Social Work: The Rise and Fall of a Profession? 9781447366928

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SOCIAL WORK The Rise and Fall of a Profession? Second Edition

Steve Rogowski Foreword by Ray Jones

First published in Great Britain in 2020 by Policy Press, an imprint of Bristol University Press University of Bristol 1-9 Old Park Hill Bristol BS2 8BB UK t: +44 (0)117 954 5940 e: [email protected] Details of international sales and distribution partners are available at policy.bristoluniversitypress.co.uk © Bristol University Press 2020 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN 978-1-4473-5313-3 hardcover ISBN 978-1-4473-5314-0 paperback ISBN 978-1-4473-5315-7 ePub The right of Steve Rogowski to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved: no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of Bristol University Press. Every reasonable effort has been made to obtain permission to reproduce copyrighted material. If, however, anyone knows of an oversight, please contact the publisher. The statements and opinions contained within this publication are solely those of the editors and contributors and not of the University of Bristol or Bristol University Press. The University of Bristol and Bristol University Press disclaim responsibility for any injury to persons or property resulting from any material published in this publication. Bristol University Press and Policy Press work to counter discrimination on grounds of gender, race, disability, age and sexuality. Cover design: Liam Roberts Front cover image: iStock/rclassenlayouts Bristol University Press and Policy Press use environmentally responsible print partners. Printed and bound in Great Britain by CMP, Poole

Contents Foreword Ray Jones Acknowledgements

iv vii

one

Introduction: The rise and fall of social work?

1

two

The beginnings of social work to its 1970s zenith

25

three

Thatcherism and the rise of neoliberalism: opportunities and challenges

47

four

New Labour, more neoliberalism: new challenges and (fewer) opportunities

69

five

The professionalisation of social work?

90

six

Managerialism and the social work business

111

seven

Neoliberalism, austerity and social work

132

eight

Conclusion: Critical/radical possibilities in ongoing neoliberal times

155

Author’s note 181 References 184 Index 207

iii

Foreword Ray Jones Emeritus Professor of Social Work When the first edition of this book was published in 2010 it was at the end of 13 years of New Labour governments led by Tony Blair and Gordon Brown. New Labour had picked up the mantle of neoliberalism which had been promoted, and percolated throughout public services, by Conservative governments since the early 1980s. Unlike the governments of Margaret Thatcher and John Major, New Labour did invest in public services and public service professions, but rather than re-routing away from the marketisation and privatisation of public services, it introduced new means and mechanisms to move the ownership of public services into a marketplace where profit was more important than people. In particular, Blair’s comment, made in a 1999 speech to the British Venture Capitalist Association, that he had ‘scars on his back’ from trying to modernise a resistant public sector not only indicated a disdain for the public sector and public sector workers, but his choice of audience also indicated where he saw his allies and where public sector services were to be taken. Academy schools, foundation hospitals, private prisons, the out-sourced administration of welfare benefits, private-public (funding) partnerships and the private finance initiative (PFI), the continuation of the privatisation of care and assistance for disabled and older people, along with the introduction in 2006 of independent social work practices, were all New Labour initiatives. Admittedly, in 2002 New Labour did protect the title of social worker and introduced the registration and regulation of social workers, potentially strengthening social work’s professional identity. What turned out to be most significant, however, was New Labour’s push for the deregulation of the banks which contributed to the banking crash of 2008 as greedy, but not-so-clever, bankers gambled recklessly on making even bigger profits and getting even bigger bonuses while increasing vulnerability and risk for everyone else. The Conservative opposition led by Cameron and Osborne turned the banking crash and crisis into an attack on New Labour’s commitment to public expenditure, despite it being the recklessness of bankers rather than the government which should have been held to account for the financial crash. Indeed, it was Brown and his chancellor, Alistair Darling, who led the national and international actions to rebuild stability in the financial markets. But it was the Conservatives’ shaping of the financial crash story, magnified and megaphoned through a right-wing media, which largely won the day, iv

Foreword

and in 2010 the Conservatives with the support of the Liberal Democrats formed a Coalition government with David Cameron as prime minister and Nick Clegg, leader of the Liberal Democrats, as his deputy. It was to be an unholy alliance dominated by the Conservatives and supported by subservient Liberal Democrats. As in so many other examples given by Naomi Klein (2018) in No Is Not Enough: defeating the new shock politics, the (banking) crisis was used as an opportunity and an excuse to further promote and push neoliberalism with the introduction of policies of politically chosen, but economically nonsensical, austerity targeted at poor children and families, disabled people, and public services and public sector workers generally. Social workers and the personal social services, of course, were as much in the frame as anyone else. Writing in 2010 Steve Rogowski would not have known the severity and cruelty soon to be introduced by the Coalition, including the advent and increase in ‘food banks’ and ‘holiday hunger’, terms largely unknown until politically chosen austerity started to bite. Such developments were a direct and obvious consequence of massive cuts to social security with schools, the health service and local government all hindered from helping by cuts inflicted upon them as well. Within this context it has hardly been a bright time for social work and social workers over the last decade. And as recounted so well in this updated book, there have been actions by the recent Conservative governments to fragment the social work profession, accuse social workers of being wrongly and inappropriately concerned about deprivation and discrimination, increase the political control of social workers and push the privatisation of social work. At the same time social workers remain stranded without the resources to give the assistance so much needed to those moving from deprivation to desperation and destitution created deliberately by government policies such as the benefit cap on families with more than two children. Then there are issues arising from the coronavirus pandemic which exacerbate matters further. As I wrote in the foreword to the first edition, there was a subterranean current of anger flowing through the book, something which equally applies to this second edition. It is anger based on Rogowski’s extensive experience and knowledge of social work and which leads to a study rooted in political science and philosophy, and economic and social theory, all with a platform provided by Marx. Importantly, however, as Rogowski notes there has also been the glimmer and glow of social workers seeking to recapture and reshape the role and remit of social work based on its values and principles. There are signs of a return to a focus on working beside people within their communities with an emphasis on relationships rather than the skew to risk assessments and risk management. And the social work profession in the UK v

Social Work

is again starting to find its voice and vitality to expose the impact of policies which are increasing poverty and making it more severe. In sum, Rogowski has been a wise and well-informed commentator on social work for many years, with his analysis grounded in a combination of intellectual and conceptual rigour and his long-standing experience and expertise as a frontline social work practitioner. In this book he once again shows the strength of not ducking or dodging the dilemmas and difficulties which have beset social work while remaining a committed advocate for the positive – indeed for some children, adults, and families not only the life enhancing but also the life-saving – contribution social workers can and do make. Social workers and others need to take encouragement and energy from him and this book to be champions for social work and the vital role it has to play in being beside those in difficulty while also confronting and challenging the economic and social causes of these difficulties.

vi

Acknowledgements Having been a practising social worker across five decades until 2014, the first people to acknowledge are those children, young people, parents, wider family members and communities with whom I have tried to make a positive difference. Working with them certainly influenced my thinking and practice for the better. Alan Bartlett encouraged and helped me in the very early stages of my entry to the profession. Others who I need to mention are from my social work student days, notably lecturers/tutors David Thorpe, David Smith and Peter Beresford, as well as fellow students though sadly I have lost touch with most of them. Over the years, other academics such as Bill Jordan, Phyllida Parsloe, Audrey Mullender, Beth Humphries and Ray Jones have played a part. As a practitioner, there are many people I could mention (as well as some I would not want to). Dave Boardman, Mark Limmer and Howard Sutcliffe were committed community workers, while Meg Westray and Maureen McGrath were progressive health visitors. Betty Holden was an inspirational welfare rights activist. Councillor Margaret Riley had an understanding, and was therefore a supporter, of social work. Senior colleagues like Gwen Swire, Bob Lewis and Linda Priest were all committed to social work and its values, doing their best to ensure practitioners had the opportunity to do their job as it should be. Mention of practitioners, and indeed administrative/ clerical staff (interestingly, the latter never really considered themselves as ‘business support’ workers), only a few can be named here – John Mullis, Ann Tunnicliffe, Martin Richardson, John Healey, David Wood, Denis Heyes, Cath Coombes, Pam Jones, Leza Harrison, Jim Murphy, Gill Adams and Gill Silversides. Some of these have passed away but, one way or another, they have all been a friendly and supportive influence. These latter comments apply to many of my most recent colleagues even though they are often preoccupied with bureaucracy being completed speedily – Justine Hughes, albeit a manager, is one, and the others know who they are. Radical social worker and author Colin Turbett has also to be mentioned. Finally, there are family and friends who, while they were always probably wondering what I was up to, have managed to stay interested. Apologies to anyone I have missed out. Steve Rogowski, June 2020

vii

ONE

Introduction: The rise and fall of social work? Chapter summary Broad preliminary considerations such as Enlightenment and modernity, political, economic and ideological issues, and the challenges from postmodernism are considered here, as well as aspects of my social work biography. The chapter also deals with the structure and organisation of the book including social work’s beginnings, its zenith in the 1970s, and developments since then as neoliberalism took hold and continues.

Key learning points • Despite many challenges, social work remains a profession that aims to benefit, rather than simply control, service users. • Social work’s evolution remains part of the Enlightenment and modernity project whereby increasing knowledge and understanding helps ensure social problems are alleviated. • Though its star might have waned, postmodernism questions scientific objectivity and rationality, as well as global grand narratives about, for instance, the impact of global capitalism.

At the outset, I well remember the origins of the first edition of this book, and it is worth revisiting some of them here, simply because they retain their relevance. In March 2008 I attended a conference entitled ‘Affirming Our Value Base in Social Work and Social Care’ held at Nottingham Trent University. It was a follow-up to a similar one I had attended there in 2006 and, as previously, it turned out to be an exhilarating day. There were contributions from well-known academics such as Lena Dominelli, Iain Ferguson and Peter Beresford, as well as service users1 and practitioners. There was considerable concern about the direction social work had been forced to take over the previous three decades which had led to de-professionalisation largely because of the growth and influence of managerialism. One result is the increased bureaucracy, which often means intrusively gathering information so that forms and computer exemplars can be filled in. Then there are the 1

Social Work

performance targets, which are meaningless as far as most service users and practitioners are concerned. Despite all this, most people left the conference with renewed confidence and optimism for the future of social work. Peter Beresford reminded everyone that Daphne Statham, the former stalwart of the National Institute of Social Work, once said that it is still possible to ‘smuggle in’ good practice despite managerial obstacles. One can still build relationships with service users, work with them at their pace on problems and difficulties as defined by them, treat them with dignity and respect, be non-judgemental and so on. All this is not to minimise the very real difficulties that practitioners face on a daily basis. Resisting what has and is happening to social work is certainly a difficult task but again the conference highlighted some possibilities. Social workers could come together and form social work action groups to voice their concerns. For example, there is the Social Work Action Network (SWAN), a coalition of practitioners, academics and service users, which organises conferences on social work, the people they work with and the impact of such as managerialism (Ferguson, 2008; Ferguson and Woodward, 2009). They also build alliances with service users’ groups and such as councillors, again pointing out their disquiet together with arguments as to possible ways forward. Being active within, and putting pressure on, the British Association of Social Workers (BASW) is another avenue to pursue. And as an individual practitioner, sometimes it is still possible to make a difference to people’s lives. Sadly, however, the renewed vigour and enthusiasm the conference engendered was to be soon dented. On returning to the office I immediately reported to colleagues about the day and received some positives replies from social workers. A senior manager with many years of practice experience agreed with my general sentiments but remained pessimistic about the general future of social work. However, what was more disconcerting were comments made by two other managers. One simply queried why I had been paid to attend the conference because my views were ‘so anti-management’. Another had similar views, even intimating that I should not have reported back from the day, this despite the fact that after attending training events it is custom and practice to do precisely this for the benefit of colleagues. I was also asked to call in and see this particular manager ‘for a chat when you have got a spare minute or two’. Unsurprisingly, largely because of time spent filling in forms/computer exemplars, I never got around to it. Perhaps I should have made more of an effort as a lively discussion would no doubt have ensued. Not long after I spent two days on the Integrated Children’s Services (ICS)2 computer course followed by two days on office duty. This meant I was only able to spend one day that week seeing and working with the service users who were actually on my caseload. At about the same time, C. Hall et al (2008) reported on their research into information and communication 2

Introduction

technologies (ICT). They pointed out that ICT, along with performance management, had become central to how social work was practised, and it is fanciful to presume that they can be separated as if they were ancillary tasks. On occasions this meant social workers spent 80 per cent of their time on the computer rather than spending time with the people they were supposed to be helping. A little later, I took a referral from a housing officer that concerned a young, lone and depressed mother who was having difficulties with her five-year-old son. Typically, he would not do as he was told, had temper tantrums and neighbours complained about his ‘anti-social behaviour’ – this included throwing stones at them as well as passers-by. He had been excluded from school in the past because of his poor behaviour including ‘hitting’ his head teacher. There was also a suggestion he was suffering from attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). My initial thoughts envisaged a social worker engaging with the family, getting to know them, discussing the issues and concerns and jointly working out ways forward. It would have at least involved an initial assessment. A team manager though, thought differently. If the housing officer met with the family, together with representatives from the school and the health service, they could, utilising the Common Assessment Framework (CAF),3 look at the issues and work out ways forward. This could have involved referral to the National Children’s Home (now Action for Children) for work on parenting, and the local child mental health unit regarding ADHD. There was no role, the argument went, for social work. As a colleague remarked in more colloquial terms, this amounted to ‘fobbing people off’ by asking them to fill in a form. Moreover, she went on, such an attitude applied not just to fellow professionals but even to service users when they contacted the office for assistance. Elements of this scenario reinforce the view that aspects of what once amounted to social work were being undertaken by other ‘professionals’. There were two other developments. First, I came across Making It Happen (DCSF, 2008). This document refers to the help and support that can be provided to children and young people by an array of workers including learning mentors, support workers, health visitors and teachers. However, like former BASW chair and Director of Social Services, and then professor, Ray Jones (2008), I was struck by the fact that there was not one mention of social work or social workers. Like him, one wonders why the fact that thousands of children and families receive advice, assistance and, when necessary, protective action, was not acknowledged or recognised by a New Labour government? And second, there was the publication of Social Work at its Best: a statement of social work roles and tasks for the 21st Century (General Social Care Council, 2008). This document had been lying on ministers’ desks for months before it was sneaked out without a formal launch, press release or ministerial forward. Furthermore, although it refers to values 3

Social Work

embodying equality and human rights and the profession being committed to enabling all to meet their potential, there are also statements about social workers being brokers, navigators and planners. These latter comments are reminiscent of words used to introduce care management for adult service users in the 1990s, something which in many ways was the forerunner to changes in relation to social work with children and families. In short, after a rejuvenating conference, plus the publication of an optimistic, or some might say utopian, article about the possibilities of a critical/radical practice (Rogowski, 2008), I was quickly back to the reality of what social work consists of, together with the esteem with which New Labour held it. Although social work was probably the most disparaged and discredited profession of the 1980s and 1990s, this intensified under New Labour’s continued acceptance of neoliberalism, the belief that the free market was the best way of achieving human well-being. Relatedly, managerialism, marketisation and scapegoating by the media and politicians had certainly contributed to widespread demoralisation (Jones, C., 1999, 2004). I had long bemoaned the changes that had taken place in social work over the years (for example, Rogowski, 2002, 2007) but always managed to retain a sense of optimism for the future. But after years of, in a professional sense, swimming against the tide, perhaps it was time to take stock. Some have referred to the ‘remaking’ and ‘transforming’ of social work (Garrett, 2003 and 2009b respectively), the ‘repositioning’ of social work (Dominelli, 2009a), or of social work being subject to ‘continuity and change’ (Payne, 2005). However, another view is that what remained of the profession is at best a severely truncated and technocratic version of what it once promised to be (Ferguson, 2008; Lavalette, 2011). All those changes, the development of social work to its nadir, were what the first edition of this book was about. A decade later, neoliberalism, together with associated austerity, continues to dominate social work and social welfare more generally, notwithstanding, as I have often advocated, ongoing critical/radical possibilities (see, for example, Rogowski, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015a & b, 2016, 2018b). Many hoped the financial/banking crash of 2008 and ensuing Great Recession, together with subsequent Coalition/Conservative governments’ obsession with austerity, would be a fatal blow to neoliberal ideology. However, although the election of Trump in the US and Brexit represent rising discontent with the social and economic costs of neoliberalisation, the ideology not only survives but, in many ways, thrives (Blyth, 2013; Cummins, 2018; Farnsworth and Irving, 2018). This is despite the growth in poverty and inequality and massive cuts to public services which have impacted heavily on social workers and the people they work with. Families and local councils have been and remain on the receiving end of cuts to welfare benefits, housing and support services such as children’s centres and youth work, all this coupled with flatlining in-work 4

Introduction

incomes and increasing income insecurity. Expenditure on local authority children’s services has been drastically reduced despite rising demand and growing numbers of children. There is also a funding crisis in relation to adult social care resulting in ever more tightening eligibility thresholds. Overall, the result is that practitioners in both children’s services and adult social care remain burdened by bureaucracy and targets with service users not getting the services they need. Despite Theresa May’s claim at the 2018 Conservative Party conference that ‘austerity is over’, and Boris Johnson’s subsequent spending pledges on taking over the leadership of the party and his 2019 General Election success, do not be surprised if the overriding narrative remains that councils need to be more efficient and ‘do more with less’. Nevertheless, in this second edition I do not present a scenario of doom and gloom, instead, as alluded to, I outline the possibilities of critical/radical practice in neoliberal times.

Locating myself Before elaborating on what will be for many a controversial view, I want to say something about the book’s and this second edition’s antecedents, including my own intellectual and social work biography. The point is that I need to make myself visible, not out of self-indulgence, but as a way of alerting the reader to the obvious fact that I am not all-knowing or impartial and that different interpretations and conclusions about developments in social work can be made. Despite often made calls for, or claims of, objectivity, we all come to our views based on various assumptions and values, and I want to make mine clear. I was brought up in a working-class family that had middle-class aspirations and went to Leeds University to study law during the late 1960s and early 1970s. I engaged in some of the student ‘sit-ins’ of the time, though generally was little interested in politics. Most of my student days were spent socialising, drinking alcohol, listening to and watching rock music, and by and large attempting to have as good a time as possible. On graduating I was unsure of what I wanted to do and spent some months doing various casual jobs in factories and department stores. I was struck by the boring and mundane nature of the work that many people are forced into, and it was during this period that a more serious interest in politics developed. I had many discussions with friends who had attended what appeared to be more radical universities such as Essex and the London School of Economics. They had studied what I was beginning to see as more interesting subjects such as sociology, politics and economics. I also came across Miliband’s (1973) The State in Capitalist Society, which provides an analysis of the capitalist system of power.

5

Social Work

During 1973 I joined the civil service as an employment adviser in (the then) Department of Employment. As I was unsure of what I wanted to do, I became convinced that there were others in the same boat, so thought that I could do something to help. During my discussions with ‘claimants’, the unemployed, or ‘jobseekers’ and even ‘customers’ as they came to be called, I was struck by the various problems that many were facing. There were obvious ones such as those having physical and mental health issues and those with learning needs. And then there were those who simply seemed keen to opt out of the system altogether, not wanting to become engaged in traditional employment. Rather they were content to, for example, squat or live in communes in unoccupied property, existing on benefits and anything else they could make money from. They would sell their paintings, home-made jewellery or even ‘soft’ drugs such as cannabis in order to get by. As well as opting out of society some saw themselves as harbingers of alternative, more egalitarian forms of living. I began to see such views and lifestyles as challenges to conventional, capitalist society. I was reasonably content in the civil service but did miss the student lifestyle and the relative freedom and socialising that it brought. Less flippantly, I wanted to do something more in terms of addressing the social problems that I saw on a day-to-day basis as an employment adviser. This is where social work came in and I went on to complete a Diploma in Social Work (which incorporated the Certificate of Qualification in Social Work) at Lancaster University. It was here that I became interested in juvenile delinquency, as young offending was then called, and its community-based management by means of intermediate treatment.4 Essentially, it came to be about developing alternatives to incarceration for young offenders because of its ineffectiveness in terms of high reconviction rates, as well being very expensive and in many ways inhumane (see Thorpe et al, 1980). My interest in Marx developed with the appearance of my first social work article, arguing that social workers dealt with casualties of a capitalist system which is dominated by profit and property owning rather than the real needs of people (Rogowski, 1977). This was also influenced by other seminal texts, for example Radical Social Work (Bailey and Brake, 1975) and The New Criminology: for a social theory of deviance (Taylor et al, 1973). Such works point to the fact that paradoxically the justification of social work lies in its maintenance of a social and economic system that is the cause of the ills that it has to confront. In the case of young offenders, for instance, then and now, social work involves ensuring that young people play by the rule of present society without recognising that these rules, and the inequalities of wealth and power involved, lie at the heart of youth crime. After qualifying as a social worker my first post was as a generic worker dealing with a range of duties and responsibilities in relation to all service user groups. In addition to individual casework, I was also involved in group 6

Introduction

and community-oriented work including establishing a lone parents’ group and local claimants’ union. I also had my first taste of working with young offenders by organising and facilitating intermediate treatment groups (see, for example, Rogowski, 1982) along with groups for the parents of offenders. I completed an MA in 1982, the thesis looking at intermediate treatment and the potential for a radical practice, drawing on notions of politicisation and consciencisation (Rogowski, 1985). In 1983 I became a social worker for children and families which I continued to be over three decades. I have always been keen to develop a critical/radical social work practice, having been involved in group work with parents who had children where there were child protection concerns and with young people who were solvent users (Rogowski and McGrath, 1986 and Rogowski et al, 1989 respectively; see also Mullender, 1989/1990). This work influenced and formed part of attempts at developing community social work strategies on two deprived estates. Such work involved working alongside local people utilising group and community work methods, as well as traditional casework, and is discussed further in Chapter Three. In undertaking a Personal Social Services Fellowship in the late 1980s, I focussed on the possibilities of developing a radical practice for intermediate treatment (see Rogowski, 1990a, 1990b, 1995). By this time radical social work had changed in that it was not only issues of class that had to be considered but also those of ‘race’5 and gender (Langan and Lee, 1989). All this took place despite the neoliberal onslaught that began with the election of Thatcher in 1979, the collapse of the Soviet Bloc, subsequent crisis within Marxist thought and the influence of postmodernism. As a result, social work increasingly had to cope with dramatic changes at the economic, political and ideological level, as well as in terms of social theory. A key book that looks at such issues, asking and trying to answer the question ‘what has become of social work and what are its futures?’ was Parton’s (1996a) edited collection Social Work, Social Theory and Social Change. It looks at the theory, policy and practice of social work under the Conservative governments of 1979–1997, and I make no apologies for drawing on some of the essays in this book. During the mid-1990s my thoughts turned to studying for a PhD. I was interested in the policy and practice changes in relation to youth crime over the post-war period – simply put, the move from welfare/ treatment to punishment – and was also curious know what young offenders made of them. My research included a qualitative study which involved semi-structured interviews and focus group discussions with young offenders. It amounted to critical social research, an approach which relates social phenomena to a wider social context as well as challenging oppression (Harvey, L., 1990). The young people saw offending as starting as naughtiness and mischief, prior to ‘graduating’ to more instrumental offending which was related to 7

Social Work

motivations of boredom and material gain (Rogowski, 2000/2001, 2006). They condemned the move from welfare/treatment to punishment, also seeing the youth justice system as racist, sexist and as focussing on young people ‘like us’, from deprived areas rather than administering justice to all. Young offending, they went on, should be tackled by making school more interesting and relevant, improving recreational facilities and ensuring there were genuine employment and training opportunities. Parents and carers also needed more support and resources. All this, they argued, would mean young offending was seriously addressed. They were concerned with inequality, feeling a more fair and just society would lead to less crime. It was from their views and experiences that I argued for a critical/radical practice (Rogowski, 2003/2004, 2008) as well as a critical/radical social policy (Rogowski, 2010). Although I left direct social work practice in 2014 it is important to emphasise that I have continued to take a keen interest in the profession together with wider social, political and economic issues. This has involved, for example, writing a column for the BASW’s magazine Professional Social Work as well articles/papers, book reviews and the like for other journals, all of which helped lead to the second edition of this book. Incidentally, I am aware that some of the foregoing may seem rather naive and idealistic, this certainly being what some erstwhile colleagues have accused me of. However, a key point to make is that we could live in a better world, one where at the very least there is less inequality and less oppression based on class, ‘race’, gender, disability and so on. This is what social work, although initially endeavouring to deal with problems and difficulties confronting people on an individual basis, must keep in mind. This in turn must involve a critical perspective, one which acknowledges the strength of Marxist theory. Perhaps social class and the capitalist, now more usually termed neoliberal, economic system are not sufficient explanations for inequality and oppression in society (though many would disagree – see, for example, Callinicos, 2001, 2003, 2014) with other structural factors including ‘race’ and gender and their intersections (see later in the chapter) needing to be taken into account. Such a perspective leads to a critical/ radical practice which questions dominant ideological assumptions and aims to understand and change the social and political context of practice (Cree and Myers, 2008). After all, knowledge is structured by existing social relations and these can be oppressive in nature, being rooted in the differences described earlier. Recognising this, while perhaps not making the task any easier, means there is an opportunity to do something about it. A more open engagement with issues of power is therefore necessary to open up possibilities of negotiation and transformation.

8

Introduction

The book: preliminary considerations As indicated, the book essentially charts the highs and current lows of the development of social work as a profession. Put another way, this relates to how and why social work has lost its privilege and influence, thereby failing to maintain its position as a driver of social reform (Bamford, 2015). Despite such negative connotations, I still manage to look to the future in a positive manner by outlining the possibilities of critical/radical practice. As a result, this book will particularly appeal to under/post graduate social work students as well as those studying such as sociology, social policy and social science more generally. To this end, ensuing chapters begin and end with chapter summaries/key learning points and discussion points/suggestions for further reading respectively. In addition to students, however, experienced social work practitioners, managers and academics in social work/policy and allied fields will also find much of interest. At the outset, a key question is what actually is a profession? Although there is a considerable literature on this, including that of one of the giants of sociology, Durkheim, actually there is no generally accepted definition other than perhaps a profession has claims to special knowledge and skills which require extensive training (Johnson, 1993). Medicine and law are generally accepted as ‘classical’ autonomous professions whereas other occupational groups such as accountants, teachers, nurses, along with social workers, are best regarded as ‘semi’ or ‘bureau’ professions. Nevertheless, one could still argue that during the 1970s social work did contain elements of a genuine profession. There was a period of training with resulting practice based on knowledge, understanding and skills. There certainly was an occupational identity with collegial relations, and there was an amount of autonomy and discretion in how to practice. However, since the 1980s all this was gradually eroded as managerialism increasingly took hold. What now exists is a socalled professionalism based on organisational, rather than professional, values emphasising bureaucratic and managerial controls, budgetary restrictions and financial rationalisations, all of which require the standardisation of work practices (Rogowski, 2007). It amounts to the ‘deformation of professional formation’, with being ‘professional’ nowadays often merely amounting to delivering someone else’s targets (Green, J., 2009). In making this point, I want to emphasise that I am not in defence of professional privilege, and the power and prestige this can involve. Instead, my views are grounded in a set of values and a code of ethics that include ensuring basic human rights and social justice, and one might add genuine equality, for all. Such views are, at least potentially, oppositional to neoliberalism and they are ones which explain why many come into social work in the first place. Developments in social work are in turn related to ideological changes in the economic, political and social spheres. In theorising social welfare 9

Social Work

and in turn social work’s evolution it is important to link such spheres to wider philosophical and political problematics, in particular the debate about Enlightenment philosophy (O’Brien and Penna, 1998). The importance of theory in examining the development of social work cannot be overstated. Social work’s history is much more than a series of events to be presented in simple chronological order, letting the facts speak for themselves as it were. The reason for this is that all economic and social policy as well as social and economic research is based on theory at some level or other. There is no such thing as pure, empirically based policy or atheoretical research. Furthermore, theory is not a word-game carried out by academics. Rather it is a dimension of action because it gives direction and meaning to what we do, this being another reason why I dealt with my own intellectual and social work biography. In looking at Enlightenment philosophy and the associated question of modernity, of particular relevance to the beginnings of social work in the middle of the 19th and into the 20th century, were liberalism and, later, Marxism. This was when the forerunner of modern social work, the Charity Organisation Society (COS), developed, and when the state, often reluctantly, became more involved in welfare provision. During the middle of the 20th century until the 1970s, when Marxist views were at their height, we see the dominance of the social democratic consensus of the post-war years. This led to the establishment of the welfare state and was the period when social work as a profession reached its zenith. Subsequently, there was the move to the neoliberal consensus of the present which embraces Thatcherism, Majorism, the Blairism and Brownism of New Labour, Cameron’s Conservative/ Liberal Democrat Coalition, and May’s and now Johnson’s Conservative governments. One result has been the demise of the welfare state and social work. Paralleling this move, Enlightenment and modernity come under challenge from postmodernism, not least its questioning of science and grand narratives including political philosophies and ideologies. All of this needs to be borne in mind when considering social work’s development. Enlightenment and modernity Enlightenment and modernity refer to the changed world view that developed from the 18th century onwards, a key aspect being the belief that by virtue of reason and science, explanation and progress could be achieved for humanity. Modernity sees the major lines of development and change in the contemporary world as being consistent with or a historical product of an unfolding pattern of events inaugurated by the social, political, economic and epistemological revelations of Enlightenment (O’Brien and Penna, 1998). This represented a major shift towards scientific and secular explanations of the natural and social world, an important characteristic of 10

Introduction

which was the separation of ‘man’ and human ‘reason’ from the natural order. It was confined to a particular geographical region, largely Western Europe, and although commonly understood as a specific historical period it also refers to a number of intellectual, cultural, social and political developments which opened up the world to the rational autonomous thought of human beings, subjecting the institutions of church, state and law to the power of rational thought. It represented an era in which philosophy understood itself as entering the light of reason from the darkness of myth and superstition. The rise of scientific and secular philosophical interpretations of nature and society undermined the legitimacy of established world views and opened up space for social, ethical and political relationships to be understood as a result of human action and organised through such action (Touraine, 1995). Enlightenment thinkers were secure in their belief that reason, logic and science could be applied universally – to history, to nature, to the human body and mind, and to society – and that a single philosophical system could be developed, within which everything would be revealed to human understanding. There was a faith in science as a progressive force that could understand and solve problems in both the natural and social worlds (Hamilton, 1997). When it comes to the social world, although the possibilities of Enlightenment were understood in different ways by different thinkers, there was a preoccupation with power and its foundations, what rights individuals could properly lay claim to, and what form of political organisation could guarantee individual rights. All this formed the substance of intense philosophical disputes during the 18th and 19th centuries with a major division existing between philosophers such as Locke, whose work provided important inspiration for liberalism, and those of the French Enlightenment, such as Rousseau, who provided many of the foundations for Marxism. For Locke, free will characterised human activity, and the primary purpose of that activity was labour, so the protection through laws enabling individual freedom to act, trade and own property was the proper role of political authority. Against this was counter-posed an alternative understanding of social order based on individual submission to a general will expressed in a social contract between individuals and the state. Rousseau saw freedom and justice being achieved by the subordination of individual interests to a common good that is defined by equality rather than inequality. The debates between the natural law tradition and the communitarian tradition formed the background to the development of social thought in the 19th century. The possibilities for social harmony, social order, individual and collective freedom became increasingly focussed around questions of equality and inequality as the industrial revolution gained momentum and its effects became increasingly obvious. Conventional political philosophies or

11

Social Work

ideologies, from liberalism on the right to Marxism on the left, are derived from such debates. For Marxists the concept and theory of ideology is central, though its meaning is different to that associated with conventional political philosophies/ideologies. Marx established how ideology originates and what its functions in society are. Being a historical materialist, he argued that it was not the consciousness of people that determines the course of history but rather it is conflict over the productive process that shapes both the course of history and people’s ideology (Marx, 1970). In capitalist societies the ideas, values and beliefs of those who dominate the production, distribution and business sectors become accepted as the ideas of all sections of society including those who stand to lose by their application in everyday affairs. One has only to witness the seeming triumph of neoliberalism/global capitalism. Furthermore, the concept of ideology remains vital to the contemporary social sciences, despite those who argue that we have reached the end of ideology (Thompson, J. B., 1990).6 This is because when considering developments in relation to social work, the concept of ideology, and the use of theory more generally, is indispensable. It is impossible to understand the nature and function of welfare in general, and social work in particular, without an analysis of dominant social values and the social, economic and political systems in which they operate. It is also important to note another aspect of Enlightenment and modernity, namely much of feminism. Initially, there was liberal feminism’s preoccupation with equal rights for women and men, accompanied by a commitment to improve the position of women in society. The focus is on reform, with the state being seen as a neutral arbiter open to the influence of reason and political pressure (Wolf, 1993). On the other hand, Marxist/socialist feminism analyses the position of women in society within the context of a conventional Marxist analysis of capitalism with sexual oppression being a dimension of class power but concludes that women’s position cannot only be understood as a dimension of capitalism, rather it is an element of patriarchal capitalism (see Beasley, 1999). Then again, radical feminism sees women as a group oppressed by men as a group, this having its roots in male and female biology (Bell and Klein, 1996).7 Postmodernism Turning to postmodernism, as well as often being seen as its forerunner, post-structuralism is often subsumed under it (Sarup, 1993). Both represent a rejection of the major tenets of Enlightenment and modernity, including Marxism and liberalism as well as scientific modes of thought in which human history is claimed to represent a unilinear development (Lemert, 1994). Post-structuralism can be counter-posed to structuralism, a collective 12

Introduction

label for a variety of loosely related philosophical traditions that emerged in France during the middle of the 20th century. They diverged in the source and identity of the underlying structures that shaped reality, but all subscribed to the idea that humans were made and operated by structures and forces beyond their personal and collective control (Gibbins, 1998). Post-structuralism developed around a number of philosophers, most importantly Foucault (1977) whose work is an unremitting critique of Enlightenment epistemology. He argued that the latter prioritises the distinction between thinking and acting whereas the history of Enlightenment theory and knowledge shows there are only ways of acting-thinking, or power-knowledge. Put another way, knowledge is normally regarded as providing us with the power to do things, a liberation, but Foucault inverts this, arguing that knowledge is a power over others, the power to define others thereby ceasing to be a liberation but a mode of domination. For Foucault the notion of ‘discourse’ is important in seeing how social knowledges are organised and distributed, and of their consequences for social action. Societies have discourses about their social problems and social policies, with each discourse being structured or organised around central themes and connections, these defining the terms in which statements can be made, investigations conducted, and conversations can take place (Clarke and Cochrane, 1998). Such powers are not located in single institutions but are undertaken by a range of social actors, particularly the ‘psy professions’ of social workers, psychologists, psychiatrists and criminologists. They are all involved in the exercising of ‘disciplinary power’ over others, and as these powers become more entrenched in the social order, so more and more people are drawn into the micro-technologies. No central authority, the argument continues, regulates or bestows them but rather they are decentred and distributed throughout the social and institutional networks of the modern political order. Post-structuralism is a challenge to conventional ways of interpreting the growth and development of social institutions of welfare including social work, with grand visions of progress and reform rejected in favour of more detailed assessments of the conditions of emergence, maintenance and contestation of specific welfare programmes. More broadly it challenges the normative view of social science as the progressive accumulation of knowledge in the service of human value. Postmodernism refers to an eclectic range of perspectives and beliefs about the contemporary world, as well as to the fundamental and complex transformations in the social, economic, cultural and technological spheres (Parton, 1996b). It is difficult not to accept the sense of current pace of change and the need to draw attention to such things as the importance of difference and diversity, the significance and variety of new political strategies

13

Social Work

and movements, and the level of critique directed at a whole new range of previous assumptions, received wisdom and practices. Smart (1993) points out that notions of postmodernism, postmodernity, postmodernisation and post-Fordism serve to describe the central features and processes of the various global transformations that have occurred recently, and which have also included a re-structured welfare state (see, for example, Bauman, 1991, 1992, 1997; Bourdieu, 1984; Crook et al, 1992; Loader and Burrows, 1994; Lyon, 2000). But as important as these changes are, perhaps the most crucial elements in relation to the ‘postmodern condition’ are developments in the intellectual and epistemological spheres. Postmodernity sees us inhabiting a world that has become disorientated, disturbed and subject to doubt. Essential features of modernity such as the pursuit of order, progress, science and rationality are increasingly being undermined by a simultaneous range of negative conditions and experiences, together with the persistence of chance and threat of indeterminacy. Postmodernity, therefore, is characterised by the fragmentation of modernity into forms of institutional pluralism marked by variety, difference, contingency, relativism and ambivalence, all of which modernity sought to overcome. It is this constant and growing questioning of modern resolutions that has been diagnosed as symptomatic of the ‘postmodern condition’. Lyotard’s The Postmodern Condition (1984) was the first to use the term ‘postmodern’ in relation to social science, defining it as ‘incredulity towards meta narratives’ (p xxiv). By this he meant that the advances of technology, the organisation of international capital and the ensuing changes in social and economic structures of modern societies had made all the old ideologies and theories redundant. In their place ‘local narratives’ come to dominate, these containing a diversity of values and beliefs held by a variety of groups which also involve shifting alliances in society with no agreed vision of the future. Lyotard, therefore, rejects totality, stressing instead the fragmentation of ‘language games’, of time, of the human subject and of society itself. Perhaps there has been a loss of confidence in science, experts and politicians in terms of offering ways of solving economic, social and human problems. Increasingly, notions of ambivalence, contingency, risk and reflexivity are seen as characteristic of contemporary society, a society which has been characterised as a risk society (Beck, 1992). Whereas in modern society communal concerns and values related to substantive and positive goals of social change, in the current risk society the normative basis is safety and the utopia is peculiarly negative and defensive; preventing the worst and protection from harm (Parton, 1996c). Finally, in relation to postmodernism, there is feminism to consider, particularly its ‘paradigm shift’ (Barrett and Phillips, 1992) from finding the cause of women’s oppression, part of the modern project, to celebrating women’s difference from men, (Williams, 1996; also see Nicholson, 1990). 14

Introduction

It was a move away from seeing oppression as rooted in social structure towards an emphasis on oppression as identity rooted in difference. This shift provided opportunities to explore the relationship between identity, subjectivity, subject position and political agency. Black feminism raised the issue of the need to acknowledge the ways in which existing social divisions reconstitute women’s experiences of the world and that the category ‘woman’ is itself differentiated by, for example, class, ‘race’, ethnicity, disability, age and sexuality (for example, Hill-Collins, 1991). Going further, postmodern feminism involves a rejection of the idea of single explanations and opposition to essentialism, the belief that differences between men and women are innate rather than socially constructed (Gelsthorpe, 1997). There is also a celebration of a plurality of knowledges, and the so-called rationality and objectivity of contemporary science comes under attack with attempts being made to create fluid, open terms and language which more clearly reflect women’s experiences (for example, Benhabib, 1992). Enlightenment, modernity and postmodernism revisited The reader may be asking what the discussion of Enlightenment and modernity together with postmodernism has to do with the development of social work. As examples, there are two issues I want to mention. First, such concepts influence how developments in society are seen and understood. Put simply, for example, the zenith of social work, which resulted from the Seebohm Report (1968) and the subsequent creation of local authority Social Services Departments (SSDs), is clearly an Enlightenment project and in line with modernity. These developments arose from the view that by utilising science and reason, a new profession, social work, could be established, together with new organisations and structures for ways of delivering its services. All this would in turn help alleviate and ultimately solve social problems and society’s ills as a whole. It corresponds to the social democratic consensus of the time; the belief that the state had a key role in dealing with social problems and difficulties. This can be counter-posed to developments since those heady days, which have seen a breakdown of that consensus, the rise of the New Right and now the dominance of neoliberalism. And as far as social work is concerned, essentially my argument is that we have seen its de-professionalisation. This has included the fragmentation of the social work task, the loss of social work autonomy and discretion, and increased bureaucracy and control involving the advance and now domination of managerialism. Ultimately, we have witnessed the demise of Social Services Departments. Such developments can be seen in terms of the loss of faith in science and reason to find the cause of social problems and in turn for professionals, like social workers, to deal with and ultimately solve them. Instead the best that can be done is to 15

Social Work

assess and manage the risk inherent in individual’s problems and difficulties. One can read this as the triumph of free market or neoliberal ideology, or alternatively as a move to the postmodern society. Second, turning to practice, as we saw social work can be seen as an aspect of what Foucault (1977) termed ‘disciplinary power’ associated with the growth of the ‘psy professions’, together with the spread of new discourses and technologies of treatment and surveillance (Davis and Garrett, 2004). As a result, in understanding the dynamics of power relations social workers have to interrogate the meaning of diversity, difference and division. Williams (1996, p 70), fusing feminism and postmodernism, does precisely this, arguing for social work to celebrate diversity, acknowledge difference and fight division. Diversity refers to ‘difference claimed upon a shared collective [and specific] experience … and not with a subordinated or unequal subject position’, for example shared language, nationality, ‘race’, age, sexual identity and so on. Difference refers to ‘a situation where a shared collective experience/identity – say, around or combining gender, ethnicity, sexuality, religion, disability – forms the basis of resistance against the positioning of that identity as subordinate’. Finally, division means the ‘translation of the expression of a shared experience into a form of domination’, an example when being a white, British, heterosexual man ‘forms an identity which protects a privileged position’. Furthermore, none of these categories are fixed or closed so movement can take place from one to another. In brief, social workers should understand and embrace these issues in ways that work for rather than against service users as they strive for increased control and direction over their lives. Enlightenment and modernity together with postmodernism are concepts that should be borne in mind when reading this book. They are vital in any attempts at outlining, analysing and understanding the development of social work. But, going further, from which precise standpoint do I view all this? The reader will surely have gathered that, despite the challenges of neoliberalism and postmodernism, I am a critical modernist in orientation, this being a critical stance relating to sociology, social theory, social policy and social work. Despite being marginalised in recent years, Marxism’s coherence and logic in terms of providing a theory of society and theorisation of capitalism has not been surpassed (see, for example, Hobsbawm, 1998, 2012; Eagleton, 2018 and, in relation specifically to social work, Ferguson and Lavalette, 2004, 2018; Garrett, 2018a) albeit it has to be complemented with aspects of ‘race’ and feminism, as well as intersectionality whereby categories like class, ‘race’ and gender are seen as overlapping and mutually constitutive rather than isolated and distinct (see, for example, Cree and Philips, 2019). Importantly, Marxism covers pre-history, history and extends to the present, also providing, or at least sketching, a future. It involves a materialist interpretation of history and a view that economic life is central, 16

Introduction

if not actually causative or determining, over most collective aspects of life in society and over many of the individual aspects of life from which a collectivity arises. Marx was even able to paint a picture of what is now called ‘globalisation’. As Hobsbawm (1998) points out, what might in 1848 have struck an uncommitted reader as revolutionary rhetoric – or at best a plausible prediction – can now be read as a concise characteristic of capitalism at the end of the 20th and now into the 21st century. Even Giddens, by no means a Marxist, stresses that ‘capitalist markets still have many of the damaging consequences to which Marx pointed, including the dominance of the growth ethic, universal commodification and economic polarisation. … The critiques of these tendencies surely remain as important as ever was’ (1994, pp 11–12). Meanwhile, postmodernism is an intellectual current that bruised the self-confidence to which such as reason, science and knowledge had become accustomed, though it can be subjected to many criticisms.8 First, and most obviously, although postmodernism, and particularly Lyotard, is incredulous about grand or meta-narratives it is, however, one itself by arguing that all meta-narratives and ideologies are redundant. Second, at the heart of postmodernism is a radical individualism which rejects class, ‘race’, gender, indeed all bases of collective identity, since they are all premised on a wider narrative about how the world works (Ferguson, 2008). From this, postmodernism sits too well with governments which prioritise individual expenditure over public welfare. Third, and consistent with the emphasis on individualism, is the postmodern rejection of structural explanations of poverty. Finally, there is postmodernism’s moral relativism which refuses to privilege any discourse over another, thereby leading to the charge of nihilism. It can also be said that many postmodern insights have now simply become part and parcel of the disciplines it once challenged (for example, Leonard, 1997). As such, critical realism (Lopez and Potter, 2001) offers a more reasonable and useful framework from which to engage current philosophical, scientific and social scientific challenges. Although it developed from a critique of positivism in natural science, it puts forward epistemological caution with respect to scientific knowledge, as opposed to self-defeating relativist scepticism. Knowledge is culturally and historically situated, and progress in terms of accumulation of knowledge is not simply a historically linear phenomenon. Regression is, therefore, possible but it is important to emphasise that so too is progress, and human knowledge has indeed been expanded over the centuries. This is not the place to expound on critical realism further, suffice to say that there is close affinity with the critical theory of the Frankfurt School and its second-generation representative Habermas. Similarly, it has an affinity with Marxism in that the human interests involved in seeking to understand the world are precisely those who seek to change it, this being the ultimate goal of critical/radical social work. 17

Social Work

The book: structure and organisation As the title indicates, this book looks at the rise and subsequent fall of social work as a profession, while also considering critical/radical possibilities. It does not aim to be comprehensive or to provide a broad examination of social work’s development. Bearing in mind my experience, I focus on policy and practice developments mainly in relation to children and families, including what used to be an important area for social work, young offending. I also comment on other service user areas. Echoing the earlier ‘locating myself ’ section, and like Garrett (2003), what follows is not an objective or ‘true’ account of the rise and fall of social work. Rather the aim is more limited, this being to unsettle or question dominant and official accounts of what has occurred, while at the same time wanting to avoid a somewhat quirky polemic. It is an invitation for readers to question and rethink what has occurred. Although I accept that social work is an arena of struggle and contestation, the future it has does have should, at least, borrow from the past. Social work has been around for a long time but as an occupation certainly reached a high point in the 1970s when it was the rising star of the human service delivery professions. In Woodroofe’s (1962) terms, this essentially involved the move from charity to social work. Since then, coinciding with changed ideological, political and economic circumstances, it has been under attack from the media and politicians. Practitioners’ expertise and effectiveness have been questioned and they are blamed for scandals relating to abused children notably, for example, in relation to Baby Peter.9 There have also been continuing changes in their organisation and day-to-day practice which, despite arguments about professionalisation, actually amounts to de-professionalisation. The result is that instead of a profession based on knowledge, understanding, skills and collegial relations, we now have a so-called profession whereby managers dominate, their focus being on budgetary restrictions, targets and form and computer exemplar completion. Little face-to-face work occurs with service users as a relationship-based profession has been transformed into a bureaucratic one focussing on the assessment and rationing of resources and services. Furthermore, it has been forced into a more controlling, moral policing role with service users often told to change their lives or face the consequences which could include losing their children or their liberty. We have also seen the demise of the Central Council for the Education and Training of Social Workers (CCETSW) and the National Institute of Social Work (NISW), with much of their work taken over by the Social Care Institute for Excellence, a charity that supposedly works to improve service users’ lives by sharing knowledge about what works. Social work itself is rarely mentioned in government circles except negatively when things go wrong in relation to 18

Introduction

child abuse and can then result in political interference and control. Finally, but certainly not least, we have witnessed a decade of austerity that has impacted heavily on service users and social work as a whole. My central argument, therefore, is that at best what remains of social work is a limited version of what the possibilities once were. It seems timely, therefore, to have a critical look at the profession’s rise and subsequent fall while retaining a sense of hope because critical/radical practice retains its relevance in terms of envisaging and working towards a more just and equal world Chapter Two looks at the beginnings of social work to its 1970s peak. Its roots lie in the socio-economic changes of the 18th and 19th centuries but various pioneers were influential in the early development including the COS (Younghusband, 1981). The first half of the 20th century saw advances in terms of social legislation such as housing and secondary education. However, apart from such as the establishment of the mental health social work course at the London School of Economics in the late 1920s, developments in social work slowed down. It was during the 1940s that things picked up and the value of trained social work staff became more accepted, these including almoners in hospitals, psychiatric social workers, and childcare and family caseworkers. Importantly, the welfare state was established and the social democratic consensus took hold. Welfare services were created for the elderly and people with special needs, as well as unified services for children, with both being provided by local authorities. Following the Seebohm Report (1968) these welfare and children’s services were amalgamated into local authority Social Services Departments. By this time NISW was doing much to advance social work, and in 1970 the BASW was formed. Psychology and sociology provided a knowledge base, with psychoanalysis dominating prior to many other theory-practice developments. Group and community work, in addition to casework, also featured. Professional training also changed significantly with the Certificate of Qualification in Social Work being established in 1971 by CCETSW. In short, the foregoing indicates the increasing influence and professionalisation of social work, such developments being congruent with the Enlightenment project. The election of Margaret Thatcher as Prime Minister in 1979 ushered in profound changes in the ideological, political and economic spheres, all of which were to negatively affect social work. Her premiership and that of John Major, together with their impact on social work, are the concerns of Chapter Three.10 The New Right employed classical liberal critiques of state action, applying them to contemporary issues of economic and social policy, including preferring market to public sector approaches to welfare. Social workers were to feel the brunt of this changed political and economic climate. For example, in the late 1980s and 1990s the introduction of managerialism from the private sector led to the beginnings of the de-professionalisation of social work, especially in relation to older people, by 19

Social Work

the introduction of care management. As for methods, perhaps surprisingly, it was still possible to utilise community and group work as well as casework because of the influence of the Barclay Report (1982) which advocated community social work. Later, the Diploma in Social Work was introduced and advances continued in relation to knowledge/theory, for example, witness developments in relation to anti-racist/discriminatory/oppressive practice during the 1980s and 1990s. Overall though, the Thatcherite period witnessed the triumph of neoliberalism and/or the challenges from postmodernism. Arguably we see the beginnings of the move from social work back to charity, at least in terms of service provision. Social work’s decline accelerated during the New Labour years after the election of Tony Blair in 1997 and during Gordon Brown’s time as prime minister. These are the concerns of Chapter Four. Despite talk of the ‘Third Way’, New Labour largely continued with Thatcherism or neoliberalism, this including a sustained ideological and material investment in the superiority of ‘market society’. One consequence was the increased privatisation of services, as well as the use of the voluntary sector in the provision of services. Social work was often subsumed under ‘social care’, was no longer a qualification for probation, did not have the central role it had in relation to young offending, and the approved social worker role in relation to mental health was diluted. The General Social Care Council replaced CCETSW and there was the demise of Social Services Departments. Similarly, there was the end of NISW, and although the social work degree and various post-qualifying courses were introduced, the profession became ever more dominated by managerialism as practice was essentially limited to rationing and risk assessment carried out as speedily as possible under the direction of managers. In the process, opportunities for such as community and group work were severely curtailed. To the extent that when preventative social work occurred it usually involved other ‘professionals’ as neoliberalism continued to hold sway. Chapter Five charts the changes in the professional education and training of social workers over the last 40 years culminating in the introduction of the social work degree and post-qualification awards under New Labour. Arguments often centred on the increased professionalisaton required in today’s complex, (post)modern world. However, employer involvement in training and the introduction of competences models have challenged social work’s professional autonomy and prepare social workers for working in more regulated and regulating ways. Some argued that there are also opportunities as social work adapts to a more diverse welfare system which has less professional dominance and more accountability in both welfare and education systems (see Cannan, 1994/1995). However, at best perhaps this was an optimistic view with one only having to look at developments following New Labour’s ‘modernisation’ agenda. There was less emphasis on 20

Introduction

the academic knowledge and understanding required to practise social work, with instead the emphasis on competences predominating. The result was social work being de-professionalised, the task being fragmented further, and the ongoing preoccupation with form/computer exemplar filling to meet the targets and performance indicators instigated by managers. Reiterating earlier comments, what remains of social work is a limited version of what the possibilities used to be. Chapter Six takes a critical look at two other key themes over recent times, namely the growth of managerialism and the development of the ‘social work business’ (Harris, J., 2003). Since the 1980s more effective private sector-type management has been presented as the panacea for almost every problem facing the public services, including social work. It was hoped such managers would overthrow the bureaucratic and professional barriers to change thereby creating a vibrant mixed economy of care. Consequently, the introduction of managerialism and the social work business have taken social work away from relationship-based activity, let alone anything more critical, radical or even progressive. The rhetoric refers to ‘empowerment’, ‘choice’ and ‘needs-led assessment’, and there is an attempt to recreate the ‘client’ or ‘service user’ as a ‘consumer’/‘customer’, particularly as in the personalisation agenda. However, the counter argument is that social work is now operating in a quasi-business regime which subordinates the public’s needs and the skills of social workers to the demands of competition within the social care market. Significantly, we often see social care organisations having to adapt to meet targets rather than the real needs of the people they are supposed to serve. Issues related to the professionalisation of social work, managerialism and the social work business all featured under David Cameron’s ConservativeLiberal Democratic Coalition government and Theresa May’s and Boris Johnson’s Conservative governments which have been dominated by the politics of austerity and, since 2016, Brexit. Chapter Seven looks at these issues under the umbrella and impact of neoliberalism’s austerity policies on social work and welfare provision more generally, all related to issues of class, poverty and inequality. Austerity was a response to the financial/banking crisis of 2008 and ensuing Great Recession, with the Coalition government arguing it was necessary at a time of national emergency (Blyth, 2013; Cummins, 2018; Wren-Lewis, 2018). However, the real purpose was political rather than economic, the aim being to shrink the state and reduce welfare provision more permanently. Consequently, austerity has led to serious and negative impacts on social work, with much practice now taking place in the increasingly punitive context of welfare. For instance, in relation to the various problems confronting children and families, little preventative work occurs and the social work response is increasingly limited to parents being told to change their behaviours and lifestyles or face the consequences of 21

Social Work

losing their children to adoption (Garrett, 2018b; Rogowski, for example 2016, 2018b; Thoburn and Featherstone, 2019). Despite the foregoing, there are many who manage to retain a sense of optimism for the future of social work. Three respected academics that spring to mind are Paul Michael Garrett, Iain Ferguson and Bill Jordan, all of whom featured in the first edition of this book. Their work continues apace so it is no surprise that the concluding chapter involves an updated discussion of their views, not least because they continue to see social work as being compatible with values of social justice and of seeking social change, despite the current dominant belief that neoliberalism is here to stay and is the best we can hope for. This leads me to a consideration of critical/ radical possibilities including the need for practitioners, both individually and collectively, to focus on such as deprivation/poverty and inequality. Practice examples are provided and although some might see all of this as overly optimistic, I balance this by also pointing out some pitfalls. Thus, while acknowledging the undoubted challenges facing social work, even to the extent of saying that its future might involve a more limited version of what the possibilities once were, opportunities undoubtedly remain for critical/radical practice which must be taken.

