Women, Power and Policy: Comparative Studies of Childcare

Women, Power and Policy Women, Power and Policy offers a powerful new analysis of policy-making for gender equality, in particular childcare services. It provides an overview and revision of nondecision-making theory and offers the first comprehensive application of this model to the marginalisation of policy for women. This book provides an accessible account of childcare policies in Britain and beyond. It challenges pluralistic notions by uncovering the reasons why certain policy interests are marginalised, and uses a feminist re-examination of nondecision-making theory to discuss the relationship between policy and gender. In examining the progress of women’s initiatives and childcare, Marchbank considers subjects including: • the history of childcare policy, particularly during the Second World War • childcare policy and women’s economic activity across Europe • the covert and overt barriers to equality-based policy-making • strategies and counter-strategies for policy-makers and campaigners • detailed, analytic case studies of actual policy-making This accessible, engaging text is invaluable for student and academics in areas including women’s studies, politics and social policy. Jennifer Marchbank is Senior Lecturer in Women’s Studies at Coventry University. She is co-editor of States of Conflict: Gender, Violence and Resistance.

Women, Power and Policy Comparative studies of childcare

Jennifer Marchbank

London and New York

First published 2000 by Routledge 11 New Fetter Lane, London EC4P 4EE Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 29 West 35th Street, New York, NY 10001 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2005. “ To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to http://www.ebookstore.tandf.co.uk/.” © 2000 Jennifer Marchbank All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Marchbank, Jen, 1964– Women, power and policy: comparative studies of childcare/Jennifer Marchbank. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Women—Social conditions. 2. Child care—Government policy. 3. Child care services—Government policy. I. Title HQ1236 .M346 2000 362.71′2–dc21 00–042483 ISBN 0-203-64510-3 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-68594-6 (Adobe e-Reader Format) ISBN 0-415-23904-4 (hbk) ISBN 0-415-23905-2 (pbk)

This book is dedicated to the memory of my father, John Howard Marchbank

Contents List of figures

ix

List of tables

x

Preface

xi

Acknowledgements Abbreviations

1 Skirting the issue: power, nondecision-making and gender

xiii xv

1

2 Motherhood, gender and nondecision-making

18

3 Modern mothers’ inheritance (1): past practice, provision and policy

35

4 Modern mothers’ inheritance (2): national, global and local

59

5 Positive partnerships and sexist societies

83

6 Discourses, demands and denials

98

7 Getting beyond the barriers

120

8 Political mobilisation and childcare

139

9 Reflections

154

Notes

155

References

159

Index

168

Figures 1.1 Policy-making barriers

10

1.2 Barriers to decision-making

16

4.1 Public childcare, EC; from 3 years to school age

62

4.2 Levels of publicly funded services for young children, EC, 1991–4 64 4.3 Parental employment, EC, 1988. Parents of children under 10 years

72

4.4 Difference between employment for women. Youngest child aged 73 0–3 and 3–10, 1993 5.1 Partnership Working Group

93

Tables 2.1 Proportion of women in employment (by age of youngest child)

33

3.1 Attitude to work post-war: married women with children compared to all married women (percentages)

48

3.2 Annual live births, England and Wales, 1930–1947

56

4.1 Public childcare for under-3 years, EC, 1988, 1990, 1993: percentage provision for the under-3 population

61

4.2 Economic activity status of mothers (by age of youngest child, UK 67 1994) 4.3 Employment patterns, mothers in the EC, 1988, 1990, 1993

70

4.4 Parental employment, EC, parents of children under 10 years, 1988 (percentage)

72

4.5 Day-care of pre-fives, Western Region, by year

81

4.6 Day-care of pre-fives, Eastern Region, by year

82

Preface This book, or rather the issues and concerns within it, have been part of my life for a very long time. In writing this I have revisited material and sources I first encountered over a decade ago, and it strikes me that the majority of my concerns regarding childcare, gender roles, parenting and equality of opportunity remain still. Much has changed in the world of childcare: as I detail here, political programmes are now addressing aspects of childcare and some even include the recognition of childcare as an issue of gender equality. However, it is still the case that the majority responsibility for parenting lies with women, and this continues to affect the opportunities and choices women, both mothers and nonmothers, have with regard to participation in the public domain. Although I am a strong advocate of childcare services which permit women to work I am not arguing simply for childcare to allow women to enter masculine structures of work. I believe that childcare is a fundamental issue for feminists for other, more important, reasons. First, the combination of a lack of suitable, affordable and desirable childcare provision and society’s gender role allocation of parenting duties results in the majority of mothers facing restrictions, one outcome of which is to force mothers into work that is situated in the secondary labour market. This secondary labour market includes much part-time, twilight shift and homework with all the associated aspects of such marginalised employment, not least of which is job insecurity and low pay. This increases women’s economic dependency on men. Second, feminist definitions of childcare are complex and considered and include choice for working parents (but also seek much more); however, it appears that even demands for the basics do not receive a positive response and face several large barriers. Thus childcare, defined as an affirmative-action equality policy, is an ideal area for investigation as it enables us to see how, in just one way, women’s societal and political interests remain secondary. In beginning this project I had several aims; first to try and explain the history of childcare policy-making, second to examine the ways in which the marginalisation of issues which affect women disproportionately has been achieved, and third to offer some indications of how voices outwith the mainstream can make themselves heard effectively within political bodies. Although the case studies relate to Scottish local government (prior to reorganisation in 1996) I believe what I have uncovered and analysed here stands as an example of how polities can mobilise against any challenges to the mainstream and is applicable to many other political situations and communities. At times researching this book has been dispiriting yet stimulating. Finding evidence of how political systems operate to marginalise women’s interests has generated mixed emotions, elation in being able to highlight how systems militate against challengers and despair at the insidiousness and effectiveness of nondecision-making. However, in the process of my research I met many inspiring people working towards improving policy and services for women; for reasons of confidentiality they have to remain nameless but I am very grateful to them for giving their time to be interviewed. Much of the information on which the case studies are based is derived from interviews (twenty-nine in all) which

were conducted between 1990 and 1994. These are notated in the text simply by the office of the person being quoted to ensure anonymity. Several councils also granted me access to their records and reports without which this project would have remained at the purely theoretical level. I am indebted to many earlier writers on women and policy-making, politics and childcare whose work I revisit here, in particular I have been encouraged by the writings of Joke Sweibel, Joyce Outshoorn, Drude Dahlerup, Vicky Randall and Joni Lovenduski whose names appear more than once in my references. I am also indebted to Bachrach and Baratz for their innovative study of racial politics in Baltimore for articulating the notion of nondecision-making thirty years ago. Nonetheless, I am wholly responsible for what lies within these pages and trust that it will serve to advance the aims of gender equality in policy-making. Jen Marchbank

Acknowledgements The research on which this book is based would not have been possible without the generosity of many people in granting me their time and allowing themselves to be interviewed—to them all many, many thanks. I also wish to thank my colleague and friend Gayle Letherby for her assiduous advice and guidance, Jenny Chapman and Jeremy Richardson for their contributions when I was based at Strathclyde University, and Shandy Whitaker for allowing me to moan during the actual research phase. Finally, I offer sincere thanks to Julie Taylor for allowing me to completely colonise her office and for leaving me alone to get on with it.

