How Labour can redefine the public sector debate

Reform will get nowhere if it starts and ends with confrontation with the workforce.

The public sector now looks set for months of bitter confrontation between the government and the unions. The doctors have announced a day of industrial action  -  their first in more than 40 years. Meanwhile teachers are set to strike in the autumn over changes to pensions.  Earlier in May tens of thousands of public sector workers including police and prison officers, lecturers and civil servants took part in a day of action and union leaders have warned of more to come.  It is clear that the mood among public sector workers is one of anger – and in their fight against the coalition’s programme of cuts and reforms the unions are looking to Labour for strong, unequivocal backing. 

How should the Labour leadership respond?  According to the former cabinet minister, Charles Clarke in a new article for IPPR’s journal Juncture, by adopting its own radical reform strategy for  public services. Clarke's prospectus is bold and much of it controversial: he calls for tight control over pay and spending, greater hypothecation of tax and an extension of user charging and competition.  He acknowledges that many of these reforms are unlikely to win the support of the industrial wing of the labour movement but argues that Labour shouldn’t allow "vested interests, even including some of its own members and supporters" to stand in the way of change. He does however offer new forms of institutional dialogue with unions and professional bodies to get agreement over areas such skills development, pensions and working arrangements.

Clarke is right that a future Labour government would have to make tough decisions. This is underlined in a new briefing published by IPPR today in conjunction with the CBI. The report highlights the fact that long-term trends, especially an ageing population, will increase demand on public services, while reducing future tax revenues.  The analysis is based on projections from the Office for Budget Responsibility showing how Britain’s budget balance is likely to move from a surplus of 1.3 per cent of GDP in 2015-16 to a deficit of 0.6 per cent of GDP in 2030-31 and then to 3.2 per cent of GDP in 2060-61: a deterioration of 4.5 per cent of GDP or £66 billion in today’s terms. 

These pressures are not unmanageable, still less an excuse for cutting back on providing high quality universal services. But they mean that any future government will have to make very difficult choices. The way forward is to create a broader, more sustainable tax base, take big strategic decisions about which services we as a country should prioritise and get serious about raising public sector productivity over the long term.

In terms of prioritisation we should be investing in universal affordable childcare: the success of the Nordic countries shows that this has massive long term pay offs in terms of reducing educational inequalities, as well as helping to expand the tax base by raising the female employment rate. In short, investment in early years is a massive win/win. But if we put our eggs in that basket it means that other services will face a tighter funding settlement over the long term.

That brings us to productivity. The electoral success of New Labour was built on the idea that social justice and economic efficiency could go hand in hand. It is my contention that the success of a future Labour government would depend on making public service productivity and the values of social justice, association and democratic empowerment go hand in hand.  

Lets be clear: being serious about productivity means being hard headed about reducing costs. In particular that means looking at where new technology can deliver services in a less labour intensive way. For example, new technologies in health mean that people will be able to monitor their own conditions much more actively without the need to consult a doctor. In another example, increasingly universities in the United States are opening up their degrees to the public by allowing online access to teaching material.  This could radically transform the nature of a university education by allowing wider access at lower cost. 

But delivering better value also requires the engagement and enthusiasm of those who deliver our public services day to day.  An agenda that seeks to marry the values of cooperation and employee participation to the need to improve efficiency has the potential to secure the buy-in of public service professionals. 

For example, could staff be rewarded by collective bonuses when a service improves? Or for example could we create new forms of not for profit service delivery organisation in which staff and users are jointly in control? The prospect that social care users could mutualise their personal budgets to create community led care providers is an enticing one. 

Of course user and producer interests will still clash and it is for that reason that we need robust forms of accountability in public services. We should also be realistic: it will be impossible to achieve agreement on every reform. And Clarke is right that before working out how it can better engage staff in the process Labour will need to be much clearer than it has been about its overall strategic approach to reform and the kind of changes that are necessary.  But it is important to remember that reform will get nowhere if it starts and ends with confrontation with the workforce.

Rick Muir is IPPR's associate director for public service reform

A future Labour government would have to make tough decisions on funding. Photograph: Getty Images.

Rick Muir is director of the Police Foundation

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Mister Lizard is not at home to bailiffs – he is eating salmon pâté by the river

Why is it that when people answer the question “What’s the worst thing anyone’s ever said to you?” in the Guardian questionnaire they never say, “You’ve been served”?

Summer’s nearly over. I look at the angle of the sunlight as it strikes the back terrace of the Hovel. I have been here long enough to use the terrace as a gnomon marking the passage of the year. I need, like the protagonists of Withnail and I, to go to the countryside to rejuvenate.

Last week when the Perseids were meant to be in full flow I asked frantically on a social medium for people to chum me along on a midnight walk on Hampstead Heath. In the end my new friends A— and her husband, C—, together with his new friend (whose initial I have forgotten, but he is Australian, if that helps), stepped up to the plate and after a couple at the Flask we went on a wide-ranging tour, which was a bust as far as seeing meteors – or my favourite tree – went, but was still hugely enjoyable. At about 2 am they packed me into an Uber and I went home happy, but I still felt as if I could do with more countryside.

The next few days made me even more anxious to get out of London. There are ominous signs that some serious roadworks are going to be taking place outside my bedroom window any day now. A bailiff came and rang the doorbell and I didn’t have the heart, or the nerve, to say that Nicholas Lezard was not at home at the moment and, is, in fact, on a walking tour of Patagonia now I come to think of it, due back some time next year. I just took the piece of paper into my hands as if it were a chicken come home to roost.

The previous day, presumably the same bailiff had come round and asked if Mr Lizard was in, and my housemate gallantly – and quite truthfully – said “no”. (Why is it that when people answer the question “What’s the worst thing anyone’s ever said to you?” in the Guardian questionnaire they never say, “You’ve been served”? Maybe it’s because they haven’t ever been.) In addition, as I said last week, the cleaning lady is on holiday and the Hovel is starting to look distinctly seedy.

So, then I get a call from a person who once featured quite prominently in this column, some time ago. This person is bored and wants me to go to his or her town and alleviate his or her boredom. This person and I parted company in circumstances that were far from ideal some time ago, and only recently have diplomatic relations been resumed.

It is too late, I say, for me to get on the train now; but when I have reviewed the book I am meant to be reviewing, I will hop on the train tomorrow around noon. And so I do, despite some monkey business from the departures board at King’s Cross, which tells passengers the 12:44 has been cancelled, then hasn’t been, then has, then hasn’t after all, while the 12:14 has slipped away like a thief in the night without telling anyone it was doing so.

I wonder if my return to the town of ——— is wise. As a dog returneth to its vomit, so doth a fool return to his folly. And the burnt hand fears the fire. Look, I say to myself, all we’re doing is going to have a picnic by the river. As we buy our supplies, the stallholder at the market asks if I am my companion’s husband. “No, he’s my picnic buddy,” he or she replies. “Never heard it called that before,” says the stallholder.

And the day passes perfectly pleasantly. We have two bottles of wine, cheese and smoked salmon pâté with crusty bread. People in punts drift past us, with varying degrees of competence. I remember it is A-level results day and call the eldest boy to ask how he’s done. He’s done well enough, it turns out, to get a place at university, though he feels obliged to point out that his results came in exactly a year ago. This is the kind of thing that happens when the number of children you have exceeds your mental bandwidth.

Later on, a porter from the college behind which we are picnicking asks me if I am a member, or an alumni. “Alumnus,” I correct him gently, hoping that this should establish my credentials. He asks for my name, and he radios the porters’ lodge to check my veracity. For some reason it takes him several goes to get my name right.

One of these goes is “Lizard”. We offer him some cheese, but he refuses, on the grounds that he has just had a banana and a cup of tea. I could live in a guest room here, I reflect, at not much higher rent than one pays in London. And the beauty of it is that the police, and presumably bailiffs, have to ask permission to go through the gates. 

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser