In search of co-production

Co-production. The only time I’d seen the word was in film credits, so when it appeared in a Parent Carer Forum (PCF) newsletter in 2013, I asked what it meant. I was directed to one of the Pathfinder area information booklets.  It defines co-production as:

“…when all team members together agree outcomes, coproduce recommendations, plans, actions and materials as a collective. It is an approach which builds upon meaningful participation and assumes effective consultation and information sharing. In its essence, co-production is a dynamic group process and happens in the room when there is equal value for each participant’s contribution and when there is a meaningful proportion of participants who are service users (in this case parent carers) present.” (p.10)

scaling up

Co-production turned out to be a buzzword in public services. That prompted another question. I could see how co-production could be used to develop a personalized programme of medical treatment, or an individual Education Health and Care Plan, but how could it be scaled up? A handful of patients wanting unusual therapeutic interventions, or half-a-dozen EHCPs specifying provision that has to be imported from out-of-county, is one thing. Tens, or hundreds of treatment plans or EHCPs along those lines is quite another and would require some major changes in commissioning.

I asked around. I joined several online groups and met many well-informed people. They all said ‘that’s a good question’, but no one could answer it, and no one had any examples of co-production happening at scale. This was significant. If co-production didn’t work at scale, there wasn’t much point to it.

I asked around some more. An organization called NESTA has done a good deal of work on co-production, so I read their research papers. NESTA (National Endowment for Science, Technology and the Arts) describes itself as an innovation foundation. It was founded as a non-departmental public body in 1998 with a grant from the National Lottery, and in 2010 became a charity.

Their co-production discussion papers The Challenge of Co-production, Public Services Inside Out and Right Here, Right Now, (more have been published since) were fascinating. But I couldn’t find an answer to my question about scaling up. The papers were packed with inspiring examples of co-production, but unless I missed something, all the examples looked like one-off local projects, some of which had been quite short-lived. Would co-production at scale consist of a bunch of local projects? If so, at what point would you need to do some joined-up thinking?

engagement

The NESTA papers indicated there was considerably more to co-production than producing “recommendations, plans, actions and materials as a collective”. The NESTA authors saw it as the active participation of citizens in delivering public services, a model that had significant potential to halt spiraling and unsustainable costs. The citizens’ engagement was framed in terms of ‘giving back’. There were obvious parallels with David Cameron’s ‘Big Society’.

I felt uneasy.   Big Society emphasized the importance of volunteering, but blithely overlooked limitations familiar to volunteers. I vividly remember eyebrows being raised at a local meeting where it was suggested volunteers could support elderly people discharged from hospital. One former nurse asked what training the volunteers would get. Another asked about insurance – she’d once been falsely accused, by a patient with dementia, of stealing money. It would be more cost-effective to employ a few more district nurses.

power

The Pathfinder description of co-production had a footnote to Sherry Arnstein’s 1969 paper ‘A Ladder of Citizen Participation’. Variations on the ladder of participation are widely cited.  Here’s Arnstein’s version:

arnstein

Arnstein’s paper is about the role of power structures in planning decisions in the USA, and cites numerous examples of citizen participation. In some cases, the citizens had to engage in quite robust action before getting to the point where they were actually participating.

The NESTA papers referred to power shifts, but not quite as explicitly as Arnstein does.  Parent Carer Forums often refer to the ‘empowerment’ of parents, but generally in terms of parents sharing experiences and familiarising themselves with the law.  It’s assumed that in and of itself, this will make things happen. I can’t recall seeing any references to power structures.

Parent Carer Forums do, however, report co-production taking place at a ‘strategic’ level. As far as I can ascertain, this means PCF representatives working with commissioners and providers on the design of local services. Public sector services do appear to have shifted from a ‘doing to’ to a ‘doing for’ approach, and are now en route to ‘doing with’.

How far ‘doing with’ is likely to extend is debatable.   Even if the contributions of the people ‘in the room’ are given equal weight, what about the ones who aren’t in the room? The non-verbal children? The ‘hard to reach’ parent carers who’ve never even heard of parent carer forums? And at the other end of the scale, what about the Treasury, the DfE and the Education & Skills Funding Agency?

Most PCFs are funded indirectly by the DfE and/or directly by their local authority (see p.10), so who’s in the room and what power they have over the dynamic group process are key questions.

missing pieces

Although I could see the potential for co-production, as a model it still didn’t make sense. Pieces of the jigsaw were missing.  I found frequent references to Edgar Cahn, who worked on co-production in the 1980s. The NESTA papers presented his role in terms of ‘transforming public services’ (Challenge of Co-production p.13), which didn’t quite square with his being a civil rights lawyer. Then there was Elinor Ostrom, the Nobel prize-winning economist who coined the term ‘coproduction’ in her studies of the Chicago police force in the 1970s. You don’t get a Nobel Prize for studying a police force. Something didn’t add up.

So, I read Cahn’s book No More Throw-Away People, and the 1981 paper ‘Consumers as coproducers of public services: Some economic and institutional considerations’, co-authored by Ostrom.  And had an epiphany.  Cahn and Ostrom use ‘production’ in the economic sense: an activity that creates a good or service that people value and that contributes to their well-being.  This might have been obvious to policy makers, but I’d been completely unaware of it in my reading until then.  I suspect I’m not alone.

markets and time banks

Ostrom’s analysis straddles the divide between a formal market economy that uses money as the unit of exchange, and an informal economy based on exchanges that don’t involve money. (Cahn calls them the market economy and core economy.)

Exchanges that don’t involve money are generally marginalised by the market economy even though it’s utterly dependent on them. The profits of plantation owners in the 18th century, mill owners in the 19th century, and multinationals in the 20th and 21st, have depended variously on the labour of slaves or low-paid employees, and the market economy would grind to a halt without the unpaid, invisible, behind-the-scenes labour of what Gordon Brown called ‘ordinary people’.  It’s a point Cahn makes explicitly, right after he compares the core economy to a computer operating system.  Interestingly, NESTA cite Cahn’s operating system analogy several times in The Challenge of Co-production, but omit his reference to “the subordination of women and the exploitation of minorities, immigrants and children” in his next paragraph (Cahn, p.54).

Ostrom was interested in the interface between the activity of public services and the activity of private citizens. Coproduction referred to their joint activity in producing services. Co-production can make services more efficient, but Ostrom and her colleagues identified a number of issues around the incentives for citizens to get involved.

Cahn’s contribution to the concept of co-production came about because of his pioneering work with time banks. A time bank is a system that allows people to earn credits for any activity they engage in that’s of benefit to others. The credits are based on the time spent, and can be exchanged for goods or services produced by other people. So you might earn credits by collecting library books for housebound elderly neighbours, and use the credits to pay someone to cut your lawn.

incentives

Cahn realised that time banking addressed some of the problems with incentives highlighted by Ostrom and her colleagues. Time banking:

  • Explicitly recognises, via credits, the value of activities that contribute to the wellbeing of others
  • Provides incentives for people to engage in and continue with such activities
  • Prompts people to identify and develop their skills and knowledge
  • Enables those on low incomes to participate in economic exchanges
  • Reduces economic and social inequality
  • Creates and sustains social support networks
  • Increases community stability and reduces crime
  • Facilitates the development of local businesses.

Parent carer forums and the NESTA papers also address incentives, but very differently.

The National Network of Parent Carer Forums (NNPCF) has a reward, recognition and remuneration policy. There are good reasons for parents not being out-of-pocket as a result of their participation, but the policy has had some unexpected and unwanted outcomes. Most PCFs have relatively small budgets. If, as a matter of principle, volunteers have to be rewarded financially, the budget limits the involvement of volunteers, so it’s hardly surprising PCFs report limited capacity (see p.27).

NESTA’s Public Services Inside Out goes into some detail about rewards (p.11ff), but they appear to be treated as an added extra rather than an integral feature, as incentives are in time banks. The underlying incentives of the NESTA model look more like moral indebtedness – there are frequent references to ‘giving something back’ and being ‘rewarded’ for one’s efforts.

The beauty of time banking is that it isn’t framed in terms of contributions and rewards. It’s framed in terms of exchange. People decide what activities they can offer and what activities they’d like in exchange. The exchange system is very flexible and can be modified to accommodate people’s resources and needs as they change; young children can be credited for learning and the elderly for mentoring.

Time banking also offers a way of integrating the market (money) and the core (non-money) economies. Taking family carers as an example, it would be impossible for all carers to be paid a living wage for the number of hours they work, but they could be paid in credits that could be exchanged for other services of real value, such as cleaning, child-minding or transport.

conclusion

The model of co-production adopted by Parent Carer Forums is different to the NESTA model in several respects, and both differ from the model developed by Ostrom and Cahn. There’s nothing stopping someone taking some features of the Ostrom-Cahn model and badging it ‘co-production’, but it’s unlikely to result in the significant changes in economic activity, power and well-being that Ostrom and Cahn envisaged.

Co-production, in the sense that Ostrom and Cahn used the term, offers the opportunity for everyone to be ‘in the room’, and allows the dynamic group processes to be scaled up to local and national level. It has the potential to transform economies, reduce inequality, increase the resources within communities and kick-start businesses. That’s the one I’m going for.

references

Arnstein, S. (1969).  A Ladder of Citizen Participation, Journal of the American Planning Association, 35, (4), 216-224.

Boyle, D. & Harris, M. (2009).  The Challenge of Co-production: How equal partnerships between professionals and the public are crucial to improving public services, NESTA.

Boyle, D., Coote, A., Sherwood, C., & Slay, J. (2010) Right Here, Right Now: Taking co-production into the mainstream, NESTA.

Boyle, D., Slay, J. & Stephens, L. (2010).  Public Services Inside Out: Putting co-production into practice, NESTA.

Britton, C. & Taylor, J. (2013).  Co-production with parent carers: the SE7 experience, Mott Macdonald & South-East 7.

Cahn, E. S. (2004) No More Throw-Away People: The Co-production Imperative (2nd edition).  Essential Books, Washington DC.

Contact (2017).  Parent Carer Forums in 2017, Contact.

Parks, R.B., Baker, P.C., Kiser, L., Oakerson, R., Ostrom E., Ostrom V., Percy, S.L., Vandivort, M.B., Whitaker, G.P. & Wilson, R. (1981).  Consumers as Coproducers of Public Services:  Some Economic and Institutional Considerations, Policy Studies Journal, 9 (7), 1001-1011.

 

 

 

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Home education: politics

Something that perplexed many home educating parents in 2009 was why a major review of the legislation should be commissioned only a year after the publication of the Elective Home Education Guidelines. It was clear many local authorities and other bodies weren’t happy with the status quo: what wasn’t clear was why.

Sharon Shoesmith’s book Learning from Baby P published in 2016, offers a convincing explanation – even though she doesn’t mention home education at all. I’ve blogged about her book previously.  The issues are important ones not limited to home educating families.  Here’s a slightly abbreviated version of my original post.

In August 2007, a toddler living in the London Borough of Haringey died. 18 months later on 11 November 2008 his mother, her boyfriend and her boyfriend’s brother were convicted of causing or allowing the child’s death. The toddler was Baby P, eventually named as Peter Connelly.

Media interest was intense. On the day of the conviction, Sharon Shoesmith, director of Haringey’s children’s services, and Jane Collins, CEO of Great Ormond Street Hospital (GOSH) held a press briefing that mentioned the disciplinary proceedings against individual social workers finding no evidence of gross misconduct. On the following day, November 12, the Department for Children, Schools and Families (DCSF) issued a press statement condemning the behaviour of those convicted.