Acknowledgements for permissions The author and publishers would like to thank the following for granting permission to reproduce material in this work. All previously published material appears here in a revised and updated form: The Centre for Research in Applied and Community Studies, BICC, Bradford, for material from Going Dutch or Scotch Mist? Making Marginalised Voices Heard in Local Bureaucracies, J.Marchbank, Community Studies, No. 11, 1996 Blackwell Publishers for material from The Mobilisation of Women’s Interest Issues: The Failure of Childcare, J.Marchbank, Politics, 16 (1), 1996 Oxford University Press for material from Power and Poverty, Theory and Practice, P.Bachrach and M.S.Baratz, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1970

Abbreviations

*

APT

Area of Priority Treatment

CEC

Commission of the European Communities

CLP

Constituency Labour Party

COSLA

Convention of Scottish Local Authorities

CNS

Childcare Now Scotland

CSO

Central Statistical Office

ECN

European Childcare Network

EIS

Educational Institute of Scotland

EOC

Equal Opportunities Commission

GTC

General Teaching Council

LPWS

Labour Party Women’s Sections

NAC

National Abortion Campaign

NALGO

National Association of Local Government Officers*

NALGWC

National Association of Local Government Women’s Committees

NAS/UWT

National Association of Schoolmasters/Union of Women Teachers

NCC

National Childcare Campaign

NCWGB

National Council of Women of Great Britain

NUPE

National Union of Public Employees*

PICC

Partnership Initiative in Child Care

SAC

Scottish Abortion Campaign

SCAFA

Scottish Child and Family Alliance

SCSP

Scottish Council for Single Parents

SDA

Scottish Development Agency

SED

Scottish Education Department

SJCWWO

Standing Joint Committee of Working Women’s Organisations

SNP

Scottish National Party

SPPA

Scottish Pre-School Playgroup Association

these two unions have now merged with COHSE to form UNISON

STUC

Scottish Trades Union Congress

TUC

Trades Union Congress

VSF

Voluntary Sector Forum

WI

Women’s Initiative

WII

Women’s Interest Issue

WLM

Women’s Liberation Movement

WNC

Workplace Nurseries Campaign

WRVS

Women’s Royal Voluntary Service

1 Skirting the issue Power, nondecision-making and gender Nondecision-making theory argues that subtle and covert uses of power can be, and are, used in the policy process to maintain the status quo. This chapter outlines the radical beginnings of this theory, where it differs from pluralistic views of politics, and why I believe that it can offer some answers to why and how Women’s Interest Issues (WIIs) are marginalised. Before beginning a review of appropriate political theories it is necessary to situate this research, to explain my aims. Unlike earlier writings I do not intend to prove the existence of nondecision-making—that was achieved over two decades ago by Bachrach and Baratz (1970) and Crenson (1971). Rather, it is my aim to attempt to fulfil the most basic and important aim of feminist research, to find ways to create the social change that feminists demand. I believe that if we understand the methods used by patriarchal systems to keep WIIs off the agenda, marginalise and delegitimise them then we shall be able to devise strategies for effectively challenging the patriarchal status quo. One of these methods is, as I will show, nondecision-making. Previous studies of nondecision-making have addressed a variety of issues from ‘race’ and poverty (Bachrach and Baratz, 1970); air pollution (Crenson, 1971) and community disempowerment (Gaventa, 1980) all of which are primarily investigations of issues of social justice. Equality between women and men is also, at its most basic level, an issue of social justice. However, despite its radical beginnings it seems that nondecisionmaking theory has not been viewed as appropriate to an examination of gender equality issues. Exceptions to this observation are later studies which have employed aspects of nondecision-making to issues of gender and power (Dahlerup, 1984; Outshoorn, 1986). I hope to advance this by examining gender equality in the context of all aspects of nondecision-making, by focusing on policy for women, in particular equality-based childcare policy. An examination of childcare policy-making must, by definition, address the relationship between women and the state—locally, nationally and internationally. My reasons for selecting childcare are that I believe it also to be, like Bachrach and Baratz’s focus on ‘race’, a radical issue. Lovenduski and Randall (1993) argue that it has not always been as easy for feminists to present childcare as a radical issue compared to other issues such as violence, pointing out that the elevation of motherhood evident in some feminist writings (see Rich, 1976) does not ‘translate so easily into the more mundane campaigns to make the lives of actual mothers more tolerable’ (Lovenduski and Randall, 1993:282). However, it is my contention that childcare is, and always has been, a radical issue in that it challenges the patriarchal divide of public/private like no other issue, and as such, goes to the root of struggle for gender equality and the public use of resources.

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The format of the remainder of this chapter is tripartite: first, an outline of my approach and methodology; second, a review of policy-making theories ending with the presentation of an adapted model of nondecision-making which offers a more complete understanding of how it affects WIIs.

Methodological and epistemological considerations The original research impetus for this book arose from case studies of policy-making on childcare in two Scottish local authorities along with an historical investigation of childcare provision both within the UK and across the European Community. A further area of research developed from this which focused on the positions and strategies available to women in the policy process, again utilising the experiences of women within actual political bureaucracies, some directly acquired, others from secondary sources. Given that much of this book is based on original research, conducted from 1989 to 1996, it is appropriate here to outline the issues which arose in actually performing the research, issues of my methodologies and epistemology. My first concern was that nondecision-making should not occur in the formulation of the methodology. To examine childcare as it affects women’s ability to return to the workforce because the economy requires women’s labour would be such a case; as Gustafsson (1994) relates such definitions have been used to argue for subsidised childcare in Sweden. In the United States childcare subsidies have been viewed as a way in which to increase the labour market potential of single mothers, not to increase their human potential but to decrease their reliance upon state welfare systems (Gustafsson, 1994). Childcare must be studied as a woman’s right whether she chooses to work or not. Childcare must be considered as it affects women’s lives and not as it affects men’s or society in general. To perform the latter is to conduct an androcentric study which will reveal very little about women and nondecision-making (and in particular the setting of political agendas). Methodology is the theory and analysis of how research should proceed (Harding, 1987:3). Defining a methodology for studying women, or policy for women, is not simple. It is not enough merely to adapt established social science methods. Some feminist researchers, arguing that traditional theories are often applied in such a way as to mask gendered effects and to view male experience as the norm, have produced adaptations which they claim can be used to explain women’s social position. It is not adequate merely to add women to a social science study and expect to achieve accurate results. The examination of women’s contribution to aspects of society already studied has increased our knowledge of women’s voting behaviour, work patterns and contributions to the arts but this is often in relation to men’s activities. Feminist critics have frequently drawn attention to the biases in traditional social sciences research with ‘malestream’ studies’ tendencies to employ stereotypical images of women to support male superiority (e.g. Siltanen and Stanworth, 1984). Price (1989) refers to the ‘male agenda of political sociology’ which, with its emphasis on power, political elites and government institutions, cannot fail to be sexist and, as such, it is clear that there has been a need for the feminist revisiting of political and social science which has occured in

