Private sector greed didn't cause Winterbourne View abuse

A meaningful response from the left must consider how trade unions should or could have made a difference.

So the Winterbourne View Eleven have been sentenced. Six are starting prison sentences, and the over five have been given suspended sentences. None will ever be able to work in care settings again, assuming the current CRB system remains in place.

The reaction of the Left to the horrific abuses at Winterbourne View, both when it was uncovered and when the Serious Case Review was published in August, has been much as you would expect. Some lay the blame squarely at the door of capitalist excess, suggesting that if the profiteers were driven out, everything would be just fine. Others, operating in the New Labour managerialist tradition, say the blame lies in Care Quality Commission's regulatory failures. Polly Toynbee, to her credit, managed to cover both:

Cameron's privatising zeal looks even less enticing in the wake of this week's two care home scandals [Castlebeck was the other]. The "dead hand of the state" looks rather more welcoming than the grasping hand of private equity....

Anger at abuse at Winterbourne View hospital landed harder on the regulator, Care Quality Commission, than on Castlebeck, the company that took £3,500 a week for hiring cheap thugs as carers. The CQC confessed that ignoring a whistleblower was unforgivable - but the regulator should long ago have blown the whistle on itself and warned its task was impossible on its current resources....

If standards of care in England are to rise to a premium standard, then the CQC requires a radical overhaul. At present, it is underfunded, understaffed - even if its current high level of vacancies are filled - and its inspections are neither frequent enough nor sufficiently detailed.

All fair enough, but it still misses the main point: eleven otherwise law-abiding people chose to engage in the sadistic abuse of very vulnerable people. The venture capitalists didn't make any additional money out of that abuse, and while the CQC might have stopped the abuse before it got going, that doesn't alter the fact that these eleven people wanted to abuse those in their care.

Taking care homes back under state control, while it may be a good idea for other reasons, won't ensure that such abuse never happen again. Nor will restructuring the CQC, welcome though that is too as one means of improving care.

What will stop such abuse, I contend, is a socialist approach to public service quality - an approach that starts with the people who deliver those public services, which empowers them to stand up for those they are serving, and makes them want to.

For socialists, workers claiming control of the quality of public services - in a manner integral to the defence of their terms and conditions - should lie at the heart of the labour movement's agenda. Union activists could do worse than take GDH Cole's advice from 90 years ago, when he dreamed of a society based on self-regulating guilds, focused not just on worker conditons, but on the quality and social usefulness of work produced:

It is upon the Trade Unions that the brunt of the struggle will fall. It is upon our success in laying the foundations of the Guilds even under capitalism that the chances of Guild Socialism really depend, and the problem of the transition to Guild Socialism is therefore primary a problem of trade union development. (My emphasis.)

Cole's dream of a Guild Socialist Britain may have been just a dream, but today's public sector labour movement could do worse than aspire to his vision, by:

1) Acknowledging that, while it's perfectly legitimate to defend the public sector as best we can from Tory attack, this doesn't mean what the public sector provides is perfect, and that we also have a responsibility to ensure that the kind of abuse seen at Winterbourne View ceases; arguments about the 'logic of capital', and the consequent alienation of workers, are strong and valid, but they must be countered by equally strong and valid displays of solidarity, public service ethos and 'professional pride' (the idea of the creation of a Royal College of Teaching is interesting in this regard, though I'm not sure the 'Royal' bit is needed);
 

2) Seeking to persuade the 'powers that be' in the labour movement (the party and the unions) to develop clear strategies for the development of self-regulating codes of conduct (the NUJ's code is a good example), which in time become more effective as a guarantee against inadequate public service than anything the state can impose.

3) Taking concrete steps at local levels towards the establishment or revitalisation of Trades Councils, which task themselves not just with the business of co-ordinating resistance and mitigating the worst effects of the current assault by government, but also with the creation of new class-conscious agreements between service provider and service user. In other words, labour activists should be seeking to develop, for a new age, the civic guilds envisaged by Cole:

The [Trades] council would exist to make articulate the civic point of view, the vital spiritual and physical demands of the people, and to coordinate with the various guilds which would have entrusted to them the task of supplying these demands. To date, the trade union movement has been notably absent from the debate about Winterbourne View. This is understandable, when terms and conditions of its members are its main agenda (I would also hazard a guess that very few of the eleven convicted abuses were union members.). But if public services are to be defended in their totality, there's a bigger job to be done that looking after the public servants; we need to ensure that those they serve are looked after too.        

A statement is read on behalf of victims' families. Source: Getty

Paul Cotterill is a blogger for Liberal Conspiracy and Though Cowards Flinch.

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Rarely has it mattered so little if Manchester United won; rarely has it been so special they did

Team's Europa League victory offers chance for sorely needed celebration of a city's spirit.

Carlo Ancelotti, the Bayern Munich manager, memorably once said that football is “the most important of the least important things”, but he was only partly right. While it is absolutely the case that a bunch of people chasing around a field is insignificant, a bunch of people chasing around a field is not really what football is about.

At a football match can you set aside the strictures that govern real life and freely scream, shout and cuddle strangers. Football tracks life with such unfailing omnipresence, garnishing the mundane with regular doses of drama and suspense; football is amazing, and even when it isn’t there’s always the possibility that it’s about to be.

Football bestows primal paroxysms of intense, transcendent ecstasy, shared both with people who mean everything and people who mean nothing. Football carves out time for people it's important to see and delivers people it becomes important to see. Football is a structure with folklore, mythology, language and symbols; being part of football is being part of something big, special, and eternal. Football is the best thing in the world when things go well, and still the best thing in the world when they don’t. There is nothing remotely like it. Nothing.

Football is about community and identity, friends and family; football is about expression and abandon, laughter and song; football is about love and pride. Football is about all the beauty in the world.

And the world is a beautiful place, even though it doesn’t always seem that way – now especially. But in the horror of terror we’ve seen amazing kindness, uplifting unity and awesome dignity which is the absolute point of everything.

In Stockholm last night, 50,000 or so people gathered for a football match, trying to find a way of celebrating all of these things. Around town before the game the atmosphere was not as boisterous as usual, but in the ground the old conviction gradually returned. The PA played Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds, an Ajax staple with lyrics not entirely appropriate: there is plenty about which to worry, and for some every little thing is never going to be alright.

But somehow the sentiment felt right and the Mancunian contingent joined in with gusto, following it up with “We’ll never die,” – a song of defiance born from the ashes of the Munich air disaster and generally aired at the end of games, often when defeat is imminent. Last night it was needed from the outset, though this time its final line – “we’ll keep the red flag flying high, coz Man United will never die" – was not about a football team but a city, a spirit, and a way of life. 

Over the course of the night, every burst of song and even the minute's silence chorused with that theme: “Manchester, Manchester, Manchester”; “Manchester la la la”; “Oh Manchester is wonderful”. Sparse and simple words, layered and complex meanings.

The match itself was a curious affair. Rarely has it mattered so little whether or not United won; rarely has it been so special that they did. Manchester United do not represent or appeal to everyone in Manchester but they epitomise a similar brilliance to Manchester, brilliance which they take to the world. Brilliance like youthfulness, toughness, swagger and zest; brilliance which has been to the fore these last three days, despite it all.

Last night they drew upon their most prosaic aspects, outfighting and outrunning a willing but callow opponent to win the only trophy to have eluded them. They did not make things better, but they did bring happiness and positivity at a time when happiness and positivity needed to be brought; football is not “the most important of the least important things,” it is the least important of the most important things.

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