The book
Social policy is part of our everyday lives. We send our children to schools, rely on medical staff to care for us and our loved ones, enjoy parks, read in public libraries, and use public transport. For those at the sharp end, social policy can change – and sometimes save – lives. If we become too ill to work, or find ourselves under threat of homelessness, intervention becomes a matter of life or death.
Yet so much of what drives policy debate is framed not by how much we need it and how helpful it is. We too often define it as a reluctant necessity, at best, and a drain on public resources, at worst. Within these narratives loom the unpleasant descriptions of those in receipt: scroungers, people who have made bad choices, the feckless and so on. In doing so, we frame them as something less than ourselves. These labels are not confined to those who watch welfare from afar: in many cases they shape the interactions between those providing welfare and those seeking help.
If such a negative approach was to result in positive outcomes, then the proponents could rest on their laurels. Yet what we also know about welfare is that it too often fails, sometimes with tragic consequences. When we prioritise over-testing on our children, we see a decline in subjective wellbeing and a rise in the rate of young suicides. When we replace relationship building with remote and automated monitoring in the probation service, we see re-offending rates go up. When we increase unemployment sanctions to their sharpest point, we see increases in poverty, crime, family breakdown and in some cases, death. Add to this the very real trauma faced by those seeking help as they arrive on our shores, and how our responses might compound their worst experiences.
Missing in all of this is something we might call compassion. Can it really be true that we care so little about those most in need? Or is there something wrong with how we’ve built and maintained our system, such that it mitigates against compassion? What might change if we were to assert compassion to a greater extent? This book explores these questions by drawing on a breadth of ideas spanning the social and behavioural sciences, history, theology and social policy, and interviews with carers, politicians, policy makers and influencers, academics, social welfare professionals, teachers, faith leaders, journalists and others.
Why does all this matter?
I would suggest that there are two pressing arguments that we need to grapple with.
The first is for those of us who are instrumentally minded and interested in returns on investment. We might call this the technocratic argument, what works, for whom and in what context? On most indicators, social policy interventions that prioritise negative approaches are failing. They cost more money than they save, fail to tackle the most entrenched social problems, and fail to help us face up to the challenges that are to come. If part of the problem with social policy is that we start from certain principles that guide us to wrong decisions, it is time to reboot.
The second is more for those who are interested in the broader principles of social justice and solidarity: the character argument. Does our present approach to framing and making policy embody the ethics and values that we believe are in the best interests of human wellbeing, contentment, and progress? Are the stories of how we treat one another those which best describe what we care about and whom we value? Do we, collectively, flourish better when we design and describe politics in the ways that we do? Or, as Frances Ryan argued in the brilliant but depressing book Crippled, have we, as a nation, ‘abandoned [our] basic humanity’?
I come to this with a bit of both. My academic research and professional background in youth and community work has driven me to try to understand what are the best ways in which we can respond to problems facing and emanating from people in distress. I spend many hours teaching others on techniques to become more effective practitioners, so drawing on the best evidence of what works is critical to this.
But I am more interested in the character argument. My own personal biography, and the biographies of many others, features stark moments of being at the sharpest end of needing help. During those darkest moments, I remember the amazing impact of those who fronted kindness and compassion. Alas, I remember also the disappointment and distress caused by those who did not. My own engagement with politics as a supporter, campaigner, one-time parliamentary candidate and community organiser, have all put the toxicity of present-day policies firmly in my orbit.
So...this book argues that welfare will be more effective, more accepted, and more just, if we cultivate greater levels of compassion. Given that social policy affects every aspect of our daily lives, we might also argue that by adopting this principle, we will begin to contribute to more compassionate, healthy, and positive social relationships more generally.
This book:
Revisits the founding tenets and enduring arguments for welfare provision, why it matters and why it is in the public interest to support it.
Considers some of the troubles that beset the provision of welfare, notably the failure to address enduring social problems, the persistence of poor outcomes and the pursuit of simplistic responses to the complexity of people’s lives.
Sets out to define compassion, drawing on philosophical, theological, historical and social science perspectives and draws a clear distinction between compassion and other allied but arguably unhelpful concepts (e.g., empathy and pity).
Seeks to identify the extent to which we are compassionate, and under what conditions this compassion comes to the fore.
Develops an argument that puts compassion at the heart of ‘institutional design’ of social policy, demonstrating its potential in resolving the challenges set out above.
Sets out a clarion call for ‘compassionate systems leadership’ at all levels in social welfare design, delivery and discourse.
Part robust academic study, part polemic, this book seeks to make the case for compassion in public life and sets out why such a move can cultivate society’s better character.