How the state failed to protect children in Rochdale

Despite Rochdale social services being told that the girls were at risk, they did not intervene.

In August, I reported from Rochdale on the fall-out from the child grooming scandal - in which a gang of child abusers had been allowed to operate unhindered for several years, despite social services and police being aware of its existence.

Today's Guardian has unearthed evidence that backs up claims made in my report. The scale of what they uncovered, via freedom of information requests, is quite shocking: an NHS crisis intervention team that provided sexual health services to vulnerable young people contacted the borough council a total of 83 times between 2004 and 2010 about teenage girls they thought were being abused.

Despite Rochdale social services being told that the girls - some of whom were in care but many who were not - were at risk, they did not intervene. As the town's MP, Simon Danczuk, told me, there was an attitude that the girls were making "life choices" and were choosing to have sex with their abusers.

Greater Manchester Police, too, were slow to act - only bringing a prosecution against members of the gang over two years after an initial complaint was made. Their excuse was that the girls were from "chaotic, council estate" backgrounds, indicating a similar attitude to social services.

When the nine members of the grooming gang were convicted in May 2012, much of the media coverage focused on the fact that they were all of British Pakistani or Afghan origin, and that their victims were white. Earlier this week, the Times reported on similar crimes that took place in Rotherham (£), and a similar catalogue of inaction by agencies that should have been protecting children.

These most recent reports emphasise that whatever the motivations of their abusers, the victims were failed by the state, as a result of assumptions made about their backgrounds and morals. These were the "missed opportunities" acknowledged by Rochdale's Safeguarding Children Board in a report also published today.

Politicians and media commentators who wish to grandstand about "Muslim culture" or "Asian sex gangs" - and there have been plenty - should recognise that in these cases, prejudice exists rather closer to home.

The former Home Secretary Jack Straw has once again waded into the debate, acknowledging the systemic failures, and that the vast majority of sex offenders in Britain are white, but calling once more for the "Asian community" to confront abusers in its midst.

Yet, as Mohammed Shafiq, a youth worker from Rochdale and head of the Ramadhan Foundation, told me:

"The progress is on the street. It’s in the cafés, in the takeaways, with people socialising in the gym. People are talking about this. There has been utter disgust at the crime, and shame that someone from our community has done this, and sympathy for the families who have had to suffer." But, he added: "I think we’ve got a chattering class in London, where anything to do with race, anything to do with working-class people, they rub their hands with glee and decide that they’re going to inflame this. And because they [the abusers] were Asian, because they were Muslim, it just fitted their agenda."

 

A newspaper advertising board outside a corner shop in the Lancashire town of Rochdale after nine men were arrested for child sexual exploitation on January 11, 2011. Photograph: Getty Images

Daniel Trilling is the Editor of New Humanist magazine. He was formerly an Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

Getty
Show Hide image

The Women's March against Trump matters – but only if we keep fighting

We won’t win the battle for progressive ideas if we don’t battle in the first place.

Arron Banks, UKIP-funder, Brexit cheerleader and Gibraltar-based insurance salesman, took time out from Trump's inauguration to tweet me about my role in tomorrow's Women’s March Conservative values are in the ascendancy worldwide. Thankfully your values are finished. . . good”.

Just what about the idea of women and men marching for human rights causes such ill will? The sense it is somehow cheeky to say we will champion equality whoever is in office in America or around the world. After all, if progressives like me have lost the battle of ideas, what difference does it make whether we are marching, holding meetings or just moaning on the internet?

The only anti-democratic perspective is to argue that when someone has lost the argument they have to stop making one. When political parties lose elections they reflect, they listen, they learn but if they stand for something, they don’t disband. The same is true, now, for the broader context. We should not dismiss the necessity to learn, to listen, to reflect on the rise of Trump – or indeed reflect on the rise of the right in the UK  but reject the idea that we have to take a vow of silence if we want to win power again.

To march is not to ignore the challenges progressives face. It is to start to ask what are we prepared to do about it.

Historically, conservatives have had no such qualms about regrouping and remaining steadfast in the confidence they have something worth saying. In contrast, the left has always been good at absolving itself of the need to renew.

We spend our time seeking the perfect candidates, the perfect policy, the perfect campaign, as a precondition for action. It justifies doing nothing except sitting on the sidelines bemoaning the state of society.

We also seem to think that changing the world should be easier than reality suggests. The backlash we are now seeing against progressive policies was inevitable once we appeared to take these gains for granted and became arrogant and exclusive about the inevitability of our worldview. Our values demand the rebalancing of power, whether economic, social or cultural, and that means challenging those who currently have it. We may believe that a more equal world is one in which more will thrive, but that doesn’t mean those with entrenched privilege will give up their favoured status without a fight or that the public should express perpetual gratitude for our efforts via the ballot box either.  

Amongst the conferences, tweets and general rumblings there seem three schools of thought about what to do next. The first is Marxist  as in Groucho revisionism: to rise again we must water down our principles to accommodate where we believe the centre ground of politics to now be. Tone down our ideals in the hope that by such acquiescence we can eventually win back public support for our brand – if not our purpose. The very essence of a hollow victory.

The second is to stick to our guns and stick our heads in the sand, believing that eventually, when World War Three breaks out, the public will come grovelling back to us. To luxuriate in an unwillingness to see we are losing not just elected offices but the fight for our shared future.

But what if there really was a third way? It's not going to be easy, and it requires more than a hashtag or funny t-shirt. It’s about picking ourselves up, dusting ourselves down and starting to renew our call to arms in a way that makes sense for the modern world.

For the avoidance of doubt, if we march tomorrow and then go home satisfied we have made our point then we may as well not have marched at all. But if we march and continue to organise out of the networks we make, well, then that’s worth a Saturday in the cold. After all, we won’t win the battle of ideas, if we don’t battle.

We do have to change the way we work. We do have to have the courage not to live in our echo chambers alone. To go with respect and humility to debate and discuss the future of our communities and of our country.

And we have to come together to show there is a willingness not to ask a few brave souls to do that on their own. Not just at election times, but every day and in every corner of Britain, no matter how difficult it may feel.

Saturday is one part of that process of finding others willing not just to walk a mile with a placard, but to put in the hard yards to win the argument again for progressive values and vision. Maybe no one will show up. Maybe not many will keep going. But whilst there are folk with faith in each other, and in that alternative future, they’ll find a friend in me ready to work with them and will them on  and then Mr Banks really should be worried.