Conclusion In ending this introductory chapter, I want to emphasise that in pursuing my arguments I do not want to be too orientated to the past, the ‘golden age’ of social work of the 1970s. This is simply because no profession or set of working practices can remain fixed in uncertain and changing times. However, what I want to emphasise is that the changes that have occurred have taken place within the framework of neoliberalism and have impacted on social work in negative ways. In addition, as we will see in the ensuing chapters, to the extent that there may have been progressive aspects in the various ‘modernising’ agendas, they have, at best, been constrained or, at worst, nullified in the individualistic, free market world we currently inhabit. Nevertheless, a key, indeed overriding, point is that by adopting critical/ radical perspectives, social work has a key role in resisting the neoliberal tide by working towards a more just and equal world, one which, referencing Jeremy Corbyn, benefits the many not the few, not least service users.

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Introduction

Notes 1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

Throughout the book I tend to use the term ‘service user’ rather than the previously used ‘client’ because it implies a more equal relationship between social workers and the people they work with. Although New Labour and subsequent governments often preferred to use words such as ‘consumers’ or ‘customers’, these are contested terms as far as social workers and service users are concerned. ICS was supposed to provide a framework, method of practice and a business process to support practitioners and managers in undertaking assessment, planning, intervention and review. However, there are many flaws with the system as are discussed in Chapter Four. The Common Assessment Framework was introduced by the Department for Children, Schools and Families in 2006, the aim being to introduce a standardised approach (using forms/computer exemplars) for all professionals working in children’s services to assess a child’s additional needs and how they should be met. Again, this is discussed more fully in Chapter Four. Intermediate treatment was introduced by the 1969 Children’s and Young Persons Act as a supplement to ordinary supervision orders for young offenders. It was hoped that if specialist services – for instance, case/group work, leisure/recreational pursuits, education – were developed for such young people it would lead to less delinquency and less need for custody. ‘Race’ is a socially constructed concept rather than a biological category because there are no inherent biological characteristics or traits attributable to racial origins, hence the use of inverted commas here and throughout this book. The ‘end of ideology’ thesis first made an appearance in the 1960s. For example, Bell (1960) and Lipset (1963) argued that as capitalist industrialisation and welfare provision had secured affluence for all, ideological debates between capitalism and socialism were redundant. Then again Fukuyama (1992) argued that logic, historical evidence and (the then) recent events in Eastern Europe showed democracy and capitalism had triumphed over all other systems and there was no alternative to them. There are also elements of ‘end of ideology’ in postmodernism; for example, Lyotard’s (1984) argument that grand ideologies can no longer provide valid explanations for social, economic and political processes or act as guides to future utopia. However, the idea that we somehow live in a post-ideological age is successfully challenged by Schwarzmantel (2008). For a more up-to-date discussion of feminism(s) and social work see Wendt and Moulding (2016). Indeed, a strong case can still be made for the continued relevance of Enlightenment (see, for example, Pinker, 2019). Baby Peter was a 17-month-old boy who died in August 2007 from severe injuries inflicted while in the care of his mother, her partner and a lodger in the household. In November 2008 the two men were found guilty of causing or allowing the death of a child. The mother had already pleaded guilty to the same charge. Baby Peter had also been the subject of a child protection plan following concerns he was being abused or neglected. After the convictions, the death of Baby Peter and the inadequate responses of child welfare professionals dominated political and media discourses and resulted in the setting up of the Social Work Task force to examine the recruitment, training and overall quality and status of social work in England. It reported in November 2009 (SWTF, 2009) and is discussed further in Chapters Five and Eight (also see Jones, R., 2014). For convenience, from here onwards I tend to refer to the Thatcher/Major years as ‘Thatcherism’. Margaret Thatcher was prime minister for most of the period in question

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Social Work (1979–1990) and her policies, together with the underlying ideology/political philosophy of neoliberalism, were continued by John Major (1990–1997).

Discussion points • Is it important to clarify one’s intellectual and social work biography in order to make clear assumptions and values that underlie the book? • To what extent can social work now be equated with the ‘deformation of a profession’ due to organisational values, rather than professional ones, increasingly underpinning it? • How far are Enlightenment and modernity concerns with reason, science and progress undermined by postmodern issues associated with such as variety, difference, contingency, relativism and ambivalence which modernity sought to overcome?

Further reading Parton, N. (1996a) Social Theory, Social Change and Social Work, London: Routledge highlights how social theory contributes to interpretations of the changes in social work, particularly those arising from Thatcherism. For a clear account of the issues surrounding the welfare state and welfare through the lens of Enlightenment and modernity, while acknowledging the challenges of postmodernism and post-structuralism, see O’Brien, M. and Penna, S. (1998) Theorising Welfare: Enlightenment and modern society, London: Sage. Garrett, P. M. (2003) Remaking Social Work with Children and Families: a critical discussion on the ‘modernisation’ of social care, London: Routledge analyses the changes affecting social work with children and families under the Thatcher/Major and early New Labour years.

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TWO

The beginnings of social work to its 1970s zenith Chapter summary Acknowledging the importance of the Protestant Reformation, the Renaissance and Enlightenment, this chapter deals with the influence of liberalism during the 17th and 18th centuries followed by the influence of Marxism in the 19th and early 20th century. Such changes saw the emergence of Fabianism and social democracy which led to the establishment of the welfare state and, ultimately, professional social work in the early 1970s.

Key learning points • The influence of liberalism and the early social work pioneers such as the Charity Organisation Society, Octavia Hill and the Barnetts at Toynbee Hall Settlement. • Fabianism and post-war social democracy: the welfare state, Seebohm and social work’s zenith. • The counterculture and the New Left: inspiration for critical/radical practice.

Rather unhelpfully The Concise Oxford Dictionary does not define ‘social work’ and merely defines a ‘social worker’ as a ‘person trained for social service’. ‘Social service’ is then simply stated to be ‘philanthropic activity’. In fact, what amounts to social work, helping people with problems and difficulties or in need, has always existed; it was carried out by family, friends, neighbours and volunteers (McLaughlin, 2008). What differentiates social work as a distinct activity is that it is organised helping originating in organisational responses to social changes arising from socio-economic developments in the 19th century (Payne, 2005). It can be viewed as an extension of our natural humanity as we are by nature social, empathetic and thus altruistic, this equating with a Marxist view of human nature. Conversely, social work can be understood as being needed to stifle the baser instincts of individuals who, being selfish and greedy, are less likely to help their fellows especially at times of conflict or when there are scarce resources. Again, it is possible

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to link this to a Marxist understanding of a current society dominated by greed and selfishness which is inherent in global capitalism/neoliberalism. The Protestant Reformation, the Renaissance and the Enlightenment were influential in the development of social welfare in Britain. They helped reduce the role and power of the churches while simultaneously municipal and charitable provision increased. Charitable provision was greatly influenced by Judeo-Christian ideas and was facilitated by the emergence of a middle class to take on local responsibility. This charitable provision, together with municipal provision, was increasingly inter-connected with arrangements emanating from central government. In 1601 the Poor Law placed the responsibility for the care of those in dire need on local parishes, and the 1662 Act of Settlement enabled the parish overseer to remove from the parish any settler who could not show they could find work within 40 days (McLaughlin, 2008). Then, as the industrial revolution progressed, central government became increasingly involved in welfare often as a result of having to maintain order. With people increasingly moving to the towns and cities, away from their rural tight-knit communities, there was increasing concern about moral breakdown, crime and health. The health of the poor became a particular concern for the ruling and intellectual classes because of concerns relating to military expansion abroad and the resulting need for a healthy military force. While many saw the masses as lacking proper morals or values as a result of deficient guidance or poor breeding, others saw that capitalism was creating inequalities and social problems so ameliorating measures were necessary. At the same time the Chartists were demanding the vote for working men, while trade unionism was on the rise with political developments around class being significant (Powell, F., 2001). Fear of the masses then, as well as an element of altruism and self-interest, were all factors in the early stages of the development of welfare and social work. In examining the development of social work this chapter begins by looking at the prevailing political, economic, social and ideological situation which was initially dominated by liberalism. Thereafter, I deal with social work’s early pioneers before a discussion of events during the first half of the 20th century which amounted to a relative stalling, though this was less the case in the welfare field more generally (Younghusband, 1981). The comparative frantic activity of post-war years until social work’s high point of the1970s, coinciding with the social democratic consensus of the time, is then covered.

Liberalism and the early pioneers In his Second Treatise of Government published in 1690, Locke provides the essentials of liberalism, the political doctrine that holds the purpose of the state, as an association of independent individuals, is to facilitate the happiness 26

The beginnings of social work to its 1970s zenith

of its members. Today it is possible to talk of liberalisms with some versions being extremely individualistic while others are more open to collective strategies for social and political development (Gray, 1989). Given this caveat, fundamental values are liberty and freedom, which overlap, together with individualism. Liberty and freedom are seen in negative terms as the absence of coercion while individualism emphasises individuals being allowed to pursue their own self-interest free from state intervention which would, by means of Adam Smith’s invisible hand, lead to the well-being of all. Another value is inequality, in that liberty and freedom are incompatible with equality on the assumption that the rich will not share their wealth voluntarily so substantial government intervention would be required. In the last analysis, it is not possible for liberals to be both for and against government or state intervention, with arguments against such intervention centring on it being socially disruptive, wasteful of resources and the fact that it obliterates individual freedom (George and Wilding, 1976). The bedrock for liberalism, Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations, appeared in 1776, arguing for market forces operating freely under competition. Free trade and free markets formed the liberal or classical school of economics. It amounted to a strong belief in the rational, self-correcting market. All this did not sit easily with the state intervention of the Poor Law, despite the fact that the relief it offered was minimal. Other important and influential figures were Malthus, Ricardo and, in a different vein, Bentham (Fraser, D., 1973) and Darwinism. Malthus’ Essay on the Principle of Population was published in 1798 arguing that unless restrained by checks, population growth would outstrip the means of subsistence leading to misery for the masses and ultimately war involving everyone. This was especially so as, he argued, poor relief encouraged improvident marriages and inducements to population growth. Ricardo’s Principles of Political Economy appeared in 1817 introducing the ‘iron law of wages’. His central argument was that as only a certain proportion of the national wealth was available as wages, the more paid out in poor relief, the less remained for wages. Both Malthus and Ricardo saw the Poor Law as counterproductive, self-defeating and a cause of the problems it was trying to combat, these views being very influential at the time. Jeremy Bentham also accepted the free market but realised that at times the state might have to intervene, although he emphasised that any intervention had to be geared to the needs of individualism. He accepted Samuel Smiles’ espousal of self-help as being the supreme virtue and of being the ideal way forward, but he devised a test of utility for those occasions when the state really had to get involved. This was applied to institutions: were they efficient and economical and, above all, did they provide the ‘greatest happiness of the greatest number’? The Benthamites or utilitarians were a source of many

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of the reforms of the 19th century which included elementary education and some basic medical services. Also important to liberalism was Charles Darwin’s The Origin of Species, published in 1859, which was subsequently applied to the social sphere. This interpretation counteracted much of the extreme pessimism of Malthus, with Herbert Spencer, in his 1884 publication The Man versus the State, arguing that the welfare of everyone would be best served by allowing the weak and underdeveloped sections of society to die out, leaving behind the fittest to transmit the highest achievements and powers to the next generation. The pioneers Though socio-economic factors are at the root of the growth of social work, by the middle of the 19th century three pioneers can be identified (Younghusband, 1981). These were the Charity Organisation Society (COS), one of its leaders Octavia Hill, and Canon Barnett and his wife at Toynbee Hall Settlement. They had a Christian view of the value of people to each other and the sort of society they should promote. This included traditional values of individual and family life which were imbued with the prevailing liberal ideals, although they were also concerned with new forms of friendship between members of different classes. The COS was founded in 1869 as the Society for the Organisation of Charitable Relief and Repressing Mendicity and it extolled the moral virtues of self-help and necessary personal sacrifice on part of the poor. Octavia Hill was involved in social housing and made a practical contribution to material difficulties as well as aiding in the moral regeneration of the inhabitants of city slums. The Barnetts founded the settlement movement in 1884, with more following both within and outside the capital. All three pioneering groups were part of a philanthropic movement that was a counterpart to the rational individualism embedded in liberal political theory. Although often less acknowledged, there was an emphasis on the ‘moral economy’ of social relationships rather than just the material economy of capitalist industrialised development. This reflected a view of the true value of society laying in the bonds between individual members, of the value of the social over the individual, and of people working together for the common good (Jordan, 2007). The importance of women in these early days of social work has to be acknowledged. Social relations for men arose mainly from their work but for women it was from their domestic role, so when women worked outside the domestic sphere it tended to be in caring, social welfare roles (McLaughlin, 2008). In any case, the pioneers were all shocked and concerned about the mass poverty and over-crowding, brutality and ignorance that confronted them. According to Younghusband (1981), the doyenne of British social work for much of the last century, the resulting charitable work made 28

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advances in relation to five areas namely knowledge, usable knowledge, methods, training, and organisational structure and procedure. Admittedly, the areas referred to might seem a little idiosyncratic today, but they do give a flavour of the concerns of a developing profession and as such it is worth commenting on them a little further. First, knowledge was bound up in the prevailing political ideology of liberalism, this including the deterrent Poor Law based on the ‘iron law of wages’, the Malthusian theory of population, Benthamism and, later, Darwinism applied to society. Marxist theories had little influence at the time, while subjects such as sociology and psychology were still emerging, so generally social science knowledge was limited. Instead, there were centuriesold ideas about the absolute rights of the father over his children and, to a large extent, his wife. There was unquestioned belief in the Protestant work ethic, and the pioneers had a strong Christian motivation expressed in the belief in the equality of people, though the class system was not questioned. They were clearer about obligations than rights, with their ideal society being one that recognised mutual obligations between rich and poor. Second, usable knowledge was that based on direct experience and was likely to be expressed in moral terms. However, the pioneers began to keep records, discuss their experiences, trying to draw deductions and conclusions in the process. They wanted to discover more about what makes people behave in certain ways rather than simply relying on individual, narrowly prejudiced experience. Even so, the religious urge and prevailing individualist philosophy led to a concentration on the individual, on what they called the ‘character’, to be supported if it was there or deplored if it was not. As a result, poverty and drunkenness, for example, were primarily seen as due to lack of thrift, a failure of moral will, rather than to the constraints of economic or social conditions. Third, there was a need to work out and discover social work methods with the COS being the originator of casework, the process of individualising people through enquiry. This included trying to ascertain all the relevant factors involved in the presenting situation, making a plan with the ‘applicant’, giving help adequate to meet need if, indeed, help was given, and then following the case through. It was mainly concerned with extreme material need, preventing pauperism and encouraging thrift. People were divided into ‘deserving’ and ‘undeserving’ which was admittedly an oversimplified and moralistic division, later changed to the little better ‘helpable’ and ‘unhelpable’. The ‘helpable’ were those who could overcome a crisis or series of crises with support. The ‘unhelpable’ formed two groups: those who were too demoralised, shiftless or malevolent to respond and could only be left to the Poor Law; and those whose needs were so long term because of illness, old age and the like, that were beyond the resources of a voluntary society. The focus was on the circumstances of each individual 29

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rather than on the individual as such, this indicating ‘that it was possible for a well-regulated authority to manage and administer social problems without undermining ideals of individual responsibility for poverty and personal responsibility for collective assistance’ (O’Brien and Penna, 1998, p 26). It promised a form of social administration that supported the principles of economic individualism. The COS, like Octavia Hill and the Barnetts, emphasised treating people as individuals and as equals. Friendship or at any rate some sort of relationship, other than the more patronising and arrogant style of earlier good works, was recognised as being necessary. It may be difficult to understand what equality and friendship meant when there was so much inequality around, but perhaps paternalism could occasionally be transcended by the mutual recognition that we are all human. This was all to become the concept of making and using a relationship in the interest of the client, together with treating them with dignity. It is a sad comment on social work today that the pioneers’ emphasis on the value of relationships needs re-stating, reemphasising and re-recognising. In her work with tenants and the settlement movement led by the Barnetts, Octavia Hill discovered the value of group discussions, activities and outings. What was later to be called community organisation, community work or even a community orientation for the caseworker was also important in her work. She initiated bulk buying for resale to tenants, trade training schemes, many forms of recreation, and campaigned for open spaces. The COS actually thought ‘organising the district’, meaning co-ordinating local charities on COS principles, was more important than casework. Meanwhile the Barnetts initiated the Stepney Council on Public Welfare whose objects included not only charity but ‘all matters affecting the welfare of the district’ (Barnett, 1918, p 633). Despite the work of Hill and the COS, it is the Barnetts who are generally seen as the originators of community work. Fourth, when it came to social work training, Octavia Hill had to train her co-workers, while the COS trained volunteers for the actual work with ‘applicants’, and Canon Barnett conducted searching group discussions with settlement residents about individual motivation and eventually some of these people were to be called social workers. Such training remained a kind of apprenticeship preparation in a work setting with the first real beginning of education for social work occurring in 1895. The Women’s University Settlement set up a joint lectures committee between the settlement itself, the COS and the National Union of Women Workers. The lectures related to practical experience and covered the Poor Law, charity and almsgiving. Later a paid lecturer was appointed, the course lengthened and lectures added on ‘the family and character’, ‘thoroughness’ and ‘personal work’. A whole term was also devoted to provisions for children, and in 1898 a COS special committee on training said it would like to see in the society 30

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the nucleus of a future university devoted to social science for those who planned to undertake philanthropic work (Smith, M., 1965). Finally, in considering the organisational structure and procedures through which help could be most effectively provided, the COS had a central office which co-ordinated the work of over 40 district committees all over London. The local offices were easily accessible to applicants and other agencies, while the workers could get to know and be known in the district. The COS central office also conducted enquiries, ran conferences and produced publications. Much of this resonates with the community social work aspirations of the 1980s and, in my view, continues to have relevance today. Although the COS, Octavia Hill and the Barnetts were the key pioneers in the development of social work, this is not to say others did not play significant parts. The Salvation Army and the police court missioners of the Church of England Temperance Society tried to help the ‘unhelpable’. The missioners’ work in the courts included the supervision of offenders and matrimonial conciliation, and they were to emerge later as probation officers. Child welfare and protection were the remit of the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, the National Children’s Home and Dr Barnado’s, all being established from the 1880s onwards. Dr Barnado started workshops for unemployed boys as well as turning a gin palace into a coffee palace which was much like what we now know of as a community centre. He also diversified his provision for children as experience was gained and he became more practised at money-raising. There were, for instance, homes for babies and toddlers, grouped cottage homes with a matron in charge of about 25 girls or boys of all ages, hospital schools for severely disabled children, a naval training school, a school of printing and a system of boarding out in country foster homes. The foregoing highlights the beginnings of social work, setting it on the convoluted road towards becoming a profession. Although it did not have a lengthy period of training like the medical or legal professions and was never to gain as much autonomy as those professions, a code of ethics, a distinctive and recognised training, a body of literature and a professional association were to all emerge. These early years also anticipate much of what became social work a hundred or so years later despite, as we will see, subsequent setbacks. These developments include casework together with group and community work methods, records and procedures, formal training and even Social Services Departments with a central headquarters and outlying local/ district offices. It is also possible to discern the beginnings of evidencedbased practice. However, at the end of the 19th century there was a clash of social and political attitudes and resultant conflict between the COS leaders such as Charles Loch, Helen Bosanquet and Octavia Hill, and two of the leading Fabians, Sydney and Beatrice Webb. This confrontation postponed

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the reform of the Poor Law and arguably delayed the implementation of the welfare state. The COS believed in the deterrent Poor Law, thinking that by thrift and prudence, together with help from relatives, friends and neighbours, the poor could live independent lives and save for ill health and old age. They opposed state provision in the form of, for example, old-age pensions or school meals because it would pauperise people and undermine incentives for work. On the other hand, the Webbs pointed to the inefficiency of the Poor Law as it could not take action to prevent destitution or properly set people up on their feet again. They argued that faced with the degrading poverty of the slums of the towns and cities arising from the industrial revolution and the resulting disease, ill health and early death, it was not surprising people aged prematurely, many turned to drink and that thrift was not a practical priority. The Webbs argued that moral failure lay with employers of exploited labour, slum landlords and the ignorant and greedy rich. They saw the remedy in collective action against collective ills such as extending and enforcing housing, health and conditions of work legislation. All this was reinforced by Charles Booth’s enquiry into The Life and Labour of the People of London which started to appear in 1883. Engels’ (2005 [1887]) important work, The Condition of the Working Class in England, also became available in English. By now the philanthropic and individualist, moral view of poverty was being eroded as Fabianism began to make inroads.

Fabianism and the first half of the 20th century Marx and Engels (1996 [1846]) originally published their communist manifesto in 1848 and, together with Marx’s substantial body of work, it was having a considerable influence on developments in Europe during the 1900s (O’Brien and Penna, 1998). He analysed the dynamics of capitalist production and development, focussing on capitalism resulting in a structural inequality of power between a dominant class and a subordinate class who are reduced to the status of commodities by having to sell their labour power in the market. A major thrust is a critique of liberalism, particularly the view that social reproduction is carried out by numerous atomised individuals engaging in free and equal market exchanges. The notion of ‘individualism’ is viewed as a mystification of the social character of production because humans never produce simply as individuals but as members of a definite form of society. Producing also involves relationships with other people which are structured by the economic organisation of society, and in capitalist societies individuals are not at all free and equal as these societies are based on class domination and exploitation. Such views were to be influential until well into the 1970s.

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The Fabian Society, led by George Bernard Shaw, had much in common with Marxism, though differed in believing that capitalism could be transformed peacefully. Such Fabian socialists had three central values, these being equality, freedom and fellowship (George and Wilding, 1976). Equality, the argument went, led to social unity, efficiency, justice and individual selfrealisation. For example, co-operation was needed to resolve the country’s economic ills but this simply could not happen if there was a continuing class struggle which had its roots in social and economic inequalities. It meant much more than equality of opportunity and should not be seen merely in negative terms – freedom from restraint – but positively, being preceded and accompanied by equalising measures. Freedom involved a concern for equality because inequality results in some being in bondage to others. It is also extended from the political to the economic sphere, a voice in conditions of work, and involves government action rather than inaction. Fellowship refers to co-operation rather than competition, an emphasis on the good of the community rather than the wants of individuals, on altruism rather than self-help, and on duties rather than rights. Some Fabians saw the role of government as being the eradication of capitalism by the widespread extension of public ownership while others argued that capitalism could be tamed and harnessed to socialist aims with the mixed economy becoming the end of the journey rather than the staging post. Either way, there was a belief in purposeful government action, the task being to regulate, even supplant, the market system in the interests of equality, freedom and fellowship. Fabians believed that through gradualism and permeation the capitalist state could be persuaded to reform itself with, in due course, the welfare state being evidence of this. In fact, the beginnings of the welfare state lay with the Liberal Prime Minister Lloyd George and the introduction of such as school meals in 1906, old-age pensions in 1908, and national insurance to fund sickness, unemployed and widows benefits in 1911 (see Fraser, D., 1973). Some of the factors leading to these developments have already been referred to: the fear of disorder, the need for a healthy military together with elements of altruism and self-interest more generally. Another key consideration was the growing power and influence of social democracy in much of continental Europe at the beginning of the 20th century, which was later to influence the Labour Party, particularly its Fabian wing. Following Lloyd George’s tenure, the inter-war years were dominated by the depression years of the 1930s which resulted in further welfare developments. These included extending state education, a focus on housing, improvements to the Poor Law, public health measures and even an embryonic municipal hospital service. Unemployment benefits were also extended and public works schemes introduced to cope with unemployment. These advances evolved pragmatically, were uncoordinated and were not universal but, when 33

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compared with what happened to social work over the same period, they were important and substantial. The stalling of social work So, what did actually occur in terms of social work? One of the original pioneers, Octavia Hill, sat on the 1905–09 Royal Commission on the Poor Laws and signed the majority report which recommended retaining an improved Poor Law. On the other hand, Beatrice Webb signed the minority report recommending its abolition and replacement with specialised services for unemployment, health and education. Younghusband (1981) argued the abolition of the Poor Law was undoubtedly right and argued that the majority had missed the chance to recommend a new type of personal social services that could be slipped into the old structure and bring forward by 60 years what was eventually to become the Seebohm reorganisation. Meanwhile, Toynbee Hall continued to produce social research including Beveridge’s study of unemployment which shifted the problem form the individual worker to wider societal factors. Additionally, the Webbs continued their studies of various neglected social ills such as factory conditions, housing, education, the condition of the poor and colonialism. However, despite the advances in welfare provision, for much of the next 40 years ‘initiative and fresh discovery died down in social work’ (Younghusband, 1981, p 45). While the large-scale public services were being established, social workers were conspicuous by their absence. Exceptions included hospital almoners in voluntary and a few municipal hospitals, untrained police court missioners and social workers working in child guidance clinics. The 1907 Probation of Offenders Act and the 1925 Criminal Justice Act at first permitted and then required the appointment of probation officers to be paid from public funds to ‘advise, assist and befriend’ offenders. The first child guidance clinic opened in 1927 largely to help schools deal with unruly pupils. Most social workers, whether trained or untrained, were employed as moral welfare workers in voluntary family welfare agencies, mainly giving financial help, and in the Invalid Children’s Aid Association. The continued emphasis on relief giving and morality was clearly apparent. Furthermore, if we return to the five areas of progress mentioned earlier – knowledge, usable knowledge, method, training, organisational structure and procedures – despite some exceptions, we can clearly see a loss of momentum. Knowledge derived from research rather than broad theory advanced unevenly; while social surveys and studies of poverty extended earlier work, broader sociological and psychological research studies were lacking. Freud’s ideas regarding the individual psyche, with the unconscious explaining individual problems, took time to take hold in social work in Britain. Usable knowledge did not advance much either, with social workers learning from 34

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little but their own experience and the policy of the agency. Even the practice wisdom thereby gained was not properly recorded, organised, evaluated and disseminated. Method also languished with the close relationship between case, group and community work being broken, so that only casework was seen as distinctively social work. An exception was a breakthrough regarding method in the US where Richmond (1917) developed her view of social diagnosis whereby information was gathered about the person concerned, the problem diagnosed, the solution identified and a treatment plan made. Training fared a little better as advances were made in the early 1900s. The COS established the School of Sociology in London during 1903, it later being incorporated into the London School of Economics (LSE). In 1904 the Liverpool School of Social Science was jointly started by the university, a settlement and the Liverpool COS. The London course included both theory and practice. Theory included elements of social theory and philosophy, economics, and social and economic history, but by the 1920s there was only a tenuous link between all this and practice. This was because the COS was frozen in an outmoded pattern of practical experience that had little educational content, while on the other hand universities refrained from vocational training. More positively in 1929 the first mental health course was established at the LSE and this did combine theory and practice. Then in 1936 the first publicly funded training board was set up by the Home Office, providing fees and grants for probation students to undertake social science and probation training. Finally, limited progress was made in terms of organisational structure and procedures. For example, almoners, probation officers and some psychiatric social workers were employed in agencies whose primary purpose and professional expertise were not social work. Social workers therefore had to discover how to make an effective contribution in inter-disciplinary situations, something that retains its relevance today following the demise of SSDs. One important innovation, however, was the establishment by the Home Office of inspectorates for probation services as well as approved schools and some children’s homes. This sort of inspectorate was to eventually become a standard setting, information sharing, advisory and consultative service. This can be compared to the inspection and regulatory organisations of today which have become obsessed with targets and performance indicators, and which are discussed in more detail later. Social work and renewed activity Social work’s evolution may have slowed down but there was some renewed activity during the 1940s. As the Second World War unfolded a close association developed between warfare and welfare, so much so that personal social services ceased being considered as a form of poor relief. 35

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A major factor was the mass evacuation from many towns and cities. This included school children, mothers and younger children, together with those made homeless by air raids. Local authorities were unable to cope with the range and extent of evacuation problems, not just in terms of a lack of required equipment but also in terms of the social and human cost arising from the loss, confusion and uncertainty associated with evacuation. These included misunderstandings between the evacuees and their new hosts, particularly teenage boys. Titmuss (1950) went so far as to point out that the social dimension of the situation and resultant support needed began to be identified simply by its manifest absence. One example was that in 1940 hostels had to be established for ‘difficult’ children who were often incontinent, ran away, stole and were generally unruly, this having to be done to prevent protests from angry householders in reception areas. Instead of initially appointing virtually anyone as wardens and matrons, the service had to be reorganised and staff training was provided. More broadly, there was a rise in official esteem of the value of trained staff including almoners and psychiatric social workers, together with those involved in childcare and family casework. During the mid-1940s, social workers were appointed as Ministry of Health regional welfare officers to deal with evacuation problems. Welfare inspectors then followed to help with difficult housing cases from the London region. They were appointed because of their knowledge about people and distress, and because they could mobilise statutory and voluntary agencies to address the needs of a particular individual (Titmuss, 1950). Helping homeless people with their personal problems expressed a new view of the relationship between public services and the public served, as the personal social services neared their birth. The Ministry of Health also encouraged local authorities to employ social workers to develop welfare provision for evacuees and homeless people, as well as matching special needs with special provision. By the end of the war, 70 local authorities had actually done this. Civilian resettlement units, whose staff included social workers, were also established to help returning prisoners of war adjust to freedom in a changed society. There were also social workers with the Provisional Council for Mental Health (PCMH) and other voluntary organisations. The PCMH developed regional services with psychiatric social workers in charge. The Citizens’ Advice Bureau was started in 1939 and although largely staffed by volunteers did some casework. In 1940 the Pacifist Service Units, later to become Family Service Units, worked with ‘problem’ families. Importantly they worked in teams and carefully recorded their work. Such developments in the 1940s, culminating in the 1942 Beveridge Report which established the welfare state, confirmed the view that government action rather than inaction was the way forward in terms of 36

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addressing social problems. They also heralded what was to come during the social democratic era of the initial post-war years.

Social democracy and the zenith of social work Social democracy has its origins in Marxism, utopian socialism and a form of revisionism inspired by Engels’ later view that evolutionary political action relying on the franchise and parliament was more likely to favour workingclass struggles than revolutionary means (Apter, 1993). Early social democrats were committed to the proletariat as the class of the future, believing that it could take economic and political power by such means as universal suffrage, parliamentary democracy and control over the executive branch of government. Once in power they thought they could, by nationalisaton of the major industries and planning their subsequent development, eliminate the ‘boom and bust’ of capitalism. The market was therefore rejected as the sole arbiter of justice, and the public favoured over the private sphere. They also took a strong position on egalitarianism and the need to eliminate the causes of social inequities by state intervention particularly by the creation of the welfare state. This meant that the market and social justice could co-exist. Any social problems that remained could then be explained in terms of an individual’s psychological make-up which was susceptible to diagnosis and treatment by, among others, social workers. Notions of solidarity premised the view that the state could motivate national growth and well-being by the encouragement of social responsibility and the mutuality of social risk (Donzelot, 1979). Such social democrats shared an egalitarian, secular and scientific vision of the Enlightenment tradition which corresponded with much of the traditional Labour Party in the form of Fabianism. But how did it relate to the traditional Conservative Party at a time when both major parties were vying for power after the end of the Second World War? In George and Wilding’s (1976) terminology the traditional Conservative Party consisted of the ‘anti-collectivists’ who are essentially advocates of liberalism, and the ‘reluctant collectivists’. The reluctant collectivists had similar values to the anti-collectivists, namely liberty, freedom and individualism together with a belief in the free market. However, the reluctants’ commitment to these values tended to be conditional and qualified by their intellectual pragmatism. This pragmatism arose from the fact that the free market or capitalism was not seen as being self-regulating; it may be the best economic system but for it to function efficiently and fairly it required judicious regulation and control. State action, therefore, was accepted as legitimate in certain circumstances, the extent and nature of this to be determined on the merits of specific cases. They also favoured reducing inequalities, although they were not egalitarians, and this separated them from the Fabian socialists. The reluctants, better known as ‘One 37

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Nation’ Conservatives, were to eventually dominate the Conservative Party over the initial post-war period, with similar views also being a force in the Labour Party. To a real extent there was a convergence of ideas in terms of values and the role of the state in social and economic affairs. One could say that ‘the declared policies of the two parties [Labour and Conservative] were agreed on a large number of pressing issues’ (Fraser, D., 1973, p 207). The Fabian influenced social reform movement had gathered momentum during the course of the war. It included ideas about improving housing, healthcare and education, together with ensuring freedom from abject poverty. This was highlighted in the 1942 Beveridge Report (Beveridge, 1942) which argued for the abolishment of the five giants of want, squalor, ignorance, unemployment and ill health, together with providing financial security ‘from the cradle to the grave’. It captured the imagination of large numbers of the population especially the working class. Memories of the 1930s and the high levels of unemployment were still fresh in the minds of those once unemployed men and women now fighting for Britain. The sacrifices that people were being asked to make demanded a promise of something better than the pre-war world that had gone before. The idea that winning the war would be rewarded merely by a return to the old days of glaring class inequality and privilege would not have been much of an incentive; instead, the report advocated a post-war Britain driven by welfarist principles, a ‘land fit for heroes’. The result was that in 1945 there was a Labour landslide general election victory, their manifesto committing them to a radical programme of social and economic reform, including the establishment of the welfare state and the nationalisation of key sections of the economy. This was the social and political landscape on which the social democratic consensus was to be built. The welfare state The 1944 Education Act had already introduced a comprehensive national education system. Following their general election victory Labour quickly introduced universal child allowances. Several national insurance/assistance acts ensued, introducing a system of social insurance which enabled the establishment of unemployment, sickness, maternity, widows, guardians, old-age and funeral benefits, with industrial injuries benefits soon following. The 1946 National Health Service Act led to the National Health Service coming into being in 1948, with improvements to housing occurring by the passing of the 1949 Housing Act. All these developments were the result of a long process beginning with the affirmation of civil rights, led through to a struggle for political rights, and ended with the identification and establishment of social rights (Marshall, 1996 [1950]). The welfare state can also be seen as the result of working-class struggle with the ruling class 38

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having to give concessions in order to preserve the status quo. It is worth noting that given the changed circumstances of the 1970s, the balance of class forces would change with the gains previously made being, in effect, taken away (Ferguson et al, 2002). As Labour and Conservative governments alternated during the 1950s, 1960s and into the 1970s differences between them amounted to a little more or less government ownership and economic planning, with the welfare state being accepted. This was based on the ideas of the economist John Maynard Keynes and became known as Keynesianism. It was within this welfare state ideal that modern social work was to become firmly established and it has largely continued to define itself in this context ever since. The 1948 National Assistance Act took the financial care of the poor out of local hands but left local authorities with the responsibility to provide welfare services and residential accommodation for older and disabled people with social care needs. The 1948 Children Act implemented the 1946 Curtis Report on the care of deprived children. Local authority Children’s Departments were established, together with the profession of childcare officer, to provide a secure family environment for children in care. One-year childcare courses were sponsored and financed in 1947 by the Home Office’s Central Training Council in Child Care. As well as a focus on fieldwork childcare, courses for residential childcare workers featured from the outset. In the meantime, other local authority officials trained on the job to become the backbone of many health and welfare services. Seebohm and its aftermath The separation of child, health and welfare services proved problematic as the post-war years wore on. Although the 1960s in particular were a period of comparative prosperity for social work (Vincent, 1983) concerns emerged about overlapping or gaps in services and departmental rivalries. In the current jargon, demands emerged for a ‘one stop service’ focussing on the needs of the whole family. In addition to this, the disparate elements of welfare, mental health, childcare and so on were all identified as carrying out social work. Such factors led to the Seebohm Report (1968)1 on The Local Authority Personal Social Services which established local authority Social Services Departments in 1971, aimed at providing a community-based and family-orientated service available to all. It was an ambitious reorganisation that envisaged a comprehensive and universal social work service which included community alternatives to hospitals and other institutions for adults and children, and envisaged group and community work, as well as casework, approaches to various social problems. It was intended to be the Fifth Social Service on a par with health, education, income maintenance and housing (Jordan, 2007). The overall aim was that SSDs would enable 39

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‘individuals to act reciprocally, giving and receiving services for the wellbeing of the whole community’ (Seebohm Report, 1968, para 2) Ideally a family or individual would have only one, the so-called ‘generic’, social worker although it was also recognised that each social worker, because of temperament or inclination, might be more effective in some fields than others (Leeding, 1976). The 1960s and into the 1970s were to be the high-water mark of social work. The Council for Training in Social Work was established in 1962 to promote training for social workers in health and welfare services. This resulted in a training explosion as courses increased in both universities and colleges of further education. The expansion was aided by readily available grants from the three national, publicly financed training councils covering probation, childcare and now health and welfare. The National Institute of Social Work was established in 1961 aimed at achieving excellence in practice and management in social work. Another important factor to consider is that although social workers already had considerable power and influence in relation to people with mental health difficulties following the 1959 Mental Health Act, these were to increase into other service user areas. The 1969 Children and Young Persons Act gave increased authority and influence to social workers by removing the responsibility of convicted young offenders from the police and magistrates and giving it to them instead. The Act also enabled social workers to remove children from their parents on emergency protection orders with little right of challenge, and then to seek care orders. The 1970 Chronically Sick and Disabled Persons Act placed the onus on local authorities to identify the needs of the sick and disabled people, so opening up a new area of professional competence for social work. Also in 1970, the British Association of Social Workers was formed by bringing together medical social workers, psychiatric social workers, childcare officers, moral welfare officers and others (but not probation officers). In 1971 the Central Council for the Education and Training of Social Work (CCETSW) superseded the training councils for childcare, probation and social work. Its functions included developing education and training to meet the needs of the personal social services, ensuring the quality of such education and training, and providing bursaries for social work students. CCETSW’s initial challenge was to unify over 120 courses, this eventually being done in the form of the generic Certificate of Qualification in Social Work. It also introduced the Certificate in Social Service (CSS) for staff other than social workers. Post-qualifying courses also emerged. It is perhaps difficult to understand the sense of optimism as the new SSDs were established and staffed by enthusiastic, newly qualified social workers. There was a strong element of idealism with such staff being fully committed to what they were doing (Ivory, 2005). There was a feeling that this was the brink of a new era with real money to spend; spending increased by10 per 40

The beginnings of social work to its 1970s zenith

cent per year in real terms for the first few years. Even more notable was the relative autonomy that social workers could bring to their practice. When first starting social work after qualifying, I was struck by the fact that I was actively encouraged to pursue my interest areas – work with young offenders, and group and community work, for example. And it was not individual social workers that had this relative autonomy; the team itself could largely prioritise which problems to tackle in their area and how it was going to deal with them. Weekly team meetings enabled new referrals to be freely discussed and allocated. There was also an element of peer/group supervision as suggestions for dealing with cases were debated. Working generically, I recall dealing with people with mental health issues, learning difficulties, physical difficulties as well as older people and children and families. I was also involved with assessing prospective foster and adoptive carers. It really was an exhilarating time as I took to being a caseworker with a community orientation. The growing self-confidence of social work was also reflected by the fact that social work theory and practice advanced considerably over this period. 2 During the 1950s and into the 1960s, Freudian-based concepts were incorporated into mainstream casework (Halmos, 1965) with psychology being a major component of social work training. Psycho-analytical concepts such as early family experiences, unconscious motivation, defence mechanisms and the powerful drives of sex and aggression were all influential. It took Wootton (1959) to make the key point that social work was concentrating on theories of intra or, at best, inter-psychic processes rather than the economic and political sources of problems. She did not want social workers posing as miniature psychoanalysts or psychiatrists, such comments again being repeated by the radical theorists and practitioners of the 1970s. This was reinforced as sociology, particularly from a Marxist perspective, became increasingly influential not least in terms of explaining the structural causes of poverty and bad housing. This involved a move from focussing on private troubles to public issues (Bailey and Brake, 1975). Social administration, social policy and political theory were other key subject areas for study. Nevertheless, casework remained the main method, enabling a systematic approach to practice and helping to unify internally an occupational group located in a variety of settings and with diverse roles and responsibilities (Parton, 1996b). It also provided an internally coherent knowledge base derived from psychodynamic theory and psychology, this being a focus for professionalisation and legitimating its location in the ‘psy’ complex. Its distinctive contribution was the claim to be concerned with the whole person and providing personal skills in human relationships and an understanding of individuals and families. It also provided a method for

41

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assessment and intervention and legitimated social work, helping it overcome its essential ambiguities. Initially casework focussed on individual pathology rather than strengths with a tendency to be overly non-directive and to overestimate the power of the casework relationship itself, this neglecting environmental factors (Younghusband, 1981). Things gradually changed and, for instance, instead of concentrating on childhood experiences, more was made of the current situation and of reinforcing the individual’s capacity to cope and the strength of their support systems. Long-term casework was often preferred but the development of task-centred casework in the 1970s showed that time-limited work was feasible. Simultaneously the previous casework emphasis on seeing the client separate from their family to enable unhurried and uninterrupted sessions began to be superseded by discussions with the family as a whole, with family therapy eventually becoming common. Crisis intervention and behaviour modification techniques also flourished, with positive, rather than negative, reinforcement being favoured particularly as far as children were concerned. Although casework was the dominant method, as it is even more so today albeit in a more limited form, group and community work gradually (re-) gained in importance. I recall once writing an essay during the mid-1970s about the need for ‘a community orientation for the caseworker’; the focus should not just be the individual concerned but their relationship with the rest of the family, employment or school and the neighbourhood as a whole. Group work was of particular significance in work with young offenders on intermediate treatment schemes, while community work involved working alongside local people on issues as defined by them. There was also considerable interest in the integrated method – the flexible use of casework, group and community work – and the related unitary model based on systems theory. These methods and models appealed to the more radical social workers who were also influenced by the establishment of 12 Community Development Projects (CDPs) in 1969 by the Home Office in areas of multiple deprivation. These projects consisted of field and research workers, with community workers having a significant role. They had a dual responsibility to both local people and the local authority, this eventually leading to various tensions and difficulties. In particular, their findings tended to argue for multi-deprivation to be redefined and reinterpreted in terms of structural constraints rather than psychological motivations. Social malaise should not be explained in terms of personal deficiencies but as the product of external pressures arising from wider society (Bailey and Brake, 1975). Perhaps it is not surprising that the CDPs were wound up by the government during the 1970s.

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Social care Throughout this chapter little has been said of social care, a form of care that developed from residential, day and other group care (Payne, 2009). During the 19th century little of importance occurred as individuals had to rely on family and friends. In the 1930s developments took place in such as the Caldecott Community, National Children’s Home and Dr Barnado’s, the latter introducing new training schemes for staff. However, until the establishment of the welfare state comparatively little progress was made. During the 1950s to 1970s there was increasing recognition of the importance of providing services designed to support people so that they could maintain their independence and play as full a part in society as possible. It involved direct practical support to individuals in need and included, for example, providing accommodation, help with washing, dressing, feeding, meals on wheels, shopping, cleaning and so on. Various service user groups used such services including children, young and old people, and those with learning, physical and mental health issues. The increasing importance of these services was recognised over the post-war period including the recognition that staff needed to be adequately trained; the earlier comments in relation to CSS are evidence of this. In many ways, social care, like social work, was coming of age as the social democratic settlement imbued the economic, political and social spheres with an air of confidence. The ‘five giants’ really did appear to be in the process of being vanquished by the creation of the welfare state. One biography refers to the post-war years up to 1951 as ‘The Age of Optimism’ and the period 1951–1974 as ‘Consolidation’ (Timmins, 1996). The National Health Service, a new tripartite system of secondary education, income maintenance and social services system were all established and higher education expanded. There were considerable improvements in housing, and employment was high. Although poverty may not have gone away, the 1950s and 1960s saw a real material improvement in people’s lives following an unprecedented period of economic growth. ‘You’ve never had it so good’, crowed Prime Minister Harold Macmillan, and to an extent he was right as living standards rose for almost everyone. The working class could begin to dream of a better life for themselves and their children than their own parents could have ever imagined. In explaining this sense of optimism, of how all things could be improved for all people, thus society as a whole, and in turn how it affected social work, two other factors need considering, namely the influence of the counterculture and the New Left during the late 1960s and early 1970s.

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The counterculture and the New Left Tierney (1996) looks at the counterculture and the New Left in relation to developments in criminology, but his comments are equally valid in relation to what happened in social work. The counterculture represented disengagement with the values of mainstream, conformist culture, and an attempt to create a non-materialistic, more expressive and meaningful alternative. It primarily emanated from middle-class youth especially the increasing numbers of students of the time. The emphasis was on personal liberation from the constraints imposed by a dehumanised consumer society, where things had become more important than people. It arose not from material hardship but from a feeling that affluence in itself was not personally fulfilling (Pearson, 1975).3 Resistance entailed questioning dominant ideas in relation to such things as sexuality, drug use and appropriate styles of dress. It involved the rejection of consumerism and conventional mores together with a commitment to cultural diversity, this harmonising with a sympathetic, even celebratory, approach to deviancy. Ultimately the counterculture was a critique of, and reaction to, consumer society although this was abstracted from its economic and political structures. The New Left also questioned soul-destroying consumerism, though here the target was a specifically capitalist society. Older groups such as the Communist Party were seen as ossified because their formulations and strategies had ceased to provide a meaningful alternative vision. Instead the New Left drew on the critical theory of the Frankfurt School. For example, Marcuse (1964) saw capitalist societies as one-dimensional because important social and political questions were relegated to second place behind questions about the best soap powder or cigarette to use, something which the Rolling Stones’ classic ‘Satisfaction’ refers to. The Frankfurt School argued that humankind’s relationship to nature, which grew out of the Enlightenment, was not fulfilling real social progress. As humans had manipulated nature, so those with power now used technology, including the media, to manipulate the less powerful, this being done not just at a physical level but also by manipulating their consciousness and senses. Social order, therefore, did not only depend on overt measures of social control but by concentrating people’s minds on the overriding concern with consumer goods, something which, of course, continues today. There are points of fusion between the counterculture and the New Left, with many students as well as the wider public becoming influenced by their ideas. These people might not all have been dropouts high on drugs, listening to the Rolling Stones in hippy communes. Nevertheless, being a student did provide more opportunities than paid employment for experimenting with such different ideas and lifestyles. Indeed, in Chapter One I hinted at this in relation to my own biography. Furthermore, social work itself appealed 44

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to those who wanted to distance themselves from the worst excesses of consumerist/capitalist society. It might have been too bold a step to opt out of society totally, but by doing social work you could, at least to some extent, shun these excesses by not being directly involved in the exploitative and/or consumer-orientated process. Simultaneously, one could attempt to work with and alleviate the problems and difficulties which afflicted the casualties of an unfair and unjust system. Finally, by adopting what was to become the critical/radical social work perspective the possibility of being ‘in and [yet] against the state’ became a reality (London Edinburgh Weekend Return Group, 1980). For many young graduates social work became an ethical career in which to engage with capitalist society.

Conclusion After a hundred years of, at times, slow progress, by the early 1970s social work had finally arrived as a profession or, perhaps more appropriately for some, a semi-profession. In essence, it was a social democratic response to the social problems of the time which involved the creation of the welfare state. Such a situation ought to be seen within the context of state administration of public services including social work (Harris and White, 2009a), this providing a secure and positive basis from which to practice. It was founded in part on respect for professionalism, including its knowledge base and the identification of what was considered professionally correct practice. Administration and professionalism co-existed through structures that had a degree of bureaucratic hierarchy with rules and procedures within and through which professionalism operated. By such measures an administrative system was conducive to social workers being accorded areas of discretion within their practice, with clients and service users thereby benefitting from their expertise. Such views are certainly borne out by the earlier comments in relation to my induction to practice as a newly qualified social worker. As Jordan (2007) points out, it was not only in social work that this period can be seen as the high point of collectivism led by an organising state. As we have seen, major developments also occurred in relation to health, housing, income maintenance and education. Arguably it was Britain’s attempt to emulate states such as Sweden, by developing public infrastructures and services to shape the context of citizens’ lives and their interactions with each other from the cradle to the grave. The election of Margaret Thatcher as prime minister, however, meant that Keynesianism was to be replaced by monetarism, the welfare state was to come under attack and neoliberalism was to emerge with a vengeance as a successor to social democracy. The consequences of this Thatcherite revolution on social work and on society as a whole are still being felt today.

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Notes 1 2

3

The Kilbrandon Report (1965) laid a similar basis for social work in Scotland. See Payne (2014) for a discussion of the social work theories and methods referred to here as well as many others. Much of this remains current; witness concerns about the fact that although living standards have risen, at least until the start of austerity in 2010, this has not led to an increase in happiness and well-being. See Jordan (for example, 2007, 2008) and Chapter Eight for a discussion.

Discussion point Was the development of the welfare state, and social work’s role within it, a progressive Enlightenment, modernist response to social problems or simply a strategy for the ruling class to stave off revolution/communism?

Further reading Bamford, T. (2015) A Contemporary History of Social Work: learning from the past, Bristol: Policy Press is a well-researched book that has an excellent chapter dealing with the ‘brave new world’ of social work’s zenith. Younghusband, E. (1981) The Newest Profession: a short history of social work, Sutton, Surrey: IPC Business Press is somewhat dated, but provides an authoritative account of social work’s development by the doyenne of UK social work. A hugely important book which retains its relevance, not least for critical/radical practice, is Bailey, R. and Brake, M. (eds) (1975) Radical Social Work, London: Edward Arnold.

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THREE

Thatcherism and the rise of neoliberalism: opportunities and challenges Chapter summary Margaret Thatcher’s 1979 general election success led to profound economic, political and ideological changes as the social democratic consensus of the post-war years broke down and neoliberalism took hold. Initially, social work was relatively unaffected and progressed in relation to community social work, juvenile delinquency/young offending and anti-oppressive practice. Equally, however, there were challenges including moves to child protection, the change to care management with older people, and probation’s move to the control/punishment of offenders.

Key learning points • The rise of neoliberalism: freedom and the supremacy of free markets. • The opportunities provided by community social work, young offenders and the ‘successful revolution’, and anti-oppressive practice. • The challenges involved in the changes from child welfare to child protection, from social work to care management with older people, and from probation/social work to the control and punishment of offenders.

The seeds of Margaret Thatcher’s general election success in 1979 were laid in the earlier 1970s by the world economic crisis of 1973. This crisis was activated by a sharp rise in oil prices, but it also reflected much deeper structural problems in the British economy. These included a steady decline in the share of the world export of manufactured goods, together with falling investment and productivity, and rising inflation (Harman, 1984; Ferguson, 2008). The crisis had three main consequences. First, it led to the return of mass unemployment, reaching a total of one million in 1979, higher than it had been since the Great Depression of the 1930s. Second, it led to attacks on the welfare state particularly after the International Monetary Fund pressed Britain to reduce public spending. One result was the closure of schools and hospitals, as well as social work and social services having to be 47

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targeted, or more appropriately rationed, to particular service user groups. Indeed, within a few years of Seebohm the selective mentality of the Poor Law had come to prevail over the universalist aspirations of the report’s more radical proponents (Langan, 1993). Third, and most significantly, the economic crisis led to the end of the social democratic consensus. The centrality of Keynesianism, an acceptance of the key role of the state in the management of essential industries, in managing and regulating the economy, and in the provision of welfare, was to end. Monetarism, the forerunner of today’s neoliberalism was to be the replacement, even though this change began with public expenditure cuts introduced by the Labour government of 1974–1979 (Kerr, 1981). In practical terms this meant a return to the free market ideology that had been discarded since the Great Depression, albeit with adaptations being made to the globalised world of the 1980s and 1990s. The sea change in the ideological climate occurred because during the 1970s neither the Conservative nor Labour governments seemed able to solve the economic problems facing Britain. Consequently, both parties saw an increase in political activity from their radical wings. For Labour the socialist left was organising while, more importantly for the purposes of this chapter, the New Right began to be in the ascendency in the Conservative Party. Both rejected the post-war acceptance of the co-existence of the Keynesian welfare state and advanced capitalism, with the New Right arguing for a complete break with Keynesianism because social democracy was seen to be pre-figurative of socialism itself. As we will see, the New Right saw the welfare state and in turn social work as part of the problem. I begin this chapter by outlining neoliberal philosophy or ideology including the work of two key thinkers namely Hayek and Friedman (see, for example, O’Brien and Penna, 1998). The former was a life-long opponent of the social and economic doctrines influencing social democracy, while the latter’s formulation of monetary theory was a formative influence in New Right economic policy. This is followed by a discussion of some of the policy developments of the Thatcher and Major years especially as they affected social work. Although in many ways social work continued to progress in relation to such as community social work, work with young offenders and anti-oppressive practice, it also had to cope with continued rationing of services. There were also challenges in relation to the move from child welfare to child protection, the development of care management with older people, and the withdrawal of the necessity for probation officers to have a social work qualification as control/punishment came to dominate their work. Such developments amounted to increased questioning of the value of social work, particularly because of perceived failures in relation to child abuse and, less commented upon, its concern with social justice and social change.

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Neoliberalism As well as containing a critique of the post-war social democratic consensus, neoliberalism is a political and economic ideology which has been adopted throughout most countries in the world to address the crisis of profitability exposed by the aforementioned economic crisis of 1973. It is a theory of political economic practices based on the belief in individual freedom and of liberating individual entrepreneurial skills within an institutional framework characterised by strong property rights (Harvey, D., 2007). In short, it was the belief that free markets and free trade will best achieve human well-being. Hayek and freedom Hayek’s prolific writings amount to a concern to construct a philosophy of freedom by restating and reformulating classical liberalism. As we saw in Chapter Two, this is seen in negative terms as the absence of coercion on the private activities of individuals. By coercion he means the control of the environment or circumstances of one individual by another so that he/she is forced to serve the ends of others (Hayek, 1960). This negative concept of freedom sees the collectivist, state-planning of the Fabians as misconceived and the welfare state being opposed to individual freedom. He bases his theory of knowledge on a critique of French Enlightenment rationalism which resulted in political structures inspired by ideals of social justice and equality. It is an attack on the concept of reason as a basis for understanding the world, arguing that we can never fully understand it because the innumerable details that exist are impossible to be totally grasped. Instead, knowledge is an evolutionary phenomenon characterised by fragmentation rather than coherence, with ‘tacit’ knowledge being the most important, this developing during the evolutionary process in the course of human cultural practice. All social life, he argues, depends on this tacit knowledge which manifests itself in social and moral rules, customs and norms which are transmitted by churches, families and other institutions. Like many postmodernists, he is also against the view of science as a progressive force which could understand and thus eradicate social problems. As the evolutionary process is a continuous adaptation to unforeseen and unpredictable events, this leads to a critique of the historicism of Comte and Marx, the belief that there is an overall pattern to history or laws governing its progress (Hayek, 1982). The notion of ‘tradition’ is important because it transmits the ‘successful’ cultural norms and rules through each generation, thereby ensuring the best conditions for the promotion of human reproduction and welfare. He favoured the ‘spontaneous order’ of the liberal 18th century (as opposed to ‘constructivist’, state-directed society) which embodied a set of ‘commercial 49

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morals’ sustained by a process of socialisation in the family, community and economic life. These ‘morals’ became geared to the functioning of the small enterprise in a competitive market economy upheld by a limited state structure. However, the shift in social thought by the French Enlightenment disturbed the delicate and spontaneous balance between tacit knowledge, social institutions and markets, leading to attempts to plan modern societies and to control the distribution of income and wealth for political purposes. Inspired by French concepts of liberty, which includes equality and social justice, the liberal notion of freedom was, he argued, slowly displaced (Hayek, 1960, 1982). Hayek is a micro-economist who is against the methodology of macroeconomics, particularly the notion of economics being a predictive, objective science which is a force for progress. It is another attack on the French Enlightenment, with his critique of macro-economics making a distinction between the economy and the market. The former is a set of deliberately co-ordinated actions designed with particular goals in mind, whereas the latter refers to numerous interrelated economies in which individuals pursue their own ends. These may be selfish and private, but overall, Hayek argues, they result in the increased well-being of all. As a corollary, central stateplanning will always be inefficient compared with market processes because there is no mechanism to compensate for the role played by the prices and wages system, together with competition. These are seen as the mechanisms that co-ordinate the myriad of activities making up an economy, signalling information to producers, consumers and resource owners, which indicate needs, preferences and availability. Competition is also the key element in the market process as it encourages the development of new products and lowers costs due to the need for efficient production. Hayek (1960) acknowledges that inequality follows logically from his view of the minimalist state, with market processes resulting in unpredictable and unequal material outcomes, but argues the overall benefit outweighs individual disadvantages. Attempts by the state to remedy disadvantages are seen as coercive, restricting individual freedom and leading to a decline in individual responsibility. The only equality he favours is the formal – equality before the law. In addition, substantive or material inequalities in the market are not morally unjust because injustice requires an outcome to be intended, whereas market outcomes are unintended consequences of impersonal processes. Not surprisingly, he is against the notion of socio-economic rights as these could only exist in a society totally directed and administered by the state. To the extent that he sees the need, for example, for poverty to be addressed he advocates allowing the accumulation of aggregate wealth to ‘trickle down’ to those in the lower socio-economic groups. The welfare state is seen as leading to increased regulation of citizens, increasing taxation, increasing distortion of market processes, and a gradual 50

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erosion of liberty. However, he does not suggest the complete removal of the state from welfare activities but rather such intervention should be strictly minimal and not involve a monopoly on services. A monopoly would increase the centralised power of the state as well as discouraging private and charitable provision, which actually should be encouraged. Finally, he advocates the state withdrawing from interference in economic processes such as income policies, minimum wage laws, employment protection legislation, all of which would reduce the power of trade unions in economic and political life. Friedman and free markets Friedman, like Hayek, sees liberty being best secured through the market with state intervention harming both economic growth and individual freedom. His work, a detailed empirical examination of monetary policy in the US, undermined Keynesian economics and the intellectual and moral legitimacy of state intervention in the economy over the post-war years (Green, D. G., 1979). He reinterprets the causes of the 1929–1933 depression, arguing the stock market slump was worsened by the state intervention of the Federal Reserve System. Therefore, it was the government, rather than the market, that led to the resulting depression (Friedman, 1962), and no doubt similar arguments would be employed regarding the financial/banking-caused recession of 2008–2010. His political critique of the US state is extended to examine the post-war welfare state in Britain and elsewhere. Keynesianism was seen to have failed because of the combination of increasing inflation and unemployment, both of which challenged the assumptions of post-war economics. The appearance of stagflation in the 1970s – a stagnant economy with high inflation – should not have occurred according to Keynes’s general theory. So, if the theories on which his demand management was based were seriously flawed, all the assumptions of the state management of the economy with resulting growth and full employment collapsed. Consequently, the economic problems of the 1970s were not those of capitalism itself but rather the result of Keynesianism, the political administration of capitalism. Friedman saw inflation linked to the amount of money circulating in the economy, so it was this that needed to be controlled rather than the activities of business. Overall it was high inflation, rising unemployment, a large publicly managed and financed sector of the economy increasingly absorbing more of the gross domestic product, and low economic growth which exposed Keynesian economic policy. Two policy priorities gained political significance from these circumstances: controlling the money supply and creating wealth through tax incentives. All this involved more investment, achieved by reducing taxes and public

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spending, reducing unemployment by cutting wages and benefits, the latter being done by establishing an absolute concept of need. Monetarism is often presented as a technical solution to economic problems but in fact it involves transforming the political institutions and social rights of the post-war period. Friedman (1962; Friedman and Friedman 1980) argue that socialist political and economic structures undermine and eventually lead to the abolishment of individual liberty. One example is the gradually expanding meanings ascribed to equality – not only before the law, but of opportunity and of outcome. Equality of outcome is seen as particularly problematic in a number of areas. First, inequality is an inevitable outcome of markets, but it is less than under other systems. Free markets also increase overall social wealth and this ultimately benefits the poor. On the other hand, an emphasis on material justice leads to the problem of an extended state apparatus directing the activities of individuals in the market (by, for instance, minimum wages, protective legislation and prices policy) and through the tax system to in order to equalise income distribution. Second, extensive state welfare has created a class of bureaucrats who have a vested interest in expanding state intervention. This benefits powerful producer groups at the expense of consumers who come to depend on the continuing provision of services, losing individual initiative and personal responsibility in the process. And third, social insurance is seen as a tax on employment thus generating unemployment, also fostering socialism by raising taxation without public debate. By paying taxes for benefits, people are deprived of making their own arrangements in the market and have no choice but to take what the state offers. Rather choice in welfare will increase personal liberty and strengthen social and community bonds, while minimal social security provision will encourage employment and add to personal savings and security. Traditional forms of welfare support, such as the family, voluntary sector and the market, would also flourish again reviving individual initiative and responsibility. In short, Hayek and Friedman provide the political philosophy or ideological background to the New Right and in turn neoliberalism. Arguments centred on the primacy of individual freedom and economic prosperity, and have had considerable influence on political, economic and social welfare theory including social work.

Social work under Thatcherism During the early 1970s many members of the Conservative Party, including Margaret Thatcher and Keith Joseph, took up neoliberal ideas. They became an influential grouping which broke with the ‘One Nation’ Toryism of the ‘wet’ wing of the party and formed the New Right. They went on to win the general election of 1979 with arguments centring on the so-called dependency culture whereby large sections of the population had become 52

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lazy and undisciplined on the back of a too generous welfare state, militant trade unions holding employers and governments to ransom. In addition, the nation was seen as being ‘swamped’ by immigrants, there was anarchy in schools with parents abrogating their responsibilities, and a lack of law and order in wider society. They were also concerned about state intervention and wanted to reduce its activities in three areas: a reduction in its scope with in practice some or all services being privatised; a reduction in the level of benefits with the state only providing a minimum level, leaving individuals to make provision for themselves if they so wish; and a change in its administration from government to privately administered and managed services (Hay, 1996). There was a desire to roll back the state which included weakening the trade unions and local government, ensuring nationalised industries were privatised together with parts of the welfare state which in any case needed to be dismantled. In practical terms the early Thatcher years saw a number of initiatives quickly introduced: restrictions on picketing, abolition of closed shops and insistence on private ballots; cuts in welfare benefits; selling off council houses; support for private schools; and introducing charges for certain social services, notably those that affected the care of the elderly and those with special needs (Taylor-Gooby, 1981). ‘Progress’ was made in all of these areas by the Conservative governments of the 1980s and 1990s, and, as we will see in the next chapter, continued under New Labour. Social work too was to eventually experience fundamental changes. Professional social work’s emergence in the late 1960s and early 1970s coincided with the social democratic project coming under considerable pressure. The economic difficulties together with a perceived growth in social disorder and indiscipline undermined the economic and social pillars of welfarism, and the political consensus that supported it (Parton, 1996b). Being part and parcel of the welfarist project, social work was to come under attack both from the left and, most importantly, from the right. Even at its peak, social work was contested and subject to a wide variety of public, political and professional debates and debasement often in the full glare of publicity (Aldridge, 1994). Around this time the left, including feminists and anti-racists, a variety of service user groups, and other professional and community interests, were concerned that Social Services Departments were costly, ineffective, distant and oppressive, leaving the service user powerless and without a voice. For some of these critics, social work was seen as an element of class control, preserving the status quo of capitalist societies by controlling and regulating the working class. Such critics, however coherent their arguments might have been, often failed to develop constructive alternatives. Unwittingly such groups did open up a political space which was to be colonised by the Thatcherite New Right. Drawing on neoliberalism, the New Right espoused a number of themes. As alluded to earlier, they were against public expenditure on state welfare, 53

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wanting an increased emphasis on self-help and family support. The emphasis was on individual responsibility, ‘choice’ and freedom, together with an extension of the commodification of social relations. Such notions resulted in a move away from the certainties associated with a professionally driven, local authority-controlled system of social work and social services. More specifically, challenges and uncertainties arose from the changes introduced by the 1989 Children Act, the 1990 National Health Service and Community Care Act, the 1991 Criminal Justice Act, and changes in social work training by the introduction of the Diploma in Social Work in 1989. The reader will note that these developments occurred some ten years or more after Thatcher’s first general election victory. This is largely because, despite a growing questioning of social work, during the earlier years of her premiership she had more pressing problems to address including the Falklands War of 1982, defeating the trade unions following the miners’ strike of 1984–1985, and the various privatisations of nationalised industries. Admittedly social work was affected by moves away from genericism with separate teams being formed for specific service user groups such as children and families (with further sub-divisions subsequently taking place in relation to fostering/adoption and young offenders), the elderly, those with mental health issues and so on. However, other than focussing on the particular service user group concerned, in many ways social workers in these teams saw little change in their day-to-day work as the 1980s progressed. Moreover, with the publication of the Barclay Report (1982) which advocated community social work, it was still possible to develop a progressive, even critical/radical practice. Community social work The Barclay Committee was set up in 1980 to look at the role and tasks of social workers. It was a period when the new Thatcher government seemed committed to cutbacks in social services as well as challenging much of what social workers did (Jordan and Parton, 1983). The then Secretary of State for Health and Social Security, Sir Keith Joseph, had been heavily involved in the publicity surrounding the Maria Colwell child abuse case (Secretary of State for Social Services, 1974). The Conservatives had also long been concerned by the liberal intentions of the 1969 Children and Young Persons Act. Other attacks centred on such as ‘scroungers’ and ‘layabouts’ which social workers were seen as supporting and encouraging. Right-wing critiques also questioned the effectiveness of social work and the shortcomings of its professional skills (Brewer and Lait, 1980). It is in this context that the Barclay Report (1982) was published. For many the report amounted to a defence of social work (Jordan and Parton, 1983) or more appropriately ‘community social work’, something 54

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which is subject to various interpretations which can be used to support both the political left and right. On the one hand it can be used to challenge and improve the way local authority social services are delivered, and on the other it can amount to actually reducing these services with instead people relying on voluntary, informal and private sectors (Beresford and Croft, 1984). At its heart lies the de-centralisation and de-bureaucratisation of services, designed to enable social workers to build and maintain closer links with other agencies and the local community. The actual influence of community social work on practice during the 1980s was variable but there were a few areas such as in Normanton, West Yorkshire where it made an impact (Cooper, 1983). Another example is the community social work I undertook with colleagues and I referred to in the introduction (Rogowski and Harrison 1992; also see Chapter Four in Rogowski, 2016). During 1986 there was a review of social work services for children and families in Oldham which was carried out by a working group involving social workers, managers and the academic Bill Jordon. It drew on the town’s 1970s community development project, as well as the Barclay Report’s advocacy of community social work. The group came out in favour of a de-centralised, locally based service which envisaged some devolution of power and responsibility to social workers. Such a move was seen to have several advantages including greater accessibility for residents, other workers/professionals, community groups and organisations. It could lead to the breakdown of the traditional relationship between social workers and service users, with the former becoming more approachable and more able to develop flexible responses to local needs and problems. Finally, it enabled greater understanding of the community including its problems, needs and strengths. These changes envisaged a change in style of social work with a focus on people defining and meeting their own needs as opposed to having them defined and met by ‘experts’. People were seen as having strengths and lacking power rather than having individual or family defects. There was less preoccupation with a close-knit inward-looking office-based team but rather an emphasis on going out into the community, meeting a wider range of people, getting to know and strengthen networks, and starting and supporting community groups. This could lead to a less defensive, crisisorientated role but rather a more of a proactive, preventative one in which casework was integrated with more informal, group and community work. Our small team tried to work informally with people without the necessity of taking formal referrals, although when referrals were taken they were dealt with along community social work lines. There was less emphasis on intra or inter-psychic processes but rather the focus was on the problems and difficulties as defined by the service user together with relating these to the wider context of the neighbourhood and society. A single parent with 55

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three children, one of whom was accommodated on a long-term basis, comes to mind. She was lacking in confidence, was lonely and isolated, and the only contacts she had with people were largely negative. There were also housing and financial problems, and her relationship with her ex-husband was characterised by drunkenness and domestic abuse. There was a distrust of health visitors and social workers as a result of her first child being removed, and no contact with school in respect of her eldest child. Neighbours made allegations about the care of the children including her leaving them unsupervised. On one occasion, while in a temper, she threw a shoe at one of her daughters, causing a black eye which led to the children being placed on the (then) child protection register. Rather than dealing with the issues solely in terms of the mother’s parenting, we focussed on the issues as defined by her, as well as on her social networks with attempts being made to develop and strengthen more positive ones. Childcare places were arranged for her youngest child and the (then) Social Services hierarchy were made aware of the need for more such places. Contact with the (then) Department of Social Security, energy companies and housing department were made so as to address the family’s financial and housing problems. Discussions with the health visitor and school ensured they both had a fuller, more sympathetic understanding of the mother’s predicament with her in turn having more trust and confidence in them. The social worker was already in contact with some of the neighbours, some of whom were having similar problems to the mother, and gradually both they and she began to offer mutual understanding and support rather than hostility and anger. Contact was also made with a local community centre and the mother eventually helped with the playgroup there, later becoming involved with young people who were solvent users (see further on in the chapter). I could go on but suffice to say that the mother’s confidence increased, her drinking decreased, her relationship with her ex-husband improved, her children were removed from the child protection register and she certainly became a valuable member of the local community. Looking more specifically at group and community work issues, there were a number of projects that we were involved with. First, we helped support a women’s refuge which was in danger of being closed down. A colleague was co-opted on to the management committee and a new constitution including manager-workers and workers-resident agreements helped ensure its survival. Second, we were involved in the setting up and running of an estate forum which included representatives of various agencies that covered the estate together with local residents. Third, we were involved in a single parents’ group as well as with a group of parents who were having problems dealing with their children’s challenging behaviour. Fourth, and perhaps most significantly, we helped set up a project for youths who used solvents.

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The local community’s concerns about solvent users was well known but specifically arose following our involvement in a survey of the needs and problems of a particular estate and discussions with the local tenants’ association. Many residents simply wanted the youths moved on/away by the police but following a public meeting it was agreed that a more constructive strategy was required and eventually it was decided a group work response with the youths was the way forward (Rogowski et al,1989). The group met weekly and was staffed by a local community worker, residents/volunteers and social workers. It provided recreational activities as well as advice and information about solvents generally but also welfare rights and housing issues. By involving local residents, the group helped break down barriers with residents gaining some understanding of the pressures facing young people who are often forced to lead bored, aimless lives with little hope for the future. Perhaps it is not surprising why some take to solvents to briefly escape reality. There is an obvious economic and political dimension here which relates to critical/radical social work’s concern with conscientisation and politicisation. Linked to this is the fact that the residents were also able to share their experience with local schools and parents. As for parents of solvent users, we were able to put some of them in contact with each other so they could talk through the problems and difficulties of bringing up youngsters in deprived areas, together with possible ways forward. The success of this project can be gauged by the fact that a local vicar took a keen interest. He wanted to put it on a more secure financial footing, taking this up with his hierarchy. Eventually funding was provided by the Church of England for a fully staffed, permanent project. It continued like this for a number of years, turning out to be the precursor of part of the current statutory service for solvent and other drug users. The point has also to be made that while pursuing such community social work we were able to advocate for people in a variety of ways, not least in relation to welfare rights and housing issues. I can well recall, for example, accompanying parents to various social security tribunals helping to put forward their case for a financial/benefit payment. Sad to say, that few social workers are involved in such activity today. A question that emerges is whether community social work is compatible with social work’s statutory role especially in the field of child protection/ safeguarding. One view is that you can become too close to local people thereby not being able to adopt a child-focussed approach thereby failing to recognise and identify dangers to children. My retort is simply that proximity to the community, and to people with problems, means that there was no need to over-react to situations and that genuine serious problems, like child abuse, soon emerge naturally from the plethora of minor difficulties.

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Social work, young offenders and the ‘successful revolution’ The intention of the 1969 Children’s and Young Persons Act was that the vast majority of juvenile offenders would be dealt with in the community by intermediate treatment. Although only partially implemented it became the scapegoat for the perceived ills of young offending and youth justice in the 1970s. With the social democratic consensus breaking down there was a move towards ‘law and order’ authoritarianism (Hall, S. et al, 1978). The 1982 Criminal Justice Act resulted in an increased focus on detention centres with the introduction of experimental ‘short, sharp, shock’ regimes although there was a pragmatic and financial interest in keeping young offenders out of custody wherever possible. Nevertheless, the 1982 Act amounted to a move away from a concern with the welfare and/or treatment of young offenders back towards punishment (Gelsthorpe and Morris, 1994). Children and young people in trouble with the law were, and now certainly still are, to be seen first and foremost as offenders who needed controlling and punishing, rather than adolescents facing problems and difficulties requiring help and support. The New Right simply argued that welfare/treatment approaches to young offenders did not work by preventing offending or rehabilitating afterwards, and they did not deter. However, the financial interest in keeping young offenders out of custody whenever possible coincided with David Thorpe and his colleagues’ work at Lancaster University who wanted to deal with youth crime more humanely and effectively, their views going on to dominate social work with young offenders for a time (Thorpe et al, 1980). They were influenced by labelling theories (Becker, 1963; Schur, 1973) as well as the ‘nothing works’ thesis (Martinson, 1974) and developed an administrative criminology aimed at systems and youth crime management (Pitts, 1988). This takes the view that as acts which can be labelled criminal are normal during adolescence and not precursors to adult crime – most young people literally grow out of it – intervention designed to prevent such acts is simply not possible. However, it may be possible to do something about the consequences of such acts and that something is to lengthen the route to custody and to create various diversions along the way by utilising ‘ordinary’ supervision orders plus those with intermediate treatment and specified activity components. Systems management and monitoring strategies are also devised to keep young people out of the youth justice system whenever possible. These can also highlight the way in which young black people can become victims of racism in the system as well as revealing the inconsistencies with which young women are treated compared with young men (Blagg and Smith, 1989). Along with all this, genuine alternatives to incarceration or intensive intermediate treatment schemes are developed for heavy end/persistent offenders.

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The rationale for this ‘new orthodoxy’ was that there was no evidence that early social work intervention had any positive effect in terms of preventing or reducing youth crime but rather had the effect of ‘up-tariffing’ young people when they do offend and hastens their incarceration (Blagg and Smith, 1989). In fact, during the 1980s there was a significant and sustained decline in recorded crime by young people and a decline in the number receiving custodial sentences. As Farrington and Langan (1992) note, several factors help explain the ‘successful revolution’ (Jones, D., 1989, 1993). First, there were demographic changes in that there was an 18 per cent drop in the population of 14–16-year-old males in the period 1981–1988. Second, the 1982 Criminal Justice Act introduced community service to 16-year-olds and contrary to some expectations this was used as an alternative to incarceration. The 1982 Act also introduced restrictions on the use of custody as well as another non-custodial sentence, the supervision order with specified activities. Third, the growth of intensive intermediate treatment and the change in practice as Thorpe et al’s work became the ‘new orthodoxy’ meant there was effective offence-focussed work with ‘heavy end’ or persistent offenders. And fourth, diversion from court by cautioning, again linked to the ‘new orthodoxy’, led to a decline in the number of young offenders being formally processed. So successful was this revolution that the Home Office (1988) signalled its intention to transfer lessons from youth justice to policies in relation to offenders more generally. The Green Paper recognised that most young offenders grow out of crime as they mature and that they need help and encouragement to become law-abiding, arguing that even a short spell in custody was likely to have deleterious effects by confirming them as criminals, particularly as they learn skills from other offenders. Despite this endorsement for perhaps the most significant ever evidenced-based social work success, from 1991 onwards there was a noticeable change in official attitude towards young offenders and youth crime in general, as ‘populist punitiveness’ (Bottoms, 1995) emerged. This can be traced to a number of urban disturbances in 1991 which featured young men confrontations with the police, and the murder of two-year-old James Bulger after he was abducted and killed by two ten-year-old boys. Long-standing concerns about young offenders became distorted and exaggerated in the mass media, with discourses being about individuals terrorising communities, and of the police and courts being powerless to deal with them. ‘Persistent young offenders’ became the moral panic of the day with politicians of all parties becoming increasingly punitive in their pronouncements (Hagell and Newburn, 1994). Such punitiveness is evidenced in legal framework for the adjudication of young offenders that existed during the 1990s, this being found largely in the 1991 Criminal Justice Act which reflected punishment by 59

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introducing community penalties. The court orders available were not there to help young people who had social problems and had offended, but instead were to offer punishment and control in the community (Stewart et al, 1994). Noticeably the evidence from the ‘successful revolution’ of the 1980s was ignored. Social workers were put in a position where they had to demand that the young person report frequently to them or engage in some sort of reparation or community service/punishment type work. If they did not adhere to the order, they were quickly returned to court and custody could have well followed. There was the virtual demise of the compensatory aspects of supervision found in the ‘old’ intermediate treatment or even in some specified activities schemes (Rogowski, 1995). Importantly, the autonomy and discretion of social workers was reduced as managers asserted their control. Anti-oppressive practice Anti-oppressive practice, which can be linked to a critical/radical practice, developed in response to critiques of traditional social work with the aim of addressing social justice issues and empowering those receiving services (Dominelli, 2002a, 2009b). Initially anti-discriminatory perspectives arose largely as a result of developments in relation to ‘race’ and gender, but they were also influenced by work in relation to such as lesbian and gay rights, disability and ageing. It is ‘race’ and gender that I initially comment on here, as I have found them of particular relevance to my practice. Payne (2014), drawing on others such as Ely and Denney (1987) and Dominelli (1997, also see 2017), notes five perspectives in relation to ‘race’, each having implications for practice. First, assimilation assumes that migrants or minorities will assimilate to the majority culture and lifestyle, with any personal difficulties interpreted pathologically as, for instance, failures in acculturation or incorporation. Second, liberal pluralism sees all groups coexisting with equal opportunities being assured by the law with resulting practice focussing on equal access to services. Third, cultural pluralism refers to all groups co-existing and maintaining their cultural traditions, with cultural sensitivity being essential to practice. Fourth, the structuralist perspective sees capitalist/free market societies affecting groups within them differently, with ethnic as well as class division recognised as the basis for economic and social domination of particular groups by the ruling class; practice involves such as confronting racism and working in alliance with black communities. Finally, the black perspective sees black and minority groups as developing particular views on societies because of their history and experience, and practice includes helping black communities participate in service and practice development. The structuralist and black perspectives are of particular relevance as far as critical/radical practice is concerned. 60

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Although there are various feminisms as noted in Chapter One, what becomes clear is that gender is the basis of important life experiences for women. A women-centred practice involves valuing women, ensuring space for them to get away from caring and being dependent on men, and avoiding using conventional assumptions that women’s ‘ordinary’ behaviour (such as offending) is particularly bad. It also questions the view that when men are involved in child abuse the woman is always in effect blamed for ‘failing to protect’ her children. The socialist view of feminist social work involves such as conscientisation and critical reflection, a dialogue between equals concerned with understanding dehumanising social structures and changing social conditions (Hanmer and Statham, 1999 [1988]). This sits well with Dominelli’s (2002b) structural view of feminist theory and practice and hence critical/radical social work. During the 1990s approaches developed that included all forms of oppression as well as ‘race’ and gender. For example, Dalrymple and Burke (1995) followed the radical critique of the failings of traditional social work and argue for working in partnership with service users, using empowerment and advocacy to make links between people’s personal positions and structural inequalities. Empowerment seeks to help people gain power over decision-making and action in their own lives (see, for example, Adams 1996), while advocacy seeks to represent the interests of the powerless to powerful individuals and social structures. Mullender and Ward (1991) provided a useful self-directed group work approach to empowerment based on people’s problems reflecting issues of oppression, policy, economy and power. Advocacy itself includes acting and arguing for people’s interests in the field of welfare rights, and in the 1980s and 1990s it became a process of increasing the capacity of people with mental health problems and disabilities to manage their own lives by defining their own needs and having a say in decision-making (for example, Beresford and Croft, 1993). A key point about anti-oppressive practice is that it tries to understand and tackle the structural causes of social problems and address their consequences by changing social relations at all possible levels (Dominelli, 2009b). As such it was and remains a major theoretical and practice approach which responds to the needs of oppressed people who object to the failure of state services to meet needs as defined by them. Its power can be gauged by the fact there was a political ‘backlash’ at such ‘politically correct’ approaches during the 1990s. This included changes being made to Central Council for the Education and Training in Social Work’s (CCETSW) Paper 30 which had referred to ‘endemic racism in Britain’ (see Chapter Five).1 Overall then, despite the profound changes inflicted on Britain during the Thatcher era, it took some time to affect day-to-day social work practice. Indeed, as indicated, some progressive developments occurred while there

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were also significant advances in the theoretical sphere. But affect practice Thatcherism eventually did. From child welfare to child protection From the 1960s and into the 1970s child abuse was essentially seen as a medico-social problem, the emphasis being on diagnosing, curing and preventing the ‘disease’ or syndrome. Doctors and social workers were the ones who had the skills to prevent and cure the problem. Research focussed on identifying the traits of the ‘abusing family’ with the practitioner being expected to identify these characteristics and act accordingly. Following the Maria Colwell inquiry (Secretary of State for Social Services, 1974) case conferences and registers were established with the involvement of doctors, health visitors and social workers considered crucial, and the Social Services Department, the statutory childcare agency, being pivotal. It was only in 1976 that the police’s role was considered vital as the medico-scientific model remained dominant (Otway, 1996). All this was to gradually change to a socio-legal mode, with an emphasis on investigating, assessing and examining the evidence (Parton, 1985). Criticisms of welfarism grew during the 1970s and deepened into the 1980s thereby undermining the welfare consensus in childcare. In part it grew because of the neoliberal view that wherever possible people should be responsible for themselves and left to their own devices with the state only intervening as a last resort. In addition, there were concerns about poor childcare practice, the inability to exploit the emphasis on prevention, and the nature and extent of interventions in people’s lives in the name of welfare. Feminists brought the issue of domestic violence and how it is women and children who suffer to the fore, rather than always viewing the family as a safe haven, with this view influencing the children’s rights movement. In the 1980s Parents Against Injustice (PAIN) voiced concerns about the intrusive intervention into families’ lives by many social workers, these being particularly pertinent following the events in Cleveland, Rochdale and Orkney when many children were removed from their families as a result of child abuse concerns. Various child abuse inquiries also pointed to deficiencies in policy, practice, knowledge and skills and the way systems performed and interrelated. Social workers were often seen as too gullible and trusting of parents so not intervening to protect children, or, as in the Cleveland child sexual abuse case, as over-zealous and not respecting the rights of parents (Secretary of State for Social Services, 1988). The legal framework as well as social work practice was criticised with a new balance needed between ‘family autonomy and state intervention but also getting the correct balance between the power, discretion and responsibilities of the judicial, social and medical experts and agencies’ (Otway, 1996, p 158). 62

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Eventually, as a result of overwhelming criticism of the processes that sought to transform ‘dysfunctional’ families to ‘healthy’ ones, the focus was to change from working therapeutically to protecting children. Furthermore, the language used in this process changed from that of a caring profession to that of one more akin to the police – ‘investigation’, ‘assessment’, dangerousness’ and ‘forensic evidence’. As Howe (1992) put it social workers become investigators, managers become designers of surveillance systems rather than consultants, and parents become objects of inquiry; the move was essentially from therapy and welfare to surveillance and control. Lawyers and the courts then became crucial, scrutinising social work practice and in so doing changing attitudes and the course of practice itself. Such a scenario is a way of addressing a key problem for the neoliberal state: formulating a legal basis for authority to intervene in family life in order to protect children but one which prevents all families from becoming clients of the state, while simultaneously presenting the legislation as applicable to all. The result was the 1989 Children Act. The 1989 Act and resulting guidance and regulations sought an approach to childcare that was preventative and partnership orientated, supported families and worked with children in need. Despite this, anxieties about child protection dominated and the notion of ‘significant harm’ became the criteria for state intervention via care proceedings, these in turn being the subject of legal oversight. Health and social work experts were seen as being unable to be left to make decisions alone, so under Working Together (Home Office et al, 1991) law and order agencies became involved in ways that they were not previously. For social workers an important aspect of all this was comprehensive assessment which was an attempt to improve and clarify the social assessment of ‘risk’ (Department of Health, 1988). It was hoped that the rationalisation of interagency working and procedures would be matched by developing practice skills in the assessment of individual cases. Importantly, the roles of social workers and the police were merged from the initial strategy meetings to discuss both childcare and law enforcement issues and thereafter throughout the whole investigation process. These developments were reinforced by the Memorandum of Good Practice (Home Office/Department of Health, 1992) whereby protecting children was combined with the processes of prosecuting offenders especially in terms of gaining evidence that would stand up in a criminal court. Since then the social work/police relationship has been and remains central in child protection work. This is despite the fact some refer to the dangers of social workers losing their identity and professionalism as, dominated by the police, they become more focussed on gaining evidence for prosecution rather than as providing support for the child and family. Some even referred to the ‘voluntary liquidation of a social work identity’ (Garrett, 2003, p 61), this being particularly pertinent when one considers some social work 63

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managers have advocated social workers being trained in police questioning/ interrogating techniques.2 Despite some of the intentions of the 1989 Act, the reality of most social work with children and families throughout the 1990s until the present time has been largely one of a crisis-orientated, reactive service in relation to child protection. This involved a more authoritarian and controlling attitude towards families and often alienates them in the process. This was recognised by the Messages from Research (Department of Health, 1995) which argued for a re-focussing towards to a more preventative, family support role. This might sound well and good, but coming from a right-wing Conservative government perhaps it had more to do with reducing the cost of expensive child protection investigations and resulting care proceedings. In any case, unlike the aforementioned government publications, it did not have a large impact on practice. From social work to care management with older people Social work with older people changed significantly under Thatcherism. The move to neoliberalism meant a change from the certainties of the post-war era whereby policy and practice consisted largely of the state providing financial provision and care services, thereby delivering security to people living into later life, with social workers being the key actors in this service-orientated approach (Philips, 1996). However, the promises of a cradle-to-the-grave welfare state gave way to the insecurities of the marketplace where those with financial resources had greater access to welfare provision, while the majority had to cope with increased isolation and insecurity. Policy changes introduced by the 1990 National Health Service and Community Care Act were supposed to promote ‘choice’ by empowering ‘consumers’. For social work practice this again necessitated a move from an emphasis on the therapeutic relationship, or at least a relationship, to one of assessment of individual need and care management. The 1990 Act raised the profile of ‘community care’ which in essence refers to more cost-effective care with the overriding objective being to make as many people as possible self-reliant. The White Paper Caring for People (Department of Health, 1989) sought to enable people to live as normal a life as possible, facilitate independence and empower individuals as regards lifestyle and service choices. This also included increasing state expenditure on private care for older people with local authorities being enablers rather than direct providers, the rationale being to provide wider choice. This concerted effort to shift provision to the private sector also entailed a commodification of social relationships between the formal and informal sectors with purchasing and contracting arrangements creating an illusion of securing care provision. The reality for the majority of older 64

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people was that genuine choice was lacking and increasingly the only choice was family carers, these being mainly women. Such older people may well have remained in the community but certainly not in circumstances of their own choosing. The contracting arrangements meant that accountability was achieved through increased monitoring, regulation and inspection of the quality of care and standards of practice. This can be viewed positively but can also mean increased uncertainty for both those providing the services and those on the receiving end. Regulation also allowed the state to retreat, selling off its residential care provision and allowing the private sector to provide services within the context of registration and inspection. What remains for the state – people being given services proportionate to their perceived risk and attempting to deal with uncertainty by administrative (and now managerial) definition (Bamford, 1990) – is controlled by managers with practitioner autonomy minimised by the increased rules, routines and procedures, even though this means risk aversion often takes precedence over flexibility and responsiveness to needs. Taken as a whole, this can be seen as transforming the nature of social services from a welfare agency run by professionals to a customer-centred group of facilities run by managers (Langan and Clarke, 1994). These changes impacted negatively on social work practice, with so-called needs-led assessment and care management being central to the reforms. The notion of meeting needs might be the stated objective for the changes, but too often social workers became engaged in financial rationalisations, more concerned about the need for value for money rather than effective care packages. Admittedly the change in terminology from client to service user can be viewed positively, reflecting a change in the balance of power between professionals and older people. But separating the assessment from service provision reinforces the view that social work with older people is about providing services which can be seen simply as a technical operation carried out by filling in forms in a standardised format. The real danger is that the forms become ends in themselves, with an administrative or managerial model of practice, rather than person-centred, coming to dominate. The focus becomes gatekeeping access to resources and case co-ordination rather than being engaged in a therapeutic relationship. The probation service: from social work to control and punishment Another service that was to feel the brunt of Thatcherism was probation which underwent a transformation in the late 1960s and early1970s. Prior to this, it was marginal to criminal justice, social work and central and local government, although did impose control on its charges by its very existence as the antechamber to less pleasant forms of punishment, namely 65

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custody (Harris, R., 1996). This marginality changed as the service was moved centre-stage by governments anxious to impose order and reason throughout the social world. Like other public services, policy was to be centralised but administrative/managerial responsibility for delivering it was devolved, tight financial controls and accountability were imposed, and competition, emphasising efficiency and effectiveness, was injected from the mixed economy (Home Office, 1987). These changes meant that instead of being a relatively small agency responsible for doing good at the fringes of the criminal justice system it moved to be a large, complex organisation responsible for delivering non-custodial and post-custodial community corrections and punishments. During the 1970s successive governments began this process, appreciating the central role probation could play in penal policy. For instance, following the 1972 Criminal Justice Act community service and day centre places were introduced, hostel places were increased, and suspended sentence supervision orders became a new responsibility. Following the 1979 Thatcher victory, her governments increasingly sought to define the service as an arm of the criminal justice and penal systems complementary to the police and prison services. The aim was to move away from it being a social work service operating in the criminal justice system or even it being a criminal justice agency working to an explicit social work base (Aldridge and Eadie, 1997). A key document was on objectives and priorities (Home Office, 1984). This introduced cash limiting of budgets, performance-related pay, an obligation to commit 5 per cent of budget to voluntary organisations, the transformation of the probation order as a sentence in its own right, the introduction of national standards and competencies, and, significantly, the location of training strategy in the Home Office Training Unit. By the 1990s probation saw ‘an increasing rift with government, the exposure by quantitative measurement of the limitations of its efficiency and effectiveness, ever increasing pressure on the service to define itself as the government [wished it to be] defined, and a failure on the service’s part to agree activities with which it is happy, which it can deliver and which will carry support among the informed public’ (Harris, R., 1996, p 129). This ended up with the service coming under political attack following the appointment of Michael Howard as Home Secretary in 1993 (McIvor and Raynor, 2007). He famously announced that ‘prison works’ while probation was seen as a ‘soft’ option which saw offenders as victims of society who should be helped rather than punished. In 1995 the Home Office proposed the abolition of the requirement that probation officers hold the Diploma in Social Work (DipSW) or its earlier equivalents (Home Office, 1995). Following an orchestrated press campaign (see Aldridge and Eadie, 1997) during which for a period there was no training at all, the link between probation and social work training was broken. Under New Labour probation 66

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was to be moved ever closer to the prison service with both coming together to form the National Offender Management Service. The situation can be characterised by seeing probation, at the behest of government, increasingly working with offenders in a ‘law and order’ controlling and authoritarian way, and with officers increasingly subservient to managerial decision-making and control by the imposition of increased bureaucracy and proceduralisation. As we have seen, all this sits well with what happened with social work with young offenders.

Conclusion Margaret Thatcher’s and John Major’s premierships saw the embracing of neoliberalism but for a time social work could still develop in progressive, even critical/radical ways. However, the right wing of the Conservative Party had always wanted to sanitise social work and to remove any oppositional or ideological infection (Garrett, 2003). Social work’s value base and awareness of factors relating to class, ‘race’, gender, together with other oppressions, was a concern, also becoming tainted because of its association with the public sector and the post-war settlement between capital and labour via the trade union movement. It is not surprising that social work and the agencies in which it operated were to be reconstructed, this being consistent with the central themes characterising the reconstruction of welfare and the welfare state more generally (Parton, 1996b). Three aspects of this reconstruction can be noted. First, there was an emphasis on market principles, often referred to as the ‘quasi-market’ (Le Grand and Bartlett, 1993) which includes a split between purchasing and providing responsibilities, a concern for services to be based on need and the assessment of risk rather than historic demand and service levels, the delegation of authority for budgetary control, and the pursuit of choice through provider competition. Second, there was the introduction of contractual rather than hierarchical accountability whereby relationships within and between welfare organisations are specific and formally spelt out and costed. Third, there was an attempt to develop more responsive organisations where responsibilities and decisions are devolved, and the service user/consumer is more directly involved. Hand in hand with all this various performance indicators, outcome measures and business plans become a priority along with increased proceduralisation. Such developments led to more fluid and fragmented arrangements whereby social work and social services are also provided by the voluntary and private sectors (see Carter, 1998). Staff other than social workers were increasingly seen as more appropriate in the actual provision of many services, and the role and practices of managers were key as they supplant the activities of social workers and the forms of knowledge they draw on. 67

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Such changes were to continue and intensify under New Labour as social work was subjected to further challenges. Notes 1

2

This is despite those (for example, McLaughlin, 2008) who argue the ‘backlash’ was exaggerated and that its critique became incorporated into mainstream political and organisational discourses. For example, in May 2009 letters appeared in ‘Community Care’ arguing for social workers to incorporate police models of investigation, planning and questioning to gather information about perpetrators. There was also a call for social workers to attend police-run interviewing skills workshops (Lowman, 2009).

Discussion points • Community social work: is this a possible way forward in pursuing critical/radical practice? • Why was social work’s ‘successful revolution’ with young offenders subsequently ignored? • Where does the balance lie between social work’s progressive and negative developments under the Thatcherite/neoliberal challenges?

Further reading Harvey, D. (2007) A Brief History of Neoliberalism, Oxford: Oxford University Press provides an excellent account of neoliberalism, of where it came from and its worldwide proliferation. For a succinct account of the Thatcherite changes to the welfare state and hence social work’s role within it see Langan, M. and Clarke, J. (1994) ‘Restructuring Welfare: the British welfare regime in the 1980s’ in Cochrane, A. and Clarke, J. (eds) Comparing Welfare States, London: Sage. Ferguson, I. (2008) Reclaiming Social Work: challenging neoliberalism and promoting social justice, Bristol: Policy Press analyses Thatcherism’s/neoliberalism’s impact on social work while reasserting the importance of critical/radical practice.

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New Labour, more neoliberalism: new challenges and (fewer) opportunities Chapter summary Tony Blair’s landslide New Labour general election success of 1997 ushered in the Third Way. Rather than a return to post-war social democracy, there was a continuation of the neoliberalism of the Thatcher/Major years and the embracement of free-market globalisation. ‘Reform’ and ‘modernisation’ were the mantras for public services and the welfare state which resulted in social work facing more challenges including those posed by new regulation, new organisations, new ‘professions’ and bureaucracy.

Key learning points • ‘Out-Torying the Tories’: New Labour’s Third Way and the continued emphasis on the free market, self-responsibility and the mixed economy of care. • New organisations, bureaucracy and ‘professions’; the sidelining of social work and the introduction of more bureaucratic, standardised and technocratic approaches to practice. • The re-emergence of ‘problem families’, the ‘new punitiveness’ in relation to young offenders, and care management’s increased emphasis on individuals being dependent on the market rather than the state.

From the position of acceptance to globalisation as an uncontrollable phenomenon … New Labour consolidated the Conservatives’ reforms and pushed beyond them, ensuring that public services, such as social work, were drawn deeper into managerial, market-orientated ways of thinking and practising. As in many other countries, what began as a national project under neoconservative governments became generalised as part of the economic agenda of globalisation. (Harris and White, 2009a, p 3) The landslide general election victory of Tony Blair in 1997 saw John Major ousted as a government of sleaze and corruption. After many years in 69

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opposition, the ‘old’ social democratic, to some even socialist, Labour Party had been rebranded by Blair, Gordon Brown and a few others into New Labour. They had argued that any suggestion of socialism was unlikely to appeal to the new middle classes so a new direction for the party was needed. Despite the electorate’s calls for change, there was no major transformation in terms of political ideology, economic and social policy. Although New Labour espoused the Third Way, when in power it continued with the neoliberal offensive of the Thatcher and Major governments. Its 1997 general election manifesto stated that policies could not be based on those of 1947 or 1967 (Labour Party, 1997) and, as with Thatcher, there was a repudiation of the social democratic compact. Blair and his guru Giddens (for example, 1994, 1998) argued for the Third Way which did not conform to the ‘old’ left or right wing of politics. In essence, however, New Labour’s ‘new’ ideology involved the embracement of freemarket globalisation, with flexible labour markets and flexible workers being the order of the day with the aim of producing a competitive economy that relies on a competitive society in the global economy (Mooney and Law, 2007). While the social democratic era was based on the corporatism of government, labour and business making and implementing policy, under the neoliberalism of New Labour, government largely operated at the behest of multi-national corporations; witness the oft repeated reference to the need for light or soft touch regulation so as not to stifle competitiveness and profitability. It is within notions of the competitive economy and society that the drive for national renewal comes and, as far as public services and the welfare state were concerned, it encompassed the mantras of ‘reform’ and ‘modernisation’. The Third Way saw welfare reform and modernisation as crucial, this including widespread attacks on ‘welfare dependency’ and the reform of the public services, again including attacks on what was constructed as the ‘producer interests’ in the public sector (Ferguson et al, 2002). This agenda soon impacted on the personal social services leading to the demise of Social Services Departments, and seriously impinged on social work itself. This chapter begins with a discussion of Third Way ideology, particularly as it relates to welfare. Subsequently, I turn to what happened to social work over the New Labour years. This includes regulation, inspection and organisational changes and the ‘reform’ and ‘modernisation’ of social work with children and families. Privatisation possibilities and the authoritarian response to ‘problem families’ are also covered. I then consider changes in relation to social work with young offenders as well as with adults and older people.

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New Labour, the Third Way and the welfare state Although it was rarely acknowledged, New Labour ideology drew on much of that of the New Right. Even though Giddens (for example, 1994, 1998, 2000, 2001) provided the intellectual background for New Labour, and preferred the term the ‘Third Way’, it is best described as the neoliberal way. Giddens could see no alternatives to capitalism and contended all that could be done was to determine how and in what ways it could be governed and regulated. There was an acceptance of the free market and a belief that individuals should take on more responsibility for their lives, including their own welfare. The beginnings of New Labour’s approach to welfare can be found in the report of the Commission on Social Justice (1994) which was set up by the late Labour leader John Smith (see, for example, Powell, M., 1999, 2000). The report set out three approaches to economic and social policy. The old left was seen as being concerned with the distribution of wealth rather than its creation, with social justice achieved primarily through the benefits system. The New Right saw social justice being achieved through reducing public services and freeing the markets even though this would lead to extremes of affluence and poverty. For the Commission the preferred alternative was the Middle Way which was then to equate with Giddens’ Third Way of ‘investment in human capital … rather than the direct provision of economic maintenance. In place of the welfare state we should put the social investment state, operating in the context of a positive welfare society’ (1998, p 117). Social justice and economic efficiency are seen as two sides of the same coin, both being ‘good for business’, this coinciding with the New Labour emphasis on education and welfare to work helped by an active, preventative welfare state, rather than simply a passive one which pays benefits. Redistribution, through the tax and benefit system, and thus steps towards genuine equality, are rejected. To the extent that redistribution is addressed, it relates to redistributing opportunities through education, training and paid employment, which results in equality of outcome becoming redefined to equality of opportunity. The focus is on inclusion and exclusion rather than equality per se, with paid work and education being the mechanisms of inclusion. This means ensuring everyone is given the opportunity to maximise their productive contribution to the formal economy, which amounts to developing their full potential in terms of their productive, rather than their human, potential. When it comes to citizenship, whereas traditionally the right stresses the duties of citizenship and the left stresses the rights of citizens, the Third Way involved a welfare state based on rights and duties. Giddens’ (1998) motto was ‘no rights without responsibilities’, ultimately resulting in a belief in conditional welfare. For instance, in relation to employment the ‘New 71

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Deal’ provided various opportunities to work which individuals, including lone parents and the disabled, had a responsibility to take up, enduring penalties if they did not. In addition, the 2008 Welfare Reform Act replaced ‘passive’ incapacity benefit with ‘active’ employment support allowance. Conditionality draws on the Clinton administrations in the US and the notion of ‘tough love’, a key criticism being that most of the responsibilities, obligations and indeed ‘tough love’, are borne by the bottom layers of society and not the powerful at the top. There were two other components of the Third Way that require comment. First, there was the emphasis on combining public and private provision and increasing partnerships with civil society; it was the mixed economy of welfare. There may have been a willingness to use state action, but this had to be limited and increasingly complemented by private, voluntary and informal sector provision. One has only to recall the growing involvement of the private sector in health, education and, along with the voluntary and informal sector, in social services/care. Second, social expenditure in itself was not seen as being a good thing. Instead, the aim was the more effective use of public money between and across government departments with issues of economy and efficiency being to the fore, as well as a stress on ‘choice’ and ‘consumer rights’. Furthermore, there is ‘good’ and ‘bad’ public spending, with ‘investment’ in health and education being ‘good’ while social security spending on such as unemployment (when people should be working) considered to be ‘bad’. The level of spending was also no longer the yardstick of government action in the public interest, but it was how and what the money is spent on that counts. Treasury objectives and targets dominate, thereby ensuring that government departments keep to their plans, with this extending to public services more generally and necessitating effective regulatory and inspection regimes. The Third Way was, therefore, not particularly distinctive or new, simply because of the continuities with the New Right rather than, as might have been expected, ‘old’ Labour. Many of its policies simply ‘out-Toried the Tories’ (Powell, M., 2000, p 54) and if anything harked back rather than looked forward. Building the welfare state around work was perhaps little more than a more humane version of the ‘less eligibility’ concept of the New Poor Law. Added to this is the focus on moving away from traditional welfare statism, of disengaging society from the state and moving towards civil society, leading to the redrawing of the boundaries between the individual and the state. People were thereby urged to become more responsible and make provision for risks facing themselves and their families, even though this in itself can be a risky business. Moreover, greater responsibility means more severe consequences for failure on the part of the ‘irresponsible’, although this makes it difficult to reconcile the link between responsibility and inclusion. In summary, although New Labour liked to refer to the responsibilised 72

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and empowered citizen, a key aspect of citizenship under New Labour was actually the abandonment of the citizen – the dismantling of the safeguards built during post-war welfare capitalism against the demands and inequities of the market (Clarke, 2005). It can be argued that New Labour took neoliberal doctrines and policies and ‘radicalised them’ (Callinicos, 2001, p 121). If we take the organisational and professional reform of social work, for example, Giddens (1998) favoured the market and private enterprise over the public sector because the latter is staffed by vested interest groups. Government and state agencies were also urged to ‘modernise’, be transparent and customer, rather than client or service user, orientated. Further, ‘modernization’ itself was equated with ensuring public service staff, held to be responsible for past inefficiency and rigidity, were brought into line, with those public services having profit potential being transferred to the private sector. Related to this, the type of welfare provision advocated was ‘strenuous welfare’, linked with conditionality, with this being provided by utilising a range of business-focussed, entrepreneurial managerial powers over welfare workers (see Mooney and Law, 2007). Notwithstanding the Third Way rhetoric then, ‘neoliberalism has served, often implicitly, to provide the dominant, or hegemonic, core for the ‘transformation’’ that occurred under New Labour (Garrett, 2009b, p 140). The result was that the bequest of the New Labour governments of the 1990s and 2000s was similar to that of previous New Right ones: ‘increased capital accumulation and privatisation alongside growing inequality of income and opportunity, social marginalisation and moral authoritarianism’ (Ferguson and Woodward 2009, p 44). As far as moral authoritarianism is concerned, an example included the incarceration of parents of children who irregularly attended school, despite the damaging effects this can have on families. Another example, and one that particularly relates to social work, was New Labour’s policies towards failed asylum seekers. These including restricting their social and welfare rights so that they were not incentivised to stay and were encouraged to return home. Social workers were often drawn into this process by having to inform the Home Office about such people, thereby being forced into a coercive and authoritarian role even to the extent of taking children into care if necessary (Humphries, 2004; Fell and Hayes, 2007). As mentioned earlier, New Labour policies affected social work in a number of important ways. There was the emergence of new structures for its regulation and inspection, organisational changes, the beginnings of new ‘professions’, increasing direction from the centre, the fixation with targets and performance indicators, and an emphasis on the ‘modern’ and the advantages of information and communication technology. All this coincided with increasing moves towards privatisation of services, and the

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gradual criminalisation of child welfare discourses such as the moral panic about the anti-social behaviour of young people and families (Garrett, 2003).