Skirting the issue: power, nondecision-making and gender

3

recent years. Bourque and Grossholtz (1984) go further to claim that the dominance of traditional groups is maintained by the use of ‘knowledge’. Millet (1971), in using the ‘tools’ of the male academic mode, discredits the knowledge systems which men have created. She argues that male knowledge-makers merely project and protect self-interest and are far from objective. In addition, Millet notes that women are excluded from certain areas of knowledge. This leads me to the conclusion that a feminist approach to social science is necessary to ensure that women’s experiences are articulated accurately and not misrepresented by patriarchal definitions of the situation, masculinist interpretations of data and supposedly genderless usage of methods. A useful summary of feminist political science is provided by Randall (1991) who delineates four basic positions: cultural, postmodern, standpoint and empiricist. She situates herself in the latter category with the pragmatic observation that: if we want feminist research to change things, it has to be convincing. It will hardly convince fellow academics, policy-makers or the media if rigour and method are jettisoned as so much patriarchal baggage. (Randall, 1991:5) Although empiricists accept that traditional methods are a justifiable target, in that they can be used to lend legitimacy to a study, there is a preference to express scepticism about the conceptual underpinnings of certain projects rather than critique the methods themselves. This is in contrast to the wholesale rejection of the notion of ‘scientific objectivity’ by cultural feminists who argue that method, which is inherently male, oppresses women. They contend that women can free themselves of male misinterpretation by abandoning male academic modes and developing female forms of study and expression. Related to cultural feminism is the position of feminist standpoint theory. It too rejects masculine objectivity believing that women, due to our position in society, are often in a privileged situation to view the truth—akin to the Marxian arguments regarding the superiority of the proletariat view of society and its structures. However, standpoint theory does not reject scientific method but rather adopts a radical interpretation of social science. Standpointers maintain that women’s distinctive experiences of the world can be uncovered through focusing on feminist epistemology in the formulation of methodology and the utilisation of methods. As Harding argues: To achieve a feminist standpoint one must engage in the intellectual and political struggle necessary to see natural and social life from the point of view of that disdained activity which produces women’s social experiences instead of from the partial and perverse perspective available from the ‘ruling gender’ experience of men. (Harding, 1987:185) Thus, feminist standpoint theory argues that such an approach is a more scientifically complete investigation and, therefore, less distorted than traditional social science procedures. Both feminist standpoint theory and feminist empiricists are criticised by postmodernists for holding themselves up as ‘successor sciences’, that is, claiming to be

Women, power and policy

4

improvements. Both are further criticised for accepting the concept of a ‘true reality’ as postmodernists do not accept that there is any one truth. Postmodern rejection of ‘universalising claims’ and of the use of metanarrative, overarching explanations leads to a view of science as a doomed project and they prefer to ‘relativise’ experience within micropolitics. They criticise standpoint theory by cogently arguing that if one standpoint exists then that opens up the possibility for many more. Thus, there is not one feminist epistemology but rather ‘a range of feminist epistemologies exists’ (Stanley and Wise, 1990:33). Having summarised, albeit extremely briefly, the major debates around feminist social science it is now possible to establish the position employed here. To examine the development of political policies requires an investigation of the workings of the political systems operated by society as they currently exist, to elucidate the points of conflict which may pertain between the creation of policy by and for women and the prevailing biases within society towards a masculinist view of issues. I feel that neither a culturalist nor a postmodern approach is appropriate. This is due to my faith in empirical methods, which need not be used simply in a traditional fashion but may be employed to advance feminist research (Kelly, Burton and Reagan, 1994). Further, I agree with Harding’s contention that there is no such thing as ‘feminist method’ (1987), for method is simply the technique of evidence gathering. The fact that a method may be carried out by a feminist researcher does not make it a feminist method but merely a feminist application of a method which may elucidate more accurate or different information (for example, may listen more carefully to women). However, I believe that there are certain features of methodology which feminist researchers employ which reveal factors hitherto unexposed. Therefore, a variety of interview techniques were employed according to the situation of the interviewees to allow the experience of women to be expressed. Further, it was my aim to allow women to describe their experiences in their own words, whilst alongside this approach was a more ‘traditional’ method of analysing the life cycle of policy developments. I am very aware that such an empiricist methodology lays me open to accusations of essentialism. However, to utilise a postmodern paradigm would, I believe, be an inadequate exercise in this context. Although I recognise that women, and our experiences as women, are diverse and distinct I maintain that our experiences of, and treatment by, public policies and political bodies are sufficiently equivalent to reveal certain patterns and responses (see Basu, 1995). Conducting a postmodern investigation would imply that a sufficiently different socialisation process operated upon each individual woman and that each of us responds differently to the structural setting in which we find ourselves. Although this is true in some respects, on the whole it can be argued that women, in the liberal democratic system discussed here, do meet with much the same socialisation experiences in relations with state bureaucracies (see Chapman, 1987; Githens and Prestage, 1987; Iglitzin, 1974; Sapiro, 1984) and as such, I believe that, in this context, women can be discussed as a group. In other words I do not follow the postmodern notion that the categories ‘women’ and ‘patriarchy’ only exist as metanarratives to be deconstructed theoretically, for to do so implies that there is no place for women to take a collective stance against oppression and marginalisation (see Jackson, 1992/3).

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5

However, I do believe that masculinity and femininity are socially constructed, and I am aware that what it means to be a woman varies over geography, history, culture and society. Thus, I am not claiming that ‘woman’ is a unitary, absolutist category. Nonetheless, it is still the case that women are defined with respect to our (assumed) reproductive abilities but any biological essentialism here is not the making of my feminist position but by the patriarchal assumptions of policy-makers. This applies to all women, young and old, black and white, heterosexual and lesbian, married and single, for as Jackson outlines ‘our lives are materially bounded by membership of those categories’ (Jackson, 1992/3:30). The ability of women alone to bear children impinges upon the economic, and therefore, the political life of all women. It is just exactly the influence of these social constructions which will be explored in the context of nondecision-making. Despite arguing against a distinctive feminist method I do believe that research which is informed by feminism can be particularly useful. A feminist conceptualisation of a social phenomenon may differ greatly from a nonfeminist view; for example, men’s lesser contribution to domestic chores is a ‘problem’ to the former but not the latter. Thus, to recognise the importance of women’s experience in defining the ‘problem’ under examination ensures that the questions women want answered are addressed. This is an important distinction for as Harding reminds us: [t]he questions about women that men have wanted answered have all too often arisen from desires to pacify, control, exploit, or manipulate women. (Harding, 1987:8) If this study were only to answer such questions that would be a definite act of nondecision, that is, the refusal to address the issues of the less powerful within society. Feminist political science must question why women’s political actions and treatment by the polity should be gauged on our ability to succeed in, and affect, masculine structures. Therefore, although this study relies heavily on empirical investigation and the application of the theories of nondecision-making, there is a constant and continuous feminist interpretation of the issues and the questions. In other words, my approach is most certainly empirical but directed from my personal standpoint as a feminist; I do not believe that the two are mutually exclusive.

Policy-making: review of appropriate theories Public policies are not made in a vacuum but rather in a world full of influences, opinions, competing demands and motivations. In addition, the decision-making process is a series of hurdles or barriers which an issue must overcome before becoming a policy. Each of these hurdles can provide access points for rival factions to put their case. This can improve or diminish an issue’s chances of making it to policy status. Support or opposition need not be open to have influence and it is covert opposition that nondecision-making theory uncovers. As such it provides a suitable model to being an investigation of the marginalisation of WIIs. However, although it was defined thirty years ago it is not a term in common usage and requires further explanation.

