The Government is reportedly preparing to reduce Personal Independence Payments (PIP), aiming to save up to £6 billion from the benefits budget. Recently, Sir Keir Starmer cautioned Members of Parliament that the Government must not “shrug our shoulders and look away” from the challenges within the welfare system, as backbenchers express concerns regarding anticipated reforms. Initially proposed by the Conservatives in 2024, these welfare reforms were projected to save £3.4 billion by 2028-29. However, Labour’s strategy appears set to extend those savings, potentially reaching £6 billion by the end of the decade. Reports indicate that PIP payments will be disproportionately affected by this package.
PIP, a non-means-tested benefit, assists individuals with long-term conditions or disabilities in managing the additional costs associated with their circumstances. Recipients receive either £72.65 or £108.55 weekly for daily living, and either £28.70 or £75.75 for mobility needs.
Here, two PIP claimants share their experiences with The i Paper.
‘I see people expressing strong opinions about PIP with absolutely no basis’
Sorrel Eyres, 24, is in their final year studying modern languages at the University of Oxford. They are autistic and have ADHD, dyspraxia, and OCD. They are a powerchair user and live with hypermobility spectrum disorder, chronic pain, POTS, and functional neurological disorder, all of which impact their mobility.
My wheelchair is often the first thing people notice about me. When I mention I’m at Oxford, the usual response is, “Wow, that’s impressive! You’re on track for an amazing career!” However, when I reveal that I’m on PIP and identify as disabled, the reaction shifts to, “Well, that’s your life over.” The prevailing sentiment around PIP has intensified, and I observe individuals expressing strong opinions without any real understanding of the system. Many in the non-disabled community don’t grasp what PIP entails, its purpose, or the rationale for its provision. PIP stands for Personal Independence Payment, and its purpose is not work-related. I often encounter derogatory comments on social media labeling me a “benefits scrounger.” My instinct is to respond with, “Actually, I’m nearing the completion of an Oxford degree,” which is absurd because that should not be a prerequisite for the support I receive.
I am on benefits, specifically PIP, and I have accessed various forms of assistance in the past due to extended periods of illness during my studies. These realities can coexist. The media often portrays a cognitive dissonance, failing to recognize that individuals deemed productive—those pursuing degrees or employment—can also require support and benefits. Without some safety net to manage the additional costs of my disability, I would be unable to work.
I first applied for PIP in 2022, and each month brings new expenses for items that need to be bought or replaced. For instance, I purchase ready-prepared meals since cooking is not feasible for me, and I pay for laundry and cleaning services—yet PIP only evaluates your capacity to dress independently. Apparently, clean clothes are expected to appear magically.
My PIP also covers medical supplies prescribed by NHS professionals that aren’t available through the NHS, such as joint supports, knee braces, and compression socks. I try to conserve as much of my PIP funding as possible for my mobility needs. Due to the limited scope of NHS wheelchair services, and the fact that I experience seizures, I cannot obtain a powerchair through my local service. Maintaining my wheelchair is an expense I manage with PIP funds. In February, my chair broke down, and the repair costs alone—excluding my regular expenses—amounted to two months’ worth of PIP in a single week. As a finalist at Oxford, attending classes is imperative. I dislike having to justify my needs by stating I am pursuing a degree, as if that makes my requirements any more valid than someone unable to work or study.
This framing is necessary to help others understand the importance of my mobility aid and the financial support for its maintenance. PIP enables me to socialize, experience the outdoors, and engage with my community. It should not be contingent upon the perceived value of my academic endeavors to society.
The Government is attempting to conflate PIP with the LCWRA component of Universal Credit, which is misleading since PIP is not work-related. They seem to rely on public ignorance to merge these concepts, perpetuating the narrative of “work-shy disabled individuals,” which is deeply troubling.
As a disabled person, I am privileged in that having a degree makes me more employable than someone without one. However, I have already faced discrimination in the workplace and am not naive about the challenges ahead. Will employers be willing to hire me? This uncertainty looms even without concerns surrounding PIP.
The gradual unveiling of proposed changes has taken a toll on my mental well-being. The prospect of losing financial assistance that contributes to covering the extra costs of living with a disability creates significant anxiety as I plan for my future post-graduation.
‘The disabled are the only minority group that anybody can become a part of at any time’
Paul Kavanagh, 62, is an author from South Ayrshire and a columnist for The National. He suffered a stroke in October 2020 during the pandemic and has relied on Personal Independence Payments for three years.
PIP is designed to assist with the additional costs associated with being disabled. These costs do not vanish simply because Keir Starmer and some bureaucrats in Westminster decide to implement cuts to benefits. I am unable to use public transport or shop independently without assistance. I require help to cut my food since I cannot manage it on my own. If it weren’t for my devoted husband, who handles these tasks for me, I would need to pay someone else to do so.
The disabled community is unique in that anyone can become a member at any time. Before my stroke, I was fit and healthy—this sudden change was unforeseen. The ambulance was expected to reach me within 18 minutes, but due to staffing shortages, it took nearly an hour. I hold no blame against them; individuals like me are unfortunate collateral damage of the pandemic.
My stroke left me with disabilities that are far more severe than they would have been had I received timely treatment. I was deprived of clot-busting medication, resulting in significant damage to my right parietal lobe. Fortunately, my language centers remained intact, which would have been psychologically more challenging had they been affected, as communication is integral to my identity.
I was completely paralyzed on one side of my body for two months, and I had to relearn how to walk. Now, I can only walk short distances and require a walking stick. I have limited function in one hand, which is now my non-dominant hand, making daily tasks incredibly challenging. I struggle with balance, coordination, visual agnosia, and processing visual information on my left side, which prohibits me from driving, even with adaptations.
Many tasks require two hands, and losing the use of one is a significant adjustment. Simple actions, like opening pill bottles, become monumental challenges, especially with childproof caps that are also stroke-proof. I cannot even butter a sandwich or utilize kitchen aids due to the heightened risk of self-injury. Additionally, I have psoriasis and struggle to apply my cream on my own.
Despite this, navigating the PIP application process was a nightmare. I delayed applying for a year due to the daunting reputation of the system. During my assessment, they claimed I had no mobility needs, that I could prepare simple meals using disability aids, and that I could manage my medication without assistance. Their assessment felt like a fabrication.
When appealing for a mandatory reassessment, the first thing they tell you is that you might lose your benefits. It feels like a threat. I received letters from my occupational and physiotherapists, both confirming my disabilities are lifelong, yet the DWP granted me only a three-year award.
Going through the PIP process makes you feel like a criminal. You have to disclose intimate details about your needs to an unsympathetic stranger, which is both degrading and humiliating. Filling out PIP forms was nearly impossible for me since I could not hold a pen. My husband had to assist me by taking me to a Disability Rights Centre for help with the forms. Fortunately, last month, I transitioned to the Scottish Adult Disability Payment. While the financial amount remains the same, the assessment process is more medically focused and does not treat applicants as if they are dishonest. It also allows for online submissions. Although I struggle with typing on a mobile device, I can manage a full keyboard.
However, I am not entirely out of the woods yet. The funding that the Scottish Government receives is contingent upon the spending on equivalent services in England and Wales. If the UK Government reduces funding for disability benefits in England, it will inevitably affect the budget for administering disability benefits in Scotland. This creates a ripple effect that impacts everyone, even though the actual benefit is devolved.
Not every disabled individual can articulate their experiences, and those of us who can must advocate for those who cannot. It is futile to dwell on what one cannot do; instead, we must focus on our capabilities. If bringing attention to my situation can embarrass Keir Starmer, I will consider it a victory.