New Labour, new regulation, new organisations and the sidelining of social work Four years after the election of Tony Blair, Bill Jordan noted that ‘social work in the UK seems to be fairing worse under a Labour government than it did under eighteen years of Conservative administrations’ (Jordan, 2001, p 527). One has only to recall the way social work was restricted in the new areas created for engaging with deprived children and families, including Sure Start and the Children’s Fund which provided services for younger and older children respectively, although both were established outside of local authority Social Services Departments. Social work was also largely absent in the policies and practices promoting social exclusion. Over the 2000s Jordan’s words continued to ring true, with the very words ‘social work’ rarely mentioned positively. Related to this are two important New Labour changes focussing on the regulation and inspection of social work (covered further in Chapter Six in relation to the social work business) together with the organisational frameworks within which social work and social care were delivered. Simultaneously these developments contributed to an element of air-brushing the very words ‘social work’ out of existence. The 2000 Care Standards Act introduced changes which came into effect in 2001 and three of these are of particular relevance to social work. First, the Central Council for the Education and Training in Social Work was replaced by the General Social Care Council, with similar bodies being established in the rest of the UK. Its aim was to regulate social work training and the social work and care workforce in England. Second, the Social Care Institute for Excellence (SCIE) was established to identify and disseminate evidence-based practice, with the demise of the National Institute of Social Work subsequently occurring in 2003. Third, the National Care Standards Commission was introduced to regulate adult social care, this undergoing several transformations before becoming the Care Quality Commission. The obvious question is why the use of the word ‘care’ and the absence of ‘social work’ in all these changes? Arguably, it shows the disdain with which New Labour has held social work as a profession as well as the continued desire to cleanse and remove any oppositional possibilities to the neoliberal project. As for inspection, arguably the most important point to note was the increasing influence of Ofsted especially after the demise of Social Services Departments and the beginning of Children’s Trusts. Ofsted was originally established to inspect education but increasingly took over aspects of social services culminating in the scrutiny of children’s services, the combination of education and children’s social care. A key criticism was that the organisation 74

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lacked the knowledge and understanding needed to inspect social work, this being one of the factors acknowledged in relation to the Baby Peter case. As for organisational changes, New Labour was responsible for the creation of new agencies, including statutorily enforced partnerships and quangos. This was partly a result of an emphasis on changed patterns of inter-professional working highlighted in various government publications arguing for the integration of health and social care (Lymbery, 2004a). Such tendencies initially largely concerned adults, but similar changes emerged in relation to children, young people and families. An early example of such organisational change, together with the New Labour emphasis on inter-professional working, was the creation of Youth Offending Teams following the 1998 Crime and Disorder Act (see later on in the chapter). In a different vein, the Connexions Service, providing personal advisers for all 13–19-year-olds, began to be phased in during 2001. The focus was on the education, training and work needs of young people, and there was a general concern with problems faced by, or perhaps more appropriately, posed by young people (Garrett, 2003). It is not hard to see that the service had the potential to overlap and encroach on social work. Similar comments applied to the emergence of the various care, support and adviser ‘professionals’, all of which can be viewed as renewed attempts at the governing or ‘policing of families’ (Donzelot, 1979). The important point is that, as in other areas of the public services, work that was once the preserve of highly trained professionals, was increasingly being carried out by less qualified staff. Rather this being done to ease the pressure on overworked professionals, the public were increasingly having to put up with cut-price services. Social workers, for instance, were generally not being freed up to concentrate on the more complex cases, with much of their time increasingly spent inputting data instead in order to meet targets and performance indicators. In fact, perhaps the easiest way to discern New Labour’s disregard for social work was to note Blair’s major speech about the public services made in Newcastle in January 2002. He referred to teachers, the police, nurses, doctors and hospital staff more generally but, significantly, not social workers (Garrett, 2003, p 69). The most significant organisational changes occurred following the Victoria Climbié Inquiry (Laming, 2003) into the death of a young girl who died of injuries inflicted by her carers. The apparent inability of agencies to work together was highlighted and the government subsequently published Every Child Matters (DfES, 2004). This in turn led to the 2004 Children Act which aimed to transform children’s services and ensure every child had the support they needed to be healthy, stay safe, enjoy and achieve, make a positive contribution and achieve economic well-being. The Act sought to enhance the integration of health, education, social services/ care and others, thereby encouraging professionals to avoid working and 75

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thinking within a bunker-like mentality as they had done previously from within their ‘own’ departments. The latter were seen by New Labour as having separate cultures, values and management styles which meant they had difficulty working together (Pierson, 2010). Actually, there was limited evidence of the need or reason for the services to be changed (Frost, 2005)1 but nevertheless the ‘silos’ were dismantled and replaced with the supposedly more integrated services in the form of Children’s Trusts. This led to the demise of Social Services Departments in 2006, meaning in essence that local government no longer provided a safe, supportive environment for the practice of social work. Under New Labour, therefore, social work underwent various changes at the regulation, inspection and organisational levels but what differences occurred as far as practice was concerned?

New Labour and social work with children and families At the outset, it has to be acknowledged that there were some positive developments in relation to social work with children and families during New Labour’s period in office. One example, influenced by feminist insights, was the recognition that domestic abuse/violence can negatively impact on children and that practice must address this (see Hughes and Owen, 2009). On the other hand, social work ‘[remained] shadowy, portrayed either as anxious monitoring or decisive protection, or even tough enforcement, but never as sensitive, aware, dialogical and flexible negotiation’ (Jordan with Jordan, 2000, p 125). This latter, negative description continued to be the dominate narrative and when one considered the detail of practice, it becomes clear that the changes that did occur amounted to the increased bureaucratisation and control of the social work task. An example of the latter was the introduction of separate duty/initial assessment and long-term teams, and the separation of after-care teams for looked after children from children and families teams. Both contributed to the increasing fragmentation of the social work task, which amounted to deskilling.2 Of key importance, however, was the introduction of looked after children (LAC) materials, the introduction of the Framework for Assessment and the ‘electronic turn’ (Garrett, 2003, 2005), all occurring within a managerial ethos. These developments remain the hallmarks of practice with children and families, although it should be noted the LAC materials were actually introduced during the mid-1990s under John Major in an effort to improve the outcomes for LAC. This began a process that, under New Labour, saw a proliferation of centrally devised assessment schedules and other paper and electronic ‘tools’ for the use of social workers and other ‘professionals’ working with children and families. Two other important issues to consider are the introduction of social work practices for LAC, and new ways of 76

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dealing with the re-emergence of the phenomenon of ‘problem families’ (see Garrett, 2009b). The obsession with paper and electronic tools The LAC materials involve numerous forms, and one only needs a glance to be quickly struck by the amount of repetition and duplication, as well as various other problems. Although some social workers found ways of using the forms positively (see Charles and Wilton, 2004), more often completing them was a time-consuming, repetitive task which took social workers away from what they should be doing, namely building relationships with children and families, and working with them on issues as defined by them. Another concern is that when it comes to parenting, the LAC system simply does not take into account one of the main reasons why children become accommodated in the first place, namely poverty. Perhaps the forms say more about the middle-class concerns of the academics that devised them. Then there is the fact that many of the forms have a checklist format with intrusive questions about such as drug use and sexuality, which means that young people are often treated as objects rather than human beings. Finally, as Garrett (2003, pp 36–7) argues perhaps the LAC forms are really more about two overriding narratives: first, ensuring young people were adequately prepared for the ‘world of work’ and that they were compliant, well-presented employees who are able to function in ‘flexible’ markets; and second, focussing on the need to ensure that the ‘crimogenic’ proclivities of the children of the unemployed and poor are detected, regulated and contained. Although the LAC forms made empathetic and non-directive engagement and interaction with children and young people difficult, it is the association between these forms and managerialism that I want to emphasise here. This is evident in the notion of ‘outcomes’ which involves a concern with measuring of inputs, processes and outputs. There is an implicit impatience with the uncertainties and ambiguities of social work and, again drawing on the Clinton administrations in the US, the concern is about the way welfare systems must ‘work’ by promoting social order and not hinder the process of capital accumulation. It is linked to operation of the market in welfare services whereby crude outcome data, available from LAC forms as well as other sources, helps in the drawing up of contractual specifications in relation to, for example, children placed in private residential care or with foster carers working for private fostering agencies. Put bluntly, the more difficulties or problems the child or young person has, the more these private companies can charge for caring for them. But it was the introduction of the standardised assessment framework that was central to the changes effecting social work with children and families 77

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under New Labour (DH et al, 2000). This superseded the ‘orange book’ (DH, 1988) ostensibly because the latter was followed mechanistically and used as a tick-box checklist, but this comment is surely ironical given the proliferation of questionnaires and scales in the new framework’s package of materials. The stated aim was also to get away from social work focussing on child protection in a reactive, policing role with instead the new framework introducing an initial assessment for all children in need in the hope of developing an increased emphasis on family support. For more complex and/or child protection cases, in-depth core assessments were required. A key criticism of the assessment framework was that often it was simply used to ration services and, eventually, to assess risk. A more fundamental criticism, as with the LAC forms, was their world view which included an uncritical acceptance of current economic and social arrangements, these being the unquestioned foundation for familial and dynamics and interpersonal relationships. Initially, there was some flexibility for social workers to address this in that they could use their own narrative to describe and explain the reality of the problems and difficulties facing children and families but, as we will see, this was reduced by the ‘electronic turn’. In any case, following completion of these forms, unless there were child protection concerns, little actually occurred in terms of help and support for children and families. Often all they could expect was to be told their parenting was ‘good enough’ together with perhaps advice about, or referral to, other agencies (Rogowski, 2009). As Smith R. (2008, p 161) puts it ‘assessment processes … are being utilised at least partly to justify screening out some needs, and redefining them as someone else’s problem, or as insufficiently serious to warrant intervention, or sometimes as just intractable and beyond help’. In addition, again like the LAC documents, such assessments, in part at least, are surely underpinned by the functional objective to manage risk and police the socially marginalised. The framework was rooted in New Labour’s modernising project and is linked to the Quality Protects initiative to improve outcomes for children in need.3 Three systems or domains – the child’s developmental needs, parenting capacity, and family and environmental factors – have to be taken into account when considering safeguarding and promoting the welfare of the child. It was hoped such considerations would help ensure the referral and assessment process discriminated between different types and levels of need and produce a timely service response. But surely, as with its LAC predecessor, the social work practice it promotes ‘risks becoming merely a composite set of technical assessment tasks driven by “evidence-based knowledge” about “what works’” (Garrett, 2003, p 80). Under New Labour, a focus on evidence-based practice was a key feature of social work, and few would disagree that practitioners require evidence to shape their interventions. However, there are also serious problems with 78

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this proposition. First, evidence-based practice is based on positivist and empirical science and represents an extension of technical rationality into the social work field. This is surely antithetical to the essence of social work because practice takes place in problem areas that are inherently messy, confusing and not amenable to technical solutions (Smith D., 2004). Order and certainty – knowing that something is single, unified, measurable, visible and, furthermore, ‘works’ – cannot always be realised in social work. This is because the social world is inherently unpredictable and uncertain in ways in which the natural world, at least in principle, is not. Second, what should count as evidence is problematic in the sense that it is policy makers’ views that dominate rather than the views of social workers and service users. Unlike the medical profession, so-called evidence comes from outside social work rather than from within it. A good example is the evidence from social work’s 1980s and early 1990s involvement with young offenders, namely that diversion from the youth justice system together with genuine alternatives to custody did have an impact on youth crime. This did not sit easily with the Tories and then New Labour wanting to be tough on crime, and hence it was disregarded. The fact that New Labour’s paper, or increasingly electronic, tools had a ‘narrow, normative and prescriptive view of the world and economic relationships’ (Garrett, 2005, p 543) is not the only difficulty; its embracing of a positivistic view of social science which is seen to be above and beyond ‘ideology’ is also problematic. This is because New Labour’s approach was in itself ideological, in that the framework is imbued with a preoccupation with ‘new paternalism’ and ‘social exclusion’. The former aims to reduce poverty and other social problems by directive and supervisory means, this linked to the conditional welfare referred to earlier. The latter has the potential to mask poverty and questions of income and wealth distribution, and unproblematically sees paid work as the mechanism of social inclusion. There is no recognition that for many, work can be poorly paid, insecure and consist of dead-end jobs. Despite this, as S. Hall (1998, p 12) puts it ‘not since the workhouse has labour been so fervently and single-mindedly valorised’. Despite the claims by the framework’s formulators (Rose and Aldgate, 2000), ‘ideology’ and ‘ethical and professional practice’ cannot be easily separated out. The Common Assessment Framework (CAF) was another New Labour ‘tool’ and was introduced in the hope that the majority of children with additional needs could be dealt with by common assessments carried out by schools, childcare providers, children’s centres, health services and the voluntary sector. The aim was to improve inter-agency working with such children and avoid families having to repeat themselves to various agencies. Unfortunately, the focus ended up on assessment rather than direct help for children and families. For many, CAFs were an administrative 79

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burden which did not guarantee the provision of any additional services. They simply increased the level of paperwork and consequently the time spent away from direct work with children and their families. Parents often found CAF meetings bewildering and again a form-filling exercise. In addition, health visitors and teachers, for instance, often did not see it as part of their role to complete the forms. When they contacted a social worker about a child/young person’s difficulties, they did not want to be simply told to ‘fill in a CAF form’. But there were two other, more fundamental, problems with CAFs. First, the term ‘additional needs’ was ill-defined and could have a negative impact on how children view themselves and are viewed by others. Following Foucault, it can be argued that constant surveillance shapes the experiences of children (Foley and Rixon, 2008). Continuous monitoring and questions about their feelings, parents and experiences can actually be shaped by such formal assessment procedures along with informal daily interactions. Put simply, if they are continually asked, for example, if ‘daddy frightens/scares you’ their replies could lead to child protection concerns which turn out to be groundless because ‘daddy’ has shouted at them and told them to stop doing something. Second, it could be argued that the use of CAFs was hastening the demise of a social work identity. Essentially, CAFs are about what traditional, preventative social work was about (and in the past it was far more likely that actual services would be provided to meet needs). But if others, such as health visitors and teachers, were to take on this role, what remains for social work with children and families? At best it would only leave child protection cases. But if this were to be the scenario, would there be a need for so many social workers, or even social work itself, as arguably the police could deal with such situations? We should step back and question much of what comes from, and is then enforced by, the ‘powers that be’. Like changes in relation to other professions, attempts to move things forward should emanate from, or at least include, the views of social workers themselves, rather than being imposed from above. The ‘electronic turn’ was another key theme of social work with children and families under New Labour (Garrett, 2005). Influenced by developments in the private sector, information and communication technologies (ICTs) increasingly fulfilled a crucial role in terms of technologising and marketising the public sector (Harris, J., 2003). The need for efficiency, more effective targeting, as well as ensuring the requirements of ‘consumers’ dominate rather than those of service providers, were the familiar arguments put forward for the increasing reliance on the new technology. But, as noted in Chapter One, what happened with the Integrated Children’s System (ICS) shows how disastrous the unthinking introduction of ICTs can be, with social workers having to spend most of their time simply inputting data (Hall, C., et al, 80

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2008). For example, electronic core assessments consist of over 50 pages of tick-box answers and unsurprisingly are not children- or family-friendly, nor are they acceptable for case conferences or court. Even when compared to the ‘old’ initial and core assessments they leave much to answer for, one important reason being there is little scope for social workers to express their own view of the situation rather than what the computer and in turn their agency and the government wants. It is not surprising that the Social Work Task Force established in response to Baby Peter had the problems with ICS at the top of its agenda. A key question to address is whether it assists it meeting the need of children and families? Another is how can social workers be expected to protect/safeguard children when in effect they are prevented from spending any significant time with them or their families simply because of having to devote most of their time to the computer? Practising privatisation ‘Pilot’ proposals to privatise social work services for ‘LAC’ were another concern under New Labour (see Garrett, 2009b). As was the case during John Major’s premiership, the plight of LAC was the focus of attention, including concerns with educational performance and seeing adoption as a solution to problems in the care system (Garrett, 2002). As a result, a White Paper (DfES, 2007) appeared, drawing on the report of a working group led by Le Grand (2007) recommending the introduction of social work practices for LAC, and various pilots were subsequently established. They entailed small groups of social workers working with such children and young people and they were commissioned by, but independent of, local authorities. Le Grand (2007) rightly argued that social workers were frustrated because of the procedures, bureaucracy and managerialism, including the ‘electronic turn’, which took them away from direct work with service users. He also commented on social workers’ initial strong moral purpose, idealism and commitment to rectifying injustice when they enter the profession. However, once into the job they are often overwhelmed with form and computer exemplar filling, meaningless targets and deprived of autonomy. All this is so far, so good, but such a situation is then ‘blamed’ on local authorities, notwithstanding that it was a New Labour government that inflicted this private sector managerialism on them in the first place. Unfortunately, the working group failed to acknowledge this. Instead, in order to address the problems, practices were seen as providing an opportunity for social workers and in turn ‘their’ children. The former would be given the autonomy and freedom from a complex management structure to put the child above everything else. Professional decision-making, the argument continued, would replace decisions by managers, and, further, social workers would also have a personal financial stake in all of this. 81

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Looking past the New Labour spin, the situation is a lot more complex. The high moral tone of Le Grand and his colleagues is less than sincere. While the frustrations of social workers to which they referred were real and significant, there was no acknowledgement that they had been caused by the neoliberal context in which they had to operate. They simply could be solved by inflicting even more neoliberalism, with its belief in the market and the private sector, onto social work. The obvious charge is that social work practices meant local authority children’s services for LAC were to be privatised and that such children were to be commodified. Le Grand and his colleagues even conceded that such practices could eventually take over child protection/safeguarding and child in need services, certainly a worrying scenario which is taken up again in Chapter Seven. The re-emergence of ‘problem families’ When it comes to the rediscovery of ‘problem families’4 and the ‘sinbin’ solution proposed for them, the Respect Task Force’s (2006) action plan was of particular significance. For New Labour, such families were the opposite of the ‘hardworking family’ and were perceived as from another age, ‘families that are unable or unwilling to exhibit a commitment to be self-activating and responsibilized neoliberal citizens’ (Garrett, 2009b, p 101). Dealing with them was a central focus in the drive against anti-social behaviour and, following the action plan, this included ‘intensive family support projects’ comprising outreach services and, often, a residential component. They became mandatory and were to be ‘rolled out’ in all local authorities having initially appeared in Dundee and later in six towns and cities in the north of England. When it comes to the research into the pilots (see Garrett, 2009b, pp 106–16) various points can be noted. First, many if not most of the families involved had characteristics of poverty and ill health. Second, their involvement was based on a combination of persuasion and coercion, with compliance often being forthcoming simply because of the lack of alternative housing options. In addition, the point can be made that to the extent that families co-operated and spoke favourably of their experience, it might simply be because the families concerned were the most compliant or least able to resist coercion. Third, notions of control and intrusion, resulting in the infantilisation of the adults was apparent. Finally, some of the researchers ‘appear far too … emphatic when, despite an apparent lack of sufficient and convincing supporting data, they maintain that the projects which they examined offer a “lifeline” to families’. Overall perhaps the researchers could ‘have been a little bolder in critically interpreting their, often complex, findings which reveal a good deal about the trajectory of the fragmenting, and increasingly authoritarian, outer edges of the neoliberal ‘welfare’ state’ (Garrett, 2009b, p 115). 82

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One could even argue the residential component of the projects was a form of ‘pre-emptive or preventative detention’ (Rose, N., 2000, p 330). They were perhaps an example of neoliberal punitiveness in relation to people facing problems and difficulties, others being residential provision for teenage parents or asylum seekers. They may also indicate the general direction of intervention with children and families, including that provided by social workers, in the future. Such ‘sinbins’ provide further evidence of the neoliberal project’s incursion into the social domain and, bearing in mind the involvement of organisations such as Action for Children in the projects, perhaps contained an implicit element of privatisation. The changes to social work and other interventions with children and families outlined here have taken place as managerialism retains, and even increased, its hold over the social work task. The major concern of the managerial ethos is to meet targets and performance indicators with social work supervision largely consisting of questions as to whether computer exemplar assessments have been completed within the allotted timescale. Often there is little, if any, concern about the quality of such assessments but merely a requirement that they have been done and that there are ‘no empty boxes’. At times one wonders if they are even read. Similar comments apply to the completion of the LAC forms. The rise and now increased dominance of managerialism is covered further in Chapter Six, so at this stage let us have a look at social work with young offenders.

New Labour, new punitiveness: social work with young offenders As noted earlier, social work success with young offenders during the 1980s and early 1990s was ignored as ‘populist punitiveness’ came to dominate (Bottoms, 1995). The election of a New Labour government led some to believe that there would be more progressive policies in relation to youth crime and that, to quote Tony Blair, the ‘causes of crime’ would be seriously addressed. Sadly, they were to be disappointed because Blair was only to concentrate on the first half of his famous phrase ‘tough on crime, tough on the causes of crime’, as evidenced by New Labour’s flagship 1998 Crime and Disorder Act (see, for example, Goldson, 1999, 2000). Key provisions included reprimands and final warnings replacing cautions, the possibility of children under ten being made the subject of local curfews, and parents of convicted young people being made the subject of parenting orders. There was also an increased focus on incarceration with detention and training orders replacing secure training orders, as well as sentences in young offenders’ institutions, for young people aged 12–17. Finally, an array of other orders were introduced, including referral orders, reparation orders, drug treatment

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and testing orders and action plan orders, these all being in addition to those orders grounded in the 1991 Criminal Justice Act. New Labour also widened the concept of popular punitiveness through its concern with anti-social behaviour and an expectation on young people to show respect. This ‘criminalising of nuisance’ resulted in the introduction of anti-social behaviour orders which were criticised on the grounds that they are unfair, unjust, disproportionate, stigmatising, criminalising and, not least, ineffective (Squires, 2008; Millie, 2009). New Labour’s continuation with a ‘get tough’ approach to youth crime was carried out by Youth Offending Teams (YOTs) comprising such as police, probation, social work, education and health. The focus was on swift administration of justice, punishment, confronting young offenders with their behaviour and reinforcing the responsibilities of parents. Although there may be some conflict between those keen to enforce court orders strictly and consistently and others, such as those social workers, who, despite some of the earlier comments, continued to stress the importance of constructive work with young offenders, the overall effect of New Labour’s youth justice policy and practice was correctional early intervention, deterrence and punishment. The well-established diversionary policies and practices of the 1980s had long been abandoned along with genuine alternatives to incarceration (Goldson, 2000). The punishment model remained dominant, despite those who argued that it was an era of corporatist/managerialist approaches and there was little to be gained by getting involved in the ‘old’ welfare/treatment and punishment debates (Muncie, 1999). Admittedly, managerialism reigned in the sense that the discretion and creativity of practitioners had been diminished as they were forced into prioritising bureaucracy and targets, but surely this did not mean that punishment was not at the fore of what happened to young offenders. The blurring of roles in YOTs raises similar concerns to those posed by social workers having to work so closely with the police in child protection cases. Again, the fear was about social workers losing their professional identity. Souhami (2007, p 182), writes ‘the tone of repudiation and disdain in the communications surrounding the implementation of the Crime and Disorder Act and the radical reorganisation these set in train were understood by social workers as a dismissal of their previous practice’. What is more, despite the undoubted successes of the 1980s they were criticised for being ‘inactive, collusive, and ineffective … their professional experience and expertise now appeared to count for nothing’. Additionally, when one looks at many texts on youth justice of the time (for example, Goldson and Muncie, 2006; Smith, R., 2007; Stephenson et al, 2007) a striking observation is that social work in relation to young offending is barely mentioned. Indeed, when such as restorative justice and mediation are referred to in the media it is usually put forward as a police initiative, rather than as resulting from 84

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social work initiatives in the 1980s. Admittedly the case was different in Scotland where social work with young offenders remains a significant aspect of dealing with the phenomenon (White, 2009). This is also highlighted in the edited collection by McIvor and Raynor (2007), as the title of their book refers to ‘developments in social work with offenders’. But even they have to acknowledge the impact on social work of the abolition of the social work qualification for probation officers. In any case, whereas once social work was seen as pivotal to responding to young offenders, along with those at risk of offending, this is no longer the case particularly as far as England and Wales are concerned. Perhaps the most obvious manifestation of this is that services for young people in trouble have been separated from mainstream children and families services. This separation is epitomised by The Children Act Now: messages from research (Aldgate and Stratham, 2001) which does not even refer to young offenders. Furthermore, it is important to note that while eligibility for statutory child welfare was tightened during the 2000s and social care/work accordingly stringently rationed, on the other hand the youth offending apparatus greatly expanded under New Labour (Goldson, 2007).

New Labour and social work with adults and older people As we saw in Chapter Three, care management came to dominate social work with adults and older people under Thatcherism and this continued under New Labour. Care management involves different approaches to different service user groups. For instance, a multi-professional model distinguishes high-risk mental health services, and a model of service brokerage has been developed to meet the needs of adults with disabilities with a defined professional role being implied in each (Payne, 2000). However, the model that has come to dominate work with older people has been one of social care entrepreneurship, with the availability of services tightly constrained by cost and linked to the marketisation of social care more generally (Lymbery, 2004b). In fact, the inadequacy of the resource base has been an on-going concern and is ever more the most significant factor facing social work and social care with older people (Lymbery, 2010), something that is commented on further in Chapter Seven. Social care’s concern with rationing financial resources has resulted in social workers facing increased levels of bureaucratisation, even to the extent that some argue that it signals the demise of social work with older people (Postle, 2001). This is because an overemphasis on assessment to the exclusion of other elements of care management, such as monitoring and review, can fragment the process, thereby leading to a number of problems. These include: routinised working resulting in swift assessments together with unimaginative planning and cursory review; large caseloads with an 85

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emphasis on processing lots of work rather than service user outcomes; a proliferation of forms for various aspects of practice; the splitting of tasks between different workers leading to general deskilling; too much of an emphasis on formal services rather than linking formal and informal services; and discouragement of the counselling and interpersonal aspects of social work (Sturges, 1996). In brief, care management has a proceduralised and bureaucratised driven orientation which has led to an increase in the power of managers over social workers.5 This is because the emphasis is on managing scarce resources rather than the meeting of needs. As in the Thatcherite era, New Labour saw financial imperatives as being at the fore of public services, with managers being the key players. Apart from continuing with care management, New Labour pushed forward the changes in relation to personalisation with SCIE being a keen advocate. Co-production was another element in this and though perhaps less familiar, it is concerned with ways of creating support systems which value partnership between all parties. SCIE argued that both originate from social work values such as respect for the individual and self-determination. Another argument is that direct payments (discussed further in Chapter Six) and independent budgeting, which are linked to personalisation, have their roots in the service user movement and the social model of disability with notions of participation, control, choice and empowerment being to the fore. This is because the individual is seen as best placed to know what they need and how those needs can best be met. It means that people can be responsible for themselves and make their own decisions about what they require. All this is presented as good risk management because knowing people in networks of family and friends better prevents neglect and abuse. Strong communities are presented as an antidote to cultures of abuse which are more likely to develop in care settings and more isolated corners of society. Actually, as Ferguson (2008) notes, personalisation did not emerge from within social work or service users but from Demos, the New Labour think tank. It is also linked to the notion of consumerism and draws on the community care reforms of the Thatcher period and the development of care management. There is a real danger of an abdication of responsibility and the juxtaposed empowerment with abandonment. Surely choice and control should not be promoted at the expense of safety and dignity. A policy of ‘cash for care’ rather than any genuine move to personalisation seems to be the goal and was continued evidence of New Labour’s ideological adherence to the market economy. Moreover, following the global recession of 2008– 2010 Demos went on to argue that personalisation could be used to combat forthcoming cuts in public spending. It added that the question of how public services can meet people’s needs at lower cost will be the most pressing public policy issue for the next decade. Finally, although personalisation was sold on the basis it provided ‘choice’ and ‘independence’, the underlying 86

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policy agenda was more about reducing expenditure and maximising the care provided by family, friends and neighbours, thereby minimising the need for state-funded support. Indeed, one of the contributors to Hunter and Ritchie (2007, p 36) states: ‘It is essential that the informal system of family and friends is supported to the greatest possible extent … the strong value-for-money evidence for [this] approach constitutes a compelling business case’. In summary, dependence on the state is to be discouraged and independence celebrated. However, this so-called independence amounts to being dependent on the market despite all the insecurities and anxieties this brings (Leonard, 1997). Such negative comments about the market are particularly pertinent following the aforementioned global recession. Paradoxically, however, such dependency is to be lauded with resulting public policy concerned with shaping the choices people make about their lives to reduce the risk of them making expensive demands on public services. Individuals have to take more responsibility for finding their own solutions, including assessing and managing the risks of their own behaviour. This includes being liable for managing their own care within clear financial and service constraints, and even identifying their own resources which could be deployed in this endeavour. It is not hard to see that this is where consumerism and in turn personalisation comes in. Unfortunately, however, bureaucratic processes dominate in order to manage resources and risk, rather than promoting the rights and needs of service users and carers. Self-reliance and responsibility, rather than collective provision, come to the fore. But how can it be possible to reconstruct people who rely on social work/ care as ‘customers’ or ‘consumers’ when most ordinary people lack the basic information to make meaningful choices? Further, even if such information and genuine choices existed it is far from clear that choice itself is people’s primary consideration; nearness, or ease of access, to the service concerned is likely to be the major factor. Surely, we should also step back and question the view that personalisation should increasingly be the backbone on which social care is to be built and provided. Being blunt, it should not be up to the individual service user to sort out their own problems and difficulties even if some, in many ways limited, help and advice is provided.

Conclusion New Labour continued and intensified the ideological and political offensive of Thatcherism and the resultant move to neoliberalism (see Jordan, 2010). Responsibility for meeting need was increasingly left to the individual as the state retreated from provision of services in the common interest to encouraging individuals to pursue their own interests as they see best, notwithstanding the problems this can cause them. This allows the private 87

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and voluntary sectors to play an increasing role in the provision of services. To the extent that services are provided by the state they are subject to continued ‘reform’ and ‘modernisation’, including highly developed systems of monitoring by targets and performance indicators, to ensure standards are maintained and improved to meet ‘consumer’ demand. This coincides with a rejection of the traditional analysis of social problems in terms of structural divisions of class, ‘race’, gender and others. Welfare politics is more about giving everyone a fair chance rather than the redistribution of wealth. The overall ‘outcome is a move to market competition, to harnessing the egoism that is understood to drive human behaviour and to an increasing rejection of state welfare collectivism’ (Taylor-Gooby, 2000, p 335). In this context social work’s role in society has become circumscribed and limited to a residual fulfilment of statutory functions (Lymbery and Butler, 2004). Under New Labour, it was reduced to bureaucratic, standardised and largely technocratic approaches often focussing on the management of risk, even though there is more to the management of risk than procedure and protocol (Broadhurst and Hall, 2009). Social work, however, is essentially a professional activity requiring skilled, situation-specific analyses of particular cases. It is a contingent and negotiated pursuit requiring skilled relationshipbased work. Top-down enactment of procedures and electronic technologies significantly constrains practice because at its heart are a range of moral rationalities to do with care, trust, kindness and respect, all of which can stray significantly from simple calculation of the negatives or positives of this or that decision or action. Adherence to neoliberalism, including the private sector’s managerial ethos, has amounted to the de-professionalisation of social work, despite the rhetoric of professionalism associated with the establishment of the social work degree and post-qualifying courses. This brings me to the so-called professionalisation of social work which is the subject of the next chapter. Notes 1

2 3

My experience suggests that agencies have always worked together and often colleagues in different agencies were on first-name terms with each other. Far from these being ‘cosy’ relationships, they enabled genuine working together partnerships to develop rather than the more bureaucratised attempts at partnerships introduced by New Labour. Also note the Audit Commission’s (2008) negative remarks about Children’s Trusts, the successor to Social Services Departments. Deskilling is linked to de-professionalisation, this being taken up in Chapter Five. Quality Protects was launched in 1998 with eight, later expanded to eleven, key objectives aimed at, for example, creating better educational opportunities and ensuring secure and lasting attachments. In typical New Labour fashion there was an appendage of a number of sub-objectives, targets and performance indicators (see Smith, R., 2008 pp 108–9 for a discussion).

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5

I well recall that in the late 1970s I had to repeatedly challenge colleagues for using the derogatory term ‘problem families’ – surely such people are families with problems as a result of being casualties of a fundamentally unjust economic, political and social system. Some of the points raised here are taken up further in Chapter Seven in relation to neoliberal punitiveness and the ‘war on the poor’. Much of this, of course, equally applied to social work with children and families.

Discussion points • To what extent was New Labour’s Third Way a paler version of the economic, political and ideological policies of the Thatcher/Major governments? • Did New Labour’s endorsement of Clinton’s conditional welfare/‘tough love’ help or hinder those relying on welfare services including social work? • How far did the New Labour emphasis on managers ensuring speedy completion of bureaucracy in order to ration services/assess risk restrict practitioners’ professional discretion?

Further reading Powell, M.’s edited trilogy – New Labour: New Welfare State? (1999), Evaluating New Labour’s Welfare Reforms (2002) and Modernising the Welfare State: the Blair legacy (2008), Bristol: Policy Press – provides a detailed and thorough account of New Labour’s approach to the welfare state. Garrett, P. M. (2009b) ‘Transforming’ Children’s Services? Social Work, Neoliberalism and the ‘Modern’ World, Maidenhead: McGraw Hill/Open University Press highlights the impact of neoliberalism on social work with children and families. Jordan, B. (2010) Why the Third Way Failed: economics, morality and public policy, Bristol: Policy Press provides a readable and all-embracing account of the failure of New Labour’s Third Way.

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The professionalisation of social work? Chapter summary Professional social work’s zenith came under Thatcherite attack because of the alleged incompetence of practitioners and their radicalism. As a result, professional education increasingly moved to a concern with training and competencies as employers became more influential in the Central Council for the Education and Training in Social Work. This continued under New Labour, despite the introduction of the social work degree and an emphasis on continuing professional development.

Key learning points • Initially the social sciences were considered essential as a basis for social work’s knowledge prior to their radical aspects being considered dangerous and threatening. • At the behest of government, employers asserted their control over social work education with the emphasis moving to the practicalities of the job rather than knowledge and understanding. • The emergence of de-professionalisation tendencies in relation to practice with children and families, people with mental health issues, older people, people with disabilities and young offenders.

As we saw in Chapter Two, social work never had restricted entry to its ranks, a lengthy period of training, its own body of knowledge and an element of autonomy in regulating members, all of which were common to such as medicine and law. Even at its 1970s peak, it was denied full professional status, despite its attempts to develop new ideas about professional identity not always in keeping with the more orthodox definition of professionalism. For example, radical social workers of the 1970s were simply against professionalism, seeing it as elitist and more concerned about increasing the status and power of social workers rather than service users (Simpkin, 1983). Then again, the profession was formed and dominated by women who were often more interested in involving service users in improving their lives rather than increasing their own status in the process (Dominelli, 2009a). 90

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It is no coincidence that it was during the social democratic period that social work flourished; it was part of the welfarist project whereby national growth and well-being were seen as involving notions of mutuality and social solidarity, with social problems being ameliorated through the agency of the state including professional intervention by social workers (Parton, 1996b). Leaving aside arguments about whether professionalism itself is a good thing, such developments highlight the increasing professionalisation of social work. There was a concern with knowledge and understanding even though at times that included relying on other disciplines for a knowledge base. In addition, it involved more than just the practicalities of practice, the ‘what’ and ‘how’ of social work. This can be contrasted with developments since that period which have consisted of the introduction of the Diploma in Social Work (DipSW) by the Conservatives, followed by the onset of the social work degree together with various other post-qualifying courses under New Labour. Then there were the Social Work Task Force’s (2009) recommendations which included social work ultimately being a master’s degree profession. At first sight, these changes seem progressive, appearing to amount to the continued ongoing development of professional social work. However, the associated emphasis on competencies, together with increasing comments from politicians about how ‘practical’ the job is, has become a substitute for knowledge and understanding. This amounts to a de-professionalisation of social work which can be related to the neoliberal project, resulting questioning of professionalism and need for it to be controlled by the introduction of managerialism. In this chapter I begin with some general comments about professionalism and professionalisation. I then turn to the social work education in the UK which includes the rise and fall of the psycho-analytic approach and the influence of radicalism which led to the employers taking over social work education. Second, I look at the role of the state, the Central Council for the Education and Training of Social Work (CCETSW) and the academy. Both draw on important work by C. Jones (1996) and D. Webb (1996) in highlighting and analysing the changes to social work education and training over the Thatcher/Major years. Third, there is a discussion of social work education and training during 13 years of New Labour. I argue that we witnessed its continued de-professionalisation because the emphasis was on discrete technical competencies in a culture that promotes market forces, consumerism and managerialism, all of which are at the expense of fundamental aspects of social work (Lishman, 2009).

Professionalism, professionalisation and social work In examining professionalism, professionalisation and social work, a useful starting point is the meaning of professional social work itself. In my view, 91

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professional social work includes a number of things. First, it consists of a balance of knowledge and understanding, underpinned by skills and values, all gained from education and training, which assist in negotiating the roles of enabler, and at times protector, of individuals, families, groups and communities (Charnley et al, 2009). Second, it involves a concern with social justice and social change, and being able to relate and engage with people, assessing situations and needs, planning the way forward and then ensuring implementation and review. Furthermore, all this must to be done with the service user, and in so doing power and responsibility are shared. Finally, social work is also about building alliances, and combining knowledge and skills to benefit the service user. All this is uncontroversial and will appeal to most, apart from those on the extreme political left and right. I have already referred to the 1970s radical critique of professionalism and professionalisation of social work which centred on the elitist aspects of privileging the ambitions of social workers rather than service users. Another important point was that it privileged social workers against other, less qualified, workers. However, during the 1980s attacks on professional power, or ‘producer power’ as it was called, came from the New Right. This view saw politicians and consumers having limited power with services being geared to the needs of producers rather than the public interest or the needs of users (George and Wilding, 1994). There were also no mechanisms to ensure services changed in response to changing need or proven deficiencies, this amounting to it being in the interests of the producers to preserve the status quo. What the New Right were really concerned about, however, was that the welfare state offered few opportunities to private companies to make profits (Ferguson and Woodward, 2009). It used the language of ‘empowering users and carers’ to create a ‘mixed economy of care’ to extend ‘choice’, all of which created opportunities for private companies. At the forefront of this process was an increase in managerial power (see Chapter Six) with a resulting questioning and reduction of the professional autonomy of social workers evidenced by various de-professionalising tendencies. Moreover, now that neoliberalism is the dominant global ideology, it is worth revisiting the 1970s radical critique, even if somewhat defensively. In the first place, de-professionalisation, which is implicit in that critique, increases gender inequality in the public sector because it increasingly draws more working-class and minority ethnic women into the labour force. Arguing against professionalisation in this scenario merely marginalises these women even further. Then there is the fact that ‘old’ radical critiques resonate all too well with neoliberal imperatives which see professional knowledge and skill as unnecessary or even inconsistent with good social work practice (Healy and Meagher, 2004). For example, if responsibilities and the work involved can be broken down into smaller, easier to do tasks, less knowledge, understanding and skill is required almost to the extent, it could 92

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be argued, ‘anyone’ can do them. The counter argument, of course, is that surely poorly trained and supported workers are less likely to be able to carry out thoughtful, analytic and creative social work, and de-professionalised workers are less likely to be in a position to defend the interests of users especially when such interests are counter to current organisational and policy dictates. As Ferguson and Woodward (2009, p 148) put it: ‘[This] argument is a strong one and one that is likely to strike a chord with many social workers in Britain, after almost two decades during which both social work education and social work practice have been dominated by the needs and requirements of employers, and personal relationships with clients increasingly replaced by what are essentially commercial relationships with service users or ‘customers’’. There are two other points to note. The first relates to the inherent tension between social workers’ understanding of professionalism, which includes the knowledge, understanding, skills and values they bring to the job, and the completely different knowledge and value base which informs the managerialism that now prevails and needs to be resisted. The second point is that, as we will see, although the user movement challenges the more orthodox notion of professionalism, this certainly does not mean that it should be abandoned. Rather the challenge is ‘to develop forms of professionalism which are consistent with, and welcoming of, user participation and a commitment to equality and social justice – that is, professionalism based on partnership’ (Thompson, N., 2002, p 717). Surrendering social work’s claims to professionalism and professionalisation, falls into the hands of neoliberals who would like to see the wholesale destruction of professional social work. If one looks at the recent development of social work education in Britain, this is precisely what can be seen.

Social work education Following the influence of Thatcherism, there are two important points to note about social work education in Britain (Jones, C., 1996). First, because social work is a contested domain concerning how people live and manage their lives, interact with the state and one another, you might expect diversity in social work education, this reflecting different perspectives and views of the world. However, nothing could be further from the truth simply because of the tightness of external regulation of social work courses. Second, since the 1970s there has been prevailing hostility towards social science’s concern with knowledge and understanding; instead there is an emphasis on skills and competencies which fit more easily with the needs of employers. Admittedly, there are some that see the distinction between knowledge and understanding, and skills and values as somewhat artificial (Cree and Myers, 2008). However, surely conceptual knowledge – theories, 93

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propositions and facts – actually enable understanding and is different to procedural and professional knowledge – knowing respectively how to do, what skills are needed, and about personal and social work values. The very fact that neoliberal governments distrust a social work practice that relies on theory attests to this. At any rate, the extent of external regulation of social work courses and the hostility to social science can be seen as part of the neoliberal suspicion of welfare professions who are often seen as encouraging dependency. In addition, such issues have continuity with the ongoing construction and development of social work education and training since the 19th century. Social work has always been seen as an activity which risks the contamination of those working with the most disadvantaged in society because they might start seeing things from the standpoint of the poor rather than the rich. This can cause problems for authority as the context of practice has always been one which can sustain a perspective that sees human suffering as the result of inequalities rather than individual or family pathology. This was one of the factors in the creation of social work education along with the need to prevent social workers’ demoralisation resulting from daily contact with deprived and impoverished sections of society. Early social work education by the Charity Organisation Society (COS) included ‘knowledge’ that endorsed the prevailing social order based on liberalism and Judeo-Christian beliefs. After the Second World War the political climate was such that a social work practice based on religious or overtly moralistic tones was no longer acceptable. Instead the language of scientific rationality, expertise and professionalism came to the fore leading to theories, perspectives and research findings from social science being utilised and adapted so as to construct modern social work’s knowledge base (Wootton, 1959). The targets for this pragmatic and eclectic approach were social workers as well as wider society. However, continued poverty and human suffering, even in more affluent societies, meant that state social work remained a deeply contested activity. Arguments by the powerful that the causation of problems and difficulties resided within individuals and families, rather than being as the result of societal pressures, left social workers in a difficult position. It is no surprise that their preparation and socialisation were given attention. During the 1950s and 1960s while critical work from sociology and social policy were marginalised on social work courses, Freudian psychology in the form of psychoanalysis or versions of it allowed social work to have a semblance of theoretical coherence. Psychoanalysis resonated with social democratic concerns with social reform and allowed the possibility of everyone achieving citizenship. It broke with earlier biological theorising on poverty and inequality whereby the undeserving poor were eugenically unfit or biologically incapable of being rehabilitated. It also provided social work with a much-needed scientific credibility (Bailey and Brake, 1975). 94

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Importantly, only those aspects of the Freudian tradition which reinforced personal and familial pathology as the root of social problems tended to feature on social work courses, not those that posed a more critical psychology such as that of Marcuse (1964), which combined Marxist and Freudian perspectives. The dominance of psychoanalysis proved short-lived as the economic and fiscal crisis of the mid-1970s proved damaging to social work as public expenditure was cut. Many practitioners also found the pressure of working in the large, impersonal bureaucracy of Social Services Departments difficult to cope with as they were bombarded with referrals not directly from users but rather ‘from an array of state and public authorities who were exploiting the formation of a single agency to off-load their problematic and timeconsuming tenants/pupils/patients/claimants/debtors and so forth’ (Jones, C., 1996, p 198). In such a situation it was hard to reconcile undertaking a casework approach informed by psychoanalysis which, given the emphasis on the therapeutic relationship, demands time and co-operation from the service user. Further, even in the 1970s administrators, and soon to be managers, were being increasingly pressed to deliver services efficiently and thereby provide ‘value for money’ rather than be guided by the ideals of public service. Such changes were certainly not conducive to pursuing psycho-analytically based casework. As social policy moved to the right, social work education and practice was feeling the impact of the radical and critical currents that confronted many Western societies during the late 1960s and early 1970s. The expansion of higher education saw many social science graduates attracted to social work. Influenced by the social movements of the time, as well as their previous education which had exposed them to emerging radical insights in such as philosophy, sociology, social policy, and psychology, they questioned the traditional, individualised tenets of social work. A common strand was questioning traditional authority and associated ‘truths’. Important social policy texts saw poverty as a feature of capitalism rather than the moral malfunction of particular problem families; critical social psychology in the form of work by Laing (for example, 1965) and Marcuse (1964), and in many feminist writings questioned the sanctity of the patriarchal family; the ‘new’ deviancy theorists (see Taylor et al, 1973) asked questions about the nature of deviance and the role of the state and state professionals, including social workers, in reproducing deviance. From such diverse standpoints, the mainstream social work view that society, despite its flaws, was concerned about the welfare of all its citizens, was seriously challenged. The expansion of state social work, the collapse of psycho-analytically based casework both as knowledge base and method, and the critical/radical turn was a profoundly heady mix which was to have unforeseen and damaging consequences (Jones, C., 1996). 95

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One view was that whereas the social sciences had once been looted to provide support for traditional social work they were now, at least in their radical form, seen to be dangerous and threatening. This was because they suggested some real possibilities for practice whereby the concerns of service users were paramount. The latter were not only seen as casualties or victims of an unjust economic, social and political system, but the role of the state and of its social workers was also problematised. State welfare professionalism, which had flourished under social democracy, was seen as anti-democratic and unaccountable, with inbuilt paternalism and inequalities. As indicated, a key component of the radical critique was that the professionals, as a result of their education and training, were deemed to be the experts who defined problems and solutions whereas service users/clients, as non-specialists, were seen as having few rights in defining needs or solutions. As a result, anti-professionalism became a key feature of social work during the 1970s whereby social workers and service became allies in the pursuit of social justice. This might seem rather naive and idealistic today, but nevertheless serious attention was being given to developing alternative ways of working utilising radical, feminist and progressive political perspectives. The traditional social work academy had difficulty in countering such views as well as the ensuing serious questions in relation to society, families, gender relations, sexuality and racism. Unfortunately, the vacuum that emerged enabled the employers to step in and to take over. The bureaucratisation of SSDs and the upsurge of radicalism saw employers question social work courses and the right of the academy to determine the curriculum and ethos of social work education. The concern was that the courses were making difficult employees, namely social workers who thought and acted as if they were autonomous professionals with obligations to improve, as they saw fit, the well-being of service users/clients. The Certificate of Qualification in Social Work (CQSW) was the obvious target as the 1970s progressed, with the critique being centred on social workers being radicalised by their exposure to social science. For some, the social work strike at the end of the 1970s was evidence of this. Furthermore, whereas at the beginning of the 1970s CCETSW acknowledged the need for students to have an understanding of social action and reform, a few years later it was lamenting the fact that students and their teachers were not willing to compromise their principles on such issues (see Jones, C., 1996, p 205). Throughout the 1980s CCETSW became the site of engagement with successive Conservative governments committed to increasing the representation of business and employers so as to ensure that it regulated and shaped social work education in the interests of employers who wanted social workers to ‘do’ rather than think. Such discussions culminated in the CQSW being replaced by the DipSW in 1989. It is no coincidence that by 1990, as Brewster (1992, p 88) pointed out, the composition of CCETSW saw 96

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representation from higher education finally eclipsed by the ‘new managers’, going on to state that it had become a perfect vehicle for the enterprise of Thatcherism. From then on, under pressure from employers and successive Conservative governments, CCETSW gradually removed the centrality of social science disciplines from the curriculum and the control of the academy over professional courses. Ministers demeaned theorisation as ‘fashionable’ instead demanding ‘common sense’ for what was considered a practical job. Training and competencies were required rather than an emphasis on education, research, knowledge and understanding.

CCETSW and the academy The role of CCETSW in regulating and controlling social work training, in D. Webb’s (1996, p 175) words the ‘legitimator and definer of social work knowledge and skills’, was pivotal for the 30 years of its existence. The Council’s work may have started out a little like the product of a genteel debate among the wise and good about the desirable aspect of qualifying training, but it increasingly became answerable to government as an instrument for policy control over skill mix and workforce governance, and in so doing it became an extension of employers’ interests. These changes are exemplified in the developments in relation to CCETSW’s Paper 30 (CCETSW, 1989) which referred to the ‘endemic racism’ in British society and can be analysed in terms of three inter-linked domains: the stipulation of practice competence by means of a discourse around ‘training’; the requirement of demonstrable moral conduct towards social oppression; and, by insisting on ‘partnership’ in delivering social work, there is a de-centring of the academy as the location within which social work knowledge is set (Webb, D., 1996). A key point is that is that CCETSW operated as a quasi-non-governmental body that operated with the permission of the government departments which funded it. This in turn constructs the way social work education was formed and the practices and knowledge that are permissible. Given that social work includes monitoring and controlling what the Victorians called the ‘dangerous and threatening aggregates’, social workers needed to become reliable state agents with CCETSW necessarily having to play its part in ensuring this. In addition, as neoliberalism has dominated since the late 1970s, it had to operate within and facilitate the neoliberal project. The emphasis on training and competencies impacted significantly on CCETSW’s regulatory project. Until the introduction of the DipSW the training requirements for professional education were relatively permissive and gave scope for an emphasis on knowledge rather than simple competencies. This gave the academy space to develop the curriculum without having to give undue weight to narrow technical proficiency. This independence 97

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caused obvious problems for CCETSW who found it difficult to exert control over what was being taught. It therefore reached the stage when it had to assert itself by breaking the autonomy of the academy in order to ensure its own future. From the early 1970s onwards, there were frequently articulated and politically orchestrated public expressions about the competence of social workers along with attacks on those who happened to be in the clutches of these ‘do-gooders’. Various child abuse inquiries contributed to this, while others criticised social work’s preoccupation with social change. All this added to the increasing destabilisation of the whole enterprise of social work education which came to a head during Thatcher’s tenure. During the mid-1980s CCETSW, intent on a more robust role, and hence government support, saw employer-led initiatives in relation to vocational education more widely as the way forward. The academy, the argument went, had to heed the voice of the ‘consumer’, and ‘partnership’ was to be the tool to bring the colleges into line. This partly involved the Certificate of Social Service being promoted as equivalent to professional education, even though this was never meant to be the case. The certificate had been introduced in 1977 as an in-service route for social services staff and featured joint management arrangements that saw social work agencies involved in determining the nature and content of education and training. Because of these partnership arrangements, in effect it emerged as the model for the future DipSW. In D. Webb’s (1996, p 181) words ‘CCETSW would bring the querulous secular clerics of a recalcitrant academy into line and at the same time offer a way to restructure the welfare workforce through a realignment of the training and education mix’. CCETSW thereby became an enthusiastic example of social work’s own post-Fordism of flexibility, decentralisation and market plurality. ‘It “appeared” to loosen its direct control over education, creating instead pseudo-autonomous programme providers operating as quasi-businesses founded on semi-contractual mutual partnerships in order to meet the “specifications” set by the Council’ (Webb, D., 1996 p 181). These changes can be seen as aspects of the shift in the relative weighting given to education and training in social work, particularly the emphasis on specifying the tasks to be done rather than the knowledge to be gained, and they had several consequences. They enabled a strategy for control of both employees and of education since the contracts for delivery are capable of high degrees of precision. Skills become less tied to one particular job and could be transferred across settings and boundaries which used to be set by the practices of occupational and professional power. Differentiation of task also leads to fragmentation of activity and an increase in the subordination of welfare workers, including social workers, to the tightly specified concerns of employers.

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Parallel with the regulatory character of DipSW, with its emphasis on highly prescriptive competencies, was a wider set of directives affecting social work education. These related to anti-oppressive practice and though superficially radical, the approach to such values still existed within a performanceorientated discourse set in a similar mode to the other competencies that had to be demonstrated by social workers. In addition, CCETSW’s pronouncements about oppression were carried out within a discourse that saw the abandonment of class and the de-politicising of resistance. It was also unconnected with any account of causation or of the inter-relationship between social categories such as class itself, gender, ‘race’ and so on. Simply embracing concepts such as ‘diversity’ and ‘difference’ sounds rather hollow if unaccompanied by an understanding that the creation of inequality and division is a consequence of economic and government processes. Simultaneously, there was an inherent instability within all this, evidenced by CCETSW having to withdraw the declaration about ‘endemic racism’ in British society in the original regulations for the DipSW (CCETSW, 1989). Such comments were not well received in certain quarters, notably ministerial circles, and the offending words were removed relatively easily precisely because CCETSW had excluded the social sciences, and thereby the social scientists, that could have shown empirically that racism, as well as other oppressions, is structurally endemic. However, as CCETSW had failed to acknowledge the complexities in conceptualising oppression it found itself unable to defend its position. Since its approach to anti-discrimination was framed round competencies to the exclusion of analysis and knowledge, it was epistemologically unstable, hence the ease with which the ‘endemic racism’ passage was removed. Throughout the Thatcher/Major years, social work education was noticeably reframed with education being supplanted by training, discourses of depth replaced by those of surface, knowledge being set aside for competencies which triumphed over the complexities of abstraction. This was all about shaping anew the definition of what passes for social work as a practical and conceptual activity. For all its statements about combating oppression, CCETSW effectively agreed to relationships that were consonant with those of Conservative modernisation. Its structural position was set firmly within what Althusser (1971) referred to as the ideological state apparatus, with surface exhortations to repudiate discrimination in effect sitting alongside an approval of neoliberalism. As well as an endorsement of neoliberalism and hence modernity, the role of CCETSW also had features that were postmodern. Mention has already been made of it being a good example of post-Fordism with its concern with flexibility and decentralisation. The increased emphasis on doing tasks rather than gaining knowledge also highlights a key point which has already been alluded to. This is the movement from the depth explanations of modernity’s 99

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concern with transcendent truth to postmodern concerns with the multiplicities of surface performance. There is the absence of a deep structure, about causes for example, in the moral discourse about anti-oppression because it was primarily framed within the superficiality of rhetoric and competencies. There is also an erasing or obscuring of complexity together with a reluctance to consider the links between oppressions which instead become rendered as competing, almost individualistic characteristics. Finally, there is the associated imagery of oppressions being somehow choose-able, displayed almost as in a market for selection (see Webb, D., 1996, pp 185–6). Finally, it is worth noting that the DipSW did many things that were consistent with its overt and covert objectives. First, it was an expression of the anti-intellectualism and revenged itself on the academy which was unable or unwilling to bring the radicals within social work into line. Second, CCETSW was able to demonstrate to government that it could deliver reliably within the employer-led ethos of vocational training, thereby ensuring trustworthy and predictable welfare workers whose previous unpredictability, unreliability and autonomy were the source of ills they should have been solving. And third, it served as the body for integrating new and sometimes troublesome entrants to social work. All in all, CCETSW was ‘the instrument for securing the dirigiste restructuring of professional training through reframing professional social work as a flexible, technically specific (and highly specified) enterprise in which skill-mix considerations are put to work at the behest of employers’ (Webb, D., 1996, p 188). Its more progressive utterances were to be changed, and even the more radical pronouncements were more superficial than substantial. Although this amounted to attempts to ensure CCETSW’s survival, in reality it only delayed its demise.

New Labour, new professionalisation? As highlighted in Chapter Four, the election of a New Labour government in 1997 heralded a need for public services generally, including social services and social work, to become modernised which is generally a euphemism for being more business-like. One has only to witness the emphasis on modernisation and reform following the White Paper Modernising Social Services (Department of Health, 1998), which resulted in changes to the social care landscape largely as a result of the 2000 Care Standards Act and the introduction of new regulatory and inspection regimes (Lymbery, 2004a). The aim was the strengthening of social services, but importantly it often resulted in social work as a distinct profession being subsumed under the more general category of ‘social care’. More positively, and perhaps the most significant development under New Labour as far as professionalism is concerned, was the introduction of the new social work BA degree in 2003/2004, along with social 100

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workers having a ‘protected title’ by registering with the General Social Care Council every three years after having shown they had undertaken 90 hours of continuous professional development. The degree was based on the National Occupational Standards for Social Work (TOPSS, 2002), as was its predecessor the DipSW. Ostensibly these standards provide a set of descriptions of the functions of social workers and aim to provide a benchmark of ‘best practice’ in social work competence across the UK (Cree and Myers, 2008). They were developed from an analysis of what social workers do, through consultation with employers and practitioners, and included service users’ views of their expectations of social workers. The first point to note, however, is that as far as employers and New Labour were concerned, they were dissatisfied with educators being unable to produce social workers who on completion of the DipSW could immediately turn up to the office and carry out the job without the need for further training and supervision (Dominelli, 2009a). The introduction of the degree was an attempt to deal with this by increasing the time spent on practice placements to 100 days a year. However, the government did not provide the funds for local authorities to provide high-quality placements and importantly the qualification in practice teaching was no longer compulsory. Merely increasing the time on placement was unlikely to achieve what the employers wanted unless they simply felt that at least this meant less time was spent on ‘irrelevant’ theory. More fundamentally, perhaps, the DipSW could be subject to criticism as earlier comments suggest. In brief, there was the emphasis on social work training rather than education, its narrow view of what social work is, and for its potential to undermine autonomy and flexibility in practitioners with its competence-based approach (Ferguson and Woodward, 2009). In some ways, the new degree was an attempt to tackle the complex nature of the social work role and task together with its increasing association with social care. Instead of DipSW’s 26 single competencies, the new degree was based on a set of standards each requiring students to demonstrate not only that they had gained competence in a particular area but also that they had acquired set knowledge and skills. To ensure that students were able to achieve the new standards, academic institutions still had to deliver a prescribed degree programme based on set teaching, learning and assessment requirements in relation to, for instance, service user and carer involvement, and integrated working practices. While there was some scope for locally negotiated agreements about the content and delivery of degree programmes, generally the knowledge, skills and even value base that educators had to teach, and students had to acquire, remained externally imposed. This would be fine if everyone was in agreement about what good social work and social work education was, but, as pointed out earlier, this is a contested area. Also, developing a good 101

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curriculum requires educators to consider more than the requirements of external agencies or internal quality procedures. Student needs and their time and research interests, for example, need consideration. At the very least competence-based approaches need to be combined with more creative and critical approaches to ensure that it is not just training by numbers. Lecturers sometimes struggled to cover all aspects of the degree and to help students to think critically and creatively, while students themselves had few opportunities to develop their own interests and ways of practice (Ferguson and Woodward, 2009). On the one hand, the successor to DipSW can be seen as increasing the professionalism of social work to degree level, but on the other, there was still a preoccupation with turning out a reliable and compliant workforce who will simply, and largely unthinkingly, bend to the will of employers through their managers. This is evidenced by the fact that the degree focussed on social workers gaining practical skills (Department of Health, 2002) rather than the kind of knowledge that will help combat social injustice. While academics as a whole welcomed the move to a graduate profession, they were certainly less than enthused about the new degree’s increased reliance on ‘mechanistic skills’ and a ‘competence model of education’ (Orme et al, 2009). The New Right may well not have held to the ideal that social work could be used as a unifying force within society, hence imposing on it a more restrictive, coercive and closely managed role, thereby not allowing a measure of professional autonomy. Similarly, New Labour, continuing with these neoliberal ideas, was resistant to the label of ‘professional’ or even the words ‘social work’ during most of its tenure of office. In fact, there was an element of anti-intellectualism in New Labour’s approach to social work education, despite the degree’s introduction. This was because the degree did not necessarily lend itself to the kind of intellectual work which is centred on knowledge, understanding, skills and values, which in turn refer to what the social worker must ‘know’ and ‘do’ and ‘should be’. One only had to witness New Labour politicians’ repeated derogatory, anti-intellectual comments about social work. In early 2009, at the height of the controversy over the Baby Peter tragedy, Ed Balls, Secretary of State for Children, Families and Schools, commented that social work training was too theoretical because it was a practical job, even implying that all that was needed was ‘common sense’ (Jones, R., 2014). Moreover, Jacqui Smith who, as minister of state, also said social work was ‘a very practical job. It is about protecting people and changing their lives, not being able to a give fluent, theoretical explanations of why they got into difficulties in the first place’ (cited in Ferguson and Woodward, 2009, p 154). However, knowledge, ideas and understanding, and hence theory, are essential components of practice. As well as being engaged in the critical appraisal of policy and management initiatives, it has to involve an intellectual 102

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understanding of both the strengths and weaknesses of the work being done and of alternative ways of working. Surely it is exactly because social work has become so bureaucratic, standardised and watered down by the overall social care agenda that it is essential to emphasise that good social work is not, and cannot be, simply common sense. Continuing professional(?) development After introducing the social work degree, New Labour went on to re-emphasise continuing professional development (CPD) and the new post-qualifying (PQ) courses. In a beguiling chapter Higham (2009, p 8) asks whether these developments amount to ‘flagships for social work reform or sinking ships’? The previous framework for PQ was established in 1991 and offered two award levels managed by Regional Post-Qualifying Consortia, though they were diverted from a key task of strategic workforce planning. The most successful programme was PQ1, a consolidation of qualifying level competencies, but most social workers did not progress beyond this to complete a full award. Standardisation was also difficult to achieve as the consortia worked independently of each other. As a result, the UK-wide PQ awards were phased out from 2007 with England’s new framework beginning in autumn of that year, followed by those in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland in 2008. These country-specific PQ frameworks were specifically designed to promote strategic workforce and human resources planning by developing the social work workforce. The PQ framework’s curricula were strongly influenced by employers’ human resources strategies which seek to sustain the workforce’s motivation and commitment as well as developing new roles and skills. Developing skills and confidence for practice within multi-professional teams was seen as being particularly needed because such teams are characteristic of contemporary organisational structures. Taken as a whole, there are three aims: developing practitioners beyond the beginning levels of competence in specialist areas of practice; promoting inter-professional learning and multi-professional practice; and developing leadership and management skills. Despite this, potential impediments to the success of PQ frameworks included their complex and over-regulated nature, underdeveloped workforce planning, the potential lack of portability across UK countries, cost and insufficient ‘fitness for purpose’ (Higham, 2009). In addition, there was no agreement on the overall purpose of PQ learning with employers often seeing it as merely a vehicle for making social workers competent, almost as a remedial programme following qualification. But surely the main purpose of PQ should be professional development which includes enhancing and updating

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existing knowledge and skills, opportunities for reflective and analytic thinking, together with a commitment to broad CPD rather than training. As indicated, a damaging aspect of the PQ framework was the preoccupation with evidencing ‘competence’, an attribute linked to practice at the point of qualification, rather than thinking about how practice could be improved beyond competence. This preoccupation does not allow for the development of practice expertise. Following Eraut (1994), ‘competence’ was initially a rationale for justifying professional examinations or assessments, but then became a governmental tool for the regulatory control of professionals. A competent practitioner may be tolerably good, but they are still less than expert. Instead of competence, Eraut prefers the term ‘capability’, this having a wider meaning which refers to everything a person can think or do, thereby recognising that practitioners have reserves of capability beyond the limits of narrowly defined competence. It is concerned with growth and potential as well as current performance. ‘Capability’ thus integrates knowledge, skills, understanding and personal qualities, all entwined with a capacity for autonomous learning. Similarly, Schon (for example, 1996) made a significant contribution to social workers’ understanding of how professionals learn and develop their practice. Two kinds of reflective practice are theorised: ‘reflection in action’ requires practitioners to think on their feet and test ideas within practice situations, while ‘reflection on action’ involves considering actions of the past. Eraut’s and Schon’s work can, therefore, help PQ practitioners become more aware of significant aspects of practice situations, decisions and actions. Both are a welcome antidote to the more overtly PQ concerns with remedying or improving competence. In a similar vein, MacDonald (2006) remained optimistic, even when pointing out that social workers had become marginal to policy making and as a result were less able to influence directions of practice. A danger was that while the social work degree and PQ frameworks may produce social workers who could practise within the new institutional order following the New Labour’s various policy and organisational changes, at the same time they may ignore social justice. PQ, MacDonald adds, opens up possibilities to assist social workers develop strategies for bringing about changes that make a genuine difference to service users’ lives. The challenge is to move beyond the rhetoric of modernising agendas in order to see some, albeit small, critical possibilities within policy and practice contexts. The introduction of the social work degree and the emphasis on CPD and PQ practice were significant developments, even if not always positive. However, the report of the Social Work Task Force (SWTF, 2009), made in response to the Baby Peter case, made some significant proposals which could have impacted positively on the professionalisation of social work. The SWTF foreword (2009, p 3) acknowledged the social work ‘profession is not currently flourishing in England’ and, one might add, in the other 104

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countries of the UK. Recommendations included a probationary year after graduation, a licence to practice, a career development framework including a practice-based master’s qualification, new standards for employers and a national college of social work. The Social Work Reform Board was established to take forward these proposals and in early 2010 New Labour even suggested a General Social Work Council (GSWC) focussing solely on social work (though sadly it never came into fruition), with responsibility for other social care workers transferred to a new Care Professionals Council (Department of Health, 2010). The probationary year envisaged a supported and assessed first year in employment, allowing social workers to specialise in areas of work and build on the grounding provided by the degree. The licence to practice system involved practitioners first acquiring and then maintaining their status as a social worker by demonstrating they had kept to standards of continuing competency and professional development. A more rigorous monitoring of this was proposed so that tangible improvements in knowledge and skills were shown. While the previous CPD and PQ framework was largely endorsed, it was pointed out that it was not valued and supported in all areas, hence the need for all employers to develop a strong learning culture evidenced by, for instance, freeing up staff time for courses. Moreover, a more coherent and effective national framework for CPD – one that incorporates a new master’s degree in social work practice – was seen as necessary. More broadly, employers needed to agree to new standards for the support and supervision of frontline social workers, in order to make good practice possible. Finally, the college of social work was seen as being able to give the profession strong and independent leadership, a clear voice in public debate, policy development and policy delivery as well as ownership of the overall standards to be upheld. At first sight few would quibble with many of these recommendations, and superficially they appeared to continue and consolidate the ongoing professionalisation of social work. However, if one looks a little closer at the proposals, many of the earlier comments regarding this (so-called) professionalisation process continued to ring true. For example, although employers had had certain obligations to their workers, including maintaining standards, they had largely failed in their endeavours, and yet their actual power over what was being proposed remained undiminished. Also, recall that it was largely because they had argued that the degree did not prepare students to immediately undertake all aspects of the job on graduating and then had not remedied it, that the various changes were being suggested. Despite this, they were even urged to become even more involved in devising and delivering social work courses so that they get the social workers they wanted and needed. It was as though what constitutes social work is what the employers say it is, rather than this emanating from within the profession itself. 105

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Then there was the continued emphasis on competencies, notwithstanding the criticisms made earlier about them downgrading knowledge and understanding. There was also little said about the most significant factor in the problems besetting social work, namely the domination of imported managerialism from the private sector. Finally, it is notable that the SWTF report was largely silent when it came to the de-professionalising tendencies in social work which greatly increased under New Labour.

De-professionalising tendencies In examining de-professionalising tendencies in relation to social work practice, let us consider a number of service user groups: children, young people and families; people with mental health issues; older people; and people with disabilities. I also comment on what was once a pivotal role for social workers, namely work with young offenders. First, social workers for children, young people and families have witnessed the establishment of innumerable new agencies over the New Labour years (Doyle and Kennedy, 2009). They have had to keep abreast of the innumerable policy and legislative documents, as well as the introduction of the various paper and electronic assessment tools. Many of these developments have been a consequence of inquiries into the deaths of children notably Victoria Climbié, leading to the Laming report (Laming, 2003), the ‘Every Child Matters’ agenda and the subsequent 2004 Children’s Act. A more recent example of these ‘reforming’ initiatives was the introduction of the Public Law Outline in 2008. It was aimed at reducing delays in the family courts through earlier intervention, greater use of pre-court assessments of parents/ family members, and reducing the number of stages in the proceedings. In reality, it meant that a high burden was put on already hard-pressed social workers who had to continue to deliver day-to-day services while these changes and directives, together with many others, took place. Although such initiatives were often enthusiastically embraced by managers, this neglects the negative impact they usually have on practice, with many social workers going on to point out that ‘practice landscapes under modernising agendas had [actually] served to undo good practice’ (Doyle and Kennedy, 2009, p 51). As Stepney (2006) pointed out, the introduction of such initiatives aimed at ‘reforming’ public services were designed to quantify and justify service outcomes, often resulting in the policing function dominating practice objectives at the expense of other priorities including the real needs of service users. Consequently, social workers were often so busy at ‘getting the [current] job’ done that they were in danger of losing sight of what and who they were, including their professional uniqueness and style of intervention; it is not hard to see that in many cases filling in forms and in-putting data into computers often became the be-all and end-all of what 106

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they did. Such so-called modernising developments led to practitioners having to work their way through a maze of new rules and procedures while simultaneously adhering to deadlines and targets to achieve organisational performance indicators. Obvious concerns relate to, for example, the lack of opportunities for developing a progressive, even critical/radical practice, of working anti-oppressively and so on. Second, social work in relation to mental health witnessed a turbulent period following its integration into health after the break-up of Social Services Departments (Bowl, 2009). The real concern has been that an understanding of the social perspective has been undermined within organisations dominated by medical models of intervention. As a consequence, the value of services addressing a social rather than a clinical function can easily be questioned with, for instance, day care services targeted for cutbacks despite being rated by service users as being among the most useful of resources. Then there was the creation of new roles within mental health services including ‘primary care graduate mental health workers’ and ‘support, time and recovery workers’. Many of their tasks were similar to those of mental health social workers and their appointment can again be seen as part of a process of de-professionalisation, whereby trained and skilled professional workers were replaced by less trained and skilled workers. There is also the fact that multi-disciplinary working is often less about ensuring more effective services from the various professionals involved, with instead managers seeing this as a chance to erode distinctions between roles. Finally, we saw the dilution of the approved social worker (ASW) role following the 2007 Mental Health Act which introduced the approved mental health practitioner and opened up the role to nurses, occupational therapists and psychologists as well as social workers. A key concern was that the extension of the ASW role to health professionals who lack the experience and training of social models of intervention at the very least showed a lack of respect and belief in the knowledge and skills of ASWs and social work as a whole. Third, in relation to social work practice with older people, a key point is that the development of care management whereby managerialism, bureaucratisation, form-filling and financial assessments dominate, means that the traditional activities of social work involving a relationship-based service have largely been brought to an end (Griffiths, A. W. et al, 2009). Care management can even be seen to have undermined social work itself, with the introduction of direct payments and personalisation being further nails in the coffin of social work with older people (Lymbery, 2019, p 39). Such developments perhaps help explain the enthusiasm for the term ‘social care’ rather than social work’. At any rate, to the extent that any genuine social work practice remains, it is now often carried out by staff with few or no qualifications and is again further evidence of de-professionalisation (Rogowski, 2009). 107

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Fourth, as for practice with people with a disability, it is possible to see the arguments for de-professionalisation at their most vehement. This is because a key argument is that social workers must change from trying to be expert definers of need and rationers of services to being a resource for disabled people to use as they chose (Sapey, 2009). They should also stop being allied to medicine in favour of being allied to the community. In short, they must abandon their role as experts and become more immersed in disability culture and politics. If they do not do this, the argument continues, we could see the death of social work in relation to its involvement in the lives of disabled people. Indeed, Oliver (2004, p 25) writes that ‘social work has failed to meet disabled people’s self-articulated needs. Twenty years ago I predicted that if social work was not prepared to change in terms of its practice towards disabled people it would eventually disappear altogether. Given the proposed changes by the New Labour government in respect of modernising social services, it seems likely that forecast is about to come true. We can probably now announce the death of social work at least in relation to its involvement in the lives of disabled people’. Finally, when it comes to social work with young offenders, its crucial role has diminished.1 Multi-agency youth offending teams (YOTs) mean that social work’s emphasis on the young person’s wider social and economic context is often lost as the more overtly ‘law-related’ professions, notably the police, are preoccupied with the victim/complainant with a view to ensuring that the offender is appropriately punished. Social work can also be seen as being tied into a system that is primarily concerned with the management of risk by controlling the behaviour of young people who represent a threat to the wider community (Smith, R., 2008). Professional divisions have also become blurred and less distinguishable even to the extent that the unified identity of YOT practitioner emerged. When one considers that YOTs increasingly rely on specialist practitioners, such as YOT support workers who do not have any prior agency affiliations, it is clear the role and influence of social workers is diminished. The influence of managerialism, as usual, is also apparent in such as the ASSET and subsequent ASSET Plus form which practitioners complete for young people entering the youth justice system. It is supposed to assist decision-making in practice but often is simply a management tool to improve information gathering (Smith, R., 2007; Whyte, 2009). It can also be criticised on the basis that it has a ‘tick box’ approach with a heavy emphasis on negative indicators of risk of offending, predisposing practitioners to a narrow and unfavourable view of the young person and their behaviour. There is also a focus on the individual or family domain with little opportunity to comment on such as disadvantage and exclusion being related to structural factors. This focus on very prescriptive form-filling can lead to the zombification of social workers in youth justice (Pitts, 2001), and is yet another example of de-professionalisation. 108

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Conclusion At one level, as social work became a graduate profession, with a ‘protected title’, its own code of practice and a commitment to CPD, we saw its increased professionalisation. Similarly, the establishment of professional councils, institutes for excellence and inspection agencies throughout the UK, all of which seek to build a more accountable, reliable and effective workforce by way of registration, regulation, inspection and dissemination of ‘good practice’ initiatives, can be seen as constructive (Higham, 2006). However, as always, we must remember the ideological, economic, social and political context in which such changes have taken place. Neoliberals question the whole concept of professionalism, not believing or at the very least doubting, the notion of professional altruism whereby professional knowledge and know-how could benefit all. Instead, their critiques increasingly focussed on monopolistic professional power as being an exploitative force, together with scepticism about the beneficial effects of professionalism as a strategy for collective occupational advancement or mobility. This has an affinity with postmodernism’s concern with questioning the faith in science and reason, which informs professionalism. It also includes hostility towards groups and organisations that threaten the free operation of the market. Some even see professions as the product of a collusive state/professional relationship generating structures of social control which are seen as evidence of the advance towards socialism. It is within this context that the development of social work education and training, increasingly at the behest of the government and employers via their managers, has to be viewed. New Labour continued with increased privatisation and marketisation of services, together with ever more managerial control over social work practice. No longer were social workers and their practice judged in their own terms, rather it is on the criteria and rules of another, namely management (Green, J., 2009). Regardless of the continued rhetoric, and at times resulting action (the introduction of the social work degree and PQ framework being examples), about the need for increased professionalisation, we have actually witnessed the de-professionalisation of social work. Whereas nobody would disagree with the need to have an accountable and effective workforce, there is surely some debate to be had about whether increased monitoring, standardisation and regulation, both in terms of education and training as well as practice, are actually the best ways to achieve this for practitioners or, more importantly, service users. In addition, and as we will see in Chapter Seven, many of the issues raised here have been taken up further in relation to the Coalition’s and Conservative’s governments’ obsession with austerity.

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Mention of privatisation, marketisation and managers brings me to ‘managerialism’ and ‘the social work business’ which together form the title of the next chapter. Note 1

Social work is now barely mentioned in relation to current practice with young offenders (see, for example, Case, 2018).

Discussion points • Why were Thatcherite and New Labour governments against a fully professionalised social work profession? • The introduction of the social work degree and emphasis on CPD: increased professionalisation or an ‘add-on’ to what is little more than a ‘common sense’/‘practical’ job? • How far does radical social work’s critique of professionalism chime with disability service users challenging practitioners to become more involved in disability culture and politics rather than emphasising their own ‘expertise’?

Further reading There are two excellent chapters on social work education over the Thatcherite period in Parton, N. (ed) (1996a) Social Theory, Social Change and Social Work, London: Routledge. See Jones, C. ‘Anti-intellectualism and the Peculiarities of British Social Work Education’ and Webb, D. ‘Regulation for Radicals: the state, CCETSW and the academy’. Ferguson, I. and Woodward, R. (2009) Radical Social Work in Practice: making a difference, Bristol: Policy Press includes an informative analysis concerning the introduction of the social work degree. Though perhaps not an overtly critical book, Higham, P. (2009) Post-Qualifying Social Work Practice, London: Sage, provides a good account of the issues surrounding CPD.

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Managerialism and the social work business Chapter summary The rise of managerialism and the social work business under Thatcherite and New Labour governments were based on neoliberal themes of economic competitiveness, social policy being subsumed to the needs of the economy, limited government/state intervention, and controlling public expenditure. From this, managerialism aims to control what social workers do and how, while the social work business is concerned with reducing public spending and extending market forces into social work/care.

Key learning points • The move away from the administering of social work and other public services to their private sector-style management. • Social workers being shackled by a performance-/target-driven bureaucratic culture that works against a relationship-based practice based on the real needs of service users. • The increasing use of the independent (private/voluntary) sector in social care often leads to shareholders’ profit being prioritised over the actual care provided.

The importance of managers and managerialism has featured heavily in this book and I make no apologies for this. After all, managers have brought about a fundamental transformation in the way welfare organisations carry out government policy, as well as increasing their own power in the process (Clarke, 1998). Consequently, what social workers do is now largely set and tightly controlled by managers. This change reflects the move away from administering of public services to their management, a process that has been ongoing since the 1970s (Harris and White, 2009a). It stemmed from the neoliberal ideology or belief that the market was superior to the state in every way and that public services needed to be managed in ways that were drawn from the private sector. Public sector professionals including social workers, the argument went, could no longer be protected and pampered by the administrative systems of the social democratic welfare state, while 111

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there also had to be a rethinking of the view of service users as being passive recipients of professional expertise. Consequently, the extended role and increased power of managers, including their supposed ability to stand up for service users against the assumed entrenched self-interest of professionals, was to undermine the administrative system that had provided the home and base within which welfare state professionalism had thrived. When it comes to the ‘social work business’, so far little has been made of this but its importance lies in the fact that neoliberalism takes the view that public services, including social work, had to become more like businesses and operate in ways that were drawn from the private sector, thereby functioning in a context that was as market-like as possible (Harris, J., 2003). It meant that welfare state professionals, including social workers, needed to be engrossed in the bracing competitive stimulus of market forces which necessitated managers being the main instrument of effective social policy rather than professionals. One has only to witness the way managers and managerialism now dominate in the public sector as a whole, whether it be, for example, education, health, the police or, of course, social work. The increased influence of managers, managerialism and the development of the social work business occurred during the neoliberal Conservative governments of 1979–1997. During that period the Labour Party, eventually becoming New Labour, increasingly echoed neoliberal themes and ideas by stressing the primacy of economic competitiveness, the subordination of social policy to the needs of a competitive national economy, the limited or reduced scope for government intervention or direction, and the need to control public expenditure (Harris and White, 2009a). As I have pointed out repeatedly, New Labour essentially accepted and endorsed Thatcherism’s bequest of neoliberalism, and in so doing built on and extended this ideology into new areas. In this chapter, I discuss these changes as they affected social work during the Thatcher/Major years, notably the emphasis on markets, the mixed economy and managerialisation, all of which anticipate much of the current situation. I then look in more detail at managerialism and the social work business. As a consequence of these developments, one can easily conclude that the prospects for meaningful social work, one which operates alongside service users on the issues they face, looks rather bleak given the neoliberal world we now inhabit and which many struggle against.

Marketisation, the mixed economy and managerialisation In an intriguing and still prescient essay entitled ‘After Social Work?’ Clarke (1996) discusses and describes the changes associated with the neoliberal assault on welfare in general and social work in particular. He focuses on the social processes and forces which transformed social work in the 1980s and 112

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1990s, all of which remain of considerable influence. The crucial features of all this are marketisation, the mixed economy of welfare, and, importantly, what he terms ‘managerialisation’. Marketisation refers to the sponsored development of competition in the provision of welfare services together with the introduction of internal markets within public service organisations as a way of making them imitate market relationships. It is related to the moves towards contractual modes of relationship as a key feature of the organisation of service provision as well as the reduction of direct service provision by public institutions. The notion of ‘quasi-markets’ (Le Grand and Bartlett, 1993) is important as it identifies the artificial, imitative and regulated nature of these marketised relationships, this being reflected in the distinct and peculiar position of the ‘customer’ in such markets. These market-making processes are linked to a mixed economy of welfare. The mixed economy1 is the sustained attempt to shift the balance of provision towards the independent sector of private and voluntary providers. Simultaneously direct provision through the welfare state becomes less central, this resulting in the blurring of the boundaries between state and non-state welfare provision; activities previously performed by state agencies are contracted out, with private and voluntary agencies being brought into new relationships of partnership with the state, either by regulation or by dependence on it. Also included is the transferring of responsibilities from formal to informal provision, towards ‘care by the community’, which is essentially part of a wider privatisation of welfare responsibilities including health, education and income maintenance. It is not only older people or those with mental or physical health issues that have to increasingly rely on themselves or their family, and this means usually women, for care. It is also such as troubled and troublesome young people who are increasingly seen as the responsibility of parents and are offered only limited help and support. If this responsibility is not properly carried out, the interventions that do take place are more often than not punishment orientated. Examples of this include fining parents with young people who irregularly attend school, or them having to attend classes because of their children’s offending. ‘Devolving’ such responsibilities to the family also redraws the public-private boundary and creates new forms of discipline and surveillance over family life (Donzelot, 1979). The process of managerialisation has had a profound impact on social work and therefore, like Clarke (1996), I want to elaborate on this a little more here. It includes two related aspects: first, the nature of modes of organisational co-ordination, which refers to the ways organisations are organised and inter-organisational relationships are constructed; and second, the nature of organisational regimes including the patterns of structures, cultures and power within organisations. The point is that neither markets nor the mixed 113

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economy run themselves because they require agents to make them work, and over recent decades the preferred form of agency is management rather than professionals or administrators. This can be counter-posed to bureauprofessionalism which is one label for the organisational regime of the social democratic welfare state, and where the dominant mode of co-ordination was rational administration and professional discretion (Newman and Clarke, 1994). This embodied the Fabian model of social welfare in that expertise could be applied to social problems and in so doing alleviate them. Modes of co-ordination included hierarchical authority and collegial relations, and featured claims to distinctive forms of neutrality in the form of bureaucratic rationality and professional knowledge and values. Managerialisation, however, became the preferred mode of organisational co-ordination as a result of the economic, political and ideological changes associated with neoliberalism. These include the wider setting reconstruction of managerial power in the 1980s which included the reduction of trade union rights and powers together with the extension of managerial control over how to use workers. Such changes may have been pioneered in industrial settings, but they soon moved to the public services. The rise in managerialisation can also be seen in terms of the particular definition of the crisis in the welfare state, this underpinning the managerial mode of co-ordination in the reconstruction of welfare. The neoliberal attack on welfare linked the fiscal crisis of welfare to a specific critique of the organisational patterns of welfare provision, namely Fabianism, associated with the social democratic consensus. Resonating with some earlier comments, this included attacks on ‘provider power’ such as bureaucratic rigidities, inflexibility, professional imperialism, insensitivity to service users, the lack of competition, and the ‘dogma’ of political interference and control. All this provided the foundation for marketisation and changing the balance of the mixed economy, but in addition it supported the rise of managerial modes of co-ordination into public bodies as a precursor to reshaping their organisational regimes. Although neoliberalism led to the rise of ‘managerialisation’ and the ensuing demise of Fabianism with its bureau-professional regimes, it is also important to recall that such bureaucracies faced a diverse range of critiques ranging from the political left, feminists, minority ethnic groups and service users. The point is, however, neoliberals were in a position of power in the Conservative Party and were able to put ideas into action. Further, they were also able to absorb much of these critiques, together with the space such critiques created, and make them into a relatively systematic articulation which sought to speak for people against the power of the state or, more particularly, for the welfare ‘customer’ against the ‘provider power’ of the old regime (Clarke, 1994). This was the context in which managerialism gained prominence, something which continues to this day. 114

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Managerialism There two key, inter-connected, elements to managerialism (Lymbery, 2004a). First, as mentioned earlier, it aims to control bureau-professional power within organisations by subjecting them to new forms of regulation through centralised processes of financial control and methods of evaluation, as well as the increased power of the customer. Second, it involves recruiting organisations to processes of self-discipline characterised by the internalised acceptance of performance targets, increased bureaucracy and financial rationalisations and/or limits. Since 1979 over the Thatcher/Major and into New Labour years the concept of managerialism was increasingly prevalent in the public services (Clarke and Newman, 1997; Harris, J., 2003; Evans, 2009). It was closely associated with the neoliberal critique of the idea of need that underpins professional practice and service provision in the welfare state. Needs are not things waiting to be identified by the competent observer but are related to plans and purposes that are subjectively chosen; viewing needs as objective and distinct from wants, the argument continues, is paternalistic, which is what much of the activity of the welfare state actually is (Barry, 1999). Another factor to consider is that 18 years of Conservative government resulted in social policy being increasingly based on a residual model of welfare. This reflected both an assumption that welfare is primarily the responsibility of the family and community, together with a belief that when the state intervenes it should provide only the basic minimum because welfare provided by the state is oppressive, inefficient and debilitating. Further, Hayek and Friedman argued that a lack of sensitivity to cost and not being responsive to consumers in public services required the injection of market discipline to create efficiency, innovation and effective services. In addition, in contrast to Fabianism, they argued that the state’s reliance on professionals and bureaucrats to decide people’s needs and allocate support involved both a mistaken faith in professional expertise and an insupportable exercise of power over citizens. It is a result of such arguments that managerialism became influential in two areas of the public services, namely health and social services. This increasing influence is associated with two reports by Sir Roy Griffths into health and social services (see Timmins, 1996). Interestingly, he was the head of Sainsbury’s supermarkets when he did this work and what he knew about such services might well be questioned, but that was not the concern of the Conservative governments. It was what he knew about management and business that interested them. The government asked him to review ‘manpower’ and ‘resources’ within the NHS and community care services more generally. The first report (Griffths, 1983) recommended a move away from a system of consensus management in which doctors played 115

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a powerful role in hospital management alongside administrators. He was concerned about the lack of clear lines of responsibility for management decision-making and recommended establishing professional managers in place of administrators, with them having responsibility for budgetary control, monitoring performance and quality of service. The government’s response was positive, resulting in managers, both from within and outside the NHS, being recruited. Management budgets and clear lines of financial accountability were also introduced. The second report (Griffths, 1988) was driven by a concern to control rising central government expenditure on residential care through the benefits system. It recommended transferring government spending to local authorities, which should assess whether people needed public funding, importantly this negating the idea of social services or care as a universal service provided by the public sector. Instead such services were cast in the role of last resort, only to be called upon when the family or community were unable to provide support. The role of local authorities was to manage the market of care by co-ordinating services, both strategically and, in the form of care management, on an individual basis. The overall aim was to limit services within available resources. The report went on to recommend that local authorities should not be direct providers of services but instead make the best use of private and voluntary organisations in order to widen consumer choice, stimulate innovation and encourage efficiency. The two Griffiths reports were significant in the advance of managerialism within health and social services, both being indicative of important issues about any critical analysis of managers and managerialism (Evans, 2009). The first promoted general management in the efficient running of the health service while the second focussed on structural change in terms of reducing public responsibility for social care. Importantly, however, managerialism has to be understood in terms of the relationship between organisational forms and a particular framework of values; it is not just a set of technical prescription of how to run an organisation but includes assumptions about the relationship between the state and citizens/customers, the role of public and private sectors, and the virtues of the market. It also conflates a desire for well-run public services with a neoliberal aversion to the nature and role of public provision of welfare. However, it goes without saying that managerialism is not alone in its concern for well-managed public services, nor in expressing concern about professionalism becoming a conspiracy against ordinary people. Going further though, a key criticism is the assumption that well-managed public services must act and look like business. There is another issue to consider, namely that managerialism can involve different forms in different areas of public service, this being a reflection of the historical and organisational contexts of each service. Thus, the NHS and social services had different organisational contexts and challenges for 116

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managerialism because of the very different nature and role of managers in these services. Both have been targets for managerial reform because of the powerful role of professionals in these services, with some even seeing them as sites in which professionals have captured public organisations (see Harris, R., 2009), though this is truer of clinicians than social workers. In the NHS managers, like the administrators before them, are a distinct professional group, differentiated from the clinicians they manage and largely recruited from the beginning into the administrator/manager role. In contrast, managers within social services were appointed from among the ranks of the professionals they manage. The different nature of these managers is evidenced by the fact that those in the NHS have extremely limited input into clinical decision-making, whereas those in social services have historically had a strong role in case decision-making. Consequently, the key point to note is that although managers may be similar in some ways, they can also be different in different contexts. Managerialism may well have common concerns and assumptions, but its focus and impact have to be understood within the specific contexts of operation. As far as social services/care is concerned, the growth of managerialism occurred against the backdrop of bureau-professionalism, the combination of the organising principles of bureaucracy and professionalism in Social Services Departments following their establishment in the wake of the Seebohm Report (1968). Such departments, while located in the bureaucratic structure of local authorities, were strongly influenced by professional principles of organisation whereby professional supervisors were supportive colleagues rather than directive managers. This included an emphasis on a significant degree of discretion in the work of professional staff who were trusted by the fellow professionals occupying the significant hierarchical posts within Social Services Departments (Clarke, 1996; Harris, J., 2003). Here managers were largely committed to the idea of professional social work, and their rise in the organisational hierarchy was based on professional standing as well as managerial authority. As Evans (2009) points out, social work’s commitment to such as human rights and social justice may involve complex ideas and be open to different interpretations but they do provide the fundamental milieu within which the ‘value talk’ of social work is generated and maintained. Within the context of bureau-professionalism, social work and social services expressed these commitments in terms of Marshall’s (1996 [1950]) notion of social citizenship. This is the view that in order to achieve full and equal participation in society, all its members have the right to share in the complete social and cultural heritage, and to live the life of a civilised human being according to the standards prevailing in society. Furthermore, to realise this aim within the welfare state, professionals needed discretion not simply to implement policy but also to develop it by translating general 117

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welfare rights into particular provision. The advance of managerialism significantly challenged such a view, this resulting in major changes in the distribution and balance of power within social services and social work, including the displacement of traditional professional concern with need and social citizenship by business concerns of economy and efficiency in service delivery. It amounts to what might be termed the ‘fiscalisation’ of policy and practice whereby policy and practice decisions are made on the basis of financial concerns rather than social and moral values. Another way at looking at some of these issues is to see the modes of management and governance in public services as encouraging means to be separated from ends in organisational practices (see Green, J., 2009). ‘Quasimarkets’, ‘competitive tendering’, ‘purchaser/provider splits’, ‘management by objectives’ and so forth have all contributed to this development, a situation whereby process and compliance, rather than initiative and professional judgement, are to the fore. In our case, social workers are judged favourably by conforming to prescribed targets, and their organisation’s reputation is judged primarily on meeting similar pre-specified targets and performance indicators. The predominant values in the organisation have become the instrumental goals of demonstrating organisational success or ‘getting things done efficiently and effectively’, rather than meeting need, with social workers often having little option but to comply. Domination or discursive managerialism? In the context of the advancement of managerialism two broad strands can be discerned, these being the ‘domination’ and ‘discursive’ perspectives (Evans, 2009). In simple terms, the former sees managers and professionals as two distinct occupational groups: managers run organisations with their primary commitment being to the organisations’ goals, while professionals and practitioners are the workers within the organisation. Managers are seen to have increased their power within social work and social services, are preoccupied with the organisation itself and antithetical to practitioners’ professional concerns. Their authority is simply based on hierarchical position which may or may not relate to their professional standing, and enforcing their authority is by means of coercive strategies because practitioners are seen as self-interested workers who must be directed and monitored. They are involved in an endless struggle with practitioners and use a range of techniques such as procedures, performance indicators, budget and eligibility criteria to exert control and achieve organisational goals. Their overriding concerns are the increasing control of professional practice and enforcing the organisational aims such as rationing resources (Howe, 1991; Jones, C., 1999, 2004). The community care reforms of the early 1990s can be seen as a pivotal point in the shift of power and control from practitioners to 118

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managers with the role of social workers becoming more prescribed and inflexible as a more prominent role was expected from their managers. The Conservative government of the time felt that frontline managers could simultaneously regulate the duties of social workers, oversee the stricter eligibility criteria for services applied to service users and thereby, overall, protect finite resources. Twenty years later we had the prime minister of the Coalition government, David Cameron, arguing that public services need to ‘do more for less’, and this oft repeated phrase would surely not sound remiss coming from the lips of senior New Labour politicians. The ‘discursive’ perspective offers perhaps a more optimistic view of the encroachment of the managerial tide. Here, there is not a distinct break from bureau-professionalism to managerialism, with instead a continuation of professional concerns and practices being able to operate, albeit in conjunction with an increasingly powerful managerial discourse. Drawing on aspects of Foucault and postmodernism more generally, the emphasis is on the fragmentary and dispersed nature of power, with the idea of dominance being problematic and the techniques of control more ambiguous than the domination perspective suggests. Managers are not simply seen as being engaged with and committed to a managerial discourse, and neither are practitioners necessarily its passive subjects or immune to it. They are not two distinct and homogeneous groups but rather actors who operate within fields of criss-crossing forces. Consequently, managerialism has not replaced bureau-professionalism but arguably is another organisational stratum laid upon it which may be thick or thin, robust or less so, depending on particular times and in particular circumstances (Clarke and Newman, 1997). This discursive view sees organisational and management practices as being able to reflect professional strategies and concerns alongside increasingly influential managerialist ideas and preoccupations, and in so doing new focal points of resistance, compromise and accommodation are produced. Whatever the merits of the ‘domination’ and ‘discursive’ views, there are two important issues in relation to the advance of managerialism. First, social workers are undoubtedly now more subject to the control and direction of managers and, second, managers are now a group which by and large is distinct from practitioners in so far as their commitments and interests are concerned. There has been an increase in the proceduralisation of practice, with practitioners now subject to ever more and intense direction and scrutiny (Jones, C., 2004; Lymbery, 2004a). Although some argue that resulting rules and procedures help ensure good practice and even support expertise, increased proceduralisation also reflects business principles. This is because the focus is increasingly on economy, efficiency and effectiveness of the organisation itself, which in turn involves the need to control practitioners. Even if at times rules and procedures need interpretation and the application of some background knowledge, hence allowing an element 119

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of discretion, few would disagree with the proposition that generally they amount to an ‘iron cage’ which limits practitioner discretion. As for managers being a distinct group who have left behind their professional identity, instead becoming more business-like by embracing business wisdom and being primarily concerned about the organisation, then there is certainly some evidence of this. For example, J. Harris (1998) shows that managers were and are encouraged to develop business skills, this tendency increasing significantly under New Labour. Then again, Clarke (2004) points out that there has been a concerted effort to shift what were professional identities to ones that are organisation-centred; the organisation becomes the point of identification, loyalty and commitment, with externally orientated identities, such as simply being a member of the British Association of Social Workers, being treated as suspect and as a ‘special interest’ which distracts from the organisation. Finally, one has only to recall that many senior managers in charge of social work do not have a social work qualification. The obvious example of this is that following the demise of Social Services Departments, many of the subsequent heads or senior managers of the subsequent adults and children’s services do not have any experience of social work, though they might be qualified in or have experience of business. Following the Baby Peter tragedy, the lack of social work experience by many senior managers was one of the many criticisms of London Borough of Haringey’s Children’s Services.

The social work business John Harris (2003), in his seminal text, The Social Work Business, shows how every aspect of social work has been deeply affected by the imposition of a culture of managerialism and competition over recent decades. One consequence is that a profound dissatisfaction now exists among social workers about what their jobs entail, with a growing gap arising between their daily tasks and duties, and the values which brought them into the job in the first place (Jones, C., 2004). This has arisen largely because of ‘modernisation’, a crucial component of New Labour ideology which entailed ‘bringing individuals, communities and institutions, whether professional or governmental into line with the perceived requirements of a globalised world economy’ (Ferguson, 2008, p 46). For social work the creation of the ‘social work business’ was significant, involving the three elements – the ‘universalisation of managerialism’ (Clarke, 2004, p 121), regulation, and consumerism – all of which are key in understanding the social work business.

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The universalisation of managerialism Effective management is seen as the panacea for practically every problem facing public services. Under the Conservatives, public service administrators were supposedly reinvented as dynamic individuals to overthrow bureaucratic and professional barriers to change, thereby creating a mixed economy of care in which the private sector is increasingly involved. As noted, one result was that senior managers who were former social workers were gradually replaced by people with no social work qualification. But it was not just within the hierarchy of public sector organisations that such changes occurred. The 1990 NHS and Community Care Act and subsequent guidance identified assessment and care management as the core social work roles, whereby the care manager assesses need and co-ordinates packages of care in a world where ‘purchasers’ and ‘providers’ would no longer be the same people or organisations. The rhetoric referred to ‘empowerment’, ‘choice’ and ‘needsled assessment’ but the consequence of these developments was the creation of the social work business, and the resulting effect on social work practice were to be far-reaching. As J. Harris (2003, p 66) points out managerialism and the social work business took social work ‘away from approaches that were therapeutic or which stressed the importance of casework, let alone anything more radical or progressive. Turning professionals into managers involved making them responsible for running the “business”’. Developments in relation to the social work business continued and intensified under New Labour with a particular emphasis being on the ‘integration of services’ in order to place the service user at the centre (Audit Commission, 2002). This is reflected in the establishment of various multiagency structures over recent years. Then there was the demise of Social Services Departments which were split in two with, in essence, Children’s Services merging with Education, and Adult Services with Health. There may well be benefits to health, education, social work and other professions working together, such as breaking down cultural barriers and more effective sharing of information. However, a danger is that more powerful professions such as the police, health and education dominate at the expense of less esteemed and well-organised professions and agencies like social work and voluntary sector organisations. In addition, as pointed out over two decades ago (Clarke, 1996), the loss of an organisational base coupled with a weak professional identity could lead to the virtual disappearance of professions such as social work. The expansion and intensification of regulation Although the Conservative governments of the 1990s were content to allow managers to bring about transformation in the public services including social 121

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work, as we saw in Chapter Four, New Labour was more interventionist. This included a decidedly centralist attitude towards policy making, with responsibility for implementation being ‘franchised’ to semi-independent organisations which are nevertheless closely regulated and controlled from the centre (Harris, J., 2003). The General Social Care Council and the Social Care Institute for Excellence, regulating the workforce and social work’s knowledge base respectively, were obvious examples. Then there was the role of Ofsted in relation to the merged children’s social care and education services. The result of these and other similar organisational changes have been that ‘processes of external review, audit, inspection, national standards, as well as performance indicators covering almost every area of work, are now common features of social work and social care’ (Ferguson, 2008, p 48). Scourfield (2007, p 176), writing about residential care but his comments are equally applicable to social work, puts it this way: ‘New Labour clearly believes that, by using regimes of regulation and audit, it can control and work through markets to achieve the dual goals of producing better quality services for consumers whilst, at the same time, putting the service user at the heart of the decision making’. These developments took place despite the fact that New Labour’s general approach to the regulation of business was regularly described, notably by Gordon Brown both as Chancellor of the Exchequer and Prime Minister, as ‘light’ or ‘soft’ touch. One has only to witness, for example, New Labour’s attitude to energy companies and the financial sector, notwithstanding the fact that such an approach to banking led to the Great Recession of 2008–2010. There were two separate but related reasons why the social work business was treated differently. First, like their Conservative predecessors, New Labour had a neoliberal distrust of professions as being self-serving groupings, and of social work in particular because of its failings in relation to child protection. Then there is the fact that social workers often ally themselves to those having to depend on an increasingly residual welfare state, and are, therefore, seen as encouraging dependency. Greater regulation is required because social workers themselves cannot be trusted to bring about the necessary changes and thereby engage in the modernisation project. This argument, however, fails to address the fundamental point that to the extent that social work may be ‘failing’ it is more likely to be related to the imposition of a quasi-business system which subordinates the needs of service users and the knowledge and skills of social workers to the demands of competition within the social care market. The second reason for increased regulation also relates to mistrust but of a different kind. Although New Labour saw markets and competition in social work and social care, as well as elsewhere, as offering the best guarantee of choice and quality, there was a concession to traditional social democratic thought in that it deemed some regulation was necessary to ensure that markets worked efficiently and standards are maintained. Simply put, in 122

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order to create the ‘performance management and audit culture’ you need such as Best Value frameworks, national standards, audits, league tables and inspection (Webb, S. A., 2006). Despite this, arguably there is little evidence that all this regulation, together with the resulting ‘naming and shaming’, did in fact lead to an improvement in services. Rather the converse was nearer the truth: organisations often merely adapt to meet their performance targets even though this can lead to poorer services for service users (Harris, J., 2003). Three examples spring to mind. First, one has only to recall that in the Baby Peter case, the London Borough of Haringey had received a favourable inspection report prior to the tragedy. This had relied on quantitative data, for example how many forms had been filled in within specified timescales, and not enough on the underlying quality of service provision and practice. Realising that this would be Ofsted’s focus, the borough no doubt prioritised its work accordingly (Jones, R., 2014). A second example is related to the two-stage initial and core assessment process in relation to children and families. On occasions the number and completion times of these assessments was compared to neighbouring authorities. Depending on the results of the comparisons it could lead to more or fewer core assessments having to be completed, not on the basis of complexity, service user circumstance or need, but because of the necessity to be seen in a favourable light in relation to other authorities. And third, similar points can be made in relation to the numbers of contacts and subsequent referrals that are received, and in relation to home visits. Whether or not a contact becomes a referral often depends not on service user circumstance or need, but on a comparison with the figures from neighbouring authorities and even a comparison with teams within the same authority. Similarly, whether a home visit following a referral remains just that, or necessitates an initial assessment, can again depend on comparing figures, rather than the presenting situation and the overall facts and circumstances of the particular case. S. A. Webb (2006) points out two other consequences of this ‘performance culture’. First, the social work role is increasingly conceived of, and limited to, gatekeeping and the rationing of resources, so that the focus is on higherlevel assessment and planning. Little remains of preventative social work, this being the remit of standardised assessment tools, the Common Assessment Framework being a prime example, which ‘anyone can do’. Even higherlevel assessment and planning is dominated by standardised assessment forms and computer exemplars which contribute to the de-professionalisation of social work. Second, such a culture changes the relationship between social workers and service users, with the former increasingly concerned about managing budgets and reducing risk; as many social workers have repeatedly

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pointed out, budgets and paperwork are often to the fore of their work rather than meeting the real needs of people (Jones, C., 2004). Consumerism and the ‘business’ Consumerism is now a major aspect of the social work business. It is frequently linked to ‘user involvement’ or ‘user empowerment’ with two models discernible, though often conflated in theory and practice (Beresford and Croft, 1993, 1995). The first is the consumerist model of service user involvement enshrined in the 1990 NHS and Community Care Act and subsequent guidance. Although it aimed to empower service users and carers it also provided the statutory basis for the greater involvement of the private sector in social care. The second model is concerned with people, not primarily in terms of their relationship with services, but rather as citizens who may also make use of health and social care services because of difficulties associated with physical impairment, mental distress or age. It is often referred to as the ‘democratic’ model of service user/citizen empowerment, and differs from consumerist models in that: it is a ‘bottom up’ approach emerging from collective movements aimed at social change and justice rather than just involvement in services; it has a social ideology rather than an individual or biomedical model of health and disability; and it often involves collective action rather than mere partnership with service providers. The interaction between these models means ‘the experience of social work and social services for many service users may be the same or even worse than twenty or thirty years ago … At the same time, there are examples of change that could not have been conceived of in the recent past’ (Beresford and Croft, 2004, p 63). Even though he is best known as a critic of marketisation J. Harris (2004) points to three areas where consumerist approaches assisted in social development. First, the ambiguity of the language of consumerism and its accurate identification of the lack of service user involvement in traditional welfare services encouraged service users and carers to become more involved. Second, consumerism’s (de-)construction of the service user/ client as ‘customer’ has led to an emphasis on procedural rights, such as the right to a needs-led assessment, and new forms of redress by complaints procedures. These developments go some way to addressing the detail of the individual experience of the service user. And third there is more attention to individual needs based on individualised assessment, rather than the ‘one size fits all’ approach. There is no doubt that there have been increased involvement of service users and carers in health and social care, and some examples can be found in relation to government policy and legislation, service development, research and social work education (see Ferguson, 2008, pp 73–4). For 124

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example, universities offering social work degrees must provide evidence of the involving service users and carers in the social work degree, for example in the planning of courses and in the teaching and assessment of students. The development of procedural rights is also to be welcomed; surely no one would disagree that those who use, or are forced to rely on, state-provided services should at least have basic procedural rights such as complaints procedures. However, the point about consumerist approaches leading to assessments and services tailored to individual need requires some qualification. Whatever empowering potential such assessments might have had, they were almost immediately constrained by the fact that soon after the 1990 Act was passed local authorities were allowed to take resource considerations into account when assessing individual needs. It is easy to make the point that such individualised assessments were less about need and more about the rationing of resources. Three decades later such constraints have increased further. A similar comment about rationing can be made in relation to Children’s Services’ assessments. Unless there are child protection/ safeguarding concerns, social workers are under pressure to offer little, if anything, other than offer advice about agencies and voluntary organisations that deal with the various issues confronting children and families. Failing this, the continuation of universal services in the form of health and education is all that is required. It is surely no surprise that families are often likely to feel that their issues and concerns are not being taken seriously by social workers and that they are being ‘fobbed off’. Direct payments (DPs) is another area that has been transformed by the marketisation processes, together with associated notions of consumerism and the ‘business’. DPs were introduced in the 1990s for people with disabilities; Social Services Departments gave money directly to individuals to buy the support they had been assessed as needing, instead of providing the services. Spandler (2004) asks whether such payments are ‘friend’ or foe’. In fact, there were two arguments deployed for saying they are empowering. First, they sat well with New Labour’s notions of choice, flexibility and the service user as customer. Second, disability activists had campaigned for them for some time, seeing DPs as a means of disabled people gaining greater control of their own lives. Given the history of paternalist, sometimes oppressive and even abusive institutionalisation service provision, the attractions of DPs were easy to see. They appeared to offer an element of choice, control, flexibility and independence, and the focus on choice and control, rather than illness or disability, meant they could be seen as embodying a social, rather than medical, model of health and disability (Beresford and Croft, 2004). They also offered a pointer as to how services could be organised differently so as to reflect the needs and wishes of those who depend on them. But despite the apparent positives, there are concerns. First, they were introduced in the context of the social work business, the overriding objective 125

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being to reduce public spending and to extend market forces into all areas of health and social care. This meant that although in principle there is no set financial limit on the size of DPs, in practice they are constrained by the state of local authority budgets. There is evidence that local authorities saw DPs as a means of saving money, even to the extent that cost-cutting was been one of the main attractions of DPs (Spandler, 2004). Second, is the complexity of managing and administering a payment through the DP scheme. This can involve opening a dedicated bank account, which is not always straightforward for those living in poorer areas. Then there is the clerical and administrative burden of submitting monthly statements and returns. Another factor is the problems associated with taking on the responsibilities of an employer including recruiting (and dismissing) personal assistants. Middle-class service users with business, managerial, supervisory or similar backgrounds may have found such issues easier to deal with, but this is not necessarily the case for those without such advantages. In this scenario, a related question arises as to whether DPs maintain or widen inequalities. Third, collective service provision can be undermined by the individualisation of service provision which DPs involve. Spandler (2004), referring to Canada where such payments have been in usage for much longer than the UK, notes that there is a real threat to a healthy and vibrant public sector where best practice and standards are collectively developed. The final concern relates to the implications of DP schemes for those who provide the care. Consistent with the culture of consumerism, care users and givers are largely left to their own devices in terms of how the former recruits and organises their care. They operate in a labour market based on low wages, few skills and qualifications and where the organisation of personal assistants (PAs) is virtually non-existent (Ungerson, 2004). A possible positive of this situation is that service users can control who provides the care and the type of care provided, but the negative aspect relates to the fact that some might feel they can call on workers outside contractual hours and even without payment, this making such workers vulnerable to exploitation. This also leads to the question as to who would want to be a worker given their low pay, unsocial hours and lack of training (Scourfield, 2005). The answer is likely to be those with no other options, so it is no surprise that finding PAs can be a problem for service users either because they are unsuitable, the competition from other providers or simply the fact that there are insufficient applicants. Further concerns relate to such as criminal background checks and the overall potential for service user abuse within an unregulated market. At the very least, as with all New Labour’s ‘transformation’ and ‘modernisation’ agendas, the transformative power of DPs needed to be questioned.

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A more recent development of consumerism in relation to social work and social care was personalisation. This has been dealt with in Chapter Four so I will not dwell on it here other than to make two points. First, and reiterating some earlier comments, personalisation is essentially about ensuring that people take more responsibility for the services they receive, that they become the ‘choosing’, ‘deciding’ and ‘shaping’ author of their own lives by assessing and managing their own health and welfare. Though superficially attractive, it fails to acknowledge the combination of poverty, multiple discrimination and, often, physical or mental impairment experienced by many users of social work and social care. Proponents ignore the impact of structural inequality the results of which have been repeatedly pointed out by the late Professor Peter Townsend. Furthermore, the fact that New Labour and other main political parties were intent on reducing expenditure on every aspect of public services including social care meant such policy changes were likely to be experienced as punitive rather than empowering. The second point relates to the effect personalisation is likely to have on social workers. Some local authorities planned to cut qualified social worker posts while expanding non-qualified numbers to implement the reforms (Rogowski, 2009). The concern is of the systematic deskilling of social work in this area whereby professional judgement is sacrificed on the altar of choice and control. The real danger is that the introduction of personalisation leads to the creation of unqualified bureaucrats who, importantly, will be cheaper to employ, as well as being easier to manage and control. They will, therefore, be more willing and able to tick choice-denying boxes rather than supporting users to achieve the best quality of life open to them, even if it is more expensive for the public purse. Having looked at how the social work business has changed social work, how has the ‘business’ and the emphasis on the market changed social care more generally, particularly in relation to privatisation issues and the increased involvement of the voluntary sector? Social care: privatisation and the voluntary sector First, there is a need for a little history. The introduction of a business culture which includes the profit motive into the domain of health and social care during the 1980s and 1990s could well have provoked public opposition, so phrases like the ‘mixed economy of care’ and ‘empowerment of service users and carers’ as well as the ‘independent sector’ were deliberately obscure and misleading. In particular, the ‘independent sector’ was a new term which embraced both commercial and voluntary organisations, collapsing some previous distinctions between them and cloaked the embrace of the profit making through the use of the private sector in social services/care provision (Harris, J., 2003). From this situation it is not totally surprising 127

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that the management style and ethos of voluntary organisations were to change, and, following Ferguson (2008), questions arise as to whether the introduction of competition between providers led to more choice, quality, independence and empowerment for service users, or whether services and staff conditions suffered in the requirement to secure contacts. Until the 1980s the private sector only played a limited role in the provision of social care because of ideological and financial reasons. Until the arrival of neoliberalism there was virtual unanimous agreement that the profit motive should not come into play when it came to meeting people’s basic health and social care needs. In any case the dominance of local authority provision plus the fact that most people who required it only had limited incomes meant it was an area that did not attract profitable investment. Two factors are relevant in how the situation changed. First, there was a growth in private sector residential provision as a result of changes in the social security system which meant that board and lodging costs of older people with assets under £3,000 were paid. Second, there was the second R. Griffiths (1988) report into community care which recommended the private sector being stimulated and encouraged. The result was that by the end of the 1990s local authority provision of care had decreased with a corresponding increase in the independent sector provision. Similar changes took place in relation to domiciliary care provision over the same period with the private sector playing an increasing role. In relation to children’s services, comparable measures occurred in relation to the growth of private children’s homes and fostering agencies particularly over the New Labour years. In short, after successive governments had encouraged the marketisation and privatisation of residential and other forms of care, it all amounted to the ‘caretelization’ of care as large corporate providers increased their share of the market (Scourfield, 2007). Perhaps the rapid growth in the private sector provision of social care might not have been a problem if it could be shown that it led to improvements in the quality of life of those using residential or home care services. However, the reverse seemed and continues to be the case Pollock (2004). In the first place, the larger-scale provision of private residential care detracts from the quality of care and contributes to a sense of institutionalisation. Put simply, economies of scale mean that larger homes with more beds make more profit. Then there is the fact that the emphasis on profit means there is a constant need to drive down costs with obvious implications for staff wages, workload and training, and in turn the overall quality of care. Bardsley (2009, p 32), for example, draws on her experience of over 20 years as a home help/support worker to argue that ‘standards of service undoubtedly suffered as profit driven private companies sought to lower their wage bills, make people work harder and failed to take training seriously’. She also points to how visits to service users were rushed and sometimes did not even take 128

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place because of the pressure of the work. Furthermore, service users often did not even know who was coming to visit them, this causing considerable confusion, upset and distress. In many cases failure to make a profit means homes might have to close, with elderly and vulnerable residents having to leave what may have been their home for years. Marketisation and privatisation processes not only mean that public accountability is diminished but principles such as consumer choice and service user involvement are likely to be compromised by allowing social care to be dictated by market forces. At the very least, the wisdom and morality of placing vulnerable people, of whatever age, in homes run by companies whose prime responsibility is to shareholders needs to be questioned. As well as the expansion of the private sector into social care, there has been even greater involvement of the voluntary (or third) sector. At one level this might be less objectionable than the growth of the private sector but ‘in reality the same ideological, legislative and policy drivers are in operation in both spheres’ (Ferguson, 2008, pp 59–60). This involvement includes the outsourcing of local authority services, the establishing of market/quasi-market mechanisms and the move from unspecific grant to contract as the basis of funding. All were significant elements of the 1990 NHS and Community Care Act. The result has been that voluntary sector organisations increasingly act like businesses and compete for contracts with the private sector, thereby to all intents and purposes they became the ‘soft face’ of the privatisation. Under New Labour all these processes continued and intensified, with the consequent different role of the sector having three profound consequences for the voluntary organisations themselves and for people who use their services (Ferguson, 2008). First, there is increasing differentiation or inequality within the sector, as a tiny proportion of voluntary organisations receive by far the most government funding. An obvious problem is that the smaller organisations often struggle to survive. Second, there is increasing differentiation and inequality within the organisations; the pay and conditions of executives and managers far exceeds that of the majority of staff. And third, the move from unspecific grant to contract means the reciprocal relationship between local authority social services/care and the voluntary sector has been converted to an exchange relationship (Harris, J., 2003). Voluntary sector organisations become increasingly less concerned with finding solutions to local problems, but with competing for contracts to deliver centrally devised programmes. Their chief concern becomes one of being service delivery agents who are trying to achieve the government’s target-driven priorities. In particular, concerns relate to the dominance of short-term funding, the adequacy of funding and the fact that dependence on government contracts results in a reduced ability to act as advocates 129

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for their users (Charities Commission, 2007). It is not hard to see that the funding of organisations whose objectives are perceived as politically suspect or are not priorities will be under threat.

Conclusion The market-driven agenda in relation to social work and social care more generally, undoubtedly intensified under New Labour. Although the party might have been an amalgam of ideologies and discourses (Powell, M., 1999), one must not forget that at its heart lay the neoliberal influence, hence the managerial and social work business culture that dominated. Social workers, at the behest of managers, were faced with a performance-, inspection- and target-driven culture which places huge pressure to achieve the desired paper and electronic outcomes. Various management tools including forms and templates aimed to improve professional judgement by standardising responses and limiting the possibility of error. This reflects an adherence to scientific or instrumental rationalism whereby the tools appear to hold out the promise of greater reliability by establishing systematic, objective and uniform practices. However, a practice standardised in this way has a one-sided focus on the bureaucratic elements, neglecting the ways that practitioners operationalise procedure. It pays little attention to the ways informal rationalities and methods, carried out within the context of a relationship, combine to make up practice, and it also pays little attention to the real needs of service users. The pressure on social workers is exerted by managers who face similar demands to satisfy their political masters. The stress is on encouraging the free market and limiting public expenditure, with budgetary considerations and financial rationalisations dominating decision-making, meaning that genuinely meeting the real needs of service users becomes a secondary consideration. The move to the managerial and social work business is anathema to social work values and its commitment to social justice and social change. It is no wonder that social workers feel disillusioned and demoralised by what happened to their profession, something which did not change for the better under subsequent Coalition and Conservative governments’ austerity policies, and the years of socio-political uncertainty and insecurity surrounding Brexit. It is to such issues that I now turn in Chapter Seven.

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Note 1

In fact, Clarke (1996) refers to economies rather than the conventional singular, arguing that there are multiple mixed economies with variations for different aspects of welfare and local rather than national formations. If for nothing else than convenience, however, I adhere to the singular.

Discussion points • How far does neoliberalism’s attitude towards social work and social care conflate a desire for well-run public services with an aversion to the role of public provision of welfare? • To what extent has meaningful social work practice been made more difficult because of managerialism and having to take place in the social work business? • Is it possible for organisational and managerial practices to accommodate/reflect social workers’ concerns about meeting the real needs of service users?

Further reading Harris, J. (2003) The Social Work Business, London: Routledge is a stimulating and highly relevant critical analysis of managerialism and the social work business. Harris, J. and White, V. (eds) (2009a and 2009b) Modernising Social Work: critical considerations, Bristol: Policy Press is another admirable, critical text dealing with managerialism and the social work business together with many other ‘modernising’ developments. An excellent chapter on critical theory and critical social work including a section on managerialism, marketisation and consumerism is provided by Granter, E. ‘Critical Theory and Critical Social Work’ in Webb, S. A. (ed) (2019) The Routledge Handbook of Critical Social Work, Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge.

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Neoliberalism, austerity and social work Chapter summary This chapter highlights how neoliberalism and associated austerity have dominated social work and overall welfare provision over the last decade. There is a discussion of issues in relation to class, poverty and inequality, together with the way state welfare systems have increasingly become more punitive. Ongoing concerns regarding (anti-) professionalisation, managerialism as well as increasing concerns about privatisation are considered, all being a threat to social work and its commitment to human rights and social justice.

Key learning points • Austerity was not an economic necessity, but an aspect of the neoliberal project aimed at reducing the size of the state. • Social work, welfare provision and public services generally have been decimated by the financial consequences of austerity which include the growth in poverty and inequality. • Issues in relation to professionalisation, managerialism and privatisation continue to pose ongoing and serious challenges to the social work profession.

In November 2018, the UN rapporteur, Professor Philip Alston, produced a damning report on poverty in the UK. He argued austerity policies were being used as a weapon against the poor with the government being in a state of denial about the impact of austerity (Alston, 2018; Chakrabortty, 2018). Seven points were made, the first being criticism of the ‘mentality’ behind the cuts and reforms because they had brought misery and torn at the social fabric of the country; compassion for those suffering had been replaced by a punitive, mean-spirited and callous approach to their situation. Second, universal credit, the government’s ambitious programme to simplify the benefits system was gratuitously punitive in its effects with draconian sanctions and long payment delays driving claimants into hardship, depression and despair. Third, the most vulnerable and disadvantaged members of 132

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society were the most negatively affected, with many feeling their homes, jobs and communities were at risk; ironically it was these very fears and insecurities that contributed significantly to the Brexit vote. Fourth, the costs of austerity had fallen disproportionately on the poor, women, minority ethnic, children, single parents, asylum seekers and people with disabilities. Fifth, massive cuts to local authority funding, alongside increased demand for social care, had reduced many local authorities to providing basic services only, and had heralded the closure of libraries, parks, youth clubs and so on. Sixth, although the government’s view was the social security/support system was working and there was no extreme poverty, the individual testimonies Alston had received told a completely different story. Finally, the government’s embrace of digital technology and automation, especially visible in universal credit, excluded people with no internet access or skills. All this, of course, presents the backdrop to what faces social work: poverty and inequality, the key results of austerity policies which are in turn linked to neoliberalism, are the most pressing problems confronting social work today (Cummins, 2018). As we saw in previous chapters, particularly Three and Four, neoliberalism came to the fore during the Thatcher and Reagan years of the 1980s and now dominates in the globalised world (also see, for example, Rogowski, 2012, 2015b, 2018b). In the UK, to a greater or lesser degree, subsequent Conservative/Conservative-led and New Labour governments espoused this political and economic ideology. It is one that sees the free market as the best way to achieve human well-being, envisages a reduced role for the state, the introduction of market mechanisms in the provision of public services, and has individualism and liberty as key values (Harvey, D., 2007). Developments in social work and social policy more generally, often including punitive responses to the social casualties of current political and economic arrangements, need to be understood within this overall ideological context. The antecedents of austerity lay in the financial/banking crisis of 2008 and ensuing Great Recession, with the Coalition government presenting it as being necessary and using the Eurozone crisis and the situation in Greece in particular, as constant reference points (Clarke and Newman, 2012; Blyth, 2013; Jordan and Drakeford, 2013; McGimpsey, 2017; Cummins, 2018). However, as alluded to, its real purpose was political/ideological not economic, the objective being to shrink the state and reduce welfare provision permanently; one has only to recall, for example, David Cameron’s repeated call for a ‘Big Society’ rather than a ‘Big State’(Wren-Lewis, 2018). As a result, austerity policies have had a serious and negative impact on social work, with practice now taking place in the increasingly punitive context of welfare, with three examples readily springing to mind. First, and again as alluded to, the social work response to problems confronting children and 133

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families is often limited to parents being told to change their behaviours and lifestyles or face the consequences of losing their children to adoption (for example, Garrett, 2009b, 2018b; Rogowski, 2013, 2014, 2015a & b, 2016, 2018b). Second, the increase of homeless people and their associated difficulties, witnessed by the increased numbers sleeping on the streets, does not appear to be seriously addressed by social workers particularly those working in the statutory sector (Manthorpe et al, 2015). Third, in relation to adult social care more generally, practitioners are increasingly engaged in policing ever-tightening eligibility criteria which means that many service users are not having their needs met. These scenarios, and they are merely examples of what applies in other service user areas, are undoubtedly linked to the resource constraints resulting from austerity. What follows examines social work and welfare provision under the neoliberal-related austerity agenda. The chapter is divided into three interrelated parts, with the first elaborating on the austerity policies introduced by the Coalition government in 2010 and subsequent Conservative governments, all of which dominated social work and social welfare more generally and continue to do so. I then examine class, poverty and inequality, together with linked notions of ‘advanced marginality’, ‘stigma’ and the rise of the penal state, all of which have been negatively impacted by austerity (Cummins, 2018). In the third section I revisit professionalisation, managerialism as well as increasing concerns about privatisation (Jones, R., 2019), again all being issues affected by austerity.

Austerity, social work and social welfare The financial/banking crisis of 2008 led to Gordon Brown’s New Labour government bailing out the sector. Although he is now often much derided, at the time he was widely praised for his handling of the crisis which, apart from bailing out the banks, included standard Keynesian principles such as attempting to stimulate demand in the economy by, for example, reducing VAT and increasing capital spending on schools and social housing. Indeed, from 2008–2010 the poorest fifth of the population saw incomes grow by 3.4 per cent while it was slowest for the richest two fifths of the population, growing at 0.3 per cent (Cummins, 2018). However, all this was to change with the election of David Cameron’s Coalition government in 2010. Although in Keynesian terms austerity should be introduced during a boom, as stated the Coalition presented it as being needed at a time of national emergency related to the Greek Eurozone crisis. New Labour’s government spending was cast as reckless wastefulness that made the economy worse, and in contrast they advanced a policy of draconian budget cuts – austerity – to solve the financial crisis (Wren-Lewis, 2018). However, the real problem, as Blyth (2013) points out, is that austerity is a very dangerous 134

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idea because all it does is shrink the economy and consequently simply does not work. It is also important to note that although there was a shift towards austerity and more neoliberalism throughout Europe, in countries such as Germany, France, Sweden, Norway and Denmark, their welfare states largely survived intact with increased investment being made (TaylorGooby et al, 2017). Nevertheless, the Coalition’s austerity measures, which continued under Cameron’s and Theresa May’s Conservative government, amounted to the biggest cuts to public spending since the Second World War. All public services, including health, education, welfare and the police have been adversely affected, and as a result we have seen the appearance and growth of one of the most pressing social problems of our time, namely knife crime. It is not ‘rocket science’ to suggest that massive cuts to youth services have led to many more bored, disaffected young people being left with little to do, thereby being susceptible to the influence of drug-/crimeorientated gangs. In addition, the cuts to policing led forces such as Greater Manchester not investigating 60 per cent of reported crime (BBC News, 2019a). All this amounts to a toxic mix which helps explain, for example, an 80 per cent rise in knife crime over the period March 2014–March 2019 (BBC News, 2019d). Related to the foregoing, the consequences of austerity have included the loss of 900,000 public sector jobs, tax and benefit changes leading to increases in absolute and relative poverty, and economic stagnation combined with falling incomes and rising costs of living resulting in many struggling to manage. There has also been a shift in the nature of poverty with more younger people now being poor, together with a rise in in-work poverty. In sum, austerity was not a technocratic exercise in economic management as the Coalition claimed, but an ideological attack on the foundations of the social contract that formed the basis of the post-war social democratic consensus (Cummins, 2018). Importantly, the greatest impact of austerity was and remains on the poor as highlighted in Ken Loach’s award-winning film I, Daniel Blake which features the negative impact of benefit changes on the marginalised. Helpfully, Garrett (2018c) shows how such draconian benefit changes were introduced. Thus, for instance, the term ‘welfare’ changes over time, and currently it has overwhelmingly negative connotations and become shorthand for notions of dependency or exploitation of the system. David Cameron employed such arguments to use austerity to introduce severe cutbacks to welfare while simultaneously using language of social justice and words such as ‘reform’, ‘fairness’, ‘modernising’ and ‘progressive’. The implication was that even a Conservative government could be progressive though three examples illustrate the overwhelmingly negative impact of austerity welfare changes: the ‘Bedroom Tax’, benefit sanctions and work capabilities assessments (WCAs). 135

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The ‘Bedroom Tax’ was introduced in England in 2013 resulting in the rent paid via Housing Benefit being reduced for ‘under-occupancy’, this evidenced by, for example, having a spare bedroom. Its introduction was based on the flawed notion that a large group of families were exploiting Housing Benefit by living in large houses at the public’s expense and that they should move to smaller properties even though in reality there were very few smaller houses to rent. It also amounted to an attack on those in most need such as those with disabilities or those caring for children with complex needs. Sanctioning was introduced by the 2013 Jobseekers Act, the rationale being that sanctions were needed so claimants were held accountable for doing all they could to move back into work in return for the support provided by the state in the meantime. In reality, the result was sanctions being applied for such as not doing enough to find work, not turning up for Jobcentre meetings and not taking part in a training/employment scheme. However, the complexity of the scheme meant that claimants had a poor understanding of what was expected from them, and it led to one of the most obvious consequences of the scheme, the growth of food banks. WCAs were introduced by the Department for Work and Pensions under New Labour, though the first study of their impact covers 2010–2013 when over a million were reassessed, this being 80 per cent of existing claimants (Barr et al, 2016). They are used to determine whether an individual is eligible for employment and support allowance with three outcomes being possible: fit for work, unfit for work but fit for pre-employment training, and fit for neither work nor training. The reassessment varied across the country, but the authors concluded that in those areas with higher rates of assessment there were greater increases in suicides, self-reported mental health problems and anti-depressant prescribing. Importantly, as more disadvantaged socioeconomic groups are likely to be in receipt of disability benefits, and thus to be assessed, the reassessment policy was associated with a greater increase in adverse mental health outcomes in more deprived areas. Essentially, therefore, WCAs are punitive, the primary aim being to reduce public expenditure. Looking at austerity and welfare more broadly, austerity has the greatest impact on those most reliant on social and welfare services, this being highlighted in the Centre for Welfare Reform’s (2015) report ‘A Fair Society?’ Thus, 50 per cent of cuts fell in just two areas which together make up only 25 per cent of government spending: benefit cuts of 20 per cent which mainly affect disabled people and people in poverty; and local government budgets cut by over 40 per cent, most of which, 60 per cent, is for social care and was cut by 33 per cent. In fact, as I write the crisis in social care is highlighted by the fact that Four Seasons Health Care, one of Britain’s largest care home groups has gone into administration (Davies, 2019).

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When considering such cuts, a key point is that they target the very groups that a decent society should protect (Cummins, 2018). Consequently, people in poverty (one in five of us) bear 39 per cent of all the cuts, disabled people (one in thirteen of us) bear 29 per cent of all the cuts and people with severe disabilities (one in fifty of us) bear 15 per cent of all the cuts. What is more, the impact of austerity’s shredding of the social safety net is well documented by Garthwaite (2016) who looks at food banks and shows that families and individuals are subject to an increasingly harsh welfare regime. This point was emphasised in another report by UN rapporteur Alston which referred to the UK’s social safety net having been deliberately removed and replaced with a harsh and uncaring ethos (BBC News, 2019b). Indeed, Grover (2019) refers to the social murder of people as a result of suicide and destitution caused by benefit cuts and restrictions. Despite the cuts and changes to the welfare benefits system which have affected many people’s lives, it is worth re-emphasising the negative impact that austerity has had on public services more generally (Blyth, 2013; Jordan and Drakeford, 2013). Health, education and local council services as a whole have been devastated, which has negatively impacted on individuals, families and communities.1 Moreover, and though rarely acknowledged in government circles, greater social, personal and emotional distress caused to individuals, families and communities by such changes, leads to increased workloads for social workers. Simultaneously, of course, austerity has meant that the resources for dealing with such problems and difficulties have been drastically cut, an obvious example being the closure of many Sure Start centres. Such issues were certainly well evidenced in a small survey of practitioners I conducted. Practitioners’ views During 2018 my thoughts turned to what service users’ thoughts and feelings were concerning what has and is happening to social work and welfare more generally. Unfortunately, I was not in a position to elicit these directly2 so I turned to what social workers see as the impact of the current political and economic situation, that is, austerity policies, have had/are having on practice. To this end I asked a small sample to complete a short questionnaire which asked three questions: what, over recent years, have been and are the most pressing problems confronting practitioners; what, if any, are the positives that have benefitted practitioners; and how has austerity affected services and service users? The respondents were largely limited to former colleagues, as well as others who Scottish critical/radical social worker and author, Colin Turbett, was in contact with.3 As for the most pressing problems, typical comments referred to bureaucracy, budget cuts/lack of resources leading to the closure of Sure 137

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Start centres, hot-desking and increased workloads, all of which led to stress, burnout and high staff turnover. More specifically one referred to managers seeing ‘our primary role as turning around assessments as quickly as possible to meet performance indicators’ and even being told ‘it’s quantity, not quality’ that was the top priority. Another, said, ‘The most pressing problems are to do with high volume of work which … means the quality of your interventions are spread thin, which is not fair on the families you serve.’ One team manager complained that the amount of bureaucracy meant that there was ‘no direct work or time to build relationships with families’. When it came to the positives to benefit practitioners one respondent simply said they ‘struggled to think of any’ while another rather limply said ‘technology at times’ but added that there was an increased ‘awareness/ understanding of mental health’. Two referred to working in a supportive team with one, who had been in continuous practice for over 37 years, saying ‘I continue to be inspired and value working alongside front line colleagues from social work, health and education’. The other referred to ‘good teamwork and having a good team manager who promotes your autonomy and listens to your views’. Finally, there was mention of [some] ‘authorities acknowledging they need to value their staff’ and ‘changes in Working Together 2018 (HM Government, 2018) which meant that there was less management oversight’ and, presumably, more responsibility and autonomy given to practitioners as a result of the official recognition of the role of the principle social worker. As for austerity and its impact, this was the question that elicited the most comprehensive responses and it is only possible to mention some of them here. First, one respondent said: There has been a loss of a lot of upstream, cost-effective and proactive support that enabled service users to remain in the community or ensured carers and families were supported, for example reductions in respite care for older people, and adults and children with disabilities, care at home services, befriending and mentoring services for young people. [Although] self-directed support is suggested as offering more person-centred care, in reality it is often used [as] a vehicle for cuts and reducing care packages. This respondent went on that: Universal Credit and the expectation everyone can access benefits online has been catastrophic for the most vulnerable in our community. The poor response of the DWP (Department for Work and Pensions) and local authorities in addressing this, along with the changes to disability benefits (Personal Independence Payments/Employment 138

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Support Allowance) is marginalising many. This is all in the context of a zero-hours, minimum wage culture in our rural locality. Second, another said: The current government regime has made huge changes to the benefits system which has significantly impacted on families. [These changes include] benefits sanctions, reliance on food banks [and] forced job seeking for the most vulnerable. One in four children in Scotland are currently living in poverty and my authority runs school meals in the holidays to ensure children are still accessing at least one meal a day. Third, was the view that: Austerity has affected budgets and resources which means that there is not a lot of external support that you can tap into for interventions. For more specialised services such as CAMHS (Children and Adolescent Mental Health Services) children are waiting on average 18 months to get a service. Often [in the meantime] they experience significant trauma which is really damaging to their ‘here-and-now’ and their overall development. Austerity has [also] contributed to our local authority currently having the highest ever numbers of children on the child protection register, currently sitting [at] around 150. When I first started in the office in early 2012, I seem to remember the figures were round about a hundred children on the register. That’s a 50 per cent increase over the past six years. Poverty, deprivation and inequality all contribute to how a person functions which impacts on parenting capacity. The pressures and bleak reality of trying to raise your family with inadequate funds puts a huge strain on parents and can evoke a hopeless attitude towards yourself and life. This can increase risk factors such as neglect and emotional abuse which can be symptoms of the wider issues such as parental mental health, parental substance misuse, domestic violence and so on. In Scotland in general since 2007 drug deaths have doubled. I think that is because the reality is so severe; living in poverty with very few opportunities to break the cycle, no wonder substance misuse is more appealing as it can be a way to temporarily block out the reality of your dire circumstances. Sadly, but unsurprisingly, the three respondents just quoted had their views echoed by others who also, for example, referred to ‘poverty and all it entailed’, food banks, increase in mental health issues and ‘fewer secondary services to refer to, together with reduced capacity for those

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that remain’ as all being factors that impact on service users and in turn practitioners’ workloads. It is important to note that this limited survey confirmed three things. First, social work with children and families is limited to rationing services/ resources and assessing/managing risk with intervention only occurring in relation to child protection. Furthermore, and although this was not said explicitly, cuts to preventative services mean that, in a risk-averse culture, managers tend to ensure that care proceedings ensue quickly and often prematurely, this in turn leading to ‘forced adoption’ which could, of course, have been avoided if appropriate help and support had been offered to families (Garrett, 2018b; Rogowski, 2018b). Second, as mentioned earlier, social work with the elderly or people with, for example, disabilities is often limited to policing ever-tightening eligibility criteria. And third, it highlights issues such as poverty, inequality and, although it was not explicitly mentioned, class. These concepts are all important when considering social work and the people practitioners work with.

Class, poverty and inequality Resonating with many of the practitioners’ views and the work of academics such as Wilkinson and Pickett (2009), Dorling (2015), Piketty (2015) and Sayer (2015) is the fact that class, poverty and inequality continue to be influential, this particularly the case in debates about the role and function of social work in society. One has only to recall social work is committed to social justice and that most practice takes place with poor or marginalised individuals and groups who tend to be working class. Indeed, the beginning of the 21st century sees inequality firmly back in the public eye; even though we live in affluent times, long-standing problems like poverty are getting worse and have increasingly been juxtaposed with the burgeoning fortunes of the super-rich (Savage, 2015). In short, modern capitalism/ neoliberalism operates to create and sustain deeply divisive and socially unjust levels of inequality which, of course, is at odds with trickle-down neoliberal economics which sees unrestrained capitalism as leading to higher standards of living for all. In discussing class, the concept will always be, and rightly so, associated with Marx (see, for example, Eagleton, 2018; Ferguson and Lavalette, 2018; Hobsbawm, 2012). Thus, as Ferguson (2011) points out, the relationship between the main classes in society is and remains one of not only domination but of exploitation and the extraction of surplus value. However, when looking at modern sociological approaches to the concept, perhaps Bourdieu’s (2010) analysis is particularly useful. His work is a challenge and a response to the dominant postmodern discourse of identity or risk that seems to view class as a ‘zombie category’ (Beck, 1992, 2008). Bourdieu 140

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reinvigorates debates about the value of class as an analytical tool and provides a framework for exploring its continuing influence. Being a stern critic of neoliberalism and its destruction of the social state including the structure and delivery of public services, he is concerned with the ways in which elites are produced and reinforce their own position. And his analysis of class incorporates the influence of economic and other social factors, with economic capital enmeshed with cultural and social capital such as social networks and access to elite schools and universities. When it comes to poverty, the definition can be problematic because any definition adopted carries with it an approach to the resolution of the problem it creates (Backwith, 2015). The original surveys – such as Booth’s in London and Rowntree’s in York – were based on absolute or subsistence definitions of poverty; the poor were those who could not meet their material needs, with the advent of the welfare state seen as virtually abolishing this. However, Townsend (for example, 1979) rediscovered poverty in the 1960s and redefined it in relative terms whereby it meant not having the resources to follow the customary diet, take part in normal social activities or live in conditions that the majority do. It will come as no great surprise that I see poverty as the result of structural failings of modern capitalism rather than the result of the individual failings of the poor. Thus, the Joseph Rowntree Foundation’s (2016) analysis of the current nature of poverty sees much of it as dynamic with many individuals and families experiencing short periods of poverty, this related to the growth of poorly paid, insecure jobs including those with zerohours contracts. As indicated earlier, this has led to a rise in poverty among young people, while the majority of all those now living in poverty are in working families, all of whom are essentially working class. Evidence of this is in the aforementioned and ever-increasing growth and use of food banks whereby, for example, the Trussell Trust provided 1.6 million emergency food supplies in the financial year 2018–2019, a rise of 19 per cent on the previous year (BBC News, 2019e). In measuring poverty in relative terms, a criticism is that opponents can argue, on terms put forward by its proponents, poverty will always exist. This is one reason for the current interest inequality rather than measures of poverty. For instance, Wilkinson and Pickett (2009) outline three potential measures of inequality: income inequality, the extent to which income is distributed unevenly in a group of people; pay inequality, whereby income is distributed unevenly in a group of people; and wealth inequality, with wealth referring to the total amount of assets of an individual or household which might include financial assets (for example, bonds and stocks), property and private pension rights. They go on to argue that reducing inequality is not just a matter of social justice as it is in the interests of all citizens, including wealthier ones, as more equal societies are happier and healthier. 141

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Indeed, the Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS) recently warned that widening inequalities in pay, health and opportunities in the UK are undermining trust in democracy (BBC News, 2019c). It emphasised that while there are runaway incomes for high earners, there are also rises in ‘deaths of despair’, such as from addiction and suicide, among the poorest (again see Grover, 2019 in relation to ‘social murder’). There is a grim warning of risks to ‘centreground’ politics from stagnating pay and divides in health and education. To counter all this the IFS is launching the UK’s biggest analysis of inequality which will be chaired by Nobel Prize-winning economist Professor Sir Angus Deaton. No doubt a major finding will be that poverty and inequality have social and psychological impacts, and these can be usefully analysed through the concepts of ‘advanced marginality’ and ‘stigma’. Advanced marginality and stigma ‘Advanced marginality’ has its roots in the term ‘underclass’ which has become one of the most powerful phrases in the socio-political lexicon, its current usage linked to the American academic Charles Murray. The doxa of the underclass debate is that such a class exists, that it was created by the dependency of an over-generous welfare state and that its members live by a different moral standard to the wider community. However, arguably it is a weak analytical concept and uses stigmatised representations of the poor (see Wacquant, 2009a & b). Rather than a focus on the so-called ‘underclass’ surely a more appropriate response is to attempt to capture the mechanisms by which a sizeable proportion of urban populations are excluded from or cut off from ladders of social mobility, hence the strong arguments for the use of the term ‘advanced marginality’. The latter captures the notion that within modern capitalism, poverty is spatially and racially concentrated because of the lack of access to decent housing, healthcare, education, well-paid and secure employment, safe neighbourhoods and so on. As we all know, austerity has meant the access referred to has been denied to ever-increasing numbers of people and arguably led many to vote for Brexit. In addition, Wacquant (2007) refers to ‘territorial stigmatisation’, the processes whereby areas are characterised by forms of poverty related to the ongoing fragmentation of the wage-labour relationship, the functional disconnection of dispossessed neighbourhoods from national and global economies and the reconfiguration of welfare. Turning to stigma, put simply it refers to an ‘attribute that is deeply discrediting’ (Goffman, 1963, p 3) and is now used as an analytical tool widely applied to an analysis of personal circumstances in relation to such as disability, ‘race’, sexual orientation and mental health. Stigma is, therefore, a characteristic of groups and individuals somehow deemed to be outside the norms of broader society. Stigmatisation results in the construction of 142

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categories and is undoubtedly entwined with social, economic and political power and capital. The labelling and construction of stereotypes is then followed by disapproval, rejection and discrimination all of which can be seen in relation to, for example, those on welfare benefits. For instance, before the financial/banking crisis of 2008 the gap in inequality was at its widest for 40 years, and as inequality has increased so the representation of those in the poorest group has become more hostile, an obvious example being in relation to ‘chavs’ (Dorling et al, 2007; Jones, O., 2011). Perhaps the most current example of what stigma can entail retails to the upsurge in use of food banks and yet I have never met anyone who said they had used one. This is despite on occasions frequenting places and associating with people who are unemployed, sick/disabled, elderly and who do not live in the more well-to-do parts of the local community. For the purposes of writing this book I have often, albeit rather obliquely, asked the question ‘have you, or do you know anyone who has been forced to use a food bank?’ On occasions I have known the basics of a dire situation a person has been in, but despite this I have never been told by them or anyone else that they had to use a food bank. An obvious explanation for all of this is the stigma many people must feel by using them or admitting that they have. The brief discussion of ‘advanced marginality’ and ‘stigma’ highlights the need for poverty and inequality to be tackled, albeit not in the way it is currently under neoliberalism. From the ‘war on poverty’ to a ‘war on the poor’ and the rise of the penal state As Cummins (2018) notes under neoliberalism welfare and penal policy have seen an ideological and cultural shift which essentially emphasises a ‘War on the Poor’, rather than what should be the case, a ‘War on Poverty’. Esping-Andersen’s (1990) highly influential typology of welfare states is useful here, this seeing three types of welfare capitalism: liberal, with welfare provision largely privatised and public provision at a low level and highly stigmatised; Conservative/corporatist emphasising supporting traditional values and family structures with a focus on such as child/family payments; and social democratic which involves high-quality public services funded by high personal taxation which pushes out private provision. Of course, the typology is based on ideal types, but it is easy to see that the UK’s is a hybrid type, being close to the liberal model with the universal provision by the NHS standing out. However, the current dominant and almost universal ideology of neoliberalism is fundamentally against all welfare state/systems, essentially because of their expense and alleged creation of dependency. To counter this, neoliberalism aims for the extension of markets to all areas, has a deep 143

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antipathy to all kinds of Keynesian/collectivist strategies and emphasises the extension of competitive forces together with aggressive forms of state downsizing, austerity financing and public service ‘reform’ (Peck and Tickell, 2002). Here the state and the market can be viewed as being in opposition or even competition, although arguably this is a somewhat misleading binary because the state plays a key role in markets in terms of investment, infrastructure and supporting research and development. As for the rise of the penal state, increased inequality, combined with a hardening of social attitudes, are the basis for the modern increase in punitive penal policies which is especially evident in the US and, as far as Europe is concerned, in England and Wales. As Wilkinson and Pickett (2009) point out increased social inequality leads to reduced levels of social cohesion and community trust, as more unequal societies become more fractured ones, as the ‘othering’ of social groups – the poor, marginalised, urban communities – is both a cause and an outcome of increased inequality. This also leads to increased punitiveness because less contact between social groups leads to scapegoating and feelings of alienation (Garland, 2004). In short, the expansion of the penal state – the increased use of imprisonment, the overrepresentation of those from racial minority ethnic groups, poor conditions in prisons and the failure to address the needs of the mentally ill – should be a concern for all social workers. Mention of poor prison conditions, the HM Inspector of Prisons 2012– 2013 report (HMIP, 2013) gave a bleak picture of the prison regime, no doubt exacerbated by austerity measures. It showed a 69 per cent rise in suicides in prisons which was described as the most unacceptable feature of a prison system that was experiencing a rapid deterioration in safety standards. It went on to describe a picture of prisons being rife with bullying, violence and intimidation. Drugs were widely available, overcrowding commonplace and there were few constructive activities for prisoners. The healthcare needs of prisoners were also a serious concern with long-term and chronic diseases such as coronary heart disease, diabetes, mental health issues, substance use and HIV being common. Last, but certainly not least, the rate of imprisonment for women had increased by 50 per cent since 2000 even though generally they are incarcerated at lower rates than men. An obvious concern is the huge dislocation and disruption created in the lives of thousands of children, and surely this must be taken into account when looking at any possible benefits of imprisonment of women. Perhaps the overall increased use of penal sanctions, including incarceration, at a time when crime rates have been falling is the best evidence of the move towards the penal state. Furthermore, and summarising some of the earlier points, it is important to note that in all societies those who are incarcerated come from the poorest and most marginalised groups with the negative impact of this not being restricted to the individual serving the 144

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sentence, but on whole communities, particularly poor, urban ones. There is, therefore, no surprise about the earlier reference to the move from what was President Lyndon B. Johnson’s ‘War on Poverty’ in the 1960s to the current ‘War on the Poor’. However, if there is anything positive arriving from austerity, perhaps it is the fact that fiscal retrenchment is exposing some of the inherent contradictions in the penal state. For instance, Home Secretary Michael Howard’s comments in 1993 that ‘prison works’ rings hollow; on the contrary, a more apt slogan is that prison ‘does not work’. As a result, and despite its reduced formal role in criminal justice in England and Wales, social work has a role in making the case that imprisonment does not work on its own terms, as well as having a devastating impact on individuals, families and communities. This is in addition to the fact that welfare retrenchment, particularly under the banner of austerity, impacts disproportionately on the poor and marginalised. There is a desperate need, therefore, to get back to the idea that offenders are individuals that need rehabilitating rather than simply being seen as threats to be managed – the living embodiment of Beck’s (1992) ‘risk society’. In order to do this, however, there is a need for social work to address issues discussed in earlier chapters such as professionalisation, managerialism as well as increasing concerns about privatisation.

Professionalisation, managerialism and privatisation As we saw in Chapter Five, although professional social work in the UK came of age towards the end of the post-war social democratic consensus during the early 1970s, thereafter there was a gradual process of de-professionalisation despite such as the introduction of the social work degree and post-qualifying courses under New Labour. The emphasis changed from practitioners requiring knowledge and understanding towards an emphasis on competencies and the ‘practicalities’ of the job which, according to some politicians, amounted to ‘common sense’. More fundamentally, the change relates to neoliberalism’s questioning of professionalism and the need for this to be controlled by managerialism. As discussed in Chapter Six, managerialism transformed the way welfare organisations carried out government policy so that what social workers do and how is now largely set and controlled by managers (Clarke, 1998). This situation stemmed from neoliberalism seeing the market as superior to the state, this meaning public services needed to be managed in ways drawn from the private sector (Harris and White, 2009a). It links, of course, with the emphasis on the ‘social work business’ (Harris, J., 2003) and the resulting concerns about (de)-professionalisation and managerialism have continued and intensified under the austerity years of the last decade.

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Relatedly, there has been the ever-increasing influence of privatisation and associated concepts of commercialisation, marketisation and competition. Chapter Four referred to New Labour’s dalliance with the possibilities of privatising social work with looked after children and Chapter Six referred to increasing private sector involvement in adult social care during the 1980s–1990s, with this also occurring in relation to children’s homes and fostering provision. The argument for such changes runs along the lines that private firms are intrinsically more dynamic, efficient, innovative, cheaper and that they make things better (Butler, 2019). More recently there has been the ever-increasing influence of privatisation in relation to children’s services and child protection (see Jones, R., 2019). However, if one thinks about the likes of such as G4S, Atos and Carillion, such claims ring hollow, especially when one considers that their attitude to ‘innovation’ often means holding down wages and cutting backroom staff. In short, instead of the social work profession being at the fore in dealing with the social casualties of austerity, much of its focus has had to be on dealing with the challenges in relation to Coalition and Conservative governments’ policies in relation to professionalisation, managerialism and privatisation. Professionalisation Many of the issues in relation to professionalisation are highlighted in the passing of the 2017 Children and Social Work Act, with R. Jones (2019) providing an intriguing chapter title referring to government attempts at ‘creeping political control’ of, and ‘anti-professionalism’ towards, social work. Although changes to a profession normally emanate from within, simply because the profession concerned has the detailed knowledge and understanding, the aforementioned Act was introduced as a Bill in 2016 with very little previous consultation. Furthermore, there were other concerns about the Bill: the promotion of adoption and yet lack of any mention of helping families to care for their children; the intention to give the Secretary of State for Education wide executive powers over children’s legislation and services, as well as social work and social workers; and allowing the Secretary of State to exempt local authorities from statutory requirements and duties in order to encourage innovation. Regarding the latter, surely rights for children and responsibilities for services should not vary between local authority areas, and in addition such changes could have paved the way for privatisation of child protection services. Fortunately, after overwhelming opposition, the exemption proposals were withdrawn. Further disquiet occurred about proposals to increase central government political control over children’s social services in relation to local 146

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safeguarding boards and serious case reviews (see Jones, R., 2019, pp 61–8). However, it was the proposals for social worker regulation, education and accreditation and the links with professionalisation/anti-professionalism that concern me here. The government’s stated concern was that Ofsted had found almost a quarter of councils had social work practice which was judged to be inadequate. In other professions if this was the case and improvement was required, one would expect a professional body to undertake the work. However, at the time there was no professional body despite the College of Social Work being founded in 2012 following recommendations of the Social Work Task Force (2009). Sadly, its founding embryonic board, composed largely at the behest of ministers and civil servants, decided on a costly infrastructure dependent on government funding, with members initially having a minimal role (Bamford, 2015). Then the Department for Education awarded KPMG management accountants a contract to develop a national accreditation process for children’s social workers (see below). This role should have been central to the remit of the College so the failure to get it, set alongside the College’s high operating costs, led to its closure in 2015 under austerity. As R. Jones (2019, p 69) notes ‘the government and civil servants, in influencing how the college were initially structured and then later through the routing of money to a commercial management accountancy company rather than the college, were complicit – indeed central – to the College’s quick demise’. As for social work regulation, the government felt it needed more control. This was after years of rapid churn in terms of regulators in England. New Labour’s General Social Care Council was closed in 2012 under austerity measures and its functions integrated into the Health Professionals Council which was renamed the Health and Care Professions Council. Only four years later the government decided it wanted a new regulator in England for social work only, one which determined who could and could not be a social worker, how they should be educated and by whom, and the content of the education. This eventually turned out to be Social Work England, but while a stand-alone specialist regulator for social workers was welcomed, there were again serious concerns about proposed government control by the Secretary of State. Following overwhelming opposition from such as the British Association of Social Workers (BASW), directors of children’s services and the Local Government Association, the proposed role of the Secretary of State was dropped. However, in February 2017 as the Bill was concluding through Parliament, the government introduced new clauses to give the Secretary of State control of education and accreditation of social workers. These highlighted the government’s preference for fast-track programmes, especially those provided by Frontline, a company providing its own education programmes focussing 147

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on children’s social work especially, child protection. Similarly, there was the Department of Health’s involvement in the Think Ahead programme for mental health workers. Concerns relate to too early specialisation failing to recognise the core professional competencies required of all social workers, while also detaching social work education from universities’ knowledge generation and transmission functions, thereby undermining social work research. Another issue is the generous resourcing of Frontline and its students when university social work education and students are seeing funding and bursaries cut. More fundamentally there is the damaging narrative used to promote Frontline and the very narrow focus of its curriculum on systemic practice at the expense of structural perspectives. Finally, there were worries about how Frontline might easily fit in with a future of privatised children’s social work services, with its trained social workers and managers being the new cadre within privatised services overseeing practitioners increasingly consisting of unqualified social workers. Interestingly, the support for Frontline drew on a call by Martin Narey, a government adviser, for specialist initial education for children’s social workers. But surely the way forward was contained in an extensive and evidenced review held by David Croisdale-Appleby and supported by the social work community (BASW, 2014). This advocated initial generic education and qualification followed by post-qualifying specialist education and continuing professional development. In referring to Narey, it is worth noting other key players influential in determining what social work should consist of and pursuing this without wider engagement with the profession. They included: the Chief Social Worker, Isabelle Trowler; her former co-director from a private company, Morning Line Associates, Steve Goodman; Josh Macalister, leader of Frontline; and Sir Julian Le Grand, professor of social policy at the London School of Economics who, as we saw in Chapter Four, was an adviser to Blair’s New Labour governments. As R. Jones (2019) notes, two major concerns relate to these key players’ lack of social work expertise either in terms of practice or management and, relatedly, the absence and marginalisation of organisations representing practitioners and managers. Mention also needs to be made of the Coalition’s Knowledge and Skills Statements (KSS) for children and adult social workers respectively. They were intended to define the knowledge and skills required with social workers tested against standards set by government. However, they were divisive, separating social workers at an early stage of their career rather than providing a competency statement applying to all social workers. They also undermined the Professional Capabilities Framework developed through the Social Work Task Force which provides a career-long progression framework for all social workers. And yet again they were developed with little involvement of the profession, with one draft KSS statement even including social workers 148

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having to demonstrate positive relationships and attitudes to politicians. Most significantly perhaps, KSS shaped the future education curriculum for children’s social workers and provided the foundation for governmentowned and controlled accreditation process for such practitioners. BASW and Unison members were overwhelming against the proposals again proposing continuing professional development for all social workers. Furthermore, directors of children’s services and senior managers were against the cost involved in establishing the testing and role play setting up the process, arguing that money would be better spent on frontline social work and preventative services. MPs also voiced concerns and again the government had to roll back their plans, all because of their abject failure to work with and listen to the social work profession. It is also important to the introduction of social work apprenticeships. Employer-led and driven, three-year apprenticeships will see trainees completing a social work degree alongside practice, a major concern being that they will ‘dumb down’/‘dilute’ professional standards and lead to further de-professionalisation. After all, what constitutes professional social work should not be what employees say it is, rather it emanates from professional, including international, definitions. Finally, as R. Jones (2019) notes, there is another worrying dimension of the political control of social work (also see below). If children’s social work was opened to the commercial marketplace, standards need to be set and enforced, and one way to do this is by the government taking control of the assessment and accreditation of practitioners whether they are employed by local authorities or by such as G4S or Virgin Care. Managerialism As managerialism has featured heavily in this book, I will not dwell on it in this section. Suffice to say that it continues to dominate social work practice having built on the three Es of economy, efficiency and effectiveness as espoused by the Audit Commission in the 1980s (Bamford, 2015). This ‘new public management’ is a regime which combines the performance management of employees, in this case social workers, and resource use by organisations with a supposed devolution of power from the state to welfare organisations. Various discursive frameworks offer ideological legitimacy to this process including the market, the consumer and management (as opposed to bureau-professionalism) (Granter, 2019). In practice, as far as practitioners are concerned performance is measured not in terms of how far they have met service users’ needs, but to what extent bureaucracy has been completed, how quickly it was done and whether there is any risk. In more ‘managerial speak’, it also amounts to the previously mentioned

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policing of eligibility criteria to determine whether a service is deemed necessary or not. An example of managerialism in action was highlighted following the death of Baby Peter. Following the tragedy, the Coalition government established the Munro Review (2011) to look at child protection. The review was critical of the information and communication technology systems which had increased computer-generated bureaucracy for practitioners and emphasised the meeting of bureaucratic targets. Relatedly, this meant practitioners were deflected from working directly with children and families, in turn resulting in increased possibilities for error. The overall call, therefore, was for a reduction of centrally imposed targets and bureaucracy, with instead practitioners having more scope to exercise professional judgement. However, and despite the view of one of the practitioners mentioned earlier in relation to Working Together 2018 (HM Government, 2018), the reality remains that managers still hold their grip on what practitioners do and how. Thus, practice is ever more drawn into focussing on risk management and audit/ bureaucratic responses which create tensions between the professional values of social work and the actual practice environment. In many senses completing bureaucracy speedily in order to meet targets is the be-all and end-all of practice (Rogowski, 2011 and 2012), a situation exacerbated by the austerity policies of recent years (see, for example, Rogowski, 2018b). Meanwhile, another significant development since the 2000s has been the increased influence of accountancy and accountants in relation to social work (see, for example, Jones, R., 2019; Chow et al, 2019; again see below). Neoliberal values underpin this increased use of accounting, the aim being to privilege values associated with economic efficiency over those emphasising collectivism and organisation resilience. In day-to-day practice terms it leads to managers, and hence social workers, asking questions such as ‘what can we afford?’, ‘which is the cheapest?’ and so on. It is not, as it should be, about fully meeting the real needs of service users, instead wanting to obtain the ‘cheapest deal’ to alleviate whatever is the immediate issue in question. The overall result is the needs of the organisation rather than those of the service user dominate decision-making. Privatisation When it comes to privatisation, again R. Jones (2019, pp 167–260) provides stimulating chapters on such subjects as the privatisation of public services including social care and social work, the experience and outcomes of this, and the impact on social care and social work. It was only in the mid-2010s when social work and statutory children’s services began feeling the brunt of privatisation with its focus on competition, marketisation and the like. As mentioned earlier, the usual reasons put forward 150

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for the changes are that the private sector is better at delivering public services because it is more efficient, cheaper, innovative and so on. R. Jones (2019) looks at various services and the impact of privatisation: schools, education and children’s centres; the NHS; criminal justice and community safety; social security and employment; housing and homelessness. In all areas it is hard to see any positive developments. Indeed, in this chapter I have already referred to problems in relation to housing/homelessness which can be traced back to Thatcher’s sell-off of council housing in the 1980s, since which housing has been increasingly privatised with big subsidies paid through Housing Benefit, and private rented housing replacing council-rented housing. Meanwhile, for example, academies and free schools have been exposed to the free market and competition and one consequence in relation to league tables, for instance, is that there is an obvious and inherent conflict between attaining high academic attainment and meeting the pastoral needs of vulnerable and disadvantaged children. Or again, increasing privatisation of the NHS is perhaps best highlighted by Circle Holding’s taking over of Hinchingbrook Hospital in 2012 which ended in failure and disaster, with it terminating its contract because it had not been prepared for rising A&E numbers and reduced charges for operations. Then, when it comes to prisons, private companies receive contracts to build and run prisons, and seek to make their profits by reducing the numbers and the terms and conditions of prison officers. Finally, there is the renationalisation of probation services in England and Wales after the failure of a chaotic privatisation that put public safety at risk (Grierson, 2019). This ends the outsourced supervision of all but the highest-risk offenders to eight companies in 2015. The part-privatisation was intended to bring down reoffending rates and inject innovation into the rehabilitation of ex-prisoners but the system was beset by difficulties, the National Audit Office criticising the probation service as presenting significant risks to both offenders and the wider public as a result of the changes. Turning to social work and statutory social work more generally, although many might think that children’s homes are provided by local authorities or voluntary organisations like Barnardo’s, 72 per cent of those in England are now privately owned and operated for profit, only 20 per cent by local authorities and 8 per cent by voluntary organisations. Indeed, many local authorities no longer provide and manage any children’s homes but buy in from private providers. A similar situation applies to fostering services, the overall result being that we now have a situation where we have private companies being significant providers of foster care and making profit from public funding of children’s services. Furthermore, private companies have also become significant players in, and making profits from, the recruitment and employment of social workers who then work within local authorities. What is more the growth of private agencies profiting from supplying agency 151

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workers is now a concern throughout much of the public sector. In inner London it has been reported that a quarter of children’s social workers were agency workers and in outer London it was a third. Despite the domination of the mantra of ‘private sector good, public sector bad’ since the 1980s, perhaps it reached its nadir with the collapse of Carillion at the beginning of 2018. Essentially it was a construction company which had expanded by getting government contracts for building and engineering projects, as well as other public service contracts providing such as maintenance, meals and facilities management for schools, hospitals, prisons and the like. However, its demise, and the involvement of auditors KPMG which had given it a clean bill of health up until at least 2019, called into question the whole privatisation project especially when Labour’s leader Jeremy Corbyn vowed to retrieve crucial outsourced services. All this might seem premature given the 2019 General Election result, and there have been false dawns about an end to the privatisation agenda in the past, for example on the election of New Labour in 1997. Nevertheless, surely it is the time for renationalisation rather than privatisation to dominate, this being something taken up further in the concluding chapter.

Conclusion For over a decade after the financial/banking crisis, neoliberalism and associated austerity have dominated social work and social welfare. Many hoped the financial crash of 2008, ensuing Great Recession and Coalition/ Conservative governments’ obsession with austerity would be fatal blows to neoliberal ideology. However, although the election of Trump in the US and Brexit in the UK represent rising discontent with the social and economic costs of neoliberalisation, the ideology not only survives but, in many ways, thrives (Farnsworth and Irving, 2018). This is despite the growth in poverty and inequality, together with massive cuts to public services, which have all heavily impacted on social workers and the people they work with. How has this happened? The antecedents originate in the free market/neoliberal consensus of recent decades, a consensus which arguably has taken its toll on democracy itself (Stiglitz, for example 2017, 2019). Put very simply, we can see the financial/ banking crisis in four stages, all of which relate to neoliberalisation. First, deregulate or allow light touch regulation in relation to financial/big business conglomerates. Second, pay trillions to bail out the banking sector when problems arise. Third, use austerity wage repression, expenditure cuts to public services including those associated with welfare and benefits, to load the costs onto ordinary people. Fourth, blame all the resulting disaster on immigrants and the EU. Echoing some earlier comments, the result of all of this has been that families and local councils have been on the receiving end 152

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of cuts to welfare benefits, housing and support services such as children’s centres and youth work, all this coupled with low in-work incomes and increasing income insecurity. Importantly, expenditure on local authority children’s services has been drastically reduced despite rising demand and growing numbers of children. There is also a funding crisis in relation to adult social care resulting in ever more tightening of eligibility thresholds. A key question is how has austerity and resulting adherence to neoliberal ideology managed to remain relatively unscathed in political circles over recent years? Despite the challenges and in many ways the initial success of Labour’s Jeremy Corbyn, why is this? A major factor, and related to the four stages referred to earlier, is because three years of Brexit preoccupation has sucked the life out of much serious political debate. There are few who would doubt that the chaos surrounding Brexit has meant that, for example, the serious public expenditure cuts referred to, including, for example, the NHS, education, the police and, particularly closer to home for readers of this book, children’s and adults’ social care have been neglected. One result is that social workers often face the brunt of, in effect, having to say to service users that their problem/issue is not serious enough for help and services to be offered. Then, when it does become a serious enough issue, in relation to children for instance, it can lead to authoritarian responses about parents/ carers needing to change their behaviour/lifestyle or face the possibility of having their children removed. Bearing all this in mind, the possibilities for social workers to engage in genuine relationship-based practice have certainly been further reduced. Relatedly, the possibilities for progressive, indeed critical/radical practice can seem even more remote. However, despite such initial pessimism, there remain voices of hope, ones which continue to see the possibilities of relationship-based, progressive practice on critical/radical lines. It is to such views that I turn to in the concluding chapter. Notes 1

2

3

In addition to massive public expenditure cuts, the preoccupation with austerity, and indeed Brexit, has often led to considerable ambiguity and inertia by the Coalition and Conservative governments of the last decade. Two examples are policies in relation to youth crime/young offenders (see Case, 2018, pp 295–6), and adult social care with a Green Paper promised in 2017 but, as I write, is still awaited. But see, for example, Beresford (2016) and Chapter Four in Featherstone et al (2018) regarding mental health/disability and children and families service users’ views, many of which are concerned about the ‘high challenge’ and ‘low support’ of much of current social work practice. The views presented here can be linked to those from such as Unison (2017).

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Discussion points • To what extent has Brexit served to drown out discussion of the effects of austerity policies on social work and welfare provision, as well as public services more generally? • A key role for social work is to challenge increases in poverty and inequality by ensuring that such issues form a key element of practice rather than being marginal to it. • (Re-)Professionalisation of social work is needed to counteract the domination of managerialism as well as moves to the privatisation of child protection and social work.

Further Reading For a powerful critique of draconian public expenditure cuts – austerity – as being the way to deal with the financial/banking crisis see Blyth, M. (2013) Austerity: The History of a Dangerous Idea, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Cummins, I. (2018) Poverty, Inequality and Social Work: The Impact of Neoliberalism and Austerity Politics on Welfare Provision, Bristol: Policy Press, expertly examines austerity and its impact on social work and welfare provision. Jones, R. (2019) In Whose Interest? The Privatisation of Child Protection and Social Work, Bristol: Policy Press provides a detailed, authoritative account of increasing concerns about the privatisation of child protection and social work.

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Conclusion: Critical/radical possibilities in ongoing neoliberal times Chapter summary The current neoliberal consensus sees social work’s continued domination/subjugation by managerialism, the preoccupation being to control practitioners, ration resources/ services and assess/manage risk. This presents challenges for relationship-based and critical/radical practice. Nevertheless, opportunities exist as outlined by such as Paul Michael Garrett, Iain Ferguson and Bill Jordan who point to ways forward, both in terms of practice with service users and in working towards a more socially just and equal world.

Key learning points • Despite ongoing challenges, opportunities for critical/radical practice need to be taken up by practitioners by working alongside service users on the issues they face. • As well as practising critically/radically to addressing immediate needs, practitioners need to work collectively on issues related to creating a better, more humane and socially just world. • Globalisation and climate change raise many issues for social work including global inequalities and economic problems which require a proactive and sustainable international social work.

Social work is a practice-based profession and an academic discipline that promotes social change and development, social cohesion, and the empowerment and liberation of people. Principles of social justice, human rights, collective responsibility and respect for diversities are central to social work. Underpinned by theories of social work, social sciences, humanities and indigenous knowledge, social work engages people and structures to address life challenges and enhance wellbeing. (International Federation of Social Workers, 2014)

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This global definition of social work was approved by the International Federation of Social Workers (IFSW) General Meeting and the International Schools of Social Work General Assembly in July 2014. It updated the previous IFSW definition of social work (IFSW, 2000) which appeared in the first edition of this book. It continues to reflect the day-to-day practice of most social workers, even if it is not always acknowledged. Social work interventions range from psycho-social processes to involvement in social policy, planning and development and include counselling, clinical social work, group work, family therapy and advocacy thereby helping people obtain services and resources in the community. Also included are agency administration, community organisation and social/political action aimed at impacting on social policy and economic development. However, again as noted in the first edition, following the changes arising from the neoliberalism of recent decades, many of the methods of intervention referred to are rarely used by British social workers (Horner, 2009). This is because ‘in the broadest sense, the purposes of [and the practices] of social work are determined by prevailing political ideologies’ (Howe, 2002, p 86). In short, we remain in neoliberal times which continues to impact negatively on social work largely as a result of managerialism. As White (2009, p 129) puts it, social workers in the UK have largely ‘been turned into unreflective people-processors by waves of managerialism over the last 30 years and, more recently, by the intertwining of managerialism with New Labour’s modernisation agenda’. This, of course, continues and has intensified after a further decade of neoliberal/austerity-inspired Coalition and Conservative governments. The goals of marketisation and reducing public expenditure have seen increased managerialism aimed at controlling social workers and in turn financial costs. If intervention occurs, it is supposed to be evidence-based rather than professional preference or opinion. In most cases, however, unless there are child protection/safeguarding concerns or a serious risk to oneself or others, little is offered. Interventions that do occur are usually of a controlling, authoritarian nature, amounting to service users being told to change their lifestyles or face the consequences, which could mean either losing their children or their liberty. Furthermore, despite demographic pressures and social change, when it comes to social work with older people, it has continued to decline as core policy initiatives such as personalisation dominate (Lymbery and Postle, 2015; Carey, 2019). Despite the foregoing, and as I have argued previously (for example, Rogowski, 2013, 2016, 2018b), there are a range of academics and commentators informed by a critical/radical perspective who manage to retain a sense of optimism about the future of social work. Three important ones are: Garrett (for example, 2003, 2009b, 2014, 2017) who focuses on the remaking or transforming of social work with children and families; 156

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Ferguson (2008, 2011, 2019; Ferguson and Woodward, 2009) who wants to reclaim social work together with reasserting a radical approach (see also, for example, Fenton, 2019; Lavalette, 2011, 2019a and b; Turbett, 2014); and Jordan (for example, 2007, 2008, 2010) who looks at re-working the relationship between social work and well-being. All develop important arguments and there is merit repeating some of them here. In addition, there is important recent work in relation to deprivation/poverty and child protection (for example, Bywaters, 2015; Bywaters et al, 2018), together with calls for a social model of child protection rather than one linked to crisis and bureaucratic intervention (Featherstone et al, 2014, 2018). Finally, the results of globalisation and climate change, not least global inequalities and economic problems, call for a sustainable international social work for the 21st century (Ferguson et al, 2018). All such issues, together with critical/ radical possibilities and practice examples, form the basis of this chapter.

Remaking and transforming social work Paul Michael Garrett (for example, 2003, 2009b, 2014, 2017) provides a sustained, critical account of the changes afflicting social work with children and families as a result of neoliberal rationality. As we have seen, ‘neoliberal transformation’ and its impact on social work has certainly been negative but if one turns to theorising neoliberalism more generally, more positive points emerge. This is because neoliberalism, although the dominant ‘common sense’ or ideology, does contain flaws and inconsistencies. In the first place, whereas the role of the state is to produce conditions conducive to neoliberalism, as Bourdieu (2001) reminds us it is not just simply something that is in the hands of the ruling class. The neoliberal state is complex and, at times, contradictory thereby including spaces for potential opposition. It may not be completely neutral or completely independent of the dominant sources of power in society, but the more advanced it is, and the greater the social advances it has incorporated, the more autonomous it can be. Then there is the fact there is a disjuncture between neoliberalism which exists at the theoretical level or as a system of thought, and the day-to-day realities (Brenner and Theodore, 2002). For instance, there is a disjuncture between the ideology of neoliberalism – a utopia of free markets without state interference – and its practical political operation and effects which have seen an intensification of state interference to impose market rules in all areas of social life. In addition, whereas neoliberal ideology entails that selfregulating markets providing the best allocation of investments and resources, neoliberal political practice has resulted in market failures (the 2008 financial/ banking crisis is an obvious example), new forms of market polarisation and an intensification of uneven development. One factor to consider is that neoliberals often do not have a blank canvas on which to operate and 157

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so falter because they must engage with ingrained cultures which, because they are not in tune with neoliberal ‘common sense’, generate resistance. Social workers, along with practitioners in a range of other professional fields, often have a loyalty to the practices and norms of their discipline as well as what amounts to the forced upon practices and norms of the market. The resulting tension between a value-base reflected in a humanistic code of ethics can lead to opposition to the privatising of services, together with the development of counter strategies to ‘modernisation’. Garrett (2009b), following Bourdieu (for example, 2001; Bourdieu et al, 2002) and Gramsci (see, for example, Joseph, 2006; Robinson, 2006), goes on to show how winning the ‘hearts and minds’ is part of the neoliberal project. It is useful to dwell on this a little here, simply because of the lack of hope currently felt by many social workers. The main political and social struggle of the present is that against the scourge of neoliberalism, notwithstanding the difficulties arising from the discursive formulation which disguises the true intent of the project. At least two points are worth emphasising here. First, there has been a massive redistribution of wealth in favour of the rich as, for example, has occurred in the UK and US over recent decades. Importantly, in these two countries, the regressive changes reversed trends that occurred in the social democratic era. Second, and related, there is the insecurity and general precariousness inflicted on the majority of people, not just in their working lives but also in relation to their experiences of services covering health, education and welfare more generally (Young, 2007). The fact is that when taxation was more progressive it helped fund a robust welfare state which since the mid1970s has increasingly been dismissed as a failed experiment that encouraged dependency and could not be afforded. This is despite such services making a real and lasting difference to people’s lives irrespective of their wealth. Since then various neoliberal governments have increasingly encouraged, even pressurised, individuals to become more responsible for themselves and their families in all aspects of their lives. Simultaneously, rather than ensuring all hospitals or schools are of a good standard, these organisations or ‘businesses’ are forced, through various targets and performance indicators, to compete with each other in order to survive. Individuals, or ‘consumers’ and ‘customers’ as they now tend to be referred to, face increasingly intrusive questions and often coercive measures in order to obtain whatever services or benefits they might be able to receive. This latter comment certainly often applies to those who approach social workers for help or advice. A conservative revolution An important feature of ‘conservative revolutions’ (Bourdieu, 2001, p 35, emphasis in original) is that they present restorations as revolutions, 158

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something ‘new’, ‘modern’ and amounting to ‘modernization’. Thus, the current revolution sanctions and exalts the reign of financial markets which, perversely, serve no other law than to make the maximum profit no matter what the costs to fellow human beings. The esteem in which financial markets are held also fails to acknowledge the inherent dangers of unbridled selfishness and greed which led to the Great Recession of the late 2000s. Instead of a narrow and short-term concern with economics itself, there should be far more emphasis on ‘economics of happiness’ (Bourdieu, 2001, p 40) something which I return to through Bill Jordan’s work. Bourdieu (2001, p 37) is also aghast at the dismantling of the ‘economic and social bases [not least the welfare state] of the most precious gains of humanity’ and also queries what he sees as essentially the falsehood of globalisation, which is often merely rhetoric invoked by governments in order to justify their surrender to financial markets. Many intellectuals and trade unions oppose this rhetoric, as do green/environmental, feminist and anti-racist campaigners (Leonard, 1997), all of whom have formed alliances in anti-globalisation/ capitalist protests. What they all have in common is seeing the possibility of a more just and equal world. Turning more specifically to social work, a similar optimism can be found, even if it has to be acknowledged that many social workers feel abandoned, disowned, even disillusioned or demoralised, by having to deal with the ‘material and moral suffering that is the only certain consequence’ of neoliberalism (Bourdieu et al, 2002, p 183). More positively, however, there is an important contradiction and with this some hope. This contradiction is that the ‘initiative, the inventiveness, if not charisma of those functionaries [social workers] who are the least imprisoned in their function’ is the only way that their bureaucracies can actually function because otherwise the bureaucracy would in effect silt up and paralyse itself. Moreover, this contradiction opens up a space where freedom and initiative can be used for the benefit of users and to ‘defend the bureaucracy itself ’ (Bourdieu et al, 2002, p 191). Seeing ‘modernization’ as ‘conservative revolution’ shows how the struggle against neoliberalism involves a struggle over meaning, with Gramsci’s notion of ‘hegemony’ being of particular relevance. ‘Hegemony’ implies the active and practical involvement of the hegemonised groups which can be contrasted with the dominant ideology concept which arguably is more about a more static and passive subordination (Joseph, 2006). Consequently, for a hegemonic project to work it must address and respond to people’s lived experience of the world. In relation to children’s services, for example, as Garrett (2009b) shows, appeals have to be made to professional values and intuitions in order to win over people who might have doubts and anxieties (see, for example, Chapter Four in relation to social work practices). Consequently, Gramsci was keen to stress how rule or dominance is 159

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something that is constructed rather than merely given. This requires us to consider the various and potentially opposed future projects, even if there are dominant voices and forces (Clarke, 2004). Attention has also to be given to words, in that there are key words and phrases which can, often without being noticed, contribute to the neoliberal hegemonic order. ‘Modernisation’, ‘transformation’ and ‘flexibility’ are obvious examples, but there are other more welfare-orientated words and phrases such as ‘problem families’, ‘the underclass’, ‘social exclusion’, ‘welfare dependency’, ‘consumer’ and ‘customer’ which should all be investigated and contested (Garrett, 2017). Despite the emphasis on words and discursive struggle, Gramsci also acknowledged the need for a more orthodox politics based on such as political parties, trade unions, professional associations and social groups in which it is possible to create counter-hegemonic strategies aimed at social change. An opening up of progressive possibilities Having looked at some possibilities for resisting the neoliberal tide, albeit at a mainly abstract or theoretical level, Garrett (2009a) indicates how the tragedy of Baby Peter initially created space for a more progressive debate of the ‘transformation’ of children’s services and social work for children and families. As discussed in Chapter Four, Every Child Matters (DfES, 2004) and the Children Act 2004 saw New Labour introduce various organisational changes and measures which amounted to the increased bureaucratisation and control of the social work task; the introduction of paper and electronic tools which had to be completed speedily was emblematic of this. Significantly, however, many social workers were wary, even distrustful, about the direction of the ‘reforms’. The messages from two conferences held in 2006 (one which I attended and referred to in Chapter One) was ‘that many practitioners felt under threat from a New Labour administration seemingly ‘tough on social work and tough on the values of social work’ (Garrett, 2009a, p 534). Then again, the Audit Commission (2008, p 1) reported that Children’s Trusts, the successors to Social Services Departments, were ‘confused and confusing’ with ‘little evidence of better outcomes for children and young people’. Although professionals were ‘working together’, much like they always had, this was ‘often through informal arrangements outside the trust framework’. Trusts were found to ‘get in the way’ of this, and their overall ‘purpose [was] “unclear”’. In 2008 the political and media furore over Baby Peter began in earnest, even on occasions displacing coverage of the growing economic crisis. One could argue that the tragedy of Baby Peter, with its easily identifiable ‘evil-doers’, was some sort of sanctuary from the new, unfolding politics of insecurity and anxiety instigated by the ever-deepening economic

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recession. And if one looks at the main themes of the media frenzy a ‘largely retrogressive politics’ (Garrett, 2009a, p 536) can be discerned. First, the focus was on targeting and vilification of individual public service professionals for failing to protect the child, which was similar to what occurred in the earlier Victoria Climbié case. Threats were even made to some individuals, fuelled by the press’ increasingly hostile coverage. Second, much of the language used was part of the regulatory social agenda of neoliberalism. The partner of Baby Peter’s mother was often described as ‘evil’ and although he may have possessed such a characteristic, simply dwelling on this notion was a far from adequate explanation of what occurred. Neither was linking the tragedy to ‘problem families’, ‘neighbours from hell’ or ‘the underclass’ an adequate answer. Such media commentary perhaps has more to do with an element of ‘class loathing and contempt’ rather than any serious attempt to address the issues (Garrett, 2009a, p 538). Similarly, it was insufficient to merely link the Baby Peter tragedy to a wider societal crisis of a ‘broken society’ as reflected in comments by senior Conservatives including David Cameron. It was left to the joint area review (JAR) of Haringey Children’s Services (Ofsted, Health Care Commission, HM Inspectorate of Constabulary, 2008) to be the first to open up some space for more progressive debates on the ‘transformation’ agenda. The review pointed out that services were inadequate and required improvement, although this raised a number of significant issues. First, attention began to be focussed on Ofsted itself which had previously approved of services in Haringey. The review pointed out that there had been too much reliance on quantitative data, for example how many forms had been filled in within the specified timescale, and not enough on the underlying quality of service provision and practice. Second, the review increased public awareness about the electronic recording system social workers were forced to use, one result being that cases can be allocated without any prior discussion, and another being the amount of social work time spent sat in front of computers (Hall, C. et al, 2008). Third, there was a more sensible debate about what could and could not be achieved by social workers, namely that although generally the child protection/safeguarding system works well (Smith, D., 2004; Pritchard and Williams, 2010), risk and child deaths cannot be totally eliminated. Unlike the private sector which can inflate product claims, social workers, together with others in the public sector, generally cannot and do not. Fourth, attention was focussed on how neoliberal policies, reflected in unfilled vacancies, agency staff and high staff turnover, were impacting on the ability of social workers to deliver effective services (Unison, 2009). Many of the points raised by the JAR report were echoed in the subsequent Social Work Task Force report (SWTF, 2009). As we saw in Chapter Five, 161

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the task force was established in the wake of Baby Peter, and focussed on the recruitment, training and overall quality and status of social work in England. All three major political parties accepted its recommendations but following David Cameron’s (narrow) general election success in May 2010 and the ensuing Munro Review, other than Coalition austerity policies little action resulted. Nevertheless, the Baby Peter case had opened up space for debate about New Labour’s ‘modernisation’ and ‘transformation’ agenda, and again is something I return to.

Reclaiming social work In many ways, Iain Ferguson (2008, 2011, 2019; Ferguson and Woodward, 2009) has similar concerns as Garrett when it comes to the dominance of neoliberalism, how it has changed social work and why the profession should be reclaimed. As argued throughout this book, there are various criticisms of neoliberalism but perhaps the main one is that, despite the arguments about wealth trickling down to everyone, it leads to greater inequality. One has only to note that under the Thatcher and Major governments inequality not only grew, but there was an actual redistribution from the poor to the rich. As a result, New Labour inherited ‘levels of poverty and inequality unprecedented in post-war history’ (Hills and Stewart, 2005, p 1). As stressed in Chapter Seven, poverty and inequality are of vital importance to social workers, simply because most of the people they deal with are poor. However, under New Labour welfare-to-work rather than redistribution was the answer but poverty remained significant with even child poverty, its eradication being a key policy target, remaining stubbornly high. And poverty and inequality, of course, has continued and intensified under the Coalition and Conservative governments of the last decade. Contrary to what many might think, poverty and inequality do matter whether it is on moral grounds and it being incompatible with social justice, because of its relation to other forms of inequality such as health, and because inequality can be linked to the exploitation of others. Another result of the dominance of neoliberalism is a society having been created in which people feel insecure. Beck (1992) sees this as the ‘risk society’ whereby risks are now the by-products of the development of science and technology which affect everyone, with global warming being a prime example. This can, the argument goes, be counter-posed to the earlier risks of ‘industrial society’ which were linked to class, poverty and inequality. From this, he argues that the management of risk has replaced accumulation as the dynamic of neoliberal society. But surely risk, either environmental or social in relation to employment, health, education, and welfare more generally, is a secondary consideration for those whose main concern continues to be the accumulation of wealth. What is also neglected 162

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is a key point that while everyone might be at risk, some are at greater risk than others. Those with wealth can ensure they are less affected by global warming, and they will also be less affected by social risks, being able to ‘choose’, for example, which school their children go to by merely moving home. Meanwhile, those without wealth face a precarious future in the increasingly privatised world in which we live. Ironically, given New Labour’s emphasis was on ‘putting children first’ or ‘every child mattering’ the greatest sense of insecurity was faced by children (UNICEF, 2007). Interestingly, two of the initial leading exponents of neoliberalism, the US and UK, had some of the most unhappy children in the world, with them being anxious and fearful of the future and often involved in such as drug/alcohol misuse and crime. More recently, according to the UN, the majority of rich countries are going backwards in terms of inequality indicators, with the UK having some of the highest levels of child hunger and deprivation among the world’s richest nations (Butler, 2017). Ferguson (2008; Ferguson and Woodward 2009) also takes serious issue with developments affecting social work as a result of neoliberal policies, not least managerialism, competition and marketisation. The bureaucracy associated with completing forms as quickly as possible to meet targets, being care managers and rationers of resources, and increasingly having to be the moral police, all contribute to a profound sense of dissatisfaction among social workers. It is not surprising they are disillusioned about what their job has become and the increasing discrepancy between day-to-day tasks and the values that brought them into the job in the first place. It amounts to a frustration of ‘hopes, beliefs and desires by ideologies and policies which insist that the primary role of social workers is to “manage” “highrisk” families or individuals, to ration increasingly meagre resources, and collude in the demonization of groups such as young people and asylum seekers’ (Ferguson, 2008, p 4). However, with this dissatisfaction the seeds of resistance are sown, and this is not only within those relatively small numbers of critical/radical social workers. Because managerialism and its associated developments undermine all forms of social work practice, dissatisfaction and resistance has potentially spread that much further and thereby embraced a larger number. It is also fuelled and strengthened by the emergence of two types of social movements, namely the social welfare and anti-globalisation/ capitalist movements. Social welfare movements such as disability and mental health users’ have challenged traditional models of social work and ways of delivering services while also being at the forefront of resisting attempts to reduce welfare spending. The anti-globalisation movement is against the neoliberal concern with the accumulation of wealth and exploitation of people and the planet, while also reflecting social work values of respect and social justice. Such factors together, with a re-engagement with a critical/

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radical practice, provide social work with ‘resources for hope’ (Batsleer and Humphries, 2000). Critical/radical practice: theoretical considerations As I argued elsewhere (for example, Rogowski, 2008, 2013), critical/radical practice draws on Marxist thought with problems confronting people seen as social and structural rather than individual, and arising from class, ‘race’, gender and other oppressions. The focus is on political action and social change while simultaneously addressing the immediate needs of individuals. It involves anti-racist/sexist and anti-oppressive/discriminatory perspectives along with such as empowerment and advocacy (Payne, 2014). Put another way, ‘pure’ radical theory was based on class oppression during the 1970s (Bailey and Brake, 1975), this involving five themes (Langan and Lee, 1989). First, most problems experienced by (then) clients were not the result of personal failings but instead were the result of living in a society dominated by inequality, oppression and class division. Second, casework was a way of individualising what were essentially collective problems, this being both ineffective as well as pathologising. Third, there was an emphasis on collective approaches, of group and community work, in addressing the issues of concern. Fourth, as we have already seen, ‘professionalism’ itself was critiqued because, by education and training, social workers were separated from clients/service users and the population at large. This suggested a different, more equal, kind of relationship with clients/service users in which the latter’s knowledge and experience was valued. Finally, the ensuing analysis of society’s ills was a socialist one which sees class as the main divide in society. During the 1980s and into the 1990s the focus on class oppression was complemented by those arising from ‘race’ and gender and other oppressions (Langan and Lee, 1989), by the critical theory of the Frankfurt School and postmodern perspectives (Leonard, 1997; Fook, 2002).1 For instance, critical perspectives emerged in relation to feminism (Hanmer and Statham, 1999; Dominelli, 2002b), anti-racism (Dominelli, 1997) and antidiscriminatory/anti-oppressive practice (for example, Dalrymple and Burke, 1995; Dominelli, 2002a, 2009b; Thompson, N., 2006). At one level such changes are to be welcomed because, influenced by various service users’ movements, they highlighted the oppressions faced by not only women and black people but also those with disabilities, mental health problems and older people. However, at another level, as feminism’s paradigm shift indicates (see Chapter One), whereas commonality provided a basis for joint, collective action, the 1990s stress on women’s identity led to a fragmentation that is part and parcel of neoliberal policies which in turn accentuate the belief in individualism. Importantly, this new emphasis on identity also led to retreat 164

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from class analysis and politics, together with the possibility these offer for collective action. It also meant sidelining issues of poverty and equality, this being a major weakness leading to demands for a return to a ‘politics of redistribution’ (Fraser, N., 1997).2 In practice much of critical social work, at least in its broadest sense, sought to overcome fragmentation and make links between oppression and material inequality. What is more problematic is the extent to which the more extreme postmodern proponents of critical social work can do this. Returning to some of the comments made in Chapter One, these include postmodernism’s radical individualism which rejects all bases of collective identity, the rejection of structural explanations of poverty and inequality, and its moral relativism which amounts to nihilism (Ferguson, 2008, pp 115–18). A key failing of postmodernism is that it provides little in terms of practice or a theoretical framework for making links between individual or group or community work and wider structural processes. For example, it is difficult to understand or effectively challenge the withering away of relationship-based social work without relating this within the context of the marketisation of social work and managerialism. Then again if, following postmodernism, important policy themes are difference, diversity and choice, this can result in the neglect of inequality, increased privatisation, and stricter regulation of the lives of some of the poorest groups in society. Further, the Foucauldian emphasis on the local, the specific and the particular, reinforces and legitimises that neglect, with the failure to address the material realities that shape people’s lives being a feature of postmodern or ‘constructive’ social work (Parton and O’Byrne, 2000). Finally, regarding the charge of nihilism, this is evidenced by postmodernism’s failure to specify mechanisms of change together with not being able to say why change is better than no change. Following such as Callinicos (1999), the postmodern scepticism of the ‘false universalism’ of the welfare state rather than Enlightenment’s promise of universal emancipation is admittedly a problem. However, the postmodern repost is limited in that every universalism is seen as a masked particularism which excludes many, so then you must decide which particularism, or group of particularisms, one prefers. In terms of welfare policy there are inherent dangers in such a view especially when the idea of welfare itself is under threat. This is because it can allow governments wanting to cut expenditure to play groups off each another as they argue over the limited resources on offer. It can also facilitate a backlash against oppressed groups where genuine demands for affirmative action can be portrayed as being at the expense of the basic welfare needs of the majority. The alternative answer to the failings of the Enlightenment project is to seek genuine universality, a social and political order in which everyone is included. It is a world where all humans, regardless of class, ‘race’, gender, age or impairment can co-exist on an equal basis, and where their needs are met and their views valued. 165

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It is about a better world simply because it is impossible to envisage an inclusionary neoliberal/capitalist world (Oliver and Barnes, 1998). A confederation of diversities As always, creating a better world is always the hardest part of any emancipatory project. But there have been and are challenges to neoliberalism in the form of the anti-globalisation movements and concerns with such as happiness and well-being (Ferguson, 2008). The 1990s saw Left politics dominated by concerns with identity and difference, often reflecting distrust between the various groups resisting different aspects of oppression and exploitation. However, what was significant in the anti-globalisation movement was its ability to bring together the disparate groups – trade unionists, environmentalists, peace campaigners, feminists, socialists and many others. It amounted to ‘unity in diversity’ (Leonard, 1997, p 177) and such protests could arguably lead to the establishment of a new kind of political party, one where member organisations join together not to obliterate their separate identities, but to express them in part through solidarity. Such a party could be described as a ‘confederation of diversities’. Being involved politically might be all well and good but what about scope for a critical/radical social work practice? As always, radical social work has always been stronger in theory than practice, this being especially so in the UK given the demise of group and community work as being essential components of practice. Nevertheless, social workers can pursue ‘radical ideas in practice … in their individual work with service users, through the relationships they build with them, the attention they pay to their needs and rights and in their own personal recognition of the oppression and discrimination they face’ (Ferguson and Woodward, 2009, p 75). Examples of this, perhaps more restricted view, of radical practice are given later in this chapter regarding children and families, but at this stage it is worth elaborating on the current concern with happiness and well-being which Ferguson comments on, but which is a major theme of Jordan’s work as he seeks to reinvigorate social work.

Social work, welfare and well-being Like many others, Jordan (for example, 2007, 2008, 2010) has never been comfortable with the narrow market mentality of neoliberalism. Drawing on developments in Europe, North America and Australasia, his essential argument is that we are living on the cusp of a cultural transformation. This entails a move from societies organised around economic growth and material consumption, to ones focussing on well-being and sustainability. 166

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This challenges the assumption that happiness is affected more by their material circumstances than by their physical and mental health, and by their relationship with others. He highlights the significance of personal relationships, trust and participation needed to sustain a decent quality of life, despite the dominance of the economic model, particularly its neoliberal form, which remains the major basis for political and social institutions and policy. As a result, well-being should be seen and accepted in terms of its social value and be incorporated into policy decisions. As he puts it ‘what hurts about being poor is not so much the absence of comforts and luxuries, but the stigma of official surveillance, the contempt of mainstream citizens, the exclusion from civil associations, and the damage to personal relations’. Consequently, ‘survival strategies are stressful because they have to be pursued against the current of society’s complacent assumptions about its own integrity and deservingness’ (Jordan, 2007, pp vi–vii). What is surprising is that it was a Professor of Economics at the London School of Economics rather than a psychologist, namely Richard Layard, whose work has been influential in the well-being debate. Layard (2005, p i) called for a new approach to public policy which promotes the common good and for ‘a shift to a new perspective where people’s feelings are paramount’. What becomes clear is that the promise of neoliberalism has not been fulfilled, despite its claims that the ‘trickle down’ of wealth would result not only in a wealthier society but also a better one, with happier and more contented citizens/consumers. He concludes that although ‘Western societies have got richer, their people have become no happier. … Despite all the efforts … human happiness has not been improved’ (Layard, 2005, pp 3–4). The UNICEF (2007) report on the unhappiness of UK children certainly endorses his point. The fact is that the consumerist society, as well as not leading to greater happiness, has led to greater levels of mental illness (Centre for Economic Performance’s Mental Health Policy Group) (CEPMHPG), 2006). Therefore, happiness, well-being and the overall quality of life, rather than merely increased material consumption, should be the goal. For Jordan (2007) the foregoing analysis provides an opportunity for the value of social work to be re-asserted. This eschews the perspectives of accountants, managers and government ministers, instead re-emphasising social work concerns with relationships and feelings. At a time when the preoccupation is with (often so-called) evidence-based practice, relationships and feelings are not to be regarded as vague, woolly concepts. In fact, evidence-based practice has often tied social work too closely to neoliberal agendas, either of the Thatcherite, New Labour or Coalition/Conservative kind. This has meant an emphasis on individualism, choice and markets with social work represented in terms of gains in independence, choice (and thus mobility) and economic functioning (Jordan, 2006), with personalisation 167

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being an example of this. The well-being agenda reflects a move away from such preoccupations, to one more in line with a future consisting of environmental awareness, a revival of respect and mutuality among ethnic diversity and a vision of our collective quality of life. His work shows how the Third Way’s combination of market-friendly, value-led principles failed, and that in the wake of the 2008 economic crash, public policy was and is in search of a new moral compass (Jordan, 2010). It all resonates with social work concerns rather than with material consumption or the work ethic. For many, the current emphasis on individual consumption and a reliance on big business to deliver personal fulfilment are beginning to look out of place. Arguably, of course, it led to the perhaps brief resurgence of ‘old’ Labour under Jeremy Corbyn. It could be argued that allegedly ‘woolly’ concepts such as ‘relationships’ and ‘feelings’ lead to a loss of intellectual and scientific rigour but this is too simplistic. Social work cannot be satisfactorily represented in terms of gains in independence, choice and economic functioning, rather it must also stress its value in the emotional, social and communal spheres of life Jordan (2007). The very fact that hard-nosed economists are trying to analyse such phenomena certainly provides an opportunity to treat these dimensions of experience with the same level of explanation as the material sphere. The challenge for social workers, therefore, is to move themselves and service users beyond concerns with material consumption and instrumental outcomes. In a culture of choice and self-expression, at the very least happiness and well-being demand a balance by way of emotional closeness, respect and collective solidarity, values that in turn connect to notions of social justice and diversity. The interpersonal economy and social work The value of social work is far more than the neoliberal preoccupation of being able to deliver services to individuals whose well-being is taken to lie in a choice of alternative suppliers or as offering interventions to target specific behaviours. Such a preoccupation involves an emphasis on services packaged and delivered to encourage choice, efficiency and effectiveness, and on commissioning under contract in order to allow costs to be accounted and outcomes recorded. At best, this is a very narrow view of how to maximise well-being, implying as it does that services are one-off experiences which can be consumed one after another. Such a regime overlooks the value generated by the ‘interpersonal economy’ and fails to recognise several issues (Jordan, 2007). First, social work involves interactions with service users in which emotions such as empathy, trust and respect are involved, and it is these mechanisms of the interpersonal economy which produce much of the value of the very same social work/care services. Second, social workers 168

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often deal in long-term dependences, not one-off experiences, and social care itself is not about simply ‘independence’ but about people’s quality of relationships in systems of relationships whereby people give and receive support over many years. Third, social care services create cultures and contexts in which professionals and service users make sense of the world and experience it. Anti-discriminatory and anti-oppressive approaches, for example, come into play so that services are sensitive to gender and ethnic differences and create a diversity of understandings whereby groups are in dialogue about society and social interactions. Furthermore, although individual autonomy and mobility are aspects of well-being allowing people to move between options, the downside is that these are a questionable basis for the social relations of well-being. If there is a significant amount of geographic mobility and changing of options which lead to similar incomes and tastes in some areas, and of poverty and exclusion in others, then it is not conducive to trust, cohesion, and community participation (Jordan, 2006). Services which aim to provide a context for equal citizenship and social justice should be accessible for all, as well as encouraging interactions between different groups and communities. Another point worth considering is how social work practice which focuses on protecting vulnerable individuals, facilitating behavioural change and meeting need is reconcilable with a concern for an individual’s wellbeing. Statutory social work does have a role if it responds by engaging with service users’ own understanding of their identities and the quality of their lives. By analysing problems and interventions in terms of the interpersonal economy it can, for example, reduce harmful emotions and actions while enhancing positive ones, improve relations with friends and neighbours, and even, if extended, lead to activism in a social movement (Jordan, 2007). As such, social work had the potential to be an element in New Labour concerns with such as ‘community’ and ‘cohesion’ in that it shares many of the methods and values of community work, and to try and separate them, as New Labour did, was at best artificial. Furthermore, advocates of evidence-based practice would be hard pushed to find that recent, neoliberal approaches to service delivery have improved outcomes. One has only to recall the increase in children and young people with emotional and behavioural issues or mental health concerns, not to mention those who are imprisoned or in young offender’s institutions. Further, greater material inequality has been accompanied by increases in behaviour that can be linked to feelings of hopelessness and resistance, with self-harm and anti-social behaviour being prime examples. The current concerns about knife crime is merely one, obvious example. Technical, ‘what works’ fixes or tough law and order measures can hardly be said to have been a success, nor can seeing services as sequential one-off experiences, delivered in occasional packages which themselves can even be counterproductive. If 169

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one looks at children and young people who are accommodated or need a social worker for help and support, then this should not be a series of separate experiences with different practitioners or even different social workers. In the case of having to be accommodated, often it can lead to frequent moves with resulting outcomes of educational under-achievement, drug use, offending and eventual homelessness. This could all be remedied by the creation of social value being achieved by having positive and consistent relationships and exchanges between adults, not least social workers, and children and young people. Taken as a whole, a concern for happiness and well-being for all is at odds with a government which adheres ‘to an incoherent version of social order, which jeopardises the very fabric of social reproduction’ (Jordan, 2007, p 140). New Labour’s over-regulation of welfare and social relations, even to the extent of this being, together with aspects of social work, a tool of oppression, was a failure (Jordan, 2010). Moreover, there is little to suggest that anything has changed for the better under the austerity-driven policies of the Coalition/Conservative governments years. During my life we have witnessed a move from a collectivist welfare state to a competitive individualist society where everyone takes responsibility for themselves. If for whatever reason individuals are unable to do this, they are increasingly dealt with in authoritarian ways. What have been lost in this process are collective measures for social protection which have been sacrificed in order to achieve the goals of more flexible market-orientated systems and people. This may have helped the UK and other countries adapt to the demands of globalisation, but it has gone hand in hand with a diminution in qualities such as mutual respect, acceptance and consideration of others. There may be higher living standards for some but in terms of well-being little has changed for the better. Something certainly seems wrong. As Jordan (2007, p 127) succinctly put it: The cult of self, and the culture of change, of adaption to the demands of the markets, does not give us the best possible quality of life, given our technological and organisational capabilities. There is something wrong in economics itself (or, as a Marxist might say, in the logic of capitalism) which limits the possibilities for improving our happiness. Well-being has stalled. A mainstream social order based on self-responsibility, choice and moving between options looks increasingly unworkable given the social problems – drug and alcohol misuse, poverty, knife crime and young offending in general, minority disaffection and so on – that afflict large sections of society. Social work’s concern with, and involvement in, the interpersonal economy provides a more promising arena for ensuring social order in which diversity 170

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and freedom are reconciled with respect and belonging. While, for instance, ‘Every Child Matters’ (DfES, 2003, 2004) acknowledged that children should enjoy as well as achieve, and while social workers and their education colleagues were well placed in promoting a better quality of life in various residential establishments, sadly this did not always occur as their work was often preoccupied with meeting the bureaucratic needs of their organisations. Nevertheless, well-being entered and remains in the public consciousness, and social work can certainly play a part in demanding and working for change to ensure more communal solutions to shared social issues.

Critical/radical possibilities What Garrett, Ferguson and Jordan have in common is a somewhat sanguine view of the future of social work, notwithstanding the difficulties involved in pursuing progressive, critical/radical practice. Garrett is surely correct in his analysis that there are opportunities to challenge neoliberal orthodoxy and its impact on social work. Ferguson is certainly correct to advocate the continued relevance of a critical/radical practice despite the challenges in dayto-day practice. And, as Jordan argues, well-being resonates well with, and provides opportunities for, social work. All these perspectives are a welcome antidote to the neoliberal, managerial-obsessed present, providing hope and inspiration for practitioners committed to critical/radical practice, despite a couple of caveats. First, the progressive possibilities arising from ‘Baby Peter’ remain unfulfilled; completing bureaucracy continues to dominate practice rather than direct work with service users, and as we saw in Chapter Seven the College of Social Work quickly opened and closed. Second, the wellbeing debate is dominated by such as cognitive behavioural therapy to deal with individuals’ problems rather than addressing the structural issues such as poverty and inequality which lead to mental distress (Ferguson, 2008, 2017). Both examples highlight the continued challenges facing social work. Nevertheless, critical/radical possibilities remain, though initially I want to emphasise the very different ways that social work has responded to major political changes and issues in the past (Ferguson, 2019). First, there is active collusion with the state on the basis that it is essentially a helping profession, though a major criticism is it can lead to collusion with extremely oppressive policies such as in Nazi Germany. Second, there is the view that social work is politically neutral, ‘above politics’, though on many occasions this leads to failure to challenge policies and practices that contribute to inequality or oppression while instead focussing on methods in pursuit of professional respectability. And third, there is the critical/radical approach which seeks to address the inequalities and oppressions which lead to enormous damage to people’s health and well-being. The latter, of course, is the perspective advocated here, notwithstanding the difficulties involved. 171

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Fortunately, there is at least one crucial area where critical/radical practice currently seems to be developing and gathering momentum, this being in relation to deprivation/poverty, child protection and the focus on adoption as a response to such issues. Echoing previous comments, there is obviously a need for social workers to address issues of deprivation/poverty and inequality. For instance, such issues significantly impact on mental health and well-being (Pilgrim and Rogers, 2002; Ferguson, 2008, 2017; Jordan, 2007, 2008) as well as my concern here, child protection. Surely it goes without saying that structural inequalities and resulting material pressures impact on parenting (Pelton, 2015) or, put another way, poverty creates stress which can result in such as alcohol and substance misuse which again affects parenting (Bywaters, 2015). Meanwhile, Bywaters et al’s (2018) large-scale study found that children in the most deprived 10 per cent of English small neighbourhoods were over ten times more likely to be taken into care or be the subject of a child protection plan than in the least deprived 10 per cent. Relatedly, since 2010 after which austerity took hold, focussing on the individual family and/or parent and their actions/inactions has become more ethically problematic in the context of key family supports being stripped away: decent incomes, cuts to and benefit sanctions, timely healthcare, family-friendly working, adequate housing, good public transport, local support services and so on (Thoburn and Featherstone, 2019). All this requires a rethink of the current primacy of ‘concurrent planning’ or ‘fost-adopt’ policy, whereby practitioners place children as quickly as possible with new families who have legal adoption as their goal. Importantly, there has to be less of a focus on the ‘risk’ parents/carers pose and far more on their ‘strengths’ and ‘safety’ capabilities which in turn need to be embedded in an understanding of ‘the structural conditions relating to high inequality, poverty, poor housing and strained service provision’ (Keddell and Stanley, 2019, p 413). Essentially, therefore, the argument is for a refocussing towards the various family supports by, for example, practitioners highlighting the lack of/withdrawal of them in assessment and review reports, minutes of meetings and the like. In addition, practice with families facing difficulties in such areas must address them by, for example, advocacy and empowerment strategies with the Department of Work and Pensions, housing providers and the like. Relatedly, it is important to note, and act on, the work of Featherstone and colleagues (Featherstone et al, 2014, Featherstone et al, 2018). They criticise the current social work model which is geared to crisis intervention in relation to child protection and often involves the shaming of parents/ carers (see Gibson, 2019). In contrast they see the value of community social work whereby teams are based in local communities with children and families treated both as individuals and as members of the neighbourhood. It is something I recently argued for (Rogowski, 2018a), and their work is 172

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a critique of the current practice assumption that the harms children need protecting from are found within individual families and caused by acts of omission/commission by parents or carers. Related assumptions include the belief that such acts are due to attachment issues or poor lifestyle choices with intervention being primarily based on protecting children by identifying what distinguishes this family from others in similar circumstances. More worryingly still is the use of data algorithms based on behavioral psychology to help social workers identify potential recurring cases at the point of assessment (Gillingham, 2019; Turner, 2019). Such predictive tools are yet another managerial threat to social work, ones which neglect identifying common challenges to good parenting such as poverty and poor housing, as well as issues arising from seeing procedures, risk assessment and multiagency working as the core to child protection. The argument is for a different child protection narrative; one that acknowledges the impact of poverty and inequality on children and families and which interrogates the causes and consequences of deprivation. It is a powerful counter to much current child protection practice which amounts to punishing the poor as is evidenced by the clear links between deprivation and the rates of children being taken into care (Gupta, 2018). Instead, Featherstone et al’s (2018) social model draws attention to the economic, environmental and cultural barriers to ensuring children are cared for safely. This includes fresh assumptions about the inequalities in children’s chances of living safely with their families, these related to deprivation and other outcomes of inequality such as physical and mental health, and the social and collective strategies which need to be integrated with a humane practice directed at individual families. In short, it is a call for poverty-aware social work (Krumer-Nevo, forthcoming; 2016; also see Feldman, 2019). Much of the foregoing resonates with the recent work of Parton (2019) who, drawing on Connolly et al (2014), sees a combination of authoritarian and permissive collectivism as two progressive value dimensions for developing child protection policies and practices. ‘Authoritarian collectivism’ focuses on intervening in and regulating collective societal behaviour towards children and young people. The emphasis is on legal and cultural change through regulation of communities and organisations with clear standards of behaviour for them to follow while not neglecting the rights of the child. ‘Permissive collectivism’ emphasises the support of communities to improve the wellbeing of children and involves community development and public health approaches. The system is focussed at the community level and encourages a diversity of approaches, with the role of the state somewhat downplayed. Importantly, what is proposed here refutes government claims that they are engaged in ongoing improvement of the child protection system (Featherstone, 2019). Rather austerity policies have increased the number of children and families in poverty while simultaneously reducing the support 173

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available. This, in turn, reinforces the inequalities that limit the potential of growing numbers of children and families, including the abilities of parents/ carers to care for children safely. At this stage it is important to address an old, still relevant, question that often arises from overburdened practitioners: how do you practise critically/ radically when you are increasingly forced into being the ‘hard cops’ of welfare (Cohen, 1975)? This arises because of a key, ever more dominant role they have under neoliberalism: intrusively asking questions, gathering information and inspecting families’ homes and lifestyles. All this is not carried out with the aim of finding out what help and support is needed to provide reasonable care of the children, but with a view to ascertaining any risk and being able to defend their organisation’s reputation if things go wrong. It is a defensive, risk-averse practice rather than one that works with children and families and sees them as potential allies in dealing with the issues under consideration. An alternative to a ‘hard cop’ practice involves resistance to managerial/ organisational discourses and practices, and this is where White’s (2009) notion of ‘quiet challenges’ comes to the fore. Admittedly there can be dangers in pursuing ‘quiet challenges’ with, for example, the questioning of managerial discourse and practices leading to bullying and even disciplinary action, something which I have experienced (see Rogowski, 2016, pp 115–17 for a discussion). Importantly, however, the resilient practitioner will always find ways to surmount this and such challenges can take various forms. One can mystify or conceal knowledge of service users in order to acquire resources, this amounting to the manipulation of knowledge and information on their behalf. Even apparent co-operation with a social work task may conceal resistance; for example, delaying paperwork or assessment plans so that managers are manipulated into taking a particular course of action. Ignoring, bending or re-interpreting rules and procedures also have a role to play. All of these are the beginnings of challenging rather than simply supporting the status quo. Its emphasis is on the caring side of social work, one which is more compatible with social justice and social change. Albeit small-scale and piecemeal, such challenges are nonetheless important as is shown in the following three examples (also see, for example, Rogowski, 2012). Case examples First, a social worker might have to address issues associated with a teenage girl who is continually absconding, staying out overnight, sometimes for days at a time. She also associates with other girls who then ‘hang around’ with or are targeted by men who befriend and sexually exploit them. Again, in reports written for such as child exploitation meetings, instead of focussing 174

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on inadequate parenting, in effect blaming and shaming often single-parent mothers doing their best in difficult circumstances, the practitioner could advocate for more progressive responses such as a group work with the young woman concerned and her female friends (Cooney and Rogowski, 2017) and/or with their mothers. This is despite the fact that few social workers are currently allowed to use this method even though by utilising an empowering model (for example, Mullender and Ward, 1991; Mullender et al, 2013), such group work could focus on the issues and concerns with the emphasis being on the young women/mothers learning from each other’s experiences. For example, the activities of the young women could be related to current society which, despite positive changes influenced by feminism, is still dominated by men, hence the child sexual exploitation scandals in such as Rotherham and Rochdale. A second example relates to the neglect of children who, for instance, arrive at school late or not at all, often ill-clad and hungry, because their single-parent mother is often hung-over from repeated alcohol abuse and has been unable to get up. A neoliberal social work approach would be simply to tell her to change her lifestyle or face the consequences of child protection procedures and care proceedings involving consideration of adoption. A more critical social work approach, however, would work on the issues of concern in a more collaborative/partnership-oriented way by listening to, and wherever possible, acting on, the mother’s and children’s view of the situation. This includes spending time with the family, delving into the reasons for her drinking, her and her children’s worries and anxieties and so on. Financial and housing problems, for example, might be factors. Linking the family members with, and if necessary, accompanying them to, appropriate local groups and agencies dealing with their particular issues might also be needed. Advocating on behalf of their situation might also be required. All this takes time and could well be frowned upon by managers who merely want to quickly process cases, but nonetheless the resilient practitioner will find ways round this and create some space. And third, as practice with refugees, asylum seekers and migrants increases in importance (see, for example, Wroe et al, 2019), an example is a family from abroad with young children fleeing torture who do not have leave to stay in the UK, hence having no entitlement to benefits. Unbelievably there might be managerial comments about them simply having to return to their country of origin or, if they did not ensure their children were being fed and properly cared for, they would face losing them. An alternative response might be to put the family in touch with groups and organisations that specialise in helping people in a similar predicament; ‘Social Workers Without Borders’,3 immediately springs to mind. This could again entail having to advocate directly or perhaps even clandestinely, with that group/ organisation, including pointing out the deficiencies in your own agency’s 175

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response. That group/organisation could then organise/arrange for a solicitor to be involved who in turn could contacted your hierarchy to arrange for weekly financial help for such as food and fuel until the family’s immigration status and so forth had been resolved. Mention also needs to be made of conscientisation, and resulting practice of politicisation and consciousness-raising, about injustices in society. In the past social workers used group- and community-orientated methods to pursue this, though, because of managerial constraints, this is no longer the case. However, such strategies can still be pursued, albeit on a more individual basis by talking with, for example, children and families about the societal, structural issues that lie at the root of the problems facing them. This can include encouraging and/or helping them to write letters of complaint and to contact councillors or MPs about issues and concerns. This is despite the fact that when I once did this, the MP wrote back to the service user saying he could not help because of his busy schedule and rather limply advised that they wait for the housing department to respond to their query. As well as practitioners working on an individual basis with service users in progressive, critical/radical ways, there is also a role for collective action. This means acting with such as the British Association of Social Workers (BASW) on issues of concern including the need to ensure a stronger professional identity. Importantly, BASW has been proactive in addressing the main issues confronting social work today, namely poverty and equality, and the crisis in adult social care. In September 2019 it published an antipoverty practice guide for social work arguing that issues related to poverty are often the core business of social work (BASW and CWIP, 2019). And in October 2019 it began consulting on a model separating decisions about adult social care need and decisions about budgets: assessment of need and the resources required would be a matter between the practitioner and service user. The decision about how much could be afforded would be a subsequent and transparent management responsibility. Another key player is the Social Work Action Network, the radical, campaigning organisation of social workers, students, academics, service users and carers which works to develop strategies to resist managerialism. Trade unions, of course, can, and do, assist in such processes. Broader social groupings also have roles to play, an example being the anti-globalisation/ global justice movement. This movement is significant because of its ability to bring together disparate groups – trade unionists, environmentalists, peace campaigners, feminists, socialists and many others – to challenge the neoliberal globalised world. Indeed, such globalisation has opened up many concerns for social work concerning the retreat or restructuring of the state in relation to welfare, and the privatisation of social work and social care. Then there are increasing global inequalities and economic problems, as well as issues in relation to migrants, refugees and climate change (Ferguson et al, 176

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2018). Climate change is of ever-increasing importance (see, for example, Dominelli, 2012, 2019) and is highlighted by the Swedish schoolgirl Greta Thunberg emerging in the UK in April 2019 as one of the world’s leading climate activists and being nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. The previous year she had skipped school and sat in front of the Swedish parliament protesting against inaction on climate change, thereby becoming one of the figureheads of a school climate strike movement which eventually swept the globe in the form of Extinction Rebellion. In sum, working individually in one’s day-to-day practice, as well as collectively, means social work can work towards a different, more just and equal world, not least because more equal societies are better for everyone (Wilkinson and Pickett, 2009). Essentially, my argument is that despite challenges, not least from the ongoing global consensus of neoliberalism, social work has much to contribute in terms of advancing human wellbeing. Despite the Great Recession and ensuing decade of austerity, the belief in free markets and limited state intervention remains, with resulting policies affecting developments in social work and social care. The caring and supportive side of state social work does not fit in with the neoliberal ideology which emphasises people having to take responsibility for their own lives supported by family, friends, local community and voluntary organisations where necessary. Any element of ‘care’, particularly adult social care, is often limited to being more of a navigator by helping service users choose the service they require, or even simply a middleman/woman in an increasingly business enterprise aiming to satisfy the customer’s needs, both examples of the ‘slow death of social work with older people’ (Lymbery, 2019). To the extent that a more substantial role remains it is the authoritarian, controlling side, something that has increasingly been in evidence in relation to such as child protection. Dominelli (2009a, p 23) even writes that, ‘Growing inequalities, housing shortages, rising food and fuel prices and the threat of unemployment can combine to confine social work interventions to the dustbin of history as irrelevant or parasitic.’ Issues arising from climate change can, of course, be added to her comment. More positively, Cree (2009) points out the need for social work to fight to hold on to its nascent professional status in the face of the encroachment of other professional groupings and managerialism, rather than in effect retreating and accepting the status quo. This resonates with the work of Garrett, Ferguson and Jordan, and it is to such views, of course, which I veer. This is because despite the many challenges currently besetting social work, opportunities for progressive, critical/radical practice remain and need to be taken. This includes practising individually and collectively along the lines suggested; if this is not done, the road will be left clear for those more concerned about maintaining the status quo rather than wanting a better, more just and equal world. 177

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Conclusion Professional social work has changed and developed in response to changed political, economic, social and ideological circumstances, reaching its peak in the UK as the social democratic period was ending. It was a product of collectivism when the state, through the government of the day, played a key role in terms of ensuring the needs of its people – health, education, employment, social security and social services – were met. Social workers provided the answer to social ills either in terms of direct work with individuals, families, groups and communities, as well as arranging, advocating and co-ordinating the work of other agencies to meet needs. They possessed professional knowledge, understanding and skills, deploying these as they saw fit for the benefit of those they dealt with. However, the ideological move to the right and eventually neoliberalism, epitomised by the election of Thatcher as Prime Minister in 1979, fundamentally changed the situation. The welfare state was transformed as a private sector ethos was injected into the delivery of public services together with improved targeting, cost-cutting measures, and more ‘consumer choice’. The selflessness of social workers and others, together with their ability to make effective use of public funds, was challenged by the view that citizens should approach welfare provision as they would as a private consumer (Page, 2009a). By the end of the 1990s the welfare state was no longer regarded as aiding social solidarity or redistribution, instead being a means to provide consumers with tailored, cost-effective services. Thatcherism succeeded ‘in securing legitimation for the role of the market in the delivery of heartland social and welfare services, and in the role of management in securing cost effectiveness’ (Ferguson et al, 2002, p 165). New Labour embraced neoliberalism and the new welfare culture, envisaging a modernised welfare state as having to work with the grain of market imperatives (Page, 2009b). No longer a social democratic party aiming to change society on egalitarian lines, it merely attempted to remove barriers to opportunity in the free market (Jordan, 2010). Themes included the welfare state being active rather than passive, the involvement of private and voluntary bodies, an emphasis on the individual in advancing their own welfare and a concern with the quality and performance of services. Such issues have been developed and taken further by the austerity policies of Coalition and Conservative governments since 2010. Then there are major political changes relating to Brexit, the election of Trump and the rise of nationalism, populism and authoritarianism in parts of the world (Jordan, 2019a & b), all of which are related to neoliberalism’s failure to meet the needs of the many, rather than just those of the few. More positively was the resurgence of the Labour Party and its more robust social democratic,

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even socialist, roots under Jeremy Corbyn, albeit it was defeated by Boris Johnson’s Conservatives at the 2019 General Election. Managerialism and completing bureaucracy speedily to meet organisational rather than service users’ needs might continue to dominate social work, but all is not lost. Practitioners might continue to face the tensions, dilemmas and contradictions arising from the intensification of work and the individualisation of users, nevertheless the inconvenience of, albeit reduced, discretion stubbornly remains (Harris and White, 2009b). In short, and as I hope I have shown, a niche can be found for some progressive and critical/radical possibilities even in the ongoing neoliberal world. Notes 1

2

3

As alluded to in Chapter One, it is also important to note the notion of intersectionality: in thinking about how inequalities persist, categories like class, ‘race’ and gender are best understood as overlapping and mutually constitutive rather than isolated and distinct (see, for example, Cree and Philips, 2019). For an up-to-date consideration of social work issues in relation to diversity and difference see Bhatti-Sinclair and Smethhurst (2017). Social Workers Without Borders is a registered charity that supports asylum seekers, refugees and those impacted by borders. Their involvement with service users adheres to professional ethics and values laid down by registering bodies and the International Federation of Social Workers.

Discussion points • Explain how and why the progressive possibilities arising from Baby Peter, reclaiming social work and the critical/radical tradition, and the concern with well-being have continued relevance? • Overall, to what extent have we seen the rise and fall of social work as a profession? • What are the key challenges to practising critically/radically and how can they be addressed/overcome?

Further reading S. A. Webb’s (2019) edited collection The Routledge Handbook of Critical Social Work, Abingdon: Routledge provides an excellent, comprehensive overview of critical social work research and future trends by the world’s leading scholars. A welcome and much-needed publication for those looking for social justice in relation to child protection is provided by Featherstone, B., Gupta, A., Morris, A., and White, S. (2018) Protecting Children: a social model, Bristol: Policy Press.

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Social Work Michael Lavalette’s (2019a) edited collection What is the Future of Social Work? Bristol: Policy Press provides a thorough analysis of the existential and ideological challenges facing social work, together with policy proposals for the future of the profession and valuable solutions for students and practitioners in their day-to-day work.

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Author’s note This book has traced the development of social work in the UK from charitable work in the 18th and 19th centuries to its high point as a profession in the 1970s. Thereafter neoliberalism and globalisation transformed the landscape of social work both here and elsewhere. Over the last 40 years, policies arising from the belief in the superiority of free-market economies to ensure human well-being have had negative consequences for social work and social welfare. There has been the dismantling of a social democratic welfare state to one that is more punitive with resources cut and new public management introduced to control what practitioners do and how. Organisations’ rather than service users’ needs dominate as social work has been de-professionalised including social work education being made to prioritise delivery methods and academic subjects which resonate with neoliberal regimes. Last, but certainly not least, neoliberalism itself has greatly increased poverty for many, along with inequality, throughout the world. As the book was nearing completion the 2019 General Election took place and the Conservatives won with the biggest majority since Margaret Thatcher in 1987. As one of my academic friends said in reference to Labour’s election mantra, ‘It looks like the many voted for the few’. It remains to be seen whether Boris Johnson turns out to be a ‘One Nation’ prime minister as he said he wanted to be or, perhaps more like, a right-wing populist. Importantly, he will be preoccupied by the coronavirus pandemic for some considerable time and predicting the outcome is difficult, other than saying it will come at unprecedented economic and social cost which could involve even more austerity. However, all this should not detract from important comments about neoliberalism’s wider canvas. There is also, of course, the direct impact COVID-19 will have on social work: for instance, as I write, under the 2020 Coronavirus Act councils can suspend certain duties to manage workforce shortages and demand pressures rising from it. Neoliberalism’s ascendency in the 1980s involved telling people they could not have, for example, adequate social protection, decent wages, progressive taxation, or a well-regulated financial system because the country would lose competitiveness and jobs in the process (Stiglitz, 2017). On the plus side they were told that eventually there would be increased economic growth and resultant benefits would trickle down so everyone would be better off. However, four decades later this has not occurred as the fruits of economic growth overwhelmingly went to a few at the top; income and wealth flowed up, rather than trickled down. Furthermore, all this culminated in the financial/banking crisis of 2008 and ensuing Great Recession leading to austerity policies which meant the most poor and vulnerable paid for the excesses of the rich and powerful. Despite all this, 181

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neoliberalism itself emerged remarkably unscathed, albeit there have been some unforeseen consequences. Over recent years many people have increasingly felt alienated, even conned, by an out of touch elite, with this having major political repercussions such as the election of Trump and the Brexit referendum and ensuing machinations. In addition, we have witnessed the rise of authoritarian nationalism and right-wing populism in other parts of the world notably Brazil and eastern Europe. In short, concerns about the consequences of neoliberalism have led many on the political right to immediate and supposedly obvious answers, these often including blaming the ‘other’, usually immigrants. In a sense there has also been a resurgence of left-wing populism in the form of Syriza in Greece and Podemos in Spain, as well as Bernie Sanders in the US and Jeremy Corbyn in the UK. Despite his 2019 General Election defeat, arguably following a rightwing/establishment media smear campaign, Jeremy Corbyn offered a robust social democratic, even socialist, alternative to neoliberalism in terms of an increased role for the state by, for example, nationalisation of key industries and increased taxation for the top 5 per cent of society. In addition, following Jones and O’Donnell (2018), there are strong arguments for alternatives to neoliberalism involving more equality and democracy. They draw on Thomas Marshall’s classic book on citizenship published in 1950 which chronicles the development of a trilogy citizen’s rights in Britain; civil (legal), political and social. They advocate a fourth phase: the development and implementation of democratic participation and accountability from the bottom to the top of society. Already many community and voluntary organisations, as well as more formal organisations such as trade unions and small businesses, contribute to sustain their localities. Their fundamentally optimistic message is that the best hope for greater equality and quality of life lies with people themselves, in more, not less, democracy. In addition, of course, there is a need for new social policies such as a basic universal income for all (Jordan, 2019a & b). Arguably, all this complements much of ‘Corbynism’ though there must be serious doubts about this occurring under a right-wing populist, Tory government. Returning more directly to social work, admittedly the prospects look challenging as it continues to be shaped by the managerialism of targets and markets aimed at ‘processing people at the behest of an increasingly brutal and brutalising “welfare” state’ (Lavalette, 2019b, p 161). However, the profession can and does make a serious difference to people’s lives, this evidenced by the following message which I received at the end of 2019: I am not sure if you remember me … you looked after me in the late 80s. I just wanted to drop you a line to say, well … ‘Thank you’.

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I cannot imagine how much work I was for you. It seems a lifetime ago now, but I have recently obtained my paperwork from Social Services and I had a good laugh but also felt terribly guilty about the way I behaved some of the time!! I have often thought of you and if you were sat somewhere fishing, enjoying your retirement! Anyway, thanks a million for everything. I am positive and will not have been the only young person who you had a positive impact on. Much love. At its best social work is greatly valued by service users and there certainly remains an important place for the profession in society. After all, it is committed to understanding and supporting people’s lives in an unequal and divided society, assists service users at times of difficulty, and offers solidarity and empathy. It should not be limited to an increasingly narrow set of skills and tasks focussing on such as rationing and risk in a residual ‘welfare’ state; like Lavalette (2019b, p 161) my contention is that ‘another social work is possible’, one which the profession should continue to strive for both day to day in the form of critical/radical practice by individual practitioners, as well as by working collectively to challenge and change the socially unjust and unequal neoliberal world we currently inhabit.

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206

Index

A

academy, the 96 and the CCETSW (Central Council for Education and Training in Social Work) 97–100 accountancy and accountants 150 Act of Settlement 1662 26 Action for Children 3, 83 adoption 146 advanced marginality 134, 142 advocacy 61 ‘Affirming Our Value Base in Social Work and Social Care’ conference, 2008 1–2 age 15, 16 Aldgate, J. 85 Alston, Philip 132–3, 137 Althusser, L. 99 anti-globalisation/capitalist protests 159, 163 anti-oppressive practice 47, 48, 60–2, 99, 164, 169 anti-poverty practice 176 anti-professionalism 96 anti-racism 164 anti-social behaviour 3, 74, 82, 84, 169 apprenticeships 149 approved social worker (ASW) 20, 107 assessments 123 adults and older people 85 see also CAF (Common Assessment Framework); Framework for Assessment; needs-led assessment; standardised assessment framework; WCA (work capabilities assessments) ASSET/ASSET Plus form 108 assimilation 60 ASW (approved social worker) 20, 107 asylum seekers 175–6 Atos 146 Audit Commission 88n1, 149, 160 austerity 4–5, 19, 21–2, 109, 130, 132–4, 146, 147, 150, 152–3, 170, 173, 178, 181 Bedroom Tax 135–6 class, poverty and inequality 139–45 Conservative policies 4–5, 109, 130, 134, 135, 152, 156, 170, 178 food banks 136, 137, 139, 141, 143 homelessness 134, 151

impact on social work and social welfare 134–40 knife crime 135, 169, 170 practitioners’ views 137–40 social murder 137, 142 War on Poverty 143, 145 War on the Poor 89n4, 143, 145 see also Coalition (Conservative/Liberal Democrat) government ‘authoritarian collectivism’ 173 autonomy 9, 15, 20, 31, 41, 60, 81, 92, 101, 102, 138

B

Baby Peter 18, 75, 102, 120, 160–1, 171 Munro Review 150, 162 Ofsted 123, 161 SWTF (Social Work Task Force) 23n9, 81, 104–5, 161–2 Bailey, R. 6 Balls, Ed 102 Barclay Report 20, 54–5 Bardsley, L. 128–9 Barnardo, Dr/Dr Barnardo’s 31, 43 Barnett, Canon 28, 30–1 basic universal income 182 BASW (British Association of Social Workers) 2, 3, 8, 19, 40, 120, 147, 149, 176 Beck, U. 145, 162 Bedroom Tax 135–6 behaviour modification techniques 42 Bell, D. 23n6 benefit sanctions 135, 136, 139 Bentham, Jeremy/Benthamism 27–8, 29 Beresford, Peter 1, 124, 153n2 Beveridge, William/Beveridge Report 34, 36–7, 38 Big Society 133 Black feminism 15 Blair, Tony/Blairism 10, 20, 69–70, 74, 75, 83, 148 Blyth, M. 134–5 Booth, Charles 32, 141 Bosanquet, Helen 31 Bourdieu, P. 140–1, 157, 158, 159 Brake, M. 6 Brewster, R. 96–7

207

Social Work Brexit 4, 21, 130, 133, 142, 152, 153, 178, 182 British Association of Social Workers (BASW) 2, 3, 8, 19, 40, 120, 147, 149, 176 ‘broken society’ 161 Brown, Gordon/Brownism 10, 20, 70, 122, 134 Bulger, James 59 bureau-professionalism 114, 115, 117, 119, 149 Burke, B. 61 Bywaters, P. 172

C

CAF (Common Assessment Framework) 3, 79–80, 123 Caldecott Community 43 Callinicos, A. 165 Cameron, David 10, 21, 119, 133, 135, 161, 162 CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services) 139 capability 104 capitalism 12, 23n6, 37, 48, 51, 71, 73, 95, 140, 141, 142, 143 anti-globalisation/capitalist protests 159, 163 Fabianism 25, 31, 33–4, 37, 38, 49, 114, 115 Marxism 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 16–17, 25–6, 32–3, 37, 41, 49, 95, 140, 164 New Left 43–5 care management 4, 20, 48, 64–5, 85–6, 107, 116, 121 Care Professionals Council 105 Care Quality Commission 74 Care Standards Act 2000 74, 100 Carillion 146, 152 Caring for People (Department of Health) 64 casework 12, 29, 30, 31, 35, 36, 41–2, 55, 95, 164 CCETSW (Central Council for Education and Training in Social Work) 18, 19, 20, 40, 74, 90, 91, 96–7 and the academy 97–100 Paper 30 61, 97 CDPs (community development projects) 42, 55 Central Training Council in Child Care 39 Centre for Welfare Reform 136 Certificate in Social Service (CSS) 40, 43, 98 Certificate of Qualification in Social Work (CQSW) 6, 19, 40, 96 Charity Organisation Society (COS) 10, 19, 25, 28–32, 35, 94

charity/charities 18, 20, 26 see also voluntary sector service provision Chartism 26 Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services (CAMHS) 139 children: adoption 172 child guidance clinics 34 child protection 48, 62–4, 172–4 social model of 157, 173 child sexual exploitation 62, 175 child welfare 31, 48, 62–4, 74, 85 community social work with 1, 15, 18, 19–20, 88, 91, 92, 107–8, 109 Conservative policies 62–4 de-professionalisation of services for 106–7 evacuation 36 happiness/unhappiness of 167 insecurity 163 looked after children (LAC) 76–8, 81–2, 83 New Labour policies 76–83 and precarity 163 private sector service provision 128, 151 service rationing 125, 140 sexual exploitation 175 social services for 146–7 see also families Children Act 1948 39 Children Act 1989 54, 63, 64 Children Act 2004 75–6, 160 Children Act Now, The; messages from research (Aldgate and Statham) 85 Children and Social Work Act 2017 146 Children and Young Persons Act 1969 23n4, 40, 54, 58 Children’s Fund 74 Children’s Trusts 74, 76, 88n1, 160 choice 21, 52, 54, 64–5, 72, 86, 87, 92, 116, 121, 125, 127, 129, 165, 167, 168, 170, 178 Chronically Sick and Disabled Persons Act 1970 40 Church of England Temperance Society 31 Circle Holdings 151 Citizens’ Advice Bureau 36 citizenship 71, 182 social citizenship 117 civil rights 38 Clarke, J. 112–13, 120, 131n1 class 8, 15, 17, 140–1, 164 Cleveland 62, 63 clients 21, 65 climate change 157, 162–3, 176–7 Climbié, Victoria 75, 106, 161 Clinton Administration 72, 77

208

Index Coalition (Conservative/Liberal Democrat) government 4, 10, 21, 109, 119, 130, 133, 134, 135 College of Social Work 147, 171 Colwell, Maria 54, 62 commercialisation 146 Commission on Social Justice, 1994 71 Common Assessment Framework (CAF) 3, 79–80, 123 Communist Party 44 community care 64–5, 86, 115, 118–19, 128 Griffiths report 115, 116–17, 128 community development projects (CDPs) 42, 55 community service 59, 60 community social work 7, 20, 31, 48, 54–7, 172 with children 1, 15, 18, 19–20, 88, 91, 92, 107–8, 109 and Thatcherism 54–7 community work 7, 19, 30, 31, 35, 39, 42, 55, 56–7, 164, 165, 166, 169 competencies 66, 91, 93, 97, 99–100, 101, 103, 106, 145, 148 competition 163 Comte, Auguste 49 Condition of the Working Class in England, The (Engels) 32 conditionality 72 Connexions Service 75 Connolly, M. 173 conscientisation 176 Conservative Party/government 10, 21, 39, 48, 74, 109, 161, 167, 179, 181 2019 General Election 5, 152, 179, 181, 182 austerity policies 4–5, 109, 130, 134, 135, 152, 156, 170, 178 education and training for social work 91, 96, 99–100, 147–8 and managerialism 112, 119, 121 and neoliberalism 112, 114, 133, 156 New Right and social democracy 19, 48, 52–3 One Nation 37–8, 52, 181 and regulation 121–2 residual model of welfare 115 and social work 52–4, 67–8 anti-oppressive practice 60–2 child welfare to child protection 62–4 community social work 54–7 older people 64–5 probation service 65–7 young offenders 58–60 and the social work business 121 traditional 37 welfare policy 115–16, 119, 134, 136, 137, 143, 161, 162

see also Coalition (Conservative/Liberal Democrat) government; Major, John/ Majorism; Thatcher, Margaret/ Thatcherism conservative revolution 158–60 consumerism 44, 86, 87, 91 and the social work business 124–7 consumers/customers 21, 73 continuing professional development (CPD) 101, 103–6, 109, 148, 149 Corbyn, Jeremy 22, 152, 153, 167–8, 179, 182 Coronavirus Act 2020 181 coronavirus pandemic 181 COS (Charity Organisation Society) 10, 19, 25, 28–32, 35, 94 Council for Training in Social Work 40 counterculture 44–5 CPD (continuing professional development) 101, 103–6, 109, 148, 149 CQSW (Certificate of Qualification in Social Work) 6, 19, 40, 96 Cree, V. 177 Crime and Disorder Act 1998 75, 83–4 Criminal Justice Act 1925 34 Criminal Justice Act 1972 66 Criminal Justice Act 1982 58, 59 Criminal Justice Act 1991 54, 59–60, 84 crisis intervention 42, 172 critical realism 17 critical social work 165 critical theory 17, 44, 164 critical/radical practice 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 19, 22, 60, 107, 153, 155–66 case examples 174–7 possibilities for 171–7 Croft, S. 124 Croisdale-Appleby, David 148 CSS (Certificate in Social Service) 40, 43, 98 cultural pluralism 60 cultural transformation 166–7 Cummins, I. 143 Curtis Report 1946 39

D

Dalrymple, J. 61 Darwin, Charles 27, 28, 29 DCSF 3 Deaton, Professor Sir Angus 142 degrees, in social work 20, 91, 100–1, 102, 105, 109, 125 Demos 86 Denney, D. 60 Department for Education 147 Department for Work and Pensions (DWP) 136, 138, 172 Department of Employment 6

209

Social Work Department of Health (DH) 63, 64, 100, 148 de-professionalisation of social work 1, 15, 18, 19–20, 21, 88, 91, 92–3, 123, 149, 181 KSS (Knowledge and Skills Statement) 148–9 New Labour 91, 106–8, 109, 145 Professional Capabilities Framework 148 deskilling 76, 86, 127 DH (Department of Health) 63, 64, 100, 148 difference 13, 14–15, 16, 165, 166 DipSW (Diploma in Social Work) 6, 20, 54, 96 competencies 66, 91, 97–8, 99, 100, 101 probation officers 66, 85 direct payments (DPs) 86, 107, 125 disability, people with 15, 31, 39, 40, 72, 125 de-professionalisation of services for 108 direct payments 125–6 New Labour policies 85–7 WCA (work capabilities assessments) 135, 136 welfare reform 136–7, 138–9, 143 disciplinary power 13, 16 discourse 13, 16, 17, 140 diversity 13, 16, 44, 93, 99, 165, 168, 170–1 division 16, 99 domestic violence 62, 76, 139 domination 13, 16, 60, 118–20 Dominelli, Lena 1, 60, 61, 177 Dorling, D. 140 Doyle, C. 106 DPs (direct payments) 86, 107, 125 Dr Barnardo’s 31, 43 drug-related crime 135 drug-related deaths 139 Dundee 82 Durkheim, Emile 9 DWP (Department for Work and Pensions) 136, 138, 172

E

economic crisis, 1973 47 education: and privatisation 151 Education Act 1944 38 education and training for social work 20–1, 93–7, 147, 148–9 1960s and 1970s 40 apprenticeships 149 Conservative policies 54, 91, 96, 99–100, 147–8 continuing professional development (CPD) 101, 103–6, 109, 148, 149

degrees 20, 91, 100–1, 102, 105, 109, 125 early 20th century 35 early pioneers of 30–1, 94 KSS (Knowledge and Skills Statement) 148–9 New Labour policies 20–1, 91, 100–8, 109 PQ (post-qualification) courses 20, 91, 103–6, 109 ‘electronic turn’ 76–7, 80–1 Ely, P. 60 Employment Support Allowance 138–9 empowerment 21, 61, 86, 121, 124, 127, 128, 164, 172 ‘end of ideology’ thesis 23n6 Engels, F. 32, 37 Enlightenment, the 10–12, 13, 15, 16, 26, 37, 44, 165 equality 4, 9, 11, 27, 29, 30, 33, 49, 50, 52, 71, 93, 176, 182 Eraut, M. 104 Esping-Andersen, G. 143 Essay on the Principle of Populations (Malthus) 27 ethnicity 15 Eurozone crisis 133, 134 evacuation 36 Evans, T. 117 Every Child Matters (DfES) 75, 160, 171 ‘Every Child Matters’ agenda 106 evidence-based practice 77–8, 156, 167, 169 Extinction Rebellion 177

F

Fabianism 25, 31, 33–4, 37, 38, 49, 114, 115 Falklands War, 1982 54 families: de-professionalisation of services for 106–7 New Labour policies 76–83 ‘problem families’ 70, 82–3 see also children Family Service Units 36 Farrington, D. 59 Featherstone, B. 172, 173 fellowship 33 feminism 12, 164 and anti-oppressive practice 61 Black 15 and postmodernism 14–15, 16 radical 12, 96 Ferguson, Iain 1, 22, 73, 86, 93, 122, 128, 129, 140, 157, 162–6, 171, 177 financial markets 159 financial/banking crash, 2008 4, 21, 133, 134, 181

210

Index food banks 136, 137, 139, 141, 143 Foucault, M. 13, 16, 80, 165 Four Seasons Health Care 136 Framework for Assessment 76 Frankfurt School 17, 44, 164 free markets 4, 16, 22, 27, 37, 48, 49, 71, 130, 133, 151, 152, 157, 171, 177 and Friedman 51–2 freedom 11, 27, 33, 36, 37, 52, 54, 159, 171 and Hayek 49–51 French Enlightenment 49, 50 Freud, S. 34, 41, 94–5 Friedman, M. 48, 51–2, 115 Frontline 147–8 Fukuyama, F. 23n6

G

G4S 146, 149 gangs 135 Garrett, Paul Michael 18, 22, 73, 77, 135, 156, 157–62, 171, 177 Garthwaite, K. 137 gender 17, 164 and anti-oppressive practice 61 General Social Care Council 3–4, 20, 74, 101, 122, 147 General Social Work Council (GSWC) 105 George, V. 37 Giddens, A. 17, 70, 71, 73 globalisation 157, 159 Goffman, E. 142 Goodman, Steve 148 Gramsci, A. 158, 159–60 Great Recession 4, 21, 122, 133, 152, 159, 177, 181 Greece 133, 134, 182 Griffiths, Sir Roy 115–16, 128 Grover, C. 137

H

Habermas, Jürgen 17 Hall, C. 2–3 Hall, S. 79 Haringey, London Borough of 120, 123, 161 Harris, John 69, 120, 121, 124 Hayek, F. A. 48, 49–51, 52, 115 Health and Care Professions Council 147 Health Professionals Council 147 hegemony 159 Higham, P. 103 Hill, Octavia 28, 30, 31, 34 Hinchingbrooke Hospital 151 HM Inspectorate of Prisons 144 Hobsbawm, E. J. 17 Home Office 35, 39, 63

Training Unit 66 homelessness 134, 151 Second World War period 36 housing 151 Housing Act 1949 38 Housing Benefit 136, 151 Howard, Michael 66, 145 Howe, D. 63, 156 Hunter, S. 87

I

I, Daniel Blake (Loach) 135 ICT (information and communication technologies) 2–3 ‘electronic turn’ 76–7, 80–1 ICS (Integrated Children’s Services) computer system 2, 80 welfare system access 133, 138 IFS (Institute for Fiscal Studies) 142 IFSW (International Federation of Social Workers) 155–6 income inequality 141 independent sector 127 see also private sector; voluntary sector individualism 32 inequality 141–2 information and communication technologies see ICT (information and communication technologies) Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS) 142 institutionalisation 128–9 Integrated Children’s Services (ICS) computer system 2, 80 intermediate treatment 6n4, 58 International Federation of Social Workers (IFSW) 155–6 International Monetary Fund 47–8 International Schools of Social Work 156 interpersonal economy 168–71 intersectionality 179n1 Invalid Children’s Aid Association 34 iron law of wages 27, 29

J

Jobseekers Act 2013 136 Johnson, Boris 5, 10, 21, 179, 181 Johnson, Lyndon B. 145 Jones, B. 182 Jones, C. 91 Jones, R. 3, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 151 Jordan, Bill 22, 45, 55, 74, 76, 157, 159, 166–71, 177 Jordan, C. 76 Joseph Rowntree Foundation 141 Joseph, Sir Keith 53, 54

K

Kennedy, S. 106

211

Social Work Keynes, John Maynard/Keynesianism 39, 45, 48, 51, 134 Kilbrandon Report 46n1 knife crime 135, 169, 170 knowledge 93–4, 99 in early social work 34–5 usable 29, 34–5 KPMG 147, 152 KSS (Knowledge and Skills Statement) 148–9

Loch, Charles 31 Locke, J. 11, 26–7 London Borough of Haringey 120, 123, 161 looked after children (LAC) 76–8, 81–2, 83 LSE (London School of Economics) 19, 35, 148, 167 Lyotard, F. 14, 17, 23n6

L

Macalister, Josh 148 MacDonald, C. 104 Macmillan, Harold 43 macro-economics 50 Major, John/Majorism 10, 19, 23n10, 48, 67, 69, 70, 76, 81, 162 Making it Happen (DCSF) 3 Malthus, T. 27, 28, 29 Man versus the State (Malthus) 28 managerialisation 113–14 managerialism 9, 21, 111–12, 115–18, 145, 146, 149–50, 156, 163, 179 domination and discursive 118–20 universalisation of 121 Marcuse, H. 44, 95 markets: market forces 27 ‘market society’ 20 marketisation 113, 129, 146, 156, 163 see also free markets Marshall, T. H. 117, 182 Marxism 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 16–17, 25–6, 32–3, 37, 41, 49, 95, 140, 164 May, Theresa 5, 10, 21, 135 McIvor, G. 85 Memorandum of Good Practice (Home Office/Department of Health) 63 mental health: de-professionalisation of services for 107 Think Ahead programme 148 Mental Health Act 1959 40 Mental Health Act 2007 107 Messages from Research (Department of Health) 64 meta-narratives 14, 17 migrants 175–6, 182 Miliband, R. 5 miner’s strike 1984-1985 54 Ministry of Health 36 mixed economy of welfare 113–14, 127 Modernising Social Services (Department of Health) 100 modernity 15, 16, 99–100 monetarism 45, 48, 52 moral authoritarianism 73 Mullender, A. 61 Munro Review, Baby Peter 150, 162 Murray, Charles 142

M

labelling theories 58 Labour Party/government 37, 38, 39, 48, 181 resurgence of 178–9 see also New Labour LAC (looked after children) 76–8, 81–2, 83 Laing, R. D. 95 Laming report 106 Lancaster University 58 Langan, P. 59 Lavalette, M. 182, 183 Layard, Richard 167 Le Grand, J. 81–2, 148 Liberal Democrats see Coalition (Conservative/Liberal Democrat) government liberalism 26–8, 29, 32 liberty 27, 37, 50, 51, 52, 133 Life and Labour of the People of London, The (Booth) 32 Lipset, S. 23n6 Liverpool School of Social Science 35 Lloyd George, David 33 Loach, Ken 135 local authorities: children’s services 5, 39, 82, 139, 151, 153 community social work 42 direct payments 126 evacuation 36 families’ services 81 funding cuts 133 older people’s services 64 privatisation 81, 129 sick and disabled people’s services 40 social services 54, 55, 116, 125, 128, 129, 138, 149 social workers 101, 127 SSDs (Social Services Departments) 15, 19, 20, 39–40, 40–1, 53, 62, 74, 76, 95, 96, 107, 117, 120, 121, 125, 160 welfare services 19, 36, 39, 54 Local Authority Personal Social Services, The (Seebohm Report), 1968 15, 19, 39–40, 48, 117 Local Government Association 147

212

Index

N

Narey, Martin 148 National Assistance Act 1948 39 National Audit Office 151 National Care Standards Commission 74 National Children’s Home 3, 31, 43 National Health Service see NHS (National Health Service) National Health Service Act 1946 38 National Health Service and Community Care Act 1990 54, 64, 121, 124, 125, 129 National Institute of Social Work (NISW) 2, 18, 19, 20, 40, 74 National Occupational Standards for Social Work 101 National Offender Management Service 67 National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children 31 National Union of Women Workers 30 needs-led assessment 21, 65, 121, 124 neoliberalism 4, 20, 22, 45, 152, 157–8, 163, 181, 182 and Conservative Party/government 112, 114, 133, 156 and Friedman 51–2, 115 and Hayek 49–51, 115 and New Labour 4, 10, 20, 70, 112, 122 and professionalism 109 and Thatcherism 48 New Criminology, The: for a social theory of deviance (Taylor) 6 New Deal 71–2 New Labour governments 10, 69–70, 87–8, 156, 169, 178 education and training for social work 20–1, 91, 100–8, 109 and managerialism 120 and modernisation 120 and neoliberalism 4, 10, 20, 70, 112, 122 public expenditure cuts 127 and regulation 122–4, 147, 170 and social work 4, 20, 73, 74–6, 125, 126, 147 adults and older people 85–7 children and families 76–83 de-professionalisation 91, 106–8, 109 145 privatisation 81–2 probation service policy 66–7 young offenders 79, 83–5 and the social work business 121, 129–30 Third Way and the welfare state 71–4 welfare reforms 136, 160, 162 see also Blair, Tony/Blairism; Brown, Gordon/Brownism

New Left 44–5 ‘new public management’ 149 New Right 15, 19, 48, 52–3, 53–4, 58, 71, 72, 73, 92, 102 NHS (National Health Service) 38, 43 Griffiths report 115–16, 116–17 and privatisation 151 NISW (National Institute of Social Work) 2, 18, 19, 20, 40, 74 Normanton 55 ‘nothing works’ thesis 58 Nottingham Trent University 1

O

O’Donnell, M. 182 Ofsted 74–5, 122, 147, 161 Baby Peter 123, 161 oil price crisis, 1973 47 older people 156 care management 64–5 Conservative policies 64–5 de-professionalisation of services for 107 New Labour policies 85–7 Oldham 55 Oliver, M. 108 One Nation Conservatives 37–8, 52, 181 organised helping 25 Origin of Species, The (Darwin) 28 Orkney 62

P

Pacifist Service Units 36 PAIN (Parents Against Injustice) 62 Parton, N. 7, 173 PAs (personal assistants) 126 pay inequality 141 Payne, M. 60 PCMH (Provisional Council for Mental Health) 36 penal state 144 performance management 3 performance targets 2, 21 ‘permissive collectivism’ 173 personal assistants (PAs) 126 Personal Independence Payments 138 personalisation 21, 86–7, 127, 156, 167–8 Pickett, K. 140, 141, 144 Picketty, T. 140 Podemos, Spain 182 police service 66, 135 role in child protection 62, 63 political correctness 61 political rights 38 political theory 41 Pollock, A. 128 Poor Law 26, 27, 29, 32, 34 populism 178, 181, 182 ‘populist punitiveness’ 59, 83

213

Social Work post-Fordism 14, 99 Postmodern Condition, The (Lyotard) 14 postmodernism 7, 12–15, 16, 17, 20, 49 and education and training for social work 99–100 and professionalism 164, 165 post-qualification (PQ) courses 20, 91, 103–6, 109 post-structuralism 12–13 poverty 141, 172 anti-poverty practice 176 Scotland 139 War on Poverty 143, 145 War on the Poor 89n4, 143–5 and welfare reform 137 PQ (post-qualification) courses 20, 91, 103–6, 109 Principles of Political Economy (Ricardo) 27 prisons/prison service 66, 67, 144–5 and privatisation 151 private sector 113, 124, 127–9, 146 privatisation 20, 129, 146, 150–2 New Labour policies 70, 72, 81–2 and Thatcherism 53, 54 Probation of Offenders Act 1907 34 probation officers 31, 34, 35, 40, 48 Diploma in Social Work (DipSW) 66, 85 probation service 20, 65–7 Conservative policies 65–7 New Labour policies 66–7 renationalisation of 151 ‘problem families’ 70, 82–3 Professional Capabilities Framework 148 professionalisation of social work 90–3, 109–10, 145, 146–9, 164 anti-professionalism 96 bureau-professionalism 114, 115, 117, 119, 149 see also de-professionalisation of social work; education and training for social work professions, nature of 9 Protestant Reformation 26 Provisional Council for Mental Health (PCMH) 36 ‘psy professions’ 13, 16 psychoanalysis 34, 41, 94–5 psychology 41 Public Law Outline, 2008 106

Q

Quality Protects initiative 78 ‘quasi-markets’ 67, 113, 118, 129

R

‘race’ 15, 16, 17, 23n5, 164 and anti-oppressive practice 60, 61

racism: ‘endemic racism’ (CCETSW) 97, 99 radical feminism 12, 96 radical practice see critical/radical practice Radical Social Work (Bailey and Brake) 6 Raynor, P. 85 Reagan, Ronald 133 reflective practice 104 refugees 175–6 Regional Post-Qualifying Consortia 103 regulation 121–4, 147 Renaissance 26 residential care 65, 77, 116, 122, 128 residual model of welfare 115 Respect Task Force 82 Ricardo, D. 27 Richmond, M. 35 risk society 14, 145, 162 Ritchie, P. 87 Rochdale 62, 175 Rolling Stones, The 44 Rose, N. 83 Rotherham 175 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 11 Royal Commission on the Poor Laws, 1905-1909 34

S

Salvation Army 31 sanctions 135, 136, 139 Sanders, Bernie 182 ‘Satisfaction’ (The Rolling Stones) 44 Sayer, A. 140 Schon, D. 104 School of Sociology, London 35 Schwarzmantel, J. 23n6 SCIE (Social Care Institute for Excellence) 18, 74, 86, 122 Scotland: Kilbrandon Report 46n1 poverty 139 Scourfield, P. 122 Second Treatise of Government (Locke) 26–7 Second World War period: social work 35–6 Seebohm Report, 1968 15, 19, 39–40, 48, 117 service rationing 48, 123 children 125, 140 service users 21, 65 involvement of 124, 125 service/resources rationing 18, 20, 48, 85, 118, 123 sexual identity 16 sexuality 15 Shaw, George Bernard 33 Smart, B. 14 Smiles, Samuel 27 Smith, Adam 27

214

Index Smith, Jacqui 102 Smith, John 71 Smith, R. 78 social administration 41 social care 43 privatisation and the voluntary sector 127–30 social care entrepreneurship 85 Social Care Institute for Excellence (SCIE) 18, 74, 86, 122 social citizenship 117 social class see class social democracy 37–45, 48, 114 social diagnosis 35 social exclusion 74, 79, 160 social justice 9, 22, 37, 48, 49, 50, 60, 71, 117, 135, 140, 141, 155, 162, 163–4, 169, 174 and professionalisation of social work 92, 93, 96, 104 social model of child protection 157, 173 social murder 137, 142 social policy 41 social psychology 95 social rights 38, 52 social sciences, and social work education and training 95–6, 97, 99 Social Services Departments (SSDs) 15, 19, 20, 39–40, 40–1, 53, 62, 74, 76, 95, 96, 107, 117, 120, 121, 125, 160 social welfare movements 163 social work: critical 165 early origins 25–6 and Fabianism 25, 31, 33–4, 37, 38, 49, 114, 115 first half of the 20th century 32–7 IFSW definition 155–6 importance of women in early development of 28–9 and the interpersonal economy 168–71 and liberalism 26–8 New Labour policies 4, 20, 73, 74–6, 125, 126 adults and older people 85–7 children and families 76–83 de-professionalisation 91, 106–8, 109 145 privatisation 81–2 probation service policy 66–7 young offenders 79, 83–5 pioneers of 28–32 Second World War period 35–6 social democracy and zenith of 18, 37–45 and Thatcherism 52–4, 67–8

see also critical/radical practice; deprofessionalisation of social work; education and training for social work; professionalisation of social work Social Work Action Network 176 Social Work at its Best: A statement of social work roles and tasks for the 21st Century (General Social Care Council) 3–4 social work biography of author 5–8 social work business 21, 112, 120, 127 and consumerism 124–7 privatisation and the voluntary sector 127–30 and regulation 121–4 and the universalisation of managerialism 121 Social Work Business, The (Harris) 120 social work education see education and training for social work Social Work England 147 Social Work Reform Board 105 Social Work, Social Theory and Social Change (Parton) 7 Social Work Task Force (SWTF) 23n9, 81, 91, 104–5, 147, 148, 161–2 Social Work Action Network (SWAN) 2 Social Workers Without Borders 175 sociology 41 solvent users 56–7 Souhami, A. 84 Spain 182 Spandler, H. 125, 126 Spencer, Herbert 28 SSDs (Social Services Departments) 15, 19, 20, 39–40, 40–1, 53, 62, 74, 76, 95, 96, 107, 117, 120, 121, 125, 160 stagflation 51 standardised assessment framework 77–8 State in Capitalist Society, The (Miliband) 4 Statham, Daphne 2 Stepney Council on Public Welfare 30 Stepney, P. 106 stigma 134, 142–3 strikes, by social workers 96 structuralism 12–13, 60 supervision orders 59 Sure Start 74, 137–8 sustainability 166–7 SWAN (Social Work Action Network) 2 SWTF (Social Work Task Force) 23n9, 81, 91, 104–5, 147, 148, 161–2 Syriza, Greece 182

T

tacit knowledge 49, 50 task-centred casework 42 Taylor, I. 6

215

Social Work Thatcher, Margaret/Thatcherism 7, 10, 19–20, 23n10, 45, 48, 70, 87, 162, 178, 181 and social work 52–4, 67–8 anti-oppressive practice 60–2 child welfare to child protection 62–4 community social work 54–7 older people 64–5 probation service 65–7 young offenders 58–60 theory 93–4, 97 importance of 10 Think Ahead programme 148 Third Way 20, 70, 71–3, 167–8 Thompson, N. 93 Thorpe, David 58 Thunberg, Greta 177 Tierney, J. 44 Titmuss, R. 36 ‘tough love’ 72 Townsend, Peter 127, 141 Toynbee Hall Settlement 28, 34 trade unions 26, 53, 54, 182 Trowler, Isabelle 148 Trump, Donald 4, 152, 178, 182 Trussell Trust 141 see also food banks Turbett, Colin 137

U

underclass 142 unemployment 47, 51–2, 72, 177 UNICEF 167 Unison 149 universal credit 132, 133, 138 universal income 182 usable knowledge 29, 34–5 utilitarianism 27–8

V

Virgin Care 149 voluntary sector 20, 113, 127, 129–30

W

Wacquant, L. 142 wages, iron law of 27, 29 War on Poverty 143, 145 War on the Poor 89n4, 143, 145 Ward, D. 61

WCA (work capabilities assessments) 135, 136 wealth inequality 141 Wealth of Nations (Smith) 27 Webb, Beatrice 31, 32, 34 Webb, D. 91, 97, 98, 100 Webb, S. A. 123 Webb, Sydney 31, 32, 34 welfare reform 135–7, 138–9 Welfare Reform Act 2003 72 welfare state: beginnings of 33–4 Esping-Andersen’s typology of 143 Hayek’s perspective on 50–1 post-Second World War period 38–9 welfarism 53, 62 well-being 166–7 White, V. 69, 156, 174 Wilding, P. 37 Wilkinson, R. 140, 141, 144 Williams, F. 16 women: gender inequality in public services 92 importance of in early development of social work 28–9, 90 see also gender Women’s University Settlement 30 Woodroofe, K. 18 Woodward, R. 73, 93, 166 Wootton, B. 41 work capabilities assessments (WCA) 135, 136 Working Together (Home Office) 63 Working Together 2018 (HM Government) 138, 150

Y

YOTs (Youth Offending Teams) 75, 84, 108 young offenders 6, 7–8, 58–60 Conservative policies 58–60 de-professionalisation of services for 108 New Labour policies 79, 83–5 young people: de-professionalisation of services for 106–7 Younghusband, E. 28–9, 34

216