The coalition's childcare figures don't add up

Without greater long-term investment, the relaxation of ratios is extremely unlikely to lead to the savings promised by ministers.

When the coalition announced its intended relaxation of childcare ratios, one of the central planks of their argument was that it would lead to lower prices for parents. With childcare cost inflation currently running at over twice the rate of inflation, reducing prices is an understandable goal of policy. But many academics and those in the childcare sector were understandably dubious over this claim. Yes, relaxing the number of children each childcare worker can care for may reduce the ‘per-child’ cost to the provider, but it is not at all clear that the gain from this increase in productivity will necessarily flow into lower prices for parents. Perhaps more importantly, it is not clear whether quality of care would improve either. This is concerning given that quality increases were a stated aim of the policy

Last Friday, the Department for Education responded to a freedom of information request, which asked them to show how they came to this conclusion. The DfE’s modelling claims that the increase in ratios could lead to a remarkably large reduction in prices from 12 and up to 28 per cent. Let’s explore some of the assumptions behind this figure:

  • It assumes that childcare providers will actually make use of the larger ratios available to them: It is far from clear that childcare providers even want to increase ratios. Original survey evidence carried out by IPPR found that almost three quarters (74 per cent) of childminders won’t increase the number of children they care for following an increase in ratios. Almost four fifths of this group thinks the increase in ratios will reduce the quality of their services. A similar survey by the National Children’s Bureau, covering the whole of the sector, found that 95 per cent of respondents were concerned about increasing ratios.  If so many providers are not willing to take up the coalition’s offer, the DfE’s modelling is largely redundant.
  • The DfE’s upper estimate of 28 per cent assumes no increase in the pay of most existing workers: In order to make use of the increased ratios for children aged over three, the example nursery used in the DfE’s modelling needs to replace two of its non-graduate staff with two early years graduates. Having paid for their increased salary, the entirety of the extra revenue is given to parents in lower prices. What this means is that the wages of everyone else working in the setting don’t budge, with those looking after children aged two and under asked to care for more children but with no extra pay.
  • The DfE assumes high ratios for younger children but with no increase in the qualifications of their carers: Forthcoming IPPR research shows that while relaxing ratios for over threes may be a sensible idea, higher ratios are problematic for younger children, who require much more intensive care. While one way to mitigate the impact of higher ratios on young children would be to increase the skills of their carers, the modelling assumes that the extra graduates employed focus all of their caring time on over-threes, in order to unlock the higher ratio for that group. So while the higher ratios may lead to lower prices, parents of under threes should understandably be concerned about the resulting impact on quality.
  • The DfE fails to point out that some of the savings may be retained by nurseries to boost profits rather than passed on to parents: Neither the 28 per cent nor the 12 per cent figure imply any channelling of extra revenue into the profits of providers. This is very unlikely to happen because the sector is so unprofitable. Last year over a quarter of British nurseries made a loss. The idea that nurseries will not use new flexibilities to boost their often meagre profits looks a heroic assumption, and has worrying implications for the future stability of the childcare market.

Industry website Nursery World has pointed out several other flaws in the methodology, including the assumptions that there are no empty places in settings, when in fact 20 per cent of places are vacant, and that workers need time to plan and manage delivery.

The coalition clearly thinks that relaxing ratios, combined with tweaking the package of benefits offered to parents to buy childcare, is going to solve the childcare affordability problem affecting families across the countries. But neither are a quick fix. Without more long-term investment in the skills and capacity of the sector to increase places and quality, and reduce prices, the 28 per cent figure announced last week is extremely unlikely to be achieved.

Spencer Thompson is Research Fellow at IPPR

David Cameron during a visit to a London Early Years Foundation nursery on January 11, 2010 in London. Photograph: Getty Images.

Spencer Thompson is economic analyst at IPPR

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era