In 1984, Steven Patrick Morrissey crooned: ‘I was looking for a job and then I found a job – and heaven knows I’m miserable now.’ Swap out ‘miserable’ for ‘skinny’ and you’ll find yourself in modern day Britain, where, if you happen to be unemployed, overweight and living in Manchester, you might be given weight loss jabs as part of a new trial to get you working. Morrissey’s made headlines in the decades since ‘Heaven knows I’m Miserable Now’ for spouting nonsensical, completely impractical ideas that would never work in today’s world - which leads me to think he’d be protesting in the streets for all the country’s jobless to be pumped with semaglutide.
It’s not quite as dystopian as it sounds: the UK government is partnering with Lilly, a medicine company, who are running a five-year trial in northern England to see if weight loss drugs can get more people back into work through preventing obesity-related diseases. There’s no plan anytime soon to roll Ozempic out to the masses – but there’s a danger that this could feed into the narrative that weight loss drugs are the one-size-fits all solution to a myriad of societal problems.
In reality, there are so many reasons someone out of work might be struggling to find employment: poor mental health, chronic illness, living in poverty, an unstable housing situation, or a combination of all four is far more likely to be the cause than just their weight.
This isn’t unique to the British government – they’re just the latest to do it – but it shows a lack of understanding when blaming obesity as the root cause of so many problems when it’s actually a consequence. Many of us eat too much processed food, work sedentary jobs, or simply don’t have the time or money to live healthily, all of which increases demand and pressure on the UK’s National Health Service. Research published earlier this year concluded obese people take more sick days off work – but only briefly mentioned stress, Covid and the cost-of-living crisis as other factors. The effect of the last few years of social, political, and economic turmoil in Britain on the nation’s health shouldn’t be downplayed.
This is why obesity shouldn’t be put in the same category as illnesses caused by smoking or recreational usage of illegal drugs. If the government’s mission were really to eliminate lifestyle choices that carry a relatively high level of risk in order to reduce pressure on the NHS, why not ban rugby, a contact-heavy game responsible for a multitude of injuries and, in some cases, early-onset dementia? The streets would be full of ruddy-cheeked, middle-class boys forgetting all the manners they learned in prep school. Obesity differs because it’s not something you can simply ‘quit’: health is tied up in social class and privilege. With inflation and a rising cost of living, prioritising health is becoming a luxury few can afford: the average cost of a UK gym membership is around £47 a month, and new post-Brexit imports have driven up the cost of fruit and vegetables. If rolling out weight loss injections for the unemployed takes off, Britain’s poorest are in danger of once again being backed into a corner and berated for their life choices, which, unfortunately, is nothing new.
Even those with a very limited understanding of wellness know the basic things you can do to look after yourself and it is the government’s job to make them accessible to as many people as possible. When it comes to health, a massive overhaul of our health service and pragmatic policies could hopefully get our jobless population back to work. It’ll certainly require more than a few injections.
Image: Wikimedia Commons/Tony Alter
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