We need to focus on good apprenticeships

Expanding provision should not be at the expense of quality.

Young people in the UK are being squeezed on two fronts. They face a difficult labour market, with youth unemployment now over a million and continuing to rise. And, for those who don’t go to University, the education system does not always perform well. In her review of vocational education, Alison Wolf argued that many - but by no means all - vocational qualifications offered ‘little or no labour market value’.

In response, politicians have rediscovered apprenticeships. There are good reasons for this. Ministers like to announce impressive numbers of new apprentices starting work. They feel like they’re addressing a current problem (youth unemployment) while solving a long-standing one (education for those who don’t go to University). And apprenticeships have a reassuring retro sound – reminiscent of the past glories of manufacturing or the strength of the German economy. They are the most recognisable and respected brand left in vocational education. But how exactly will apprenticeships address youth unemployment and the shortage of meaningful vocational qualifications?

Nobody questions that, in theory, apprenticeships are a good thing. But they are diverse and some apprenticeships are better than others. While apprenticeships are an important part of efforts to address the UK’s economic problems, the pay off will be in the long-term only. And, unless they are handled cautiously, political efforts to expand the system may reduce the quality.

In the UK, we tend to be sniffy about vocational education. The strength of our Universities, and declining employment in manufacturing, means we have favoured other parts of the system. While the UK provides clear and well structured pathways into work for those who do well at school, routes are less clear for those who don’t. Past attempts at reform have often been fudged. As the Wolf report argued, many vocational qualifications in the UK are essentially ways to postpone young people’s entry into the labour market.

Apprenticeships are good when they provide a route into employment and meaningful training for those who do not want to go to University. They offer vocational training, alongside genuine mentoring and career progression, which can help young people enter the labour market and succeed throughout their careers.

This does not mean they can, or should, be seen as a solution to youth unemployment. The ‘gold standard’ apprenticeships at Rolls Royce or BT tend to be oversubscribed many times over – Michael Gove has argued that some are harder to get into than Oxbridge. This is good as it suggests they are valuable qualifications. But it also makes them unlikely to help the young people least likely to enter the labour market. Those leaving school with poor prospects are as unlikely to get into the top apprenticeships as they are into the top universities.

But there are apprenticeships on offer at many levels. The most advanced apprenticeships – Higher Level Apprenticeships – are the equivalent of a foundation degree. Intermediate Apprenticeships are the equivalent of a few GCSE’s. Some apprenticeship programmes successfully link meaningful work and valuable training, others don’t.

Some have raised concerns that as the number of new apprenticeships expands, fewer of them will be of a high quality. In February, David Cameron proudly announced that the numbers of young people starting apprenticeship in 2011 was 63 per cent higher than in 2010. Yet recent stories of poor quality apprenticeships in low skilled employment, with cursory opportunities for training, threaten to devalue the brand. The recent controversy around Morrison’s was one example.

Alongside such anecdotal evidence, there has been a measurable change in the type of apprenticeships which are underway. As the number of new starts has increased, the average length has decreased: according to the National Audit Office, 19 per cent of apprenticeships started in 2010/11 lasted less than six months, up from 12 per cent in 2008/9. In response, the government has announced that new apprenticeships will have to last 12 months or more. But other issues, such as quality of training, remain problems.

Vocational education matters – and this is why keeping up quality is so important. And few doubt that apprenticeships, when done well, are good. Apprenticeships are often a good pathway for young people into work, ensuring that they can develop meaningful skills alongside the work experience which is crucial in today’s labour market. But in a rush to increase quantity there is a risk that quality may be affected. Given the lack of options for young people in the labour market, that would be a bad thing.

David Cameron meets a Waitrose apprentice. Credit: Getty

Neil is the Senior Economist at The Work Foundation

 

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What’s it like to be a human rights activist in post-Pussy Riot Russia?

It is five years since the feminist punk collective crashed Moscow’s Cathedral in a performance that got some of them jailed.

On 21 February 2012, five brightly-dressed members of Russian feminist punk collective Pussy Riot took to the alter of Moscow’s Cathedral of Christ the Saviour to protest links between the Russian Orthodox Church and its “chief saint” Russian President Vladimir Putin. “Virgin birth-giver of God, drive away Putin!” they shouted from beneath now-iconic balaclavas.

The “Punk Prayer” was both a political statement and a powerful feminist message. Six months later, a judge sentenced three of the girls to two years in prison (one was rapidly released) on a conspicuously apolitical conviction of “hooliganism motivated by religious hatred”.

These past five years, Russia’s involvement in crises in Syria and Ukraine has cast a dark shadow over relations with an increasingly cleaved-off West. The year 2015 saw opposition politician Boris Nemtsov murdered some 500 metres from the Kremlin walls.

Domestically, society has constricted people challenging the political status quo. However, low-key initiatives retain traction.

