The census just doesn't add up

[OpenMind]

The census just doesn't add up

By Philip Johnston

(Filed: 10/03/2006)

Do we need a census? More pertinently, perhaps, since most would probably agree that a simple reckoning of where people are at any one point every 10 years is both useful and interesting, do we need one that seeks to know so much about us?

The prospect of the next census, in 2011, asking questions about our income, its source and our national identity, on top of the 40-odd other pieces of personal information we are already required to give, seems excessively intrusive, especially when the Government probably even has our waist measurements stored away on some Whitehall computer, ready to be downloaded on to the National Identity Register for future use by the obesity police.

Ever since William the Conqueror sent his bureaucrats fanning out across the country in 1085 to conduct a meticulous audit of his realm, down to the last chicken in the remotest farmyard, the "authorities" have been keen to know where everyone is. William's anxiety, however, was to discover whom he could tax and by how much; the apparent rationale behind the modern census is to identify those to whom taxpayers' money can be given rather than exacted.

The modern census - the word comes from the Latin censere, to assess - dates to 1801, when just five questions were asked, to establish the size of each household, the number living there, their sex and occupation. The form currently being devised to crash through your letter-box in five years' time will be three or more pages long and will take at least 30 minutes to complete. Most of us will, with a heavy heart, comply.

Our forebears, however, were made of sterner stuff. In the 18th century, popular suspicions about snooping thwarted government efforts to start census-taking. In a Commons debate in 1753, Matthew Ridley, MP for Newcastle upon Tyne, said the people of the city regarded the proposal as "ominous and feared an epidemical distemper should follow the numbering". Another MP argued that a census would impair the liberty of the individual and was "a most effectual engine of rapacity and repression". The Bill was defeated.

Even when approval was obtained for the first census in 1801, enumerators were threatened for prying. By 1841, however, the census was in full swing. Questions about age and nationality were added; 10 years later, people were asked for the first time about their education. At the turn of the 20th century, there were 15 questions, including one on the number of rooms in each household, prompted by concerns about overcrowding.

By 1951, there were 31 questions - including an inquiry about "outside amenities" to gauge the extent of post-war slum clearance (this is to be removed from the 2011 census; the privy has finally gone). Women in 1951 were asked to be more honest about their age because data from previous censuses suggested they had adjusted their ages upwards if they had married young, and downwards if they had married later. Magazine and newspaper problem pages received letters from women who feared their true age would be revealed if they answered truthfully.

In 1971, there was a campaign against the census on civil liberties' grounds and, in 1991, there were further ructions when an ethnic origin question was added, taking the total to 33. The last census, in 2001, was one of the most controversial, not only because it included a question about religion for the first time in England and Wales, but also because it failed in its basic purpose, which is to give an accurate national headcount. Number-crunchers at the Office for National Statistics were reduced to fabricating - sorry, extrapolating - the likely status of one million people who simply did not respond.

If the census does not even get the count right, is there any point in having one? The information produced is sought after by government departments, local authorities, pressure groups and even private companies that can pay for the raw data shorn of personal details, which are kept secret for 100 years.

Pressure from these client groups is the reason why extra questions are included. A consultation exercise just ended tried to measure the appetite for an income question and, sure enough, Whitehall salivated at the idea. John Prescott's department said earnings information "would enable us to carry out small area analysis and better target our resources on the most deprived communities". Don't they know where they are, then? The Work and Pensions department said "sound information on income would be invaluable in assessing areas in need of help and in checking perceived estimates of 'poor' areas". The Health department said "an analysis of household income would enable health and social care interventions to be targeted on those that need them most".

The word "household" is interesting in this context. Is it being suggested that the census form, which is filled out by the head of household, should require information about the income of everyone living there on census day? For a start, they may not even be family members and the words "mind your own business" might spring to their lips when asked. Furthermore, even within families it is, apparently, "normal" behaviour for husbands and wives not to divulge their incomes to each other, even when substantial sums of money are involved.

Also, how is information gleaned from a national identity question to be used? The greatest pressure for this addition came from Wales, where people were irritated last time not to be given the option to call themselves Welsh in the ethnicity section. The Cornish also want a shot at self-identity. Which is all very well, but how will this information help formulate government policy, if that is the principal function of the census?

On top of all this intrusion, the census is going to cost at least £300 million, a figure that is certain to rise significantly if recent experience is any guide. Is it really value for money? In recent years, the Nordic countries have dropped their censuses entirely, because they can get the required information from other sources, such as tax and benefit records, driving licences and household surveys, and do not think it is any of their business to know whether you worship Allah or Obi-Wan Kenobi. Maybe it's time we followed their example.

© Copyright of Telegraph Group Limited 2006.

[Uncle Kram]

I think with most info relating to legitimate citizens stored elsewhere, it does seem a bit pointless. The cost is hard to justify too.

The thing I've always thought a little odd is the way it relates to a snapshot of who's present in the house that day.

When I researched my family tree, I got info from the 1841 & 1851 census and as you say it was fairly basic. Ages were rounded to the nearest 5 years. I don't think I'd get away with saying I'm 40