Partnership working

I was therefore keen to start on this issue where I was. I was a professional. I was paid to work on behalf of the powers that be to change the behaviours of offenders. I was middle class with an academic turn of personality. I was of an introverted nature and not at ease in unstructured social situations. Forgetting more radical ideas, it remained true that a range of public and voluntary agencies were working with the offenders or their families or would wish to work with them. It was obvious therefore that those agencies would be more effective if they worked together, shared understandings and drew on each others’ strengths. To that extent, what we were doing in the Sheffield office was needed – we just were far too tentative and inward looking. We were too concerned to find ways in which other agencies could help us, and insufficiently interested in how we could help them.

I felt unapologetic therefore about investing time in what was seen as rather traditional and unambitious activity in Sheffield, and later would be regarded as peripheral to our task by some probation staff and managers. It has always seemed to me that unless we were clear about the professional skill and knowledge being made available to people in trouble, and about how to make that available in the most effective way, we had no business intervening in people’s lives. The first job was therefore to get the ‘professional’ house in order before we sought more ambitious pathways. This also meant learning about organisations. How to work in partnership with other organisations therefore became a theme that dominated the rest of my working life, and will form a significant part of the latter sections of this account of my professional learning.


Professional development

This last discussion chimed in with a recognition that clinical interventions to change people’s lives would not be enough – the conviction I met in Bill Jordan that drove him to political engagement and to client led activities. This, for all my interest in the world of emotions and psycho-dynamics, I had seen as important from my setting out into social work.

After five years as a probation officer, I was therefore looking to spread my wings into something broader. The impulse to go deeper into clinical practice took me to apply for a post at the Institute of Marital Studies. I thought about working in psychiatric settings but I actually applied and was successful in getting a post in the new city of Milton Keynes with the Family Welfare Association (FWA). This turned out to be an ideal marriage of clinical and ‘social’ approaches to social work – it is hard to be sure why I was interested in applying for this job almost 40 years ago but it was as much an interest in a chance to be part of creating a new social environment as in joining an organisation that was explicitly psycho dynamically informed.

I have always felt that it was in this job that I ‘grew up’ professionally, as I have described earlier. A key reinforcer of that sense of personal growth was work that took me outside the clinical session into encounters with other professional groups and organisations. I have talked of the discovery of the potential to be ‘important’ earlier mostly in the context of the clinical encounter, but discovering I could be seen as a significant figure by other professionals was an important milestone. The job at the FWA threw me into this position.

Radical options for community engagement part 2

The second option in the last blog was much more appealing, closer to the ambitions that Bill Jordan had articulated and attended to in his Claimants’ union, and which I admired. There were serious problems with them however. First of all, they remained essentially professionally led, OK as a way of trying to attune professional skills and know how to client groups who might not be otherwise engaged, but thereby just a different way of doing essentially the same thing as we did in traditional office settings. Working in what was supposed to be a neighbourhood probation office in Sheffield helped fuel my scepticism – as far as I could see, the only significance of our ‘neighbourhood’ location was that clients had a shorter bus journey to get to us. Our location did nothing to make us more ‘community involved’ than any other team. Whether you saw a client in your office or in a church hall or GP surgery made little difference to the clients’ experience, other than relative convenience.

What is more, the more radical approach of locating the ‘office’ in the red light area proved unsustainable. Staff became exhausted and soon had their own lives to lead – no-one wanted to bring their children up in the locality and partners of probation staff did not necessarily want to engage in this experiment.

Lastly, I think it was not at all clear what the nature of professional work was understood to be in this more radical approach. All too easily being a professional was seen as a problem to be somehow disguised, as if this would break down barriers in working with offenders and convince them of the authenticity of our concern.

‘Radical’ options for community engagement

Let me start then with the notion of engagement with community organisations and other helping agencies as a central dimension of this broader community involvement. This was somewhat scorned as a strategy by the more radical probation officers who offered two possibilities of a different kind:

  • Radical community organisations that could act as alternatives to what were seen as middle class led and professionally controlled organisations were seen as the way towards effective community engagement. These were often welfare rights organisations by one name or another, had an ambivalent attitude to the respectable world of employment and conformity, and were dominated by a culture of ‘fighting the establishment’.
  • In Sheffield in the early 1970s, a project was put in place in a ‘red light’ area of the city where probation staff maintained a residential facility that was intended to take probation work to the locations where the problems were and engage them directly. There have been many variations of this theme with a range of levels of intensity, from women’s groups based in high rise flats, to arts projects, theatre groups and allotment projects.