Later that day, at Prime Minister’s Questions, Gordon Brown (then PM) appeared to be taken by surprise by David Cameron’s (then Leader of the Opposition) criticism of the way Haringey Council had responded to Peter Connelly’s death. Cameron asked who was taking responsibility and why no one had resigned. He followed up his attack later with an emotive article in the Evening Standard, and the next day with a letter to the Sun. The Sun launched a petition calling for Sharon Shoesmith, the social workers involved, and a paediatrician at GOSH to be sacked, and by the weekend the petition had 1.4 million signatures. The Government’s reaction triggered a chain of events culminating in a ‘perfect storm’ that had significant, far-reaching repercussions for national and local government, the news media, social work as a profession, children’s services, individual social workers, and vulnerable children.

the government response

The Government’s response to the criticisms was swift and robust. A press officer was sent to Haringey Council and on 1 December the Council leader, and the cabinet member for children and young people, resigned. Ed Balls, Secretary of State for Children, Schools and Families announced in a press conference that he was replacing Sharon Shoesmith with John Coughlan, then director of children’s services in Hampshire, and appointed Graham Badman, previously director of children’s services in Kent, as chair of Haringey’s Local Safeguarding Children Board. A week later, Shoesmith was formally dismissed by Haringey Council.

Shoesmith didn’t take her sacking lying down. She appealed and in 2011 the High Court ruled that Ed Balls and Haringey Council acted unlawfully in dismissing her. By 2015, she had completed a PhD analysing the psychosocial factors involved in the aftermath of Peter Connelly’s death. In 2016 she published Learning from Baby P, which draws on her research.

Shoesmith points out that by late 2008, the ‘New Labour project was running into trouble’ (pp.123-127). Gordon Brown had taken over from Tony Blair as PM the previous summer, but in May 2008 Labour had had its worst local government election results for 35 years and Labour’s attempts to reduce child poverty were faltering. In October the Healthcare Commission’s investigation into the Mid-Staffs scandal revealed significant failings, and the global financial crisis prompted a £500bn rescue package for UK banks.

Cameron’s framing of Peter Connelly’s death in political terms had significant implications for the Labour government. Their flagship strategy Every Child Matters couldn’t be seen to fail, nor could Ed Balls, who had previously been Brown’s chief economic adviser. Then there was Haringey. Haringey had a history of what Shoesmith calls ‘defining events’. It had witnessed the Broadwater Farm riots in 1985, and the death of Victoria Climbié in 2000 that had led to the Laming Inquiry and significant changes in child protection policy. In addition, Haringey Council had long been perceived as hailing from the ‘loony left’; understandably a centre-left government might want to distance itself. Lastly, the government felt compelled to align its narrative with that adopted by large sections of the public and press – that public sector services should be seen to take responsibility for Peter Connelly’s death.

All three key political figures – Cameron, Brown and Balls – used the press directly to manage the political narrative.  It could be argued that the press used politicians to the same end. In July 2007, six months after he’d resigned as editor of the News of the World following the conviction of two reporters in the phone hacking scandal, the Conservative Party had appointed Andy Coulson as its director of communications. The Sun, another News International paper, had a history of campaigning for changes in the law as a result of high profile child abuse cases. During the Leveson Inquiry into phone hacking, it was suggested that after the Baby P trial the Sun put pressure on Ed Balls to order resignations (p.183). The issue of resignation warrants further comment.

it’s a resigning matter

In 2004, the offence of ‘causing or allowing the death of a child or vulnerable adult’ was introduced to close a legal loophole. Although the offence can be committed only by people living in the same household as the victim (such as Peter Connelly’s), its title begs the question of whether police officers, social workers or paediatricians might be brought into the frame, something that could be inferred from David Cameron’s Evening Standard article (p.144).

But there’s another factor involved in the calls for sackings; it’s the assumption that if a public sector worker failed to prevent the death of child, they would have been able to prevent it if they’d acted differently. That’s nonsense of course. Even if a child were taken into care or a social worker were to live with the family, no child can be totally protected from harm. But the idea that children can be fully protected persists. Cameron, Brown and Balls all vowed to ensure that nothing like Peter Connelly’s death happened again (p.178) – even though, in reality, such promises are meaningless.

