A route-map to Labour’s revolution in apprenticeships

Britain faces a stark choice: a race to the bottom in skills and wages or a race for the top in the demanding 21st century economy.

Fifty years ago, only 20% of young people left school with any qualifications at all.  Now the figure is 90%. Forty years ago, less than 8% of young people went on to university. Now the figure is nearer 50%. These are great, progressive achievements. But the success we have won for some young people should not blind us to the continuing challenges of others.

A year ago the Labour leader Ed Miliband highlighted the plight of the "forgotten 50%" of young people who do not go to university. He set up a Skills Taskforce, of which I am the independent chair, to suggest practical, deliverable solutions for these young people. Last month, in the first of three final reports, the Taskforce called on Labour to embark on a national mission to double the number of high quality apprenticeships.

Less than one in 10 employers offer apprenticeships in England, compared to three or four times that number in our main European competitors. And while the UK has are some exceptional apprenticeships – such as those at Rolls Royce, Siemens, Heathrow Airport and Transport for London – much of the recent increase has been in apprenticeships that would not be recognised in these countries. Apprenticeships should be a high quality training route into work for young people, but a shocking 70% of apprentices are existing employees, up from 48% in 2007, and 94% of these apprentices are over 25 years old. A fifth of apprenticeships last for less than six months and 20% of all apprentices report receiving no training at all.

This is bad for business and for the economy. Many employers say they cannot get the skills they need to succeed and in some sectors the lack of training has led to severe skills shortages. Most importantly, the lack of good training and work opportunities caps aspiration and prevents young people from fulfilling their potential.

The Skills Taskforce makes a simple proposition: it offers employers a 'something-for-something' deal.  Employers should be given more control over skills funding and standards, and in return should be asked to create more high quality apprenticeships in their sectors and supply chains.

Nearly half of employers say that the prospect of trained staff being poached by rival firms deters them from training employees. So the Taskforce also recommends asking business what powers they need to ensure they can deliver the expansion in apprenticeships we need to rebuild the economy, such as the power to introduce levies or training requirements. It should then be up to employers, working with other stakeholders at sector level, which of these powers they will use. The public sector can and should take a lead, through both its own provision – the current provision of apprenticeships in the public sector is unacceptable – and driving behaviour through procurement.

If this sounds ambitious, it should. If it sounds impossible: it is not. Continental systems, including the German and Austrian education and training systems, already do it. The challenges are not ones of principle, but of will, and the prize is considerable.

At the Labour Party conference, Ed Miliband took on the challenge to double the number of high quality apprenticeships and said he would give employers the power to call time on free-riding by competitors who do not train. Labour also committed to our recommendations to ensure that apprenticeships are gold standard qualifications that employers and young people can trust: Level 3 or above and lasting at least two years. 

This is a good start to a major transformational task. Britain faces a stark choice: a race to the bottom in skills and wages or a race for the top in the demanding 21st century economy. Britain must not join the race to the bottom. Our goal is to transform the opportunities available to young people through efforts to develop a high skill, high productivity economy.

Chris Husbands is the director of the Institute for Education and chair of Labour’s Skills Taskforce.

Ed Miliband speaks at the Labour conference in Brighton last month. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue