Why evolution, not revolution, is the key to public service reform

As Andrew Adonis argues, successful reforms are incremental and build on existing best-practice, rather than trying to reinvent the wheel.

The coalition government, and in particular its Conservative wing, has been described as "Maoist" on public service reform. They have taken inspiration from Tony Blair’s lament that the only thing he regrets is not moving further and faster on the reform of the public sector. To remind himself of this, Michael Gove even has a picture of Lenin on his office wall.  Across government, there has been a premium on radical structural change undertaken at great speed.

Public services need reform: taken as a whole they are still not meeting the expectations of the modern public and they are poorly configured in particular to tackle complex problems that cut across different social domains. The state has got pretty good at things like reducing hospital waits and strengthening basic levels of education. It is pretty ineffective at tackling problems like anti-social behaviour, mental illness and long-term unemployment. So the need for reform is not in doubt - the question is what kind of reform and how it is to be carried out.

And it is here that the government’s record looks pretty poor. If we look across departments we find big structural changes undertaken at great speed, which have ended in predictable trouble. The NHS has spent three years undergoing a vast and expensive reorganisation, which has wasted time and distracted professional and managerial energy that should have been focused on improving services.

This is not the only car crash: the implementation of Universal Credit has got into the familiar trouble that bedevils big IT projects, the Work Programme is failing to help those who are sick or disabled into work, and the rush to get as many new free schools as possible has come at a price in terms of quality. The Ministry of Justice itself now says that Chris Grayling’s high speed probation privatisation will put the public at risk. These problems are not just embarrassing for ministers, they affect millions of people.

Instead of taking inspiration from Mao, ministers would have done better to listen to one of Labour’s most successful public service reformers, Andrew Adonis. In a little noticed speech three years ago, he set out six lessons for successful reform. Good reforms, he argued, build on failed ones and learn from their mistakes. They are incremental and do not try to achieve 'whole-system' transformation all at once. They are based on existing best-practice, rather than trying to reinvent the wheel. They require huge political drive, considerable support from stakeholders and create a new consensus in the general public.

Adonis's argument is backed by research across disciplines including economics and the behavioural sciences that social systems improve most if they are allowed to evolve incrementally. In this way, actors and institutions can try things out, learn from their mistakes and improve their practice continuously over time. Look at the recent public service reforms that have really lasted: Teach First (now the largest graduate recruiter in Britain) and academy schools. Both started small, both built on previous reforms and both grew gradually over time. Compare that legacy to what has happened in health: over the last 20 years, the whole structure of the NHS has been reorganised four times - often in an attempt to reverse the mistakes made in the previous reform. Very few people would claim that any of those structural reforms were the main reason for improved clinical outcomes.

If this is true, why are politicians so addicted to top-down structural reform? Because there are big political incentives to introduce 'look at me' reforms, to show through speed and scale that one is being radical, and to focus on structure as something muscular that politicians can directly get their hands on. The content and the timetable of Chris Grayling’s misconceived reforms to the probation service are a classic example of this pathology in our political system.

The first order challenge is clearly to decide what type of reforms are required for our public services. As Rafael Behr points out, Labour has yet to settle on a public service reform agenda.  In the new year IPPR will be publishing a paper that sets out our prospectus. But politicians also have to address themselves to the question of pace and scale, revolution or evolution.  Labour would do well to eschew Mao and listen to Adonis: start small at first and then grow out across the system, allow for trial and error, do not change all of a system’s 'tectonic plates' at once but be clearly focused on driving through reform in those areas that need to change, and build coalitions to sustain reform over time.  If Labour does that, the changes it will introduce will last and ultimately have greater effect.

Rick Muir is Associate Director for Public Service Reform at IPPR. His new paper Many to Many: How the relational state will transform public services will be published in the new year. 

Justice Secretary Chris Grayling speaks at the Conservative conference in Manchester. Photograph: Getty Images.

Rick Muir is director of the Police Foundation

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What happens when a president refuses to step down?

An approaching constitutional crisis has triggered deep political unrest in the Congo.

Franck Diongo reached his party’s headquarters shortly after 10am and stepped out of a Range Rover. Staff and hangers-on rose from plastic chairs to greet the president of the Mouvement Lumumbiste Progressiste (MLP), named after the first elected leader of the Democratic Republic of Congo.