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In a perfect world the interests and problems of every individual in society would be represented and receive equality of treatment. However attractive this scenario may be pragmatic considerations automatically rule it out for, not only would the necessary bureaucracy be so cumbersome as to be ineffectual and costs prohibitive but, by definition, such a system would negate itself. Equality of treatment of interests is impossible for the simple reason that one person’s interest is another person’s problem: the environmentalist seeking tighter river purification legislation would be counterbalanced by the equality of treatment offered to the industrialist seeking a method of disposing of by-products and effluents. However, it is the existence of these competing interests which is seen to ensure the maintenance of liberal democracy. Democracy implies equality, yet as Phillips (1991) argues, when applied to an unequal society it allows some people to count for more than others. In other words, in the real world some interests are given, or take, priority over others. This prioritisation of interests, whether conscious or not, is the very essence of decision-making. This is why who decides, and what priorities decision-makers have and how they perceive, and, as Bacchi (1999) outlines, how they represent the issue is crucial to the policy outcome. There is a general consensus among students of decision-making that decisions automatically involve power. A decision is ‘a set of actions related to and including the choice of one alternative rather than another’ (Dahl, 1960:26). Further, decisions are effected when A (a person, interest, group, party, company, etc.) exercises a form of power over B such as to produce the result desired by A (Dahl, 1957). Inequality in access to the decision-making process is related to the power that an individual or interest holds and affects the extent to which issues get on to the political agenda. In other words, power is inextricably linked to decision-making. As such it is essential to consider the nature and practice of power to understand decision-making and ultimately, nondecisionmaking. However, there are many theories regarding the exercise and the extent of power and attempts to theorise on resolving unequal access have created an ‘academic minefield’ (Hogwood and Gunn, 1984:70). The main arguments can be classified into Group Theorists, Pluralists, Two-dimentionalists and the Radical argument which are detailed below, the latter two being the aspects of nondecision-making of interest. Group theorists Traditional Group Theorists such as Bentley (1949) and Truman (1951) argue that the role of the polity is to mediate between competing interests. The Group Theorists do not claim that influence is always equal as is implied by the above portrayal of a ‘perfect world’; as early as the 1950s Truman was noting the problems faced by black Americans in accessing politics. Nonetheless, they postulate the theory that if a sector of society feels unjustifiably disadvantaged then that sector will amalgamate and act as a group to rectify the situation. Pluralists The Pluralist school, with which Dahl is associated, concentrates upon the exercise of power, to ascertain the individuals who initiate policy alternatives, veto the proposals of

Skirting the issue: power, nondecision-making and gender

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others, have their proposals rejected or passed. In this way, it is possible for the ‘success rate’ of each individual participant to be monitored and thereby to determine who holds power. Pluralists view power to be situational and relational, that is, not held solely by any one group. As such they criticise the elitist model of Wright Mills (1956) arguing that the powerful are those who win a conflict, which is not necessarily always the same individual or group. In defining power in this fashion the Pluralists accommodate pressure group theory. Pluralists emphasise observing the behaviour of the policy participants to determine winners, thus they concentrate upon the study of actual decisions. Further, decisions should involve the selection of one option from a list of two or more key issues as their focus is on decision-making behaviour, on important issues but only if that involves actual, observable conflict. Conflict is deemed to be an essential test of where power lies. Pluralists concentrate, in the main, upon open conflict as they do not seem to consider that power may be used in an unobservable (with their methodology) fashion. In sum, the Pluralist view of power concentrates upon the observation of actual decisions taken upon key issues and involving competing preferences, with one policy preference succeeding. A key issue is one which involves a genuine challenge to the resources of power or authority of those who currently dominate the process (Bachrach and Baratz, 1970). Thus, the removal of tax on the users of workplace nurseries is not a key issue as such a policy only affects a few women and has a relatively small effect upon the resources of authority, that is the Revenue. A demand for 24-hour state-funded childcare is a key issue as it challenges not only government spending limits but social conceptions of the roles of the state, families, women and mothers. Given that Pluralists concentrate on who controls resources and makes decisions within polities, their analysis is of little utility in studying women. This is because women are, on the whole, excluded from both resources and decision-making forums, despite the gradual increase in recent years of the number of women in elite political structures (even the much vaunted increase in the number of women MPs in the 1997 British election, a total of 120, is still less than one-fifth of all MPs). Thus a less limited analysis of power is required in this study than that offered by the Pluralists. Two-dimensionalists Bachrach and Baratz (1970) offer an approach which examines not who possesses power but the power differential between groups. Following Lasswell and Kaplan (1950) they identify three characteristics which are necessary if power is to be said to exist: first, there must be a conflict of interests, second, B must accede to A’s wishes and third, power can only exist if one party can threaten to invoke sanctions upon the other (Bachrach and Baratz, 1970:21). Although this is similar to the Pluralists’ theories, Bachrach and Baratz argue that the Pluralist analysis of power is limited for it does not acknowledge the fact that power can be utilised to create a situation in which if is difficult to raise issues which might challenge the status quo. This is ‘power [which] is latent rather than real’ (Bachrach and Baratz, 1970:26). Latent power is a capability which might not actually be exercised but can still exist and influence the behaviour of others: A may withhold from threatening sanctions despite having the ability to do so and still, due to the innate ability of A to impose sanctions if required, B may still act as A

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would like. In other words, ‘the reputation for power may have been more important that its exercise’ (Crenson, 1971:130). Thus it would seem that any consideration of power is incomplete without an understanding and utilisation of the concept of latent power. However, latent power is still not a full explanation of how power can be used to suppress opposition. Latent power is when B is aware that A has power, but a situation can exist in which A’s actions produce a scenario in which B’s demands are not recognised: Power is also exercised when A devotes his energies to creating or reinforcing social and political values and institutional practices that limit the scope of the political process to public consideration of only those issues which are comparatively innocuous to A. To the extent that A succeeds in doing this, B is prevented, for all practical purposes, from bringing to the fore any issues that might in their resolution be seriously detrimental to A’s set of preferences. (Bachrach and Baratz, 1970:7) Thus, it is argued, the Pluralist view of power is not complete, and that power involves a ‘second face’. In failing to consider the practice of confining decision-making to a strict and narrow set of ‘safe’ issues the Pluralists do not examine a further barrier to decisionmaking for those outwith the circle of power. Bachrach and Baratz argue that creating or reinforcing barriers to public consideration of issues is exercising a form of power. In support of their thesis they cite Schattschneider’s theory of the organisation of bias: All forms of political organisation have a bias in favour of the exploitation of some kinds of conflict and the suppression of others, because organisation is the mobilisation of bias (emphasis in the original). Some issues are organised into politics while others are organised out. (Schattschneider, 1960:71) More simply, Schattschneider argues that in all political systems there exists a bias in favour of certain aspects of conflict and against the raising of certain other issues. The act of organising issues onto an agenda, selection and exclusion, inherently and automatically causes the exercise of the mobilisation of bias. As Button (1985) argues, this partially explains why issues of concern to women have been kept off the agenda. As patriarchal society benefits from the disadvantaged position women have in the power ratio it can be said that there is a mobilisation of bias against the organisation of WIIs into politics. It appears that in any political system raising a ‘new’ issue to agenda status is difficult; the prevailing balance of interests in the political system reflects the influence of previously legitimised political forces. As such, the issues on a formal political agenda frequently mirror the interests of the established order rather than the preoccupations of new challengers (Cobb and Elder, 1971:902). In any system the list of issues viewed as legitimate subjects by active politicians is fairly static and very difficult to alter. Thus, it would seem to be true that Schattschneider’s mobilisation of bias (that is, a group of values that operate to maintain the predominance of certain elite groups) is self-

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perpetuating as supporters of the bias are placed in positions of power and can easily defend the bias. Therefore, for new non-legitimised issues, for example, issues which reflect women’s gender interests or any issue counter to the bias in a society, to break through this barrier is extremely problematic. This form of indirect usage of power is one example of nondecision-making. Bachrach and Baratz (1970) coined the term nondecision-making to describe the employment of power to maintain the status quo, not in direct and open conflict but by more subtle means such as detailed above. Bachrach and Baratz define a nondecision as: a decision that results in suppression or thwarting of a latent or manifest challenge to the values or interests of the decision-maker…nondecisionmaking is a means by which demands for change in the community can be suffocated before they are even voiced; or kept covert; or killed before they gain access to the relevant decision-making arena; or, failing all these things maimed or destroyed in the decision-implementing stage of the policy. (1970:44) The arenas in which such action can occur are clarified in Figure 1.1 where the barriers to decisions are highlighted. As can be seen from this model an issue begins at the stage of community realisation of shared objective interests which then becomes the subject of discussion on the public agenda. If the issue manages to maintain momentum through these stages it may be lifted onto the formal political agenda and from there to decision and implementation. What Bachrach and Baratz point out is that opposition to an issue may occur in the transference stages, and may be both overt and covert, that is, a decision may be made upon an issue but no money allocated to its implementation thereby, de facto, opposing its purpose without appearing directly in opposition. Bachrach and Baratz, therefore, challenge the one-dimensional view of power of the Pluralist school. By making nondecision-making the cornerstone of their analysis they adopted a ‘two-dimensional view of power’ (Lukes, 1974:24) and developed a critique of the Pluralist approach to the political process. The Pluralists identify actual key issues while Bachrach and Baratz’s model identifies potential key issues. Thus, the twodimensional model expands upon the Pluralist model by considering the ways in which decisions are prevented and incorporates the question of who controls the political agenda.

