Haven't I seen this revolution before?

David Cameron's public service reforms suffer from a serious zeitgeist problem.

Buried under the detritus of the escalating News International scandal is the government's long awaited public services white paper. Assuming you missed it, it's all about the need for "narrative" and to demonstrate a coherent governing project.

Senior politicians, and the commentators they talk to, obsess about this. Strange though it may seem to much of the public, the need to produce these wide ranging plans on public services can feel all-consuming to those working in No.10. On this front, the current administration is no different to its predecessors.

Generally these occasions tend to leave the public undisturbed. During the Labour years, in all the conversations I had with nurses, teachers and social workers -- many of whom begrudgingly supported much of what the government was doing -- there was almost no awareness of our "big public service argument", as it used to be termed.

The few who registered these efforts at all tended to view them as little more than a vanity exercise for the PM of the day.

Nor are these exercises popular across Whitehall. "I'm from the Cabinet Office White Paper team and I'd like to talk to you about our new public service reform narrative" must be one of the worst lines in government. Once uttered, departmental doors close, conversations dry up, and policy ideas get hidden away.

Hence these exercises are never easy. And this white paper, with its troubled gestation, will have been harder than most. The recent NHS debacle has both overshadowed it and undercut its ambitions. Being convincing about your radical intent on public services is hard going when you've spent the last few months submerged in the politics of U-turn, compromise and painstaking public reassurance.

So what's new? For all the effort to make it sound like a departure into a brave new era of personal "choice and control" the White Paper is characterised far more by continuity with the past than the coalition, or many on the Labour side, would like to recognise. "A right for anyone with a chronic condition to receive a personal budget." "Every hospital to become a Foundation Trust". "Takeovers and mergers to create a new generation of a not-for-profit chains of schools." A "default assumption" that all government data will be open source.

Sounds like strong stuff. Except all of these lines are from Labour's 2010 Manifesto -- and all have a clear echo in yesterday's publication.

Where the white paper seeks to go further is in relation to the role of the private sector and charities in running any public service. The early press briefings, which suggested a far-reaching right for the private sector to takeover services, will no doubt have generated grave concerns from those fearing the widespread privatisation of core services.

Personally, I think they can relax, at least on the basis of what's actually in the white paper. It's hard to see what new in it would force any of this to happen.

Similarly, the main proposal for securing individual choice across public services appears to be a byzantine plan to consult with various Ombudsmen on how they might be able to offer some type of (as yet unspecified) redress to citizens who feel dissatisfied. If you are scratching your head about what this means, and how this bureaucratic sounding procedure might work then, rest assured, you are not alone. Suffice to say that I gather it was not the most rigorously thought through part of the document.

Government strategies like these, which are supposed to demonstrate governing coherence, always involve a concerted effort to conceal the contradictions that necessarily plague any administration. What is right for policing is very unlikely to work for schools. But for Cameron there is a deeper tension between the part of him that wants to be a visionary - even reckless - reformer willing to tear up all manner of existing institutions, and the other Cameron - the cautious Burkean conservative - who recoils from blue-prints and grand schemes.

Sometimes the cracks show. Look at schools policy, the alleged exemplar of the new agenda. The most telling thing that Michael Gove has said over recent months is his commitment to all schools achieving 50 per cent 5 A- Cs at GCSE, including English and Maths, by the end of the Parliament (which build on Labour's previous 30 per cent ambition).

Just in case you missed it, this is a "top-down target" -- you know, the sort coalition is supposed to shun, that Labour were so keen on.

Personally, I broadly support Gove on this ambition - it is right that the centre of government has a sharp focus on under-performing schools. But this would necessitate a far more balanced approach to school improvement then Gove's existing agenda. In this, as in other areas, the Coalition's own goals will crash into their self-declared model of statecraft - a point that has been commented upon before on these pages.

Above all, today's report suffers from a serious zeitgeist problem. If an argument about public service reform is to have any prospect of resonating beyond the world of Westminster it needs to somehow chime with the times we are living in.

At his best, Tony Blair pulled this off. His mission to extend individual choice in public services - whether you liked it or not - connected with the post millennium era of rising prosperity, increased consumerism, and fast-growing use of the internet as a source of empowerment in our daily lives. These currents are of course still relevant: the popular demand for a good local school or hospital is just as keenly felt as ever. But the prevailing public mood is now darker - characterised by economic insecurity, falling living standards, and the desire to protect work.

It is possible to provide an account of how reformed public services can help speak to these challenges. We have some of the most expensive childcare in the world and it is highly inflexible, jarring with the working patterns of many parents. Reform is badly needed. Equally, millions of older workers will need support to help them stay in work, not least as the pension age rises. Again, existing services need to change.

But these are not questions that today's white paper attempts to answer. The events at News International are not the only reason that today's report, like many of its predecessors, is likely to be lost without a trace.

 

Gavin Kelly is chief executive of the Resolution Foundation.

 

 

Gavin Kelly is a former adviser to Downing Street and the Treasury. He tweets @GavinJKelly1.

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Arsène Wenger: how can an intelligent manager preside over such a hollowed-out team?

The Arsenal manager faces a frustrating legacy.

Sport is obviously not all about winning, but it is about justified hope. That ­distinction has provided, until recently, a serious defence of Arsène Wenger’s Act II – the losing part. Arsenal haven’t won anything big for 13 years. But they have been close enough (and this is a personal view) to sustain the experience of investing emotionally in the story. Hope turning to disappointment is fine. It’s when the hope goes, that’s the problem.

Defeat takes many forms. In both 2010 and 2011, Arsenal lost over two legs to Barcelona in the Champions League. Yet these were rich and rewarding sporting experiences. In the two London fixtures of those ties, Arsenal drew 2-2 and won 2-1 against the most dazzling team in the world. Those nights reinvigorated my pride in sport. The Emirates Stadium had the best show in town. Defeat, when it arrived in Barcelona, was softened by gratitude. We’d been entertained, more than entertained.

Arsenal’s 5-1 surrender to Bayern Munich on 15 February was very different. In this capitulation by instalments, the fascination was macabre rather than dramatic. Having long given up on discerning signs of life, we began the post-mortem mid-match. As we pored over the entrails, the curiosity lay in the extent of the malady that had brought down the body. The same question, over and over: how could such an intelligent, deep-thinking manager preside over a hollowed-out team? How could failings so obvious to outsiders, the absence of steel and resilience, evade the judgement of the boss?

There is a saying in rugby union that forwards (the hard men) determine who wins, and the backs (the glamour boys) decide by how much. Here is a footballing equivalent: midfielders define matches, attacking players adorn them and defenders get the blame. Yet Arsenal’s players as good as vacated the midfield. It is hard to judge how well Bayern’s playmakers performed because they were operating in a vacuum; it looked like a morale-boosting training-ground drill, free from the annoying presence of opponents.

I have always been suspicious of the ­default English critique which posits that mentally fragile teams can be turned around by licensed on-field violence – a good kicking, basically. Sporting “character” takes many forms; physical assertiveness is only one dimension.

Still, it remains baffling, Wenger’s blind spot. He indulges artistry, especially the mercurial Mesut Özil, beyond the point where it serves the player. Yet he won’t protect the magicians by surrounding them with effective but down-to-earth talents. It has become a diet of collapsing soufflés.

What held back Wenger from buying the linchpin midfielder he has lacked for many years? Money is only part of the explanation. All added up, Arsenal do spend: their collective wage bill is the fourth-highest in the League. But Wenger has always been reluctant to lavish cash on a single star player, let alone a steely one. Rather two nice players than one great one.

The power of habit has become debilitating. Like a wealthy but conservative shopper who keeps going back to the same clothes shop, Wenger habituates the same strata of the transfer market. When he can’t get what he needs, he’s happy to come back home with something he’s already got, ­usually an elegant midfielder, tidy passer, gets bounced in big games, prone to going missing. Another button-down blue shirt for a drawer that is well stuffed.

It is almost universally accepted that, as a business, Arsenal are England’s leading club. Where their rivals rely on bailouts from oligarchs or highly leveraged debt, Arsenal took tough choices early and now appear financially secure – helped by their manager’s ability to engineer qualification for the Champions League every season while avoiding excessive transfer costs. Does that count for anything?

After the financial crisis, I had a revealing conversation with the owner of a private bank that had sailed through the turmoil. Being cautious and Swiss, he explained, he had always kept more capital reserves than the norm. As a result, the bank had made less money in boom years. “If I’d been a normal chief executive, I’d have been fired by the board,” he said. Instead, when the economic winds turned, he was much better placed than more bullish rivals. As a competitive strategy, his winning hand was only laid bare by the arrival of harder times.

In football, however, the crash never came. We all wrote that football’s insane spending couldn’t go on but the pace has only quickened. Even the Premier League’s bosses confessed to being surprised by the last extravagant round of television deals – the cash that eventually flows into the hands of managers and then the pockets of players and their agents.

By refusing to splash out on the players he needed, whatever the cost, Wenger was hedged for a downturn that never arrived.

What an irony it would be if football’s bust comes after he has departed. Imagine the scenario. The oligarchs move on, finding fresh ways of achieving fame, respectability and the protection achieved by entering the English establishment. The clubs loaded with debt are forced to cut their spending. Arsenal, benefiting from their solid business model, sail into an outright lead, mopping up star talent and trophies all round.

It’s often said that Wenger – early to invest in data analytics and worldwide scouts; a pioneer of player fitness and lifestyle – was overtaken by imitators. There is a second dimension to the question of time and circumstance. He helped to create and build Arsenal’s off-field robustness, even though football’s crazy economics haven’t yet proved its underlying value.

If the wind turns, Arsène Wenger may face a frustrating legacy: yesterday’s man and yet twice ahead of his time. 

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 24 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The world after Brexit