going into their bank account. You need to know what must come out of it. You also need to distinguish between keeping someone alive and allowing them a modest, decent life.

Can they afford the bus to a job interview? Can they visit family? What happens when their kettle breaks or their winter coat needs replacing? These are ordinary parts of living.

Workers and claimants deserve a fair hearing

I understand the anger of working people who are struggling. If you work hard all week and still worry about the supermarket bill, hearing that somebody else supposedly gets an easy living on benefits is bound to sting.

But those comparisons need checking. Are the households the same size? Do they have the same rent? Are there children, disabilities or caring responsibilities? Is the worker also entitled to support?

A diagnosis on its own doesn’t tell you how somebody lives. Nor does a headline tell you what they receive, why they receive it, or what additional costs they face. PIP is intended to help with disability-related costs and can be received by people who work; it is not simply an unemployment payment.

There should be proper checks on claims and action against fraud. There should also be care in how legitimate claimants are described. Workers need decent incomes. People unable to work need adequate support. People looking for work need a realistic route into employment. Those needs belong in the same discussion.

Prepare for changes in work

Artificial intelligence raises another major question. I don’t pretend to know exactly how many jobs it will replace, create or change. Nobody should pretend that uncertainty has disappeared. But uncertainty is a reason to prepare.

What happens to people whose experience becomes less valuable to an employer? What training will lead to work? Who supports them during the change? How do we ensure that greater productivity improves ordinary people’s lives?

Some politicians are discussing AI. The question is whether their plans go far enough to deal with employment and income. “Retrain” cannot be the entire answer. Training needs somewhere to lead.

Make accountability practical

In my working life, plans had to meet reality. You could have the best intentions in the world, but the work still needed doing. You needed people, equipment, time and money. If something went wrong, you needed to find out why and put it right.

I want that same seriousness from government. Before a major policy is introduced, tell us what it is expected to achieve. Publish the assumptions. Tell us who benefits, who could lose out and what protections will be available. Explain the cost and delivery timetable. Then let independent people examine the evidence.

If the policy starts causing damage, don’t wait until the next election to acknowledge it. Investigate. Correct it. Explain what happened.

There is a difference between an honest attempt that fails despite reasonable care and a decision made while ignoring clear warnings. That difference should matter. Accountability should allow governments to learn. It should also prevent them from shrugging off avoidable harm.

An honest timetable—and work that lasts

Some improvements can happen relatively quickly. Others need years of investment and consistent effort. Housing, infrastructure, skills and social care won’t be repaired by one conference speech. Nor will they benefit from being repeatedly reorganised whenever a new minister wants to make a mark.

A government can begin serious work. Future governments need to be able to continue it. That requires willingness to cooperate and give credit for a good idea, even when somebody else proposed it.

I’m tired of politics being presented as though the success of a party matters more than the success of the country. The test should be what happens to people’s lives. Can they afford a home? Can they get treatment? Does work provide enough to live on? Are those unable to work protected? Are we preparing for changes ahead?

I haven’t concluded that every politician is dishonest or every proposal worthless. I have concluded that confidence on a stage is insufficient evidence of competence in government.

Show me what you will do, what it will cost, and how we will know whether it is working. Tell me what you will do if it isn’t. Don’t ask me to trust the promise. Show me why it will work—and how you’ll answer for it if it doesn’t.

What would you want a political party to prove before it earned your vote? That is a question worth putting to every party, whatever our politics.