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Figure 1.1 Policy-making barriers Source: Adapted from Bachrach and Baratz (1970:54). The Radical view The appearance of Lukes’s (1974) study of power brought a third dimension to the debate. It was Lukes who referred to the Pluralists as uni-dimensional and to Bachrach and Baratz as having a two-dimensional approach. His own study he labelled threedimensional as it included a more ‘radical’ analysis of power than previous work and uncovered a further layer of power relations. By utilising sociological as well as political theories, Lukes argues that the mobilisation of bias is not maintained by political actions alone; the whole system requires a suitable social structure to shore it up, for: the power to control the agenda of politics and exclude potential issues cannot be adequately analysed unless it is seen as a function of collective forces and social arrangements. (Lukes, 1974:22) In other words, the prevailing values of a community allow for a further use of power than even Bachrach and Baratz perceived. Lukes claims that not only can A exercise power over B to get B to act contrary to B’s own interests (Bachrach and Baratz’s twodimensional model) but also that A can influence the very nature of B’s demands by ‘influencing, shaping or determining his very wants’ (Gaventa, 1980:23). It is at this point that the theories of Bachrach and Baratz and Lukes diverge; Lukes severely criticises the two-dimensional approach for too narrow a concentration. Although Bachrach and Baratz go further than the Pluralists in investigating grievances as well as observable conflicts, Lukes asks rhetorically:

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is it not the supreme and most insidious exercise of power to prevent people…from having grievances by shaping their perceptions, cognitions and preferences in such a way that they accept their role in the existing order of things. (Lukes, 1974:24) Gaventa supports Lukes’s view and argues that dominance can be maintained, not just by the mobilisation of bias, but by the creation of certain psychological conditions so as to make the aggrieved group feel powerless and create a quiescence of acceptance (Gaventa, 1980:16). These writers propose that a bias may be created, sustained or mobilised by socialisation and thus the existing social order and power relations are legitimised.

Devising a feminist model of nondecision-making Bachrach and Baratz revisited Nondecision-making theory has a radical past, it has attempted to explain the marginalisation of demands which exist within communities yet receive no voice or which are silenced in some way. It is, therefore, rather surprising to me that it has not really been applied to an investigation of WIIs (with the notable exceptions of Dahlerup, 1984 and Outshoorn, 1986). It is my contention that this can be attributed to a number of reasons, one of which may be that the model requires revising to both bring it up to date and to truly reflect the experience of policy-making with regard to WIIs. In facilitating this revision of the original model it is necessary to go back and discuss the theories of Bachrach and Baratz, Lukes, and Gaventa in greater detail, to elucidate the faults and strengths in the theories before applying a revised model to WIIs. Bachrach and Baratz describe various methods by which the desires of A can be achieved; by coercion, influence, authority, force and manipulation (1970:17–38), all of which are examples of the exercise of power. Coercion works by A utilising the threat of sanctions over B; influence occurs when B complies with A’s desires without manifest or even tacit threat of deprivation; authority exists when B recognises that the command of A is reasonable in terms of her/his own values;1 force is employed when A achieves her/his objectives despite a non-compliant B by removing B’s choice of compliance or non-compliance and in the case of manipulation ‘compliance is forthcoming in the absence of recognition on the complier’s part either of the source or the exact nature of the demand’ (Bachrach and Baratz, 1970:28). In addition, Bachrach and Baratz support the notion of a mobilisation of bias, arguing that certain procedures, predominant values and beliefs can exist which operate to systematically benefit certain groups to the detriment of the interests of others. These advantaged groups are, therefore, in a privileged position from which to defend the status quo and retain their power base (Bachrach and Baratz, 1970:43). Thus, they challenge the behaviourist approach of the Pluralists and acknowledge the fact that power can be exercised by restricting the range of issues under consideration. This is the practice they term nondecision-making. Bachrach and Baratz have been criticised for the difficulty inherent in verifying their claims, for if B does not act then there is nothing to be proved empirically, their Pluralist

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critics claim. Bachrach and Baratz partially concede the point, but they insist that actions that restrict the range of decision-making are observable nondecisions, thus illustrating how Schattschneider’s mobilisation of bias has been incorporated into their work. Power, thus, according to Bachrach and Baratz, cannot be analysed without considering both decision-making and nondecision-making, for ‘[t]he primary method of sustaining a given mobilisation of bias is nondecision-making’ (Bachrach and Baratz, 1970:44). Despite their differences the two-dimensionalists Bachrach and Baratz share a common feature with the Pluralists, that being their emphasis on observable conflict. They state that if the observer can uncover no grievance, no actual or potential demand for change, but finds instead a community-wide acceptance of the status quo then there is no way to determine whether the consensus is genuine or has been created by nondecisions. In other words, they say that, if there is no conflict one cannot truly analyse the nature of the decision. Conversely, they argue that if one discovers that those outside the mobilisation of bias have grievances and no action is being taken to alleviate these grievances then one must look for evidence of nondecision. However, they limit themselves to studies ‘within the context of an identifiable power struggle’ (Bachrach and Baratz, 1970:50). Given that gender conflict is less easily identified than other political struggles (in that it can be classified as a variety of concerns, not always as gender conflict), the methods of Bachrach and Baratz are limited in any investigation of the treatment of WIIs in the polity. Other theorists have illustrated how this problem of observable conflict can be overcome. Scholzman and Verba (1979) argue that Bachrach and Baratz yield too much to their critics (Pluralists) and have used survey data to show how aggrieved groups, in their case the unemployed, were dissuaded from politicising their case and articulating their demands. They argue that using survey data provides empirical evidence which meets the challenge of the Pluralists, even in arenas of previously unidentifiable power struggles, which makes it possible to learn a great deal about those who are politically inactive and why they do not politicise their needs. Perhaps they simply do not feel needy; or they feel their problems are not appropriate material for the politics; or they figure they would get nowhere if they tried the political arena; or they fear repression. Survey data can help us to understand why nothing happened. (Scholzman and Verba, 1979:11) Scholzman and Verba are not alone in criticising Bachrach and Baratz for granting too much to the Pluralist school. Lukes, as has been shown, argues that observable conflict is not the only way in which nondecision-making power can be employed. Although it is very difficult to witness actual conflict in the exercising of power described by Lukes and Gaventa it is possible to see how the ‘radical view’ developed from Bachrach and Baratz theory. Bachrach and Baratz’s description of manipulation, i.e. compliance occurring without the complier either knowing the true source nor the exact nature of the demand, is an obvious precursor of Lukes’ and Gaventa’s theories. Further, as manipulation has been shown to be a form of power by Bachrach and Baratz, then it can be concluded that the

