bmwelby's blog

Thoughts from the mind of Ben Welby

Tag: Jobcentre in your pocket

A young man and an older woman look at a community noticeboard outside a local hall. The board suggests many forms of participation beyond paid work, including local groups, volunteering, learning, care, civic activity and community support.

If less work is the dream, why does it feel like a threat?

June 1, 2026 / / 0 Comments

About a year ago I wrote about Vibe Coding, Fireworks and the Mortar of Government, back when I was first getting excited by the new art of the possible. Since then I’ve had a lot of fun with these toys, at home and at work, while learning a lot along the way.

That fun left me thinking about what it all might mean for public sector product management and how we organise our work. I’m not going to spend this post re-running the argument that sets out why more members of the multidisciplinary team can now directly shape the product, or getting excitable again about what happens when the distance between intent and something runnable collapses. If you want to read that, you can do that in The Future of (Public Sector) Product Management in a Vibe Coded World.

This post finds its origins somewhere else: in a throwaway comment someone made that, by making those arguments, I seemed to be excited for the most pessimistic future of the labour market.

I’d rather think of it as being optimistic about being pessimistic. And hopefully by the end of this you’ll see what I mean.

Because this is a post that asks what follows if the argument is even half right.

I’m not here to make any kind of prediction that all office jobs will disappear by Christmas. I am not trying to join the queue of people announcing that everything has already changed. 

But I think we should sit with a possibility.

What if AI doesn’t destroy work, but shrinks, thins or rearranges it enough to expose how much our social fabric relies on a particular framing of work in order for it to function?

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A woman in a long, patterned skirt sits on a stone bench under a large tree, while a younger man in a light-colored outfit sits next to her. They are engaged in conversation, with the tree's lush green leaves providing shade. In the background, there is a brick built church and grassy area. The scene is peaceful and inviting.

Strong branches and good shade

May 28, 2026 / / 1 Comment

A report that should arrest us

This morning Alan Milburn launched the Young people and work interim report. I tuned in to hear his speech and the follow-up Q&A, and I’d recommend you find the time not only to read the report but to listen to him speak to it.

It is arresting stuff. Not only because of the scale of the crisis being described, though the scale is staggering, and not only because of the policy detail, though there is plenty there worth wrestling with. But what especially struck me today was the moral seriousness with which Alan spoke about young people who are quietly disappearing from participation in the life of the country.

Over the last phase of my time at DWP, I shared my time between the team supporting this review and the jobs and careers service. Mine was a small contribution in the scheme of things, but enough to see at close quarters the seriousness, care and determination Alan and his team have brought to it.

It also means I am not a wholly impartial observer. I want this report, and the final report coming later in the year, to be read carefully, argued with seriously, and met with a level of response that matches the gravity of what it describes.

Because this is a report that asks important questions:

What happens to a society when more than one million young people are outside education, employment or training?

What happens when the pathways into adulthood no longer reliably function?

What happens when institutions each hold fragments of a person’s story, but nobody holds the whole?

And perhaps most importantly: what kind of country are we becoming if we learn to normalise this?

The review’s argument is not that this requires a temporary focus or a short-term policy tweak around the edges. We’ve been here before, oscillating between panic and amnesia. We briefly notice a crisis, announce something, fund something, brand something, and then move on before anything has changed.

No, the argument is that there has been a structural break in how young people move into work, confidence, belonging and adult life, and therefore structural change has to be the response. And that means harder questions to answer about institutions, relationships, participation, and the kind of social fabric that is required for young people to flourish.

This should arrest government.

But that is the minimum we should expect from a report like this.

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A graphic featuring the British flag as the background. In the foreground, a large golden key labeled "DWP" is positioned, with green upward arrows and leaves emerging from it. Below the key, the text reads: "Could DWP be the key to unlocking the growth mission?"

Could DWP be the key to unlocking the growth mission?

September 8, 2025 / / 0 Comments

One of the first headlines I saw after Friday’s reshuffle came with a familiar and unsurprising tone. Starmer signals plan to slash benefits with tough new welfare chief. It’s probably pretty accurate. The size of the welfare budget is a serious question for any Chancellor, and it’s one that will always be a priority for the Secretary of State.

But I’m not sure the bill is what the caricature suggests. Every time it is mentioned, the same assumptions surface: that it is about idleness, about people who could work but won’t. In truth, it is much more complicated. Large numbers are still poorly after the pandemic (either because of COVID or other difficulties or delays in accessing the healthcare they need, especially that associated with mental health). Young people are struggling to enter the labour market. Carers, students, and the early retired are all folded into the same “economic inactivity” bucket. A welfare system where health-related benefits are more generous than unemployment benefits. And beneath it all, an economy that has been stagnant for years, with R&D investment consistently behind our peers.