Whilst I was dissatisfied with what we were doing in my office in Sheffield, I was not however persuaded by either of the two more radical options. The former seemed in a way, dishonest. The ‘radical’ organisations were as middle class as any other, another manifestation of the ‘polytechnic left’ who I thought wanted to play at change, denying their own identity of relative privilege and acting out their own problems with power and responsibility. They were fine as just another voluntary sector organisation providing a service to a few people for whom their style of provision appealed.

Starting to think about ‘Community’ and social work

As I indicated above, whilst interested in the issue of community engagement in probation work, my experience in Sheffield was such as to highlight limitations and scepticism about some of the ways in which this was addressed. There were essentially two dimensions at play, one involving engagement with other agencies at work in the localities, and the second involving the use of volunteers.

With the more radical self help strategies adopted by Bill Jordan in my mind, both dimensions seemed inadequate to the need for something more substantive if we were to achieve sufficient change with those under our supervision. It was only towards the end of my career as the notion of ‘recovery communities’ was articulated and developed in drug treatment environments that a real sense of resolution of these dissatisfactions emerged. Like all really useful ideas, the resolution is essentially simple and it seems absurd that I did not latch on to it years ago in my career. This however is stepping too far forwards, and if my account is to remain true to its intention, the reader will have to take my journey as it was, warts and all.

A community of helping services

The notion of community involvement that I had met in the probation service had been in a way myopic. It was as if probation stood against the world in trying to uncover the positive potential of offenders. So there were probation officers and there were community involved actions such as the self help groups that our office facilitated. The lone crusade was acted out even further in more radical attempts to locate probation officers in the physical communities where offenders were living and operating – ‘detached probation officer’ projects. Other professionals were seen as part of the problem to be tackled (e.g. health visitors whose reluctance to attend a probation office had to be ‘overcome’), or as containing a few allies who operated as people on the edge of their own agency culture.

Step outside this beleaguered and under-confident culture and the world was full of people working with the same families often with the same ambitions in mind, and struggling with broader problems, not just of offending, but of child care, mental health, addiction etc. Clergymen were faced with bereavements, physiotherapists with loneliness of their clients, occupational therapists with mental ill heath, and in Milton Keynes, ‘arrivals workers’ with displaced and anxious families newly moving into an area where they knew no-one. All these people it turned out were only too pleased to have a listening ear from someone such as myself who brought some experience in working with people in trouble.

Social work and community

My first post when I qualified as a probation officer was in the ‘suburbs’ of Sheffield – not suburbs of the leafy middle class kind, but council estates stretching SE from the centre of Sheffield to an area that in due course became a sort of ‘new town’. The office became identified in people’s mind with the name of the most notorious estate that we served – ‘The Manor’. The office was quite new and was one of a couple that were built to decentralise the service which had before this all been located in the centre of the city. There was an ideal involved – that we would have more success if we were working in the communities where offenders lived, and that we should seek to become ‘involved’ in the community.

There were to be a number of attempts to work out this ideal in practice in the 1970s, but the office I joined was proud of its work to become ‘community involved’, and papers were written and ambitious plans set out for the development of this idea. It was perhaps not the right moment for me to be joining such an outfit since, as I have already said, I was sceptical of the fashionable radicalism of the day and more interested in what can be termed ‘clinical’ approaches to probation work. I came to think that our much vaunted community involvement turned out to be nothing more than a couple of groups (for women and an angling group for young lads) and a bit of rhetoric.

One piece of the rhetoric has stayed in my mind and encapsulated some of my scepticism. On describing the community involvement approach one example my boss was fond of using concerned what he saw as significant changes in the attitude of people to the probation office itself. He would say in the early days of the office that pedestrians would often cross the road rather than pass the front door of the office, and that this behaviour had gradually changed as the office had as he saw it, been accepted as part of the local community. He also cited how health visitors had started to come to the office to see probation officers about their mutual clients. These examples seemed to me to be so far away from being remarkable that I was almost embarrassed that they should be used as evidence of success in community involvement. Indeed they almost seemed to underline a kind of isolationism, a sort of institutionalisation that to me characterised many parts of the probation service.