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conflict-free situations described by Lukes and Gaventa also involve power relations. Therefore, power need not involve conflict to exist and, although power is certainly visible in cases of conflict, the converse is not true: that is, conflict is not necessarily visible in the use of power. Bachrach and Baratz reworked Like the unemployed studied by Scholzman and Verba, women have also experienced the inability to express their grievances in a formal political setting. This is explained by the socialisation influences directed at women to encourage women to be satisfied with, or resigned to, their lot and to make women cooperative (Iglitzin, 1977:99). However, socialisation theory2 alone does not explain the lack of attention paid to Women’s Interests, hence the concentration in this study upon nondecision-making to provide a fuller answer than socialisation alone offers. As I have argued, it seems obvious that nondecision-making, given its concerns with systemic bias, issue suppression and covert uses of power should be a useful theory for examining WIIs. In this I am following the example of Dahlerup (1984) who, in arguing that nondecision-making does and has occurred to Women’s Interests, develops Bachrach and Baratz’s model to illustrate how the issue of the enfranchisement of Danish women suffered as a result. In this study Dahlerup devised a scheme for the study of agendabuilding ‘concerning issues on which nondecision-making is more usual than decisionmaking’ (Dahlerup, 1984:34). By selecting a completely non-ambiguous issue of Women’s Interest, women’s suffrage, Dahlerup avoids the confusion which can arise from the redesignation of an issue under another category, an example of how an issue can be suppressed or perverted. As such, Dahlerup clarifies her subject matter to provide an illustrative study of how nondecision-making has affected one Women’s Issue. This matter of definition will be returned to later. Aware of the limitations of Bachrach and Baratz’s work, in particular their inability to do an empirical study of nondecision-making in the absence of open conflict, Dahlerup examines the concept of the objective interests more deeply to reveal women’s demands, potential demands and false consciousness.3 She argues that before women’s objective interests can be discussed a theory of women’s oppression is required, yet unfortunately there is no clear and agreed concept and delineation of women’s oppression. Facilitating a solution, Dahlerup claims, requires a thorough dissection of women’s position in the various fields of society and how patriarchal society is served by the subordinate position of women. The restrictive effect of female socialisation is not a recent phenomenon for ‘women throughout history have been told that their subordinate position is natural’ (Dahlerup, 1984:41) and thus, women find the transference of their grievances into objective interests and subsequent political action to be large, if not insurmountable, hurdles to overcome. Dahlerup advances Bachrach and Baratz’s notions of systemic bias and maintenance of the status quo, arguing that the very organisation of society militates against the inclusion of certain issues on the political agenda, this she refers to as the structural suppression facing women. According to Dahlerup it is important to investigate, understand and expose the structures which create the framework of political decisionmaking and agenda setting (Dahlerup, 1984:36). Included in her analysis of this structural

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setting is the influence of women’s socialisation. Dahlerup is not the first to advocate such a study; her structural suppression is akin to what Cobb and Elder refer to as the prepolitical process (Cobb and Elder, 1972:12). Bachrach and Baratz can also be considered as utilising this broad system by their acceptance of Schattschneider’s mobilisation of bias. The difference in their studies is that whereas Bachrach and Baratz investigate the political system as it related to the situation of a specific group (the black urban poor of Baltimore) Dahlerup examines the structural suppression of a far less homogeneous and far larger group—women. Studying structural suppression of women involves an understanding of women’s social position and tackling the difficult problem of defining a ‘Woman’s Issue’. Dahlerup states that she is interested in the way politicians have denied the existence of the ‘woman question’ claiming that this is an example of suppression. Quoting Crenson’s (1971) assumption that people do not wish to be poisoned by the air they breathe as a precedent, Dahlerup asserts that women do not wish to be oppressed. She further contends that society is characterised by conflicts of interests and that women had a direct interest in challenging male power in agitating for the vote. Clarifying the structural suppression of Women’s Interests requires, according to Dahlerup, a thorough analysis of women’s life situations and conditions alongside an investigation of the relation between the position of women and the structure of society: [o]ne must investigate the unequal distribution of power, resources, prestige, money, property, spare time, etc. within the specific period, country, and class. Then one can start to ask how women have challenged this distribution, or try to illustrate the structures that have prevented women from challenging it. (Dahlerup, 1984:43) Dahlerup tackles the question of how to define the nature of structural suppression and chooses to isolate structural suppression by means of comparative analysis. While this comparative analysis could be of different legislatures’ agenda-setting behaviour, Dahlerup prefers to compare different historical periods. In dealing with the transference of issues beyond Barrier 1 to tackle Barrier 2, Dahlerup argues that the public agenda is an area of great conflict with groups fighting for control of ‘formulating the general will’ (Dahlerup, 1984:45). This emphasis on conflict is contrary to the arguments of Cobb and Elder who assume a more neutral status for their public agenda.4 Dahlerup states categorically that the public agenda is not free from bias, that it is not neutral (Dahlerup, 1984:44) and that one must look at the institutions behind the public agenda-building and how women relate to these institutions. Initially, women were excluded completely from these bodies: mass media, political organisations, literature and business, and Dahlerup illustrates this and labels it an example of structural suppression. It is clear that in her concentration upon structural suppression Dahlerup has developed Bachrach and Baratz’s model towards that advocated by Lukes. However, despite noting how socialisation is itself a barrier, Dahlerup does not define it as a separate hurdle, preferring to include it within the Barrier 1. This appears to be rather limited, for it can be argued that socialisation could prevent even the forming of objective

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interests. This implies another barrier; prior to Barrier 1, that being the barrier of socialisation, as illustrated by Figure 1.2. It is perhaps necessary to clarify here where socialisation and Gaventa’s acquiescence differ: according to the latter B allows A’s actions to go unchallenged as B does not feel able to confront A, or B may not feel it is worth challenging A as B’s actions are likely to be, on past experience, ineffectual. However, socialisation can be even more pervasive in that someone, in this case a woman, may be so socialised by a patriarchal community that she might not even understand that A’s actions are against her interests. Nondecision, issue definition and representation Yet another way in which nondecision-making can occur, according to Bachrach and Baratz, is through the utilisation of power to redefine, adapt or pervert the issue being presented to the decision-making body. Van der Eijk and Kok (1975) develop this assertion by explaining that decision-makers may only lift part of an issue, or may modify an issue so that the initial politicised aims, the demands, are perverted. Outshoorn (1986), in her study of Dutch abortion policy-making, emphasises the importance for feminists in having abortion defined as a women’s issue rather than an issue of medical or social concern. By doing so, Outshoorn illustrates another danger for challenger issues, that of issue modification (attempts during the life-cycle of an issue to change its identification). Although the Netherlands had perhaps one of the most liberal abortion practices in Europe it was in the paradoxical situation of also having one of the most restrictive statutes until 1981 (Outshoorn, 1986:69). Outshoorn concentrates on how abortion as an issue was defined; various feminist organisations defined abortion as a woman’s right yet in the conversion of demand to issue on the formal political agenda there was the danger that abortion would be defined in terms of medical, sociological or psychological need. Outshoorn details how the feminist movements held out for their definition of the issue and eventually achieved the policy they required. Thus, the way an issue is defined is important; if an issue achieves agenda-status the battle against nondecision-making is not necessarily won. An examination of the form in which that issue has achieved agendastatus is required. Initially, abortion in the Netherlands reached the level of a government committee but, as Outshoorn shows, it was as a social problem and not as a WII. It was not until abortion was accepted by the formal political agenda in feminist terms that nondecision-making was avoided. Bacchi’s (1999) arguments are also useful here. Bacchi is only interested in issues which have made it onto the political agenda and argues that the manner in which policies are represented and the nature of the discourses around each issue can disadvantage policy-making on issues of equality. As Bacchi argues with regard to items on the political agenda it is important ‘to see how the construction or representation of those issues limits what is talked about as possible or desirable, or as impossible or undesirable’ (Bacchi, 1999:3) for the approaches taken to policy are inherently political.