The cost of welfare is not a story of moral weakness. It is a story about the condition of the country.

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A pocket of denim jeans contains a red briefcase, a smartphone displaying app icons, and several small model houses labeled with business names. The arrangement suggests a theme of business and organization.

Pocket, Pavement, Platform: Government in the App Store and on the High Street – Part 1

July 10, 2025 / / 6 Comments
This entry is part 1 of 5 in the series Pocket, Pavement, Platform: Government in the App Store and on the High Street

This was one big post, and now it’s five smaller pieces thinking about what public service really means in a digital age, and the risks of mistaking convenience for coherence. The second in the series thinks about the underlying plumbing we still don’t have. The third about what it means for services to be completely AI-led. The fourth argues for an omnichannel approach that designs for every doorway. And the final piece is all about Goths. But first, I interrogate the appeal of “government in your pocket” and why that metaphor may sell us short.

The illusion of pocket-sized government

Life in 2025 is mediated by thumbnails. The Family Group Chat, social media, mortgages, season tickets, commute planning, music, telly, groceries, takeaways – you name it and it’ll be sat behind a colourful little square. Little wonder that ministers want to compress their red boxes into that same form factor. Last week we had the GOV.UK App promise “public services in your pocket”, the Health Secretary hail the NHS app as the “doctor in your pocket”, and, back in November, the Secretary of State for Work and Pensions pitch the “jobcentre in your pocket” in launching the Get Britain Working White Paper.

Convenience makes a cracking soundbite.

But between screen and street there’s a stubborn gap. Three decades of first e-government and then digital government have certainly moved things online, and in many cases brought about genuine transformation. The Blueprint for Modern Digital Government sets out a vision for services designed around citizens’ needs, not government silos, emphasising accessibility for all. Yet digital exclusion persists. Every day, people rely on library PCs, borrowed phones, neighbours’ Wi-Fi, or using AI to decipher government’s Nietzsche-esque content.

Those gaps aren’t only socio-economic. They’re structural. Creating a single government domain gave us a whole-of-government1 web presence, a single digital front door. But the same logic has never been applied to the state’s physical estate. Austerity has hollowed out council services, libraries, SureStart Centres, and community hubs, leaving Jobcentre Plus as the last nationwide, vertically integrated, walk-in presence of central government.

When we developed the OECD service design and delivery framework, we included bricks alongside pixels because closing a counter doesn’t eliminate demand – it displaces it. Support shifts to schools, GP surgeries, Citizens Advice, food banks, police stations, faith venues. They’re fragmented proxies for the state people wish they could reach directly.

What if we applied the same design discipline that built GOV.UK to the built environment? Imagine GOV.UK on the High Street (yes, of course I’m going to use the acronym GOTHS2) as a physical twin to the digital front door: one roof, all life circumstances, staffed by people with the tools to help. Canada, Chile3, Greece, and Portugal4, among others, have been blending web and bricks for years to deliver services where people are. As the European Union researches what it means to go beyond the screens we risk falling behind by betting on apps alone. The real need isn’t for more digital products but better omnichannel services – channels that cooperate, not compete.

The question isn’t just what fits in your pocket? It’s how should government show up where people already are?

The idea of pocket government is seductive. If the BBC fits in your pocket, why not government? It’s tidy, mobile, modern – all the promise of the frictionless state. It’s an easy shorthand for ambition, especially when pitching to digital-native generations.

But reducing transformation to a form factor is a dangerous simplification. It collapses structural change into a UI trick. It trades hidden infrastructure for showy presentation. And it distracts from what actually makes services usable, inclusive, and effective.

In the next post in my series (which is a nice short one), the focus is on what’s happening behind the scenes: the pipes, the data, and the infrastructure that makes, or breaks, the promise of digital government.

In Part 3, I want to engage with the questions thrown up by AI and what it means when our services disappear into chat. Part 4 returns to one of my soapboxes in arguing for an omnichannel approach. And in the last part we talk GOV.UK on the High Street.

  1. Centrally at least. And for England. Though sometimes Wales. So it is a bit of a stretch to say ‘whole-of-government’ but there’s at least a strategic clarity. ↩︎
  2. This would have been immeasurably better if the colour scheme was still black and white ↩︎
  3. Explored in some detail in the OECD’s report on Digital Government in Chile – Improving Public Service Design and Delivery ↩︎
  4. And an important element in their human rights based approach to public services that is looked at in the OECD’s Civic Space Review of Portugal ↩︎

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