Diongo, a compact and powerfully built man, was so tightly wound that his teeth ground as he talked. When agitated, he slammed his palms on the table and his speech became shrill. “We live under a dictatorial regime, so it used the security forces to kill us with live rounds to prevent our demonstration,” he said.

The MLP is part of a coalition of opposition parties known as the Rassemblement. Its aim is to ensure that the Congolese president, Joseph Kabila, who has been president since 2001, leaves office on 19 December, at the end of his second and supposedly final term.

Yet the elections that were meant to take place late last month have not been organised. The government has blamed logistical and financial difficulties, but Kabila’s opponents claim that the president has hamstrung the electoral commission in the hope that he can use his extended mandate to change the rules. “Mr Kabila doesn’t want to quit power,” said Diongo, expressing a widespread belief here.

On 19 September, the Rassemblement planned a march in Kinshasa, the capital, to protest the failure to deliver elections and to remind the president that his departure from office was imminent. But the demonstration never took place. At sunrise, clashes broke out between police and protesters in opposition strongholds. The military was deployed. By the time peace was restored 36 hours later, dozens had died. Kabila’s interior minister, claiming that the government had faced down an insurrection, acknowledged the deaths of 32 people but said that they were killed by criminals during looting.

Subsequent inquiries by the United Nations and Human Rights Watch (HRW) told a different story. They recorded more fatalities – at least 53 and 56, respectively – and said that the state had been responsible for most of the deaths. They claimed that the Congolese authorities had obstructed the investigators, and the true number of casualties was likely higher. According to HRW, security forces had seized and removed bodies “in an apparent effort to hide the evidence”.

The UN found that the lethal response was directed from a “central command centre. . . jointly managed” by officials from the police, army, presidential bodyguard and intelligence agency that “authorised the use of force, including firearms”.

The reports validated claims made by the Rassemblement that it was soldiers who had set fire to several opposition parties’ headquarters on 20 September. Six men were killed when the compound of the UDPS party was attacked.

On 1 November, their funerals took place where they fell. White coffins, each draped in a UDPS flag, were shielded from the midday sun by a gazebo, while mourners found shade inside the charred building. Pierrot Tshibangu lost his younger sibling, Evariste, in the attack. “When we arrived, we found my brother’s body covered in stab marks and bullet wounds,” he recalled.

Once the government had suppressed the demonstration, the attorney general compiled a list of influential figures in the Rassemblement – including Diongo – and forbade them from leaving the capital. Kinshasa’s governor then outlawed all political protest.

It was easy to understand why Diongo felt embattled, even paranoid. Midway through our conversation, his staff apprehended a man loitering in the courtyard. Several minutes of mayhem ensued before he was restrained and confined under suspicion of spying for the government.

Kabila is seldom seen in public and almost never addresses the nation. His long-term intentions are unclear, but the president’s chief diplomatic adviser maintains that his boss has no designs on altering the constitution or securing a third term. He insists that Kabila will happily step down once the country is ready for the polls.

Most refuse to believe such assurances. On 18 October, Kabila’s ruling alliance struck a deal with a different, smaller opposition faction. It allows Kabila to stay in office until the next election, which has been postponed until April 2018. A rickety government of national unity is being put in place but discord is already rife.

Jean-Lucien Bussa of the CDER party helped to negotiate the deal and is now a front-runner for a ministerial portfolio. At a corner table in the national assembly’s restaurant, he told me that the Rassemblement was guilty of “a lack of realism”, and that its fears were misplaced because Kabila won’t be able to prolong his presidency any further.

“On 29 April 2018, the Congolese will go to the ballot box to vote for their next president,” he said. “There is no other alternative for democrats than to find a negotiated solution, and this accord has given us one.”

Diongo was scathing of the pact (he called it “a farce intended to deceive”) and he excommunicated its adherents from his faction. “They are Mr Kabila’s collaborators, who came to divide the opposition,” he told me. “What kind of oppositionist can give Mr Kabila the power to violate the constitution beyond 19 December?”

Diongo is convinced that the president has no intention of walking away from power in April 2018. “Kabila will never organise elections if he cannot change the constitution,” he warned.

Diongo’s anger peaked at the suggestion that it will be an uphill struggle to dislodge a head of state who has control of the security forces. “What you need to consider,” he said, “is that no army can defy a people determined to take control of their destiny . . . The Congolese people will have the last word!”

A recent poll suggested that the president would win less than 8 per cent of the vote if an election were held this year. One can only assume that Kabila is hoping that the population will have no say at all.

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage