The Extraction Economy

Here's a simple maths problem.

A ceiling collapses in a flat. The owners — a disabled woman who has suffered strokes, and her husband, already displaced four times in four years — ask their insurance company for £11,000. Enough to fix the walls, the ceiling, and cover the rental income they lost when they had to cancel their Airbnb bookings.

The insurance company says no.

Instead, they spend four months paying loss adjusters. They insist on replacing an entire floor the owners don't want replaced — £10,000. They'll pay for emergency accommodation the family can't use because the wife has carers and can't relocate. Another £6,000–£10,000. More contractors. More fees. More billable hours.

The Runaround

AXA appointed QuestGates (questgates.co.uk) as loss adjusters. When first appointed, QuestGates were quick to confirm they had full autonomy over the budget spend. Months later, when pressed for a decision, AXA said actually, AXA decides.

Which is it?

The pattern is always the same. The customer must chase, chase, chase. QuestGates provide nothing in writing. They will only speak on the phone. They stall. They insist. They never say what they need in advance — only that whatever you've provided isn't quite right.

Meanwhile, HML Group — the block management company who should be handling this — took two months to obtain quotes. Those quotes then expired. Then the quotes were apparently no good because the family are now "in situ."

Then QuestGates asked the family to get more quotes because they "can't use HML's quotes if you want to use your own tradesmen."

This doesn't even make sense. You only use tradesmen from one quote anyway. But sense isn't the point. Delay is the point. Process is the point. Billable hours are the point.

The Laws They're Breaking

This isn't just morally wrong. It's likely unlawful.

The Choice They Made

Here's what makes this truly damning.

QuestGates told us — at the start — that they have full autonomy over budget spend. They have the authority to resolve claims. They have the power to approve direct payments. They have the discretion to help.

They chose not to.

Every employee in this chain — the loss adjuster, the claims handler, the manager — has the ability to look at a file that says "vulnerable customer, disabled wife, no money, no food, freezing cold, cannot move out" and do something about it.

They have chosen, individually and collectively, to do nothing.

This is not a system failure. Systems don't make choices. People do.

Every person who has touched this file has had the power to help and has chosen not to exercise it.

The Care System Runs the Same Racket

If this sounds familiar, you've probably encountered the UK care system.

A person needs support. The local authority has a budget. But that money doesn't go to the disabled person. It doesn't go to their family. It doesn't pay for what they actually need.

It goes to care companies. To agency staff. To middle managers. To compliance officers. To the infrastructure of an industry that exists, supposedly, to help vulnerable people — but somehow never quite gets around to paying them.

Carers get nothing. Or nearly nothing. They're "not the client." They're not a registered business. They can't invoice. They don't have a VAT number.

The system isn't designed to help people. It's designed to help money flow through taxable corporate entities.

The Payout Trap

Here's another one they don't tell you about.

You and your spouse have joint life insurance. Sensible. Responsible. You pay your premiums for years.

Then your spouse has a stroke. The policy pays out. £100,000.

Sounds like the system working, right?

Wrong. Watch what happens next.

The policy is now over. Your spouse had the medical event. The joint policy has paid out. You need new cover.

But now you're older. You're over 50. Premiums are higher anyway.

And there's a "medical event" on record. Doesn't matter that it wasn't your fault. Doesn't matter that you're healthy. The actuarial tables don't care. You're a risk now.

But wait. It gets worse.

That £100,000 payout is now capital. And if you ever need help — benefits, social care, council support — that capital counts against you.

The council will ask where it went. They'll talk about "deprivation of assets." They'll mention "disposing of income." They'll use phrases like "deliberate deprivation to secure entitlement." They'll imply — or state outright — that there are consequences. Serious consequences. Prison, even.

Never mind that the laws they cite often don't apply. Never mind that "deprivation" has a specific legal meaning they're stretching beyond recognition. Never mind that innocent people have ended up criminalised by a system that treats poverty as fraud.

So what can you do with your £100,000?

You can put it on your mortgage. The bank gets it.

You can put it into your business to cover temporary staff while you're caring for your spouse. HMRC gets it.

You can spend it on private care. The care companies get it.

But you can't keep it. You can't have £100,000 in savings and also access the support you need. If you do, you lose the equivalent in denied benefits, care charges, means-tested everything.

The payout isn't a payout. It's a trap.

The Quiet Part Out Loud

Let's be honest about what's happening.

When an insurance company pays a loss adjuster, that's a business-to-business transaction. Corporation tax. VAT. Billable hours. Professional fees. All very proper. All very auditable.

When they pay a contractor, same thing. Invoice. VAT. Corporation tax. A nice clean entry in the accounts.

When they pay a policyholder directly? Just a person. No VAT. No billable hours. No ongoing revenue stream. No corporate relationship to maintain.

The money stops. It reaches its destination. It helps someone.

And apparently, that's the one thing the system cannot tolerate.

The Perverse Incentive

Think about it from the insurer's perspective.

Option B employs more people. Generates more taxable revenue. Maintains more corporate relationships.

Option B is worse for the policyholder. Worse for the insurer's bottom line. Worse by every rational measure.

But Option B keeps the extraction economy alive.

Who Benefits?

Follow the money. Always follow the money.

The entire system is calibrated to extract maximum value from every claim — not for the person who made the claim, but for everyone else in the chain.

The Same Pattern Everywhere

Insurance. Social care. Benefits. Housing.

Wherever vulnerable people need help, you'll find the same structure:

1. Money is allocated to help them
2. That money passes through multiple corporate intermediaries
3. Each intermediary takes a cut
4. The vulnerable person receives whatever's left — if anything
5. The system is called "support"

Meanwhile, the intermediaries grow. They hire. They expand. They win contracts. They publish glossy reports about their "impact." The people they're supposed to help? Still waiting. Still chasing. Still being told the process takes time.

The Real Scandal

The scandal isn't that one insurance company is treating one disabled family badly.

The scandal is that this is normal.

This is how the system works. This is what it's designed to do. This is the inevitable result of building "support" systems that route money through corporate intermediaries instead of to the people who need it.

Every delayed claim. Every denied payment. Every "process" that takes months while people go hungry. Every pound spent on loss adjusters instead of losses. Every care package that pays agencies instead of carers.

It's all the same thing. It's extraction. It's industry. It's a machine that converts human suffering into billable hours.