Interview
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6 min read

Cost of living crisis: faith and food banks combine to tackle destitution and its causes

The Trussell Trust wants food banks in its network to reduce the need for their services. Robert Wright finds out why the trust regrets they still distribute so much food.

Robert is a journalist at the Financial Times.

 

A man stands in front of a food bank's shelves of cereals and boxes labelled by foot type.
Howard Wardle at Eastbourne's food bank.

When Howard Wardle was making plans to set up a food bank in Eastbourne, in East Sussex, he received little support from his fellow church leaders. Speaking in the industrial estate warehouse that has been the food bank’s headquarters since 2017, Wardle recalls how at a meeting called to discuss the idea he largely encountered bafflement. At the time, Wardle was pastor of the town’s Community Church. 

“They said, ‘There isn’t a need in the town – you’re wasting your time doing it’,” Wardle says of the meeting in 2011. 

Wardle nevertheless received encouragement from Eastbourne’s Citizens’ Advice Bureau, from the major of the local Salvation Army congregation, the local authority’s social services – and the Trussell Trust, the UK’s largest organiser of food banks. The food bank, of which Wardle is now chief executive, last year handed out 280,000 meals. 

Yet for Wardle and the Emma Revie, the Trussell Trust’s national chief executive, it is a matter of regret that its members are distributing so much food – organisations affiliated with the Trussell Trust handed out 2.99mn parcels in the year to March 2023. The figure was a 37 per cent increase on the year before, a rise largely down to the cost of living crisis started by the spikes in energy and food prices following Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. 

“It’s incredibly worrying and upsetting that so many people – more people – are having to come to food banks,” Revie says. 

Workers at the Eastbourne Foodbank and others nationally are following a strategy of campaigning for policies that seek to ensure no one needs to seek emergency food support. They also employ staff who help clients to navigate the benefits system, prepare for work or take other steps to find a permanent solution to their problems. 

“We were absolutely resolute that enough is enough. We needed to do whatever we needed to do to reduce the number of people needing to come to food banks.” 

Emma Revie

The Trussell Trust centrally provides organisational support for affiliated food banks but deliberately does not undertake functions such as purchasing food. 

Revie says it adopted the strategy of trying to put itself out of business five years ago, after experiencing significant growth in demand for its services. The trust was founded in 1997 in Salisbury by Carol and Paddy Henderson, a Christian couple. Christian principles have been core to the trust’s operations ever since. 

“We reached a decision point where we either had to accept that this situation was likely to increase and would always be needed or we had to decide that that was not acceptable and change the way we thought about our work,” Revie says. 

The trust recognised how inadequate food parcels were to the fundamental needs that member food banks were seeing among clients, she adds. 

“The reason people are coming to food banks is they don’t have enough money to afford the essentials,” Revie says. “They know it’s not going to put credit on the gas meter. They know it’s not going to pay for school shoes.” 

The organisation had to decide whether it accepted as inevitable that so many people needed its services or would reorient itself towards working to end that need, she adds. 

“We were absolutely resolute that enough is enough,” Revie says. “We needed to do whatever we needed to do to reduce the number of people needing to come to food banks.” 

“We’re not just here to get people on benefits. If we think they can work, we try to encourage people to get into work.” 

Robert Crockford

In Eastbourne, the strategy of reducing dependence on food banks has been in place from the start, according to Wardle. 

“When we started, we felt it was one thing to have a food bank giving out food but another to have people not need to come to food banks,” he says. 

After receiving some grant funding, the food bank took on staff to help clients to resolve their financial problems and ensure they were receiving all the welfare benefits to which they were entitled. 

“We built a welfare benefits team, a debt team and a medical benefits team so that we could help clients,” Wardle says. 

Robert Crockford, the food bank’s senior advocacy officer, says he helps food bank clients to navigate issues such as the two-child limit and the overall benefits cap that restrict the amount benefits recipients can receive. 