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Figure 1.2 Barriers to decision-making

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My nondecision-making model As has been shown above, nondecision-making involves many different ways of employing power to maintain the status quo. It has also been shown that nondecisionmaking involves less direct methods than outright and open conflict and debate. Nondecision-making includes such practices as: threats to prevent an issue being raised, intimidation of challengers, co-option of challengers, branding of issues in such a way as to delegitimise them, modification or perversion of the issues, burying of demands in committee, incomplete implementation, and the creation of a bias within society to suppress opposition, to socialise people into acquiescence. Thus, this description of nondecision-making is broader than that defined by Bachrach and Baratz. I use nondecision-making as an umbrella term to refer to bias maintenance, issue suppression, issue perversion and quiescence; as such the term nondecision-making in this study includes both the second and third faces of power. In addition, it builds on Dahlerup’s structural suppression to place socialisation as the first barrier to getting WIIs onto the agenda. It is this model that is applied to the empirical material to reveal that nondecision-making has been guilty of restricting the interests of women at each and every stage of the policy-making process, not always in all places at all times, but in what follows I outline examples of each aspect of my nondecision-making model.

2 Motherhood, gender and nondecisionmaking Having discussed the theories of nondecision-making and their usefulness in relation to marginalised issues, I now need to address two other substantive questions. First, what constitutes a Women’s Issue and second, how motherhood affects gender roles and how gender roles relate to policy. This lays the basis for focusing on childcare as an important issue with regard to women’s equal access to economic activity (which is not to say that it is not important for many other reasons too) and concludes with a brief discussion of the relationship between childcare provision, policy and women’s equality of access to economic activity. Although the focus here is on the policy area of childcare I believe that the arguments made and the structures and policies described are transferable to the whole arena of women’s interests and other marginalised issues. Equality between women and men is, as already stated, both a fundamental issue of social justice and, in the context of childcare, a very radical demand.

Women’s Issues: seeking a definition There are many today who would take issue with the whole notion that there is such a thing as a Women’s Issue, preferring to believe that in this supposedly post-feminist world that such an idea is passé at the least if not just mistaken and non-existent. Trying to establish what a Women’s Issue is can be rather contentious—for it can disempower as well as empower. However, it is necessary to define the term, for if it is defined for us we will certainly observe an instance of nondecision-making! Often Women’s Issues have been confused with family issues or welfare issues, subordinating the interests of women to those of the family. Like Outshoorn (1986) I value the importance of issue definition and extend that to the definition of a group or class of issues, in this case Women’s Issues. Controlling the definition of issues is vital to achieving one’s desired outcome. Most issues can be defined in more than one manner and this adds to the already considerable degree of ambiguity around what constitutes the category Women’s Issues. As already observed some would say that Women’s Issues no longer exist as, since the achievement of women’s suffrage, the state acts neutrally with regard to sex and gender (though this would be denied by the majority of feminists) (Dahlerup, 1984; Basu, 1995; Pettman, 1996; Sainsbury, 1996). This is partially due to the fact that the past few decades have experienced a new wave of measures to remove inequities from the law. Others do believe that Women’s Issues exist but have difficulty comprehending just what may qualify. Policies explicitly directed at women (in Britain, for example, the 1927 Act removing the Marriage Bar, electoral laws and the Equal Pay Act of 1970) are viewed as

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Women’s Issues because they were intended to remove an imbalance women endured under law. These women-specific policies were not viewed as interlinking programmes but as ‘mutually independent cases which have something to do with women’ (Dahlerup, 1984:37). Politicians and policy-makers do not see these policies as part of an ongoing campaign to alter the social position of women but merely as individual actions to remove a few quirks in the law. As such, the policy-makers see no tradition, no precedent, for action to change the social position of over half the population. However, achieving the passage of women-specific legislation (enfranchisement, employment rights, etc.), the aim of the ‘Equal Rights’ feminists of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries did cause alteration for the better in the social, economic and political position of women in Britain and other states, though challenging gender relations was not the prime aim of this movement, or rather, not the image of this movement that has been conventionally taught. On the other hand, the Women’s Liberation Movement (WLM) of the late 1960s set out to change society and how that society was governed; as Lovenduski (1986) has argued surely the ultimate aim of feminists must be to change the ways in which politics and the state are conceptualised. There appear to be two definitions of Women’s Issues extant, neither of which I feel is adequate. First, the old category of policies which specifically mention women and second, the ‘newer’ category of feminist issues which seek to change society’s structure and assumptions regarding gender roles. Confusingly, issues such as the enfranchisement of women can be classified under both definitions. Further, there exist policies which might not explicitly mention gender but may still affect some women and men differently owing to the different societal positions of the sexes. It is necessary, therefore, to find a definition of Women’s Issues which not only embraces both of the general usages of the term but which also includes these latter non women-specific policies which may still have a differential effect on men and women. In the following section, through reviewing previous work on women and politics, such a definition is sought. This is not to say that the ultimate meaning is determined but rather to explain my conceptual framework. This pursuit of a more inclusive definition of Women’s Issues faces several difficulties. The diversity, range and interlinking of feminist thought, (Stacey, 1993); the radicalisation of previously ‘apolitical’ organisations such as the Women’s Institute (Lovenduski and Randall, 1993) and the growth of government in the modern world has increased the number of ways in which policy impinges upon women’s lives as well as affecting the dimensions of women’s political activity and study. Many theorists have already attempted to define the parameters of women’s political interests and activities and in recent years women’s contribution to, and experience of, the world of politics has become the focus for a number of political studies. These studies have examined women’s elite participation (Merritt, 1977; Vallance, 1979; Carroll and Strimling, 1983), voting behaviour (Goot and Reid, 1975; Baxter and Lansing, 1983; Andersen and Cook, 1985; Norris, 1986), feminist theory (Spender, 1983; Dahlerup, 1986; Nye, 1989), the relationships between women and the state (Yuval-Davis and Anthias, 1989; Watson, 1990; Basu, 1995; Rai and Lievesley, 1996); women and public policy (Gelb and Palley, 1982; Lovenduski, 1986; Stedward, 1987; Hernes, 1988; Swiebel, 1988; Swiebel and Outshoorn, 1997), and the integration and marginalisation of women (Githens and Prestage, 1977; Sapiro, 1984) amongst other topics. The initial expansion of political science and gender issues occurred at a time when the restrictions and limitations on