Child protection had become a political football and government, opposition and the media were vying for control of the ball. Ironically, the outcomes had significant negative repercussions for vulnerable children. Directors of social services became very nervous about their jobs, and social worker recruitment and retention, already under strain, became even more challenging, further increasing the vulnerability of the children social workers were dealing with. Local authorities made sure they erred on the side of caution; between October 2008 and March 2012 the number of applications for care proceedings increased by 79% (p.19).

elective home education and the Badman review

The ‘Baby P effect’ rippled out to another group of children Shoesmith doesn’t mention – those educated at home. Home education has long been a contentious issue, and in November 2007 Jim Knight and Andrew Adonis at the then Department of Education and Skills, published guidelines for local authorities.  A year later, in January 2009, Ed Balls announced a review of elective home education. The review was framed in terms of home educated children being ‘hidden’ and home education being used as a cover for child abuse, even though there appeared to be no robust evidence of this actually happening.

The review was led by Graham Badman, introduced as the former director of children’s services at Kent County Council. A month earlier, Balls had appointed Badman as chair of Haringey LCSB, but unless they’d been following the news closely, most home educating parents wouldn’t have made a connection with the Baby P case. They would also have been unaware that in May 2008, seven year-old Khyra Ishaq had starved to death at her home in Birmingham. She had been educated at home for the previous six months. Khyra’s death came to public attention only in June 2009, when the trial of her mother and her mother’s partner began. Her death was presented as reinforcing the government’s call for reforming the law relating to home education, rather than as a trigger for the review happening in the first place.

In 2009 Graham Badman was busy. In November 2008 he’d set up an education consultancy, Nektus, that carried out two local authority progress reviews in its first year.  In December he’d been appointed Chair of Haringey LCSB.   In January 2009 had become a visiting professor at the Institute of Education, and Acting Chair of BECTA – being appointed Chair on 1 May. He became a Trustee and Board member of UNICEF in July. His elective home education report was published on 11 June, and his recommendations accepted in full the same day by Ed Balls.

Given all these commitments, it’s not surprising that more than one organisation complained that Badman’s account of what they said to him wasn’t quite what they recalled saying, and that Graham Stuart MP, a member of the Children, Schools and Families Select Committee, felt obliged to point out that Badman had made a significant sampling error in his assessment of the risk to home educated children.

The full government response to the Badman report wasn’t published until October 2009, towards the end of the public consultation, so many people who responded wouldn’t have read it. Throughout the review, I got the strong impression that the Government didn’t see those who disagreed with the proposals as citizens expressing their opinions, but as political opponents.  The high number of responses to the consultation prompted references to an organised campaign, despite the wide diversity amongst home educating families.

Conservative MPs had, not surprisingly given the political overtones of the review, been quite supportive of home educating parents. In December 2009, a record number of petitions protesting against the proposed changes to the law were presented to Parliament, a strategy initiated by Graham Stuart.  The Government planned to include the Badman recommendations in the Children, Schools and Families Act 2010, but instead they were abandoned in the ‘wash up’ prior to the 2010 General Election.

learning from the Baby P effect

The primary task of government, national and local, is to protect our liberty to go about our lawful business without let or hindrance. Obviously, there are going to be instances where legislation that protects one group of people infringes the liberty of another group – the law has to weigh up the various interests of different parties. On the face of it, it looked as if that the actions of government, opposition and press in the wake of Peter Connolly’s death could result only in beneficial outcomes for vulnerable children. But their focus was on only one aspect of child protection.

Other aspects got completely overlooked, including local authority priorities (disabled children are also children in need but LA thresholds for support are set so high many disabled children get no social care support), social worker recruitment and retention and the consequent impact on vulnerable children, and children being taken into care unnecessarily. The proposals for home educated children, such as social workers being entitled to enter the family home and to interview children alone had significant implications for a number of important legislative principles.

Government, opposition, and the press, framed child protection solely in terms of the behaviour of individuals, whether they were adults who might harm children directly, social workers who might fail to prevent harm, or elected members of local government responsible for implementing national policies. Little attention was paid to key legislative principles, the effectiveness of legislation, local authority resources, the impact of the government’s action on social workers and senior local authority officers, and on children deemed to be at risk when they weren’t. Good legislation requires careful thought and wide consultation, not a knee-jerk response to a party political attack. If government is seen as a party political project, rather than an institution that exists to serve the population, it puts everyone’s welfare in jeopardy, not least that of vulnerable children.

reference

Shoesmith, S (2016).  Learning from Baby P.  Jessica Kingsley Publishers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Home education: legislation

In England, parents can educate their children at home if they wish. It’s been estimated there might be as many as 50 000 children being educated at home. Home education tends to trigger strong opinions, including calls for the relevant legislation to be tightened up. In the next two posts I’ll attempt to summarise the legislative framework, the key features of recent home education debates, and the political context.

In November 2007, soon after Ed Balls became Secretary of State, the then Department for Children, Schools and Families (DCSF) revised the Elective Home Education Guidelines for Local Authorities*. The guidelines were advisory only, but provided a clear explanation of the relevant legislation and powers and duties of LAs. In general, home-educating parents welcomed the guidelines.

In January 2009 the DCSF commissioned a review of elective home education, by Graham Badman, previously Director of Children’s Services at Kent County Council.   Badman’s 28 recommendations were published in June that year, and accepted in full by the government. A public consultation concluded in the October. There was considerable opposition to the recommendations from parents and from Conservative MPs. The recommendations didn’t become law; they were abandoned in the ‘wash up’ prior to the May 2010 general election.

To understand the Badman recommendations and the ins and outs of home education, an overview of the relevant legislation and the principles underpinning the legislative framework is important. This is my understanding of them. I’m happy to be corrected if wrong.

principles

A fundamental principle in a liberal democracy is the liberty of people to live their lives how they wish, unless that prevents others exercising their own liberty.  A primary function of government is to protect liberty –  by defending against attack and by maintaining law and order.

The law protects liberty too; it’s unlawful to go round killing people or stealing their stuff, for example.  The law also protects liberty from abuse by government. A person is presumed innocent until proven guilty, and agents of government have to have reasonable cause to believe that a breach of the law is involved before even beginning an investigation. These safeguards are important in protecting individuals against harassment by those in positions of power.

A further principle is that legislation should be demonstrably necessary, i.e. should be evidence based. The number of ways in which people’s liberty can be infringed is almost infinite, so legislating against every possible risk would be impossibly burdensome.

The legislation pertaining to home education is firmly grounded in these principles.

legislation

In England, every child is entitled to a suitable education. That entitlement is framed in terms of a duty placed upon parents, set out in s7 Education Act 1996 (the specific meanings of the terms are explained in the 2007 Guidelines):

The parent of every child of compulsory school age shall cause him to receive efficient full-time education suitable—

(a) to his age, ability and aptitude, and

(b) to any special educational needs he may have,

either by regular attendance at school or otherwise.

One reason for allocating this duty to parents is that overall, they have a much better track record than the state when it comes to looking after children. Most parents delegate the task of educating their children (though not the legal duty) to schools. But it could also be delegated to a private tutor, or the parent could educate the child. The duty frequently prompts the question:

what if a parent doesn’t provide a suitable education?

The law’s answer is s437(1) Education Act 1996 (the Guidelines explain the steps that local authorities can take):

If it appears to a local education authority that a child of compulsory school age in their area is not receiving suitable education, either by regular attendance at school or otherwise, they shall serve a notice in writing on the parent requiring him to satisfy them within the period specified in the notice that the child is receiving such education.

This inevitably begs another frequently asked question:

what if a local authority doesn’t know the child isn’t getting a suitable education?

The Badman Review responded with Recommendation 7; that children’s progress be monitored, that LA officers have right of access to the home, and have the right to speak with each child alone to satisfy themselves that the child is safe and well (p.40).

If your focus is the education and welfare of children, this recommendation might look entirely reasonable.   In fact it’s highly problematic because it runs completely counter to principles underpinning the UK’s legislative framework.

The Badman Review was based on different underlying principles. Badman saw home education legislation as requiring a ‘balance between the rights of the parents and the rights of the child’ (p.3), a principle widely cited by local authorities and others. It sounds plausible, but legislation isn’t simply a matter of ‘balancing rights’. Rights are expressions of the fundamental liberty that’s an underpinning principle in a liberal democracy. Rights might or might not be enshrined in law in the form of specific legislation. New legislation has to comply with existing legislation and the principles underpinning the legislative framework, or it will be unworkable.

There are several problems with Recommendation 7. It:

  • abrogates fundamental legislative principles
  • gives LA education departments significantly greater powers than the police have when investigating suspected criminal behaviour
  • overlooks the knotty problem of the reliability of child testimony, something the courts have had to wrestle with, and with which all teachers will be familiar
  • assumes that a LA officer who has never met a child before is in a position to judge what is a suitable education for that specific child
  • conflates education with safeguarding.

The last point brings us to a third FAQ:

what if a child is at risk of harm?

This question has dominated the discourse about home education. The scenario many public bodies have in mind is that if a parent wants to exploit, traffic, indoctrinate, or in any other way cause harm to a child, home education offers perfect cover, because local authorities don’t have powers to see the child.

What this line of reasoning overlooks is that the law treats education and safeguarding as two different things, and with good reason; a child could be getting a good education but be at risk of harm, or be safe and well but not be receiving any education at all.

The law’s answer is s47 Children Act 1989:

Where a local authority … have reasonable cause to suspect that a child who lives, or is found, in their area is suffering, or is likely to suffer, significant harm, the authority shall make, or cause to be made, such enquiries as they consider necessary to enable them to decide whether they should take any action to safeguard or promote the child’s welfare.

The conflation of education and safeguarding has resulted in much avoidable confusion. Several tragic cases have been cited as evidence that monitoring of home-educated children is necessary.   In a 2014 briefing, the NSPCC cited seven such cases. On closer inspection, it transpired that the authorities were involved in each case. In some, they were very closely involved, and in some actually contributed to the harm the children experienced. Around 70% of the recommendations in the relevant Serious Case Reviews related to procedures being properly followed or to healthcare. I’ve blogged about the cases in more detail here.

It’s possible, of course, that there are home-educated children at risk of harm, hidden and unbeknown to the authorities, but home education has been lawful since at least 1944, and to date no such examples appear to have come to light. Those children must be extremely well-concealed or their number is vanishingly small.   Either way, there is insufficient evidence to warrant the regular monitoring of home-educated children on safeguarding grounds.

educational support

But what about educational grounds? Personally, I think there’s some justification for a register, although that raises constitutional questions. But if anything, it should be a register of all local children, not just particular groups. And not the huge national database proposed by the previous Labour government either; there are known problems with such databases that could have catastrophic outcomes for children.

I also think there’s some justification for giving local authorities a duty to support home educating parents. I’ve previously proposed an educational resource centre, for public use, using the funding schools lose when children are taken off their roll.

The purpose of local authorities is to provide services to local people, and the Badman Review did recommend support – but almost always in the context of monitoring. This would create a bizarre Escher staircase of accountability; home educating parents would be accountable to LAs, who in turn would be accountable to them as local residents. The potential legal consequences could be challenging. Especially if parents were home educating children with special needs because who couldn’t access suitable local authority provision.  A resource centre, in contrast, could improve the quality of local education in general, and could reduce the risk of any child not getting a suitable education.

This post has discussed the legislative issues relating to home education. Most home-educators would have been unaware, during the Badman review, of the political context – the subject of the next post.

 

*’Elective home education’ is used to denote home education as a choice made by parents, as distinct from ‘education otherwise than at school’ (EOTAS) which usually refers to a local authority service for children who cannot attend schools.