The two-child limit stops parents from receiving child benefit for any more than two children if the additional children were born after 2017. The benefit cap - £283.71 for a single person living outside Greater London – was introduced in 2013. It limits the total amount a person or family can receive from the system. 

Crockford explains that he seeks to help clients to explore whether they count as disabled, a carer or have some other status that might enable them to receive higher benefits. 

The group also works with People Matter, a charity that helps to prepare people for work. 

“We’re not just here to get people on benefits,” Crockford says. “If we think they can work, we try to encourage people to get into work.” 

Revie bemoans the overall inadequacy of the benefits system, pointing out that many recipients of Universal Credit – the main income-support benefit for most people who are unemployed or on low incomes in the UK – cannot afford food. 

“When almost half the people on that benefit are unable to afford food, something systematically is failing,” she says. “So do you tackle the symptoms or do you tackle the actual problem?” 

That emphasis on tackling problems is clear at another food bank affiliated with the trust – in Kingston, on the south-western edge of London. 

Ian Jacobs, director of Kingston Foodbank, says his organisation works closely with Citizens’ Advice to try to develop permanent solutions for people seeking help. 

“We do deep-dive investigations into people’s circumstances to try to see if we can get more money into people’s pockets,” he says. 

Kingston Foodbank currently operates six foodbank centres and one pantry, where referred clients can select and buy reduced-price food. Jacobs says he would like one day to reverse the proportion, so that it operates six pantries and one food bank. 

Jacobs, a member of the Doxa Deo Community Church, an independent evangelical church, also makes it clear that many volunteers are working at the food bank out of Christian conviction. 

“We’re always open to pray with clients,” he says. 

Revie says the trust is “deeply rooted” in the local churches. 

“Many of our volunteers and staff are motivated in the work that they do by their Christian faith,” she says. “Our values of community, compassion, dignity and justice are deeply rooted in the Christian faith.” 

Revie points out that the trust was founded by Christians and that its network grew through approaches by individual churches to the trust. 
"We as an organisation work with people of all faiths and none and we certainly support people of all faiths and none," she says. "But we are deeply rooted in the local churches and many of our volunteers and staff are motivated in the work that they do by their Christian faith,” she says. 
Faith has a "very special role to play" in the trust's work, Revie adds. 
 “Our values of community, compassion, dignity and justice are deeply rooted in the Christian faith," she says. 

“We don’t believe there should be food banks in today’s society,” Jacobs says. “That’s why we do all the extra work to make sure people aren’t dependent on the food bank.” 

Review
Change
Film & TV
Sustainability
5 min read

Why is the The Repair Shop so cherished?

Memory lane and the makers work magic on tired treasures.

Sarah Basemera is a circular economy enthusiast and a founder of Canopi, a boutique for recrafted furniture.

A restorer rest on his elbows while painting a wooden rocking horse.
@therepairshoptv.

In the beginning, before the plethora of streaming platforms, was Antiques Roadshow, Cash in the Attic and Bargain Hunt. I recall rainy summer days as a tweenager, stuck indoors tuning into uplifting afternoon TV, forced by my older sister to watch these wholesome shows... all because there was only one TV screen in our home. I dreamt of finds across our green and pleasant land, all the while safely seated in a gritty Camberwell (long before our newsagent sold Vogue Italia and ID magazine). 

Fast forward to 2017 and along came The Repair Shop. It swooped onto our screens almost a decade ago and has since become a family TV gem. During lockdown, its audience boomed. It became a soothing staple for many homes to open their doors into The Repair Shop barn and see makers work their magic on tired treasures. After almost a decade, why are we still captivated with seeing tired treasures and hope restored despite its recent troubles? Now The Repair Shop crew is embarking on their first live show tour called ‘Secrets from the Barn’. Instead of the Barn, they'll be traveling by bus to share their favourite repair stories and tackle problems in a Q&A session. 

To the uninitiated, I perhaps lost you at Bargain Hunt. The Repair Shop is a gentle show about tired treasures restored back to life by a myriad of craftspeople set in a picturesque barn in West Sussex. The list of these restorers reads as a fitting extension to the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker. Depending on its core material, each object, is matched with one of them. There is a carpenter, a goldsmith, a hatter, an upholsterer, a horologist and a leathersmith. A cobbler, a luthier, a seamstress, a ceramicist and a metalsmith appear too. Then a vintage electrician, a book conservator, a silversmith, a percussionist restorer, an organ builder and a painting conservator.  Finally, in a league of their own – the teddy-bear repairers! 

Suspense is weaved into the show as we want to see the object ‘before’ and ‘after’. During the repair, we eavesdrop on the challenges faced by the restorer trying to fix the object. The reveal moment is the show’s climax - seeing the object restored to full glory and reunited with its custodians.  

When the object is associated with loss or hardship, the stories will quiver the stiffest upper lip. I never imagined I could be tearful about the restoration of a teddy bear, a toy plane or a tractor.  Clearly it is not the objects that are important, but the treasured memory of those whom they belonged to and the enduring love of the family members who brought the objects into the barn. 

Our fondness for The Repair Shop is a quiet longing for things to be fixed both within and without. 

One day in the future, reality TV shows, like The Repair Shop, will be relics themselves. Pored over by generations to come, eager to learn what we were like. But not all such shows are made equal. I hope The Repair Shop is treasured just like those teddy-bears. Why? Because it says so much about us today. 

We are tiring with our throwaway culture – click, scroll and repeat. Things built to pass, made of materials that we cannot pronounce, and that nature cannot digest. Unforgettable one season later. Crafted often in upsetting conditions for workers, without fair pay, lunchbreaks or daylight. Our fondness for The Repair Shop is a quiet longing for things to be fixed both within and without. It is affection for those who are not with us now, an appreciation for craftsmanship and the resourcefulness in the face of waste. We are charmed by the craft of repair but why? 

Suffice it to say the Millennial, Zillenial, Gen Z, Alpha, and Beta generations did not grow up in a ‘make do and mend culture’. I know my mother is sad I wear red and white snowflake Scandinavian handmade mittens with holes in them. I cannot line a curtain. We kind of all know that the repair culture that Boomers and beyond practiced has been lost. But we long for it to be revived again. 

‘Humpty dumpty sat on the wall . . . all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put humpty together again’. As children we know instinctively this is tragedy, a broken toy or person that cannot be fixed. Our preference for mending as a virtue, is instilled in us from a young age.  

Mending things is satisfying and makes a positive contribution because the object can be used or admired in its full glory once again. It reduces waste by preventing us from buying new things and is therefore resourceful. Many of us ‘click and collect’ not just because of price but also convenience. There is deep satisfaction in salvaging something that you own or in having it restored with expert help when its beyond your ability. 

Many of the things we buy now couldn’t make it to The Repair Shop because they wouldn’t survive being passed down. Things manufactured by machine, out of synthetic materials are not strong contenders for heirlooms of tomorrow. Visitors to The Repair Shop own something precious but durable and worthy of being restored by an expert.   

Craftmanship is beautiful.  Revealing what it takes to repair gives us deeper appreciation for it and the hands that made it. When we see what it took to ‘remake’ we foster respect for the skilfulness of the craft.  

The intergenerational quality strikes a chord in a culture preoccupied with youthfulness and anti-aging. Often families come into the barn together and recall a fond memory of a loved one from another generation. The story behind the piece and the person it belonged to, is fascinating. Our affection and love for our grandparents and beyond is endearing and it is uplifting to see this fondness on screen. 

Then there is the big reveal, the dust sheet is lifted and the artisan reveals the repaired masterpiece. If you make it to the end of the story the reward is to see the dramatic change. It can be emotional, at the end when the custodian sees the object restored. Emotions run high; there is joy, gratitude and a sense of satisfaction that the broken object is revived and the memory of the loved one lives on.  

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