“Artists are simply silent,” says Russian curator and gallerist Marat Guelman, who left for Montenegro in early 2015. “It is better not to say anything about politics, it is better to bypass these issues.”

This is a major difference from five years ago. “Despite persecution against Pussy Riot, people were not afraid to defend them,” he says. “It was a better time.”

There are three topics artists and curators now avoid, says artist and feminist activist Mikaela. One is “homosexuality . . . especially if it involves adolescents”, she says, citing a 2015 exhibit about LGBT teens called “Be Yourself”. Authorities closed it and interrogated the galley owner. “Then the war in Ukraine,” she says. “Russian Orthodoxy is the third topic you cannot tackle.”

Marianna Muravyeva, a law professor at Moscow’s Higher School of Economics, says that aside from the government completely discarding human rights rhetoric, the most significant legal change is the “gay propaganda” law and “legislation against those who insult the feelings of believers”.

The latter came into force in July 2013. Since then, the Orthodox Church has made deeper societal incursions. Muravyeva says that the secular nature of the Soviet Union led to residual feelings of guilt towards the Church – and now it uses that “capital”.

Mikaela observes a “cultural expansion”, citing a new TV channel, radio station and three new churches in her neighbourhood alone.

Orthodox activist attacks on exhibits have increased. In August 2015, they targeted an exhibit at one of Moscow’s most prominent art galleries. Its perpetrators were found guilty of “petty hooliganism” and handed a 1,000 rouble fine (£14 by today’s rates).

“Any word written in Old Slavonic lettering is spirituality,” says Guelman. “Any work of art by a modern artist . . . depravity, sin, the impact of the West.”

Similar groups are active across Russia, and galleries err on the side of caution. Perpetrators, while self-organised, believe their actions to be state-sanctioned, says Muravyeva. They are influenced by “the kinds of messages” conveyed by the government. 

Nowadays, self-organisation is integral to artistic expression. Mikaela witnessed educational institutions and foreign foundations telling artists “we are with you”, “we know you are smart” but they cannot host political works for fear of closure. Not knowing where the “invisible line” lies foments uncertainty. “It’s self-censorship,” she says.

Dissident artist Petr Pavlensky, notorious for nailing his scrotum to the Red Square in late 2013 (“Fixation”) and setting fire to the doors of the FSB in 2015, advocates personal agency.

“Fixation” was about a sense of helplessness in Russia that must be overcome; he tried to convey the amount of power the castrated have. “Pavlensky says, ‘Look, I have even less than you’,” says Guelman. The artist and his partner Oksana Shalygina are now in France intending to seek asylum after sexual assault accusations.

Some rise to the opportunity, such as Daria Serenko. She rides the Moscow Metro carrying political posters as part of Tikhy Piket or “Silent Protest”. Her 12 February sign depicted a girl with her head in her arms inundated by the comments received if a women alleges rape (“she was probably drunk”, “what was she wearing?”).

However, as a lone individual in a public space, she experienced hostility. “Men, as always, laughed,” she posted on Facebook afterwards. Earlier this month an anonymous group pasted painted plants accompanied by anti-domestic violence messages around Omsk, southwestern Siberia.

Their appearance corresponded with Putin signing legislation on 7 February decriminalising domestic abuse that causes “minor harm”. While it doesn’t specifically mention women, Muravyeva says that the message “women can manage on their own” is a “disaster”.

On 27 January, after Russia’s parliament passed the final draft, pro-Kremlin tabloid Life released a video (“He Beats You Because He Loves You”) showing how to inflict pain without leaving a mark.

Heightened social awareness is aided by online networks. Since “Punk Prayer”, the proportion of people using the internet in Russia has exploded. In 2011, it was 33 per cent, while in 2016 it was 73 per cent, according annual Freedom House reports. Authorities have concurrently exerted stronger controls over it, eg. targeting individual social media users through broadly-worded laws against “extremism”.

Last July, the hashtag #ЯНеБоюсьСказать (“#IamNotAfraidtoSay”) went viral. Women documented experiences of sexual violence. Russian organisation Сёстры (“Sisters”), which helps survivors receive psychological support, receives “250-350” crisis calls annually.

“Over the past year, the number of applications increased,” because of the hashtag, it says. New media platforms Meduza and Wonderzine also emerged as more “socially aware” outlets. Previously “all we had was LiveJournal communities,” Mikaela says.

Bottom-up challenges are partially due to a generational shift. “Nobody bothered before,” says Muravyeva. “Those children who were born after ‘95 . . . they were already born in a very free society – they don’t know what it is to be afraid, they don’t know what it is to be self-censoring, what it is to be really scared of the state.”

Aliide Naylor is a British journalist and former Arts and Ideas Editor of The Moscow Times.

> Now read Anoosh Chakelian’s interview with Nadya Tolokonnikova of Pussy Riot