Give cities more power over their destiny

The new City Deals are a step in the right direction

Throughout July and August all eyes will be on London. Whether it is the unveiling of the Shard or the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games, London is demanding the attention of the nation. It is therefore no surprise that last week’s announcement of new powers for England’s eight cities was met with little fanfare. Yet, these "City Deals" represent the most significant devolution of power from Whitehall in decades and are deserving of more attention. This is not just the summer of the capital; it is very much the summer of the cities.

England’s eight core cities and their surrounding areas are forecast to add £71bn to the economy over the next decade. But evidence suggests that they have the potential to achieve much more. That is why the City Deals, that include transport infrastructure funds, new investment for SMEs, and apprentice hubs to support NEETs, will play a crucial role in the nation’s future growth.

The first clear indication of a new relationship between central government and England’s cities was the creation of a Minister for Cities last year. Greg Clark was appointed to this role, with further support from Nick Clegg and ministers and officials in BIS, CLG and HMT. The Deals are the result of an almost year-long negotiation between Clark and his team in the Cabinet Office, Whitehall and the core cities.

Arguably of most significance are the new transport infrastructure funds. They have a combined value of over £5bn and should have significant impact on the ground. Transport has been the policy area that the Mayor of London has had most influence over; the congestion charge, tube upgrades, a bicycle hire scheme and even a cable car over the Thames, have been the result. Getting around the capital is now easier and the same could soon be true for England’s core city-regions.

Better connections will support economic growth. Leeds City Region, for example, hopes that its £1bn West Yorkshire "‘plus" Transport Fund will create a 2 per cent increase in the region’s economic output and 20,000 extra jobs. Strategic investment in new stations, roads and public transport networks could have a dramatic impact on the daily commute.

People’s daily lives and commutes do not reflect arbitrary council boundaries, so another positive to have emerged from the Deals has been councils which are increasingly willing to work together to make investments. Greater Manchester’s councils combined strategy for a new Metrolink is a demonstration of the benefits of this approach. Such collaborative governance arrangements will prevent the jam-spreading of funds that can harm local areas.

The next step for the core cities will be to ensure they deliver on the ground. There is more work for central government to do as well. Greg Clark has said that this is just round one of City Deals. 142 upper-tier councils don’t have a Deal. A devolution bill could package up some of the powers in the City Deals allowing all areas to invest for local growth.

Greg Clark, the minister in charge of City Deals. Photograph: Getty Images

Joe is a senior researcher at the New Local Government Network

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In praise of the late developer

The success of late developers proves that our obsession with early achievement is wrong.

A fortnight ago, I fell into conversation with the head teacher of a local school. “You’ve got to create room for late developers,” he said. “The obsession with early attainment doesn’t suit most children.”

We were soon finishing each other’s sentences – talking about long-term confidence rather than short-term hothousing, how children don’t develop in a linear way, and the value of having transferable skills rather than a single focus from a young age.

What a shame, I reflected, that his message doesn’t reach a wider audience. We hear so much about prodigies and precociousness – Serena Williams and her pushy father, Tiger Woods and “tiger mothers” – and so little of the counter-argument: the high achievers who emerge at a slower pace in more balanced circumstances.

Our conversation ended when we both departed to watch England play Scotland in the Six Nations tournament. Only then did I learn that the head teacher’s son Huw Jones was playing in the centre for Scotland. He scored two tries, just as he did last autumn in his home debut against Australia.

Jones’s career is a tacit endorsement of his father’s philosophy. In his penultimate year at school, Huw was still playing mostly in the second XV. Five years on, he is a burgeoning talent on the world stage. The two facts are connected. Jones didn’t just overtake others; he also retained the naturalness that is often lost “in the system”.

As boys, he and his brother made up their own version of rugby practice: could the ­attacker sidestep and run past the defender without setting foot outside the five-metre line? They were just having fun, uncoached and unsupervised. But their one-on-one game was teaching the most valuable skill in rugby: the ability to beat defenders in confined spaces.

Jones had access to superb opportunities throughout – at home, at Canterbury rugby club and then at Millfield, the independent school in Somerset well known for producing sportsmen. But at Millfield, he was far from being a superstar. He seldom played “A-team” rugby. The message from home: just keep enjoying it and getting better and eventually your time will come.

There was a useful precedent. Matt Perry, who won 36 caps for England between 1997 and 2001, had been a “B-team” player at school. What matters is where you end up, not who leads the race at the age of 16. Jones also developed transferable skills by continuing to play other sports. “Don’t specialise too early,” was the mantra of Richard Ellison, the former England cricketer who taught at Millfield for many years.

When Jones was 18 and finally blossoming in the school’s first XV, rugby agents started to take an interest, promising to place him in the “academy” of a professional team. “But I’d seen so many kids take that route and seen how bored they got,” his father, Bill, reflects. So Bill advised his son to go abroad, to gain experience of new cultures and to keep playing rugby for fun instead of getting on the tracksuited professional treadmill.

So Jones took a teaching job in Cape Town, where he played men’s club rugby. Instead of entering the professional system, as one of a bland cohort of similar-aged “prospects”, he served his apprenticeship among players drawn from different backgrounds and ages. Sport was shown to be a matter of friendship and community, not just a career path.

The University of Cape Town spotted and recruited Jones, who helped it win the South African university competition. Only then, in 2014, did British professional rugby teams start to take a serious interest. Jones, however, was enjoying South Africa and stayed put, signing a contract with the Stormers in the Super Rugby tournament – the world’s leading club competition.

So, in the space of 18 months, Jones had gone from being a gap-year Brit with no formal ties to professional rugby to playing against the world’s best players each week. He had arrived on the big stage, following a trajectory that suited him.

The level of competition had escalated rapidly but the tries kept coming. Scotland, by now closely monitoring a player qualified by birth, gave him his spectacular home debut against Australia last autumn – remarkable but not surprising. Finding his feet ­instantly on each new stage is the pattern of his career.

Those two qualities – first, instinctive ­try-scoring; second, a lack of vertigo – are connected. Amid all the jargon of professional sport, perhaps the most important qualities – freshness, ingenuity and the gift of surprise – are undervalued. Yet all of these rely on skills honed over many years – honed, but not dulled.

Shoehorning all young players into rigid, quasi-professional systems long before they are ready comes with risks. First, we seldom hear from the child prodigies who faded away (often damaged psychologically). Many players who are pushed too hard miss their natural learning arc; the narrative of their ambition, or the ambition imposed on them by parents, is often out of step with their physical and psychological growth. Second, systems have a habit of overestimating their contribution: they become blind to outsiders.

In a quiet way, Jones is a case study in evolved education and not just sport: a talented performer who was given time and space to find his voice. The more we learn about talent, as David Epstein demonstrated in The Sports Gene, the clearer it becomes that focusing on champion 11-year-olds decreases the odds of producing champion adults. Modern science has reinforced less frantic and neurotic educational values; variety and fun have their virtues.

Over the long term, put your faith not in battery farming but instead, in Bill Jones’s phrase, in “free-range children”.

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

This article first appeared in the 23 March 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump's permanent revolution