The 'radical' spirits

who network their way

to advancement

Cosy up north (1): Walter Humes

Recent articles by Kenneth Roy and Alison Prince on the subject of elites in Scottish public life (2 August and 4 August) brought to mind some research I carried out in the 1980s into the way the educational system was run.
     Scottish education is often thought of as relatively democratic and egalitarian but I found that, in terms of the way policy was developed and implemented at that time, this was far from the case. My investigation led me to question the 'received wisdom', which invoked reassuring concepts such as partnership, consultation and consensus, and sought to convey the impression that those who made decisions exercised benign stewardship in the public interest.
     A detailed study of the membership of examination and curriculum bodies, as well as the composition of committees and working groups, led me to conclude that the system was carefully managed, through the use of patronage, to ensure that only those likely to conform to the unwritten rules of the game- were likely to join the upper levels of the educational policy community. A measure of ability was important, but deference and trust were more important.
     Her majesty's inspectors of education played a key role in 'talent spotting' people who were judged worthy of joining the elite and their recommendations were passed on to senior civil servants who advised ministers. Potential critics of favoured policies were rarely given the opportunity to voice their concerns in arenas that would attract attention. Unsurprisingly, my conclusion that the system was cosy, collusive and unhealthy did not meet with approval in official quarters.
     Later I developed the concept of 'narrative privilege' to describe one of the most powerful ways which helped to ensure the perpetuation of a form of elitism disguised as democratic engagement. 'Narrative privilege' derives from the right of key players of decision-making bodies to write the official versions of events which gain currency as 'objective' accounts of what has taken place. It is expressed through the minutes and records of meetings, and embodied in annual reports of public bodies and official reviews of policy. It is also evident in press releases, in ministerial statements and on the websites of educational agencies. The discourse of these accounts generally conveys a favourable impression of those who have constructed the narrative.
     I argued that it was important to develop counter-narratives which sought to challenge the official versions. This is not easy, however, partly because those who seek to develop counter-narratives have fewer means of ensuring that their voice is heard and there is generally a price to pay for going against the grain of establishment thinking. The pattern of promoting official narratives and suppressing counter narratives can be seen not only in education: it is evident in most areas of public policy and can be observed, for example, in health, transport, housing and environment.

 

     Moreover, the establishment has well-practised methods of dealing with dissidents, ranging from simply ignoring them, through ensuring that their energies are directed elsewhere, to seeking means of discrediting them. Nobody should underestimate the collective experience of the British civil service in finding ways of dealing with awkward customers: it is a quality that has been honed over many years and applied to many different contexts.
     But, it may be argued, my account has surely been overtaken by events. Aren't things much better now that we are in post-devolution Scotland? What of all the promises of greater transparency and accountability in the brave new world represented by the Scottish Parliament? Regular readers of the Scottish Review will be aware of many cases where officials have claimed that all is well and that those in charge can be trusted to discharge their responsibilities in the public interest – only to discover, through the diligence of investigative journalism or the integrity of whistleblowers, that all is far from well and that the tricks of that shabby trade, public relations, have been employed to conceal the true facts.
     In education, although the surface configuration of the system has altered in a number of ways, many of the techniques of maintaining narrative privilege and exercising patronage remain the same. There are, sadly, always plenty of people who are prepared to go the 'networking' route to advancement and are happy to accept the occasional establishment bauble on the way. It is ironic that some of those who go along with this process contrive to develop an image of themselves as 'radical' spirits.
     In the face of this rather depressing picture, should we just give up and accept that unrepresentative elites are an inevitable feature of our 'democratic' system? Certainly not. I know from my own and others' experiences that counter narratives, though not easy to disseminate, can sometimes strike home and cause considerable discomfort in official quarters, even leading on occasion to public enquiries in which senior figures are held to account.      Moreover, as people live longer, there is a growing constituency of professionals among the retired, folk who have extensive experience of the public sector, and who are well placed to contribute to the debate about the kind of society Scotland should aspire to. Released from the 'corporate' bondage that is now a feature of so many fields of employment, they are in a better position than either the young unemployed or those still making their way in the job market, to speak truth to power. We owe it to the generations that will come after us to fight for a more open, honest and fairer Scotland.

 

Prior to his retirement Walter Humes held professorships at the universities of Aberdeen, Strathclyde and West of Scotland. He is now a visiting professor of education at the University of Stirling