As we watch essential services being decimated by funding cuts I think it is timely to consider what value we place on services which support the most vulnerable within our community. The agencies most at risk are the smaller services, the women’s only services, the community services that are not linked or partnered with larger agencies and those which provide diverse services that do not necessarily ‘fit’ within a particular funding stream.
Several years ago, I was involved in a battle to save the funding of a small Centre in Western Sydney. At the time, one of the comments made was that ‘the Department needs to be sure it is getting value for money’. This conversation recurs again and again as we restructure, revamp, defund and tender to the lowest bidder and as we watch the services we fought for disappear.

What ‘value’ do we place on a woman’s life, or a child’s future, or the future of disadvantaged and struggling communities?

For some years, I worked as a counsellor in women’s services and sexual assault services. One of the challenges we often spoke about was in regard to ‘quantifying’ what we do in an increasingly results based accountability framework. How do you quantify that someone did not kill themselves? How do you ‘quantify’ that, because a woman came to a service, got ongoing and free counselling to deal with her childhood sexual assault, that woman did not end up in the mental health system and was better able to parent her kids? How do you quantify the life freeing effect of realising in a group that YOU do not need to feel shame for what was done TO you? How do you place value on the life of a woman and children who, because they came to a service and asked for help, were able to leave a domestic violence situation and therefore did not become a statistic? How do you ‘value’ the little boy who, because his mother got help, and left his violent father, and made sure the child got support and counselling, did not grow up to repeat the abusive patterns he had lived with?

How do I place value on the life of the 16 year old boy who was brought to a service by his sister? She knew about this service because she came to a group. She knew we were an approachable and accessible service. She knew me and the other workers there. So when her brother came out as gay and his father and brothers tried to kill him, she came to us for help. He had black eyes, a split lip, and, we later discovered, a broken wrist, he was terrified, so was she. What value do we place on that boy getting into a youth refuge, getting help and support, being safe?

There is an amazing group that meets at a small and underfunded Centre in the middle of a disadvantaged area of Western Sydney. They are strong, cohesive group of Aboriginal women from a variety of backgrounds. They meet at the Centre because it is a safe and accessible space, easy to get to, but far enough from the ‘shit’ that happens in the local shopping centre to allow women to talk and meet freely. They meet there because they can make coffee whenever they like, hang out in the backyard, sit around and yarn without being interrupted, laugh as loudly as they like without disturbing anyone. Some of the women in the group have been in jail, some have alcohol and drug issues, most live or have lived in violence, most have experienced grief and loss, all have experienced racism and discrimination. How do you place value on women who have frequently been negated, put down and treated appallingly working together for change in their own community? How do you place value when women from this group and women from CALD and newly arrived communities meet at the Centre, take part in activities, eat together and share stories and begin to form healthy strong connections that challenge racism, misunderstanding and hatred?

Community workers in general are not highly paid , in general, we do not take long lunches, we do not drive company cars, we do not spend large amounts on phones/laptops/ equipment. We work from a Department of Housing houses in the middle of a disadvantaged suburbs, from shopfronts in run down shopping Centres, from our cars and in community halls, in Courthouses, in hospitals and wherever there is a need and a service. We buy essential supplies as cheaply as we can, we often work longer hours than we claim, we seek out opportunities to resource our groups from free/cheap sources, we often do our own cleaning as there is no cleaner in our budget and we use energy we would rather give to our clients desperately chasing funding for projects, services and to provide more for the clients we support. Even within the narrow definition of ‘value’ that seem to be current, we do provide ‘value’ for money. However, it is the less quantifiable and more human value of what we do that is frequently overlooked.

Many socially and economically disadvantaged people do not trust or have faith in mainstream services. Aboriginal people have a long history with the ‘welfare’, and do not often easily or readily approach services connected with the government. Many of our newer residents, from war torn countries and oppressive regimes, have fear of ‘government departments’ and of official processes. Some women cannot attend or approach a service where there are male workers or clients, both for cultural reasons, or because of their history of male violence. People from communities such as this and similar communities, may live lives filled with economic crises and chaos, with a long history of feeling ‘less than’ and of being patronised and put down by ‘officials’. For some, experiences with Centrelink, Housing and Community Services have been negative. To ring, for example, a hospital based counselling service, to be told they need to come in for an intake interview in three weeks, to have to organise transport (often with no money) and to go into an environment that feels clinical, and to not know who they might have to see, places insurmountable obstacles in the path of getting help. What value do we place on people in these situations being able to get support, referrals, advocacy and some sense of their own right to all these things? How do we place value on these services being available somewhere that is accessible, known to the community, seen as a safe place and also has knowledge, skills and information to share?

One of the expressed concerns that has emerged from the recent reviews has been that priority needs to be given to child protection services. None of us would argue with that. However, child protection STARTS with the community. We cannot underestimate the place of smaller and more accessible services within that continuum.

When we provide community education about domestic violence and sexual assault, that knowledge and information becomes part of the community’s knowledge. How do you place value on the auntie who hears how violence affects children, and passes this message on to her niece? How do we place value on the young girl who learns about healthy relationships, and therefore does not stay with someone who abuses her? How do you place value on women learning skills and knowledge to support their sisters?

When I first realised that a service I had been employed to manage ran sewing and craft groups I was a little disconcerted. However, very rapidly I realised that these groups are accessible and acceptable for women who cannot or would not attend a domestic violence, self-esteem or parenting group. Within these seemingly ‘recreational’ groups women gain support, friendship, information and a sense of belonging. Different cultures, backgrounds, ages mix and learn about each other, share information, share their lives and break down many of the barriers of misunderstanding and racism. Women living in violence find support there, they get to know workers and therefore feel comfortable asking for help. Young mums struggling to parent get advice, support and affirmation.

Isolation can be a contributing factor to depression, anxiety and other mental health issues, all of which can affect parenting. How do we place value on the young, isolated mother, whose English is limited, and who has no family here, meeting together with women of different ages and backgrounds, getting support, being reassured and not being lonely? How do you place value on the woman whose own long term trauma is affecting her parenting and who is afraid to reach out for help until she meets with other women with similar experiences?

Mothers attend services, so do grandmas, aunties, sisters and knowledge gained becomes available to families. Some services run holiday programs and after school activities for children. How do we value the affect of a positive, creative experience on a child whose opportunity for these experiences is limited by poverty, disadvantage, or family problems? How do we value the effect on a woman who, because she attends a drug and alcohol support group, and overcomes her addiction, does not end up losing her children to the system because of neglect? Knowledge and skills within the community, support of women and children before they reach crisis point and access to appropriate referrals and advocacy, keep children out of the system, keep children safe within their families and communities and are integral parts of a responsible child protection framework.
We cannot measure the number of kids who DON’T end up in the system, the number of women who DON’T die in domestic violence, the number of children who DON’T grow up normalising violence and abuse, the number of women who DON’T end up in the mental health system, the number of families who DON’T fall apart.

Recently, cuts are anticipated to the refuges which, since their inception in the 70’s, have been place of hope and support for women escaping violence. Feminist, women run refuges have been a force for change within our community, a place of hope for those who see no hope, a place where mothers and children can be safe and begin to heal. The sheer stupidity of, at one level asking ‘why women don’t leave’, and at the next level cutting funding to services which support women leaving appals me. There are many reasons why women are trapped in abusive situations – fear, threats, poverty, and lack of support, the slow destruction of their confidence, lack of knowledge, societal pressure, community pressure and many more. However, at its most simplistic level HOW THE HELL CAN WOMEN LEAVE IF THEY HAVE NOWHERE SAFE TO GO?

I do not claim to fully understand economics, or our economic framework, and I realise that this may be a simplistic viewpoint. However, my concern is that, while we focus purely on a monetary deficit – and decimate our community services in an effort to create a monetary surplus, we are overlooking the human deficit we create. We can see and measure a financial deficit, but can we see and measure the long term effects of a deficit in services and support to the most vulnerable and disadvantaged members of our community? Can we place ‘value’ on the lives lost, damaged, destroyed, and the loss of potential for growth and change, that cuts to essential services within our community create?