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women’s abilities and activities were under considerable pressure for reform. Sapiro (1984) notes that every day there are fewer activities and occupations that one can say ‘are not for women’, simply because women are doing these things. However, while this redefinition of what women can do is happening some very basic tenets of sexual relations are not being adapted: private familial relations, reproduction, childcare and sexuality. Sapiro’s study of young American women in the early 1970s concludes that most women still accepted the traditional view of women’s role. That is, women are seen in the private sphere while men are viewed within a public sphere (Sapiro, 1984:6–7). Randall goes further stating that ‘at one time convention tended to define women and politics as mutually exclusive’ (Randall, 1982:41). Although this is strictly no longer the case it can be argued that when women do enter the public sphere their interests often will reflect their privatised experiences of housewife, mother, carer. However, the interests of mothers and nonmothers, black women and white women, teenagers and pensioners, selfemployed, working and unemployed women must and do differ in many areas. The differential experiences of women can preclude the search for a definition of Women’s Issues when it is revealed that what were once presumed to be universally shared situations and attitudes are not. Studies of black women’s experiences have revealed that the sites and locations of women’s oppression may not be the same for white and black women—for example the family has been shown to be a place for support in challenging racism for black women, whereas for many ‘white’ theorists the family has been viewed as a major site of patriarchal oppression (Ladner,1972; Davis,1981; hooks,1984). In their study of women’s political behaviour in the United States of America Baxter and Lansing conclude that ‘women cannot be statistically treated as a homogeneous demographic group’ (Baxter and Lansing, 1983:38). However, they go on to expand upon their expectations of where women are politically active, areas that would be difficult to dispute in any country or context as they relate to the political socialisation of women; but Baxter and Lansing also expect women to be interested in and ‘to react more sensitively to issues which directly affect their own welfare’ (1983:38) such as equal pay and reproductive rights. They claim that so far Women’s Issues have been seen to include policy areas which are gender-specific, but also to refer to areas related to women’s socialisation. That is women are socialised into being concerned with issues affecting the private sphere, therefore it is to be expected that they are active on issues associated to family, childcare and the environment. They may be correct in their expectation that women will react to issues affecting their welfare, but it would be incorrect to assume that the reaction will always be the same one. Nonetheless, although the response to issues may vary it is perhaps the very fact of a gendered response which illustrates a Women’s Issue. Randall (1982) too refers to gender-specific findings in Britain and extends her discussion to include the way in which women work within politics; that is within community-action movements, self-help groups and single-issue campaigns, often employing the tactics of pressure politics. Randall points out that women often play a preponderant role in campaigns on housing, government benefits and childcare. It is understandable that women would be interested in maintaining their own rights and services and those which affect their families. The actions of community campaigners can be analysed as an extension of their female gender role in the home outwards into

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their community, thus explaining the concentration upon issues of housing and income. The nature of women’s activism is also gender-related, that is pressure politics. Pressure politics, stunts and direct action are the political implements of the outsiders, of the powerless and of the excluded and marginalised. As previously discussed in Chapter 1, all systems include an inherent bias towards the status quo and to established interests. One manifestation of such a bias is the exclusion of challengers from more legitimated routes to political influence. Such observations are not restricted to western states; globally women are active in a wide range of issues and Rowbotham (1995) has detailed a wide range of protests, social and collective actions in which women have been the instigators. These collective actions also seek access to social resources; they aim to safeguard natural resources or protect family members in a range of ways. Rowbotham argues that these movements, like feminist campaigns, involve women in a negotiation of the public and private worlds. Women are often seen as inappropriate participators in the public sphere but women can, and often do, move into the public sphere through resisting the invasions upon their lives. These movements differ from avowedly feminists campaigns (such as the Suffragettes) in that they do not necessarily seek out a new destiny for women, but they often are a rebellion against the difficulties of being a woman in accustomed ways and traditions. Put succinctly, these issues, like those identified by Randall, relate to women’s life experiences and these life experiences are gendered. Hence, women’s activism appears gendered though, in actuality, they are usually protecting or campaigning for resources which benefit the whole community be it a village or nation. It is difficult to identify a category of issue on which women have not been active. Women’s movements across the world have campaigned on issues specific to their geographical, social and political locations and have been associated with a broad range of struggles for social change which it cannot be argued are gender based. However, the experience of involvement in nationalist campaigns in post-colonial societies, or democratisation campaigns or whatever, has often opened up arenas of opportunity for women’s activism within broader non-feminist movements. Such developments also lead to the recognition of women-specific questions, demands and interests. Basu (1995:11) argues that women across the world have addressed a range of issues, which although they can be loosely grouped together (to provide topic areas such as reproduction, violence, political and legal rights, employment, education and discrimination amongst others) have been addressed in different ways. The negotiation of public and private still exists but the shape that negotiation takes is determined by the influence of state and civil society. That is, in states where public and private are clearly delineated a major issue for women has been to publicise the private world, to make the personal political. However, for former communist states, in particular the Czech and Slovak republics, where the experience was one of state influence over both sectors of life the community is suspicious of state interference in the private realm and have celebrated the opportunity to return to this domain for, similar to the experiences of black women, the home was one place where the travails of the social world could be reduced and a degree of protection and solace found (Matynia, 1995). Despite this diversity, when viewed from the perspective of elite political institutions the focus of women’s political activity has been expected to remain in supposedly gender-appropriate areas, the arenas of the private, even in the highest legislatures. In

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1979 Vallance observed (of the UK) that ‘women in Parliament will usually be expected to have special interest in health and welfare, consumerism, education and the like’ (Vallance, 1979:84). These areas, of course, have been defined by men as being of special significance to women active in institutional levels of politics. It may be that the allocation of issues into ‘hard’, ‘male’ issues such as foreign affairs and economic policy and ‘soft’, ‘female’ areas (Vallance, 1979) mentioned above dissipates the threat of women entering politics. By assigning women to ‘soft’ issues men remain comfortably ensconced in power; although a politically active woman may be extending herself into the public, ‘male’ sphere of politics, she can be viewed as merely acting within her gender role which does not cause any great loss to men and often frees men to concentrate on other, more ‘important’ areas of policy. This is not to say that women have only ever held these roles and recent years have seen women achieve many senior Cabinet positions within the United Kingdom, including Prime Minister. However, even in Britain’s most gender-balanced Cabinet (New Labour from 1997) it can still be argued that femininity remains a disbar from posts such as Defence, Foreign Affairs and the Exchequer at the highest levels. Concurrent with the subject limitations imposed upon politically active women there have been many other marginalising factors, not least of which have been the disenfranchised status of women in some Middle Eastern and Asian states (Pettman, 1996).1 In Western political thought much attention has been paid by feminist social scientists to the concept of socialisation and its effects upon women’s political behaviour (e.g. Chapman, 1987). Githens and Prestage (1977) observed that women are not socialised into behaviour that assists in the political development of individuals and that any assessment of a woman’s ability is always carried out on the basis of male criteria, thus resulting in the marginalisation of women. As Githens and Prestage (1977) and Randall (1982) have pointed out women do tend to be more active in community-based campaigns that affect home and family, these are the areas which are not actively discouraged. However, the result of these orientations, consistent in many ways with the female gender role ascribed by patriarchal systems, is that women who then seek to increase their activity often choose to move into non-partisan areas or voluntary organisations rather than political parties. Even those who do focus more directly on political parties are frequently to be found in support and service roles rather than as candidates and policy-makers (Githens and Prestage, 1977:5). These ‘female’ areas are not necessarily what women select of their own free will but through lack of access to other areas and in relation to their own socialisation. Further, as politically active women have frequently entered politics from these areas, they graduate into legislatures with this specific knowledge and are allocated duties around these interests. As the restrictions on women have been constantly adapting throughout this century different norms have influenced the socialisation of women and girls in different cultures and communities. In the West new sexual freedoms, marriage patterns and work experience have had their effect upon public policy as well as on society. So, although society has bequeathed to women the role of upholders of the institutions of the family, the old ‘female’ issues of family and humanitarianism have been joined by issues of economics, for ‘marital instability and delayed marriages have brought forth new issues of economic self interest’ (Mueller, 1988:149).

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Having now detailed what male-dominated society perceive to be Women’s Issues it appears that this definition is as limited as the model of women-specific issues. I believe that a combination of these two types of issue is required, for women and men do occupy different places in society, and public policy often reinforces this. Yet women seek more than a reflection of current and past spheres as the existence of the feminist movement indicates. Therefore, we also need to consider a third definition—one that embraces a wider range of matters which concern women as members of society. As I have already noted many issues can have a gendered effect simply due to the differing strata men and women occupy in society; for example: placing more revenue-raising emphasis upon indirect taxes rather than direct taxes hurts women more as they tend to earn less than men but have to buy the same goods; increasing fares on public transport penalises women more than men as fewer women have access to a private car. Therefore, women require to have a political position on such issues. This is not covered by either the demands of women-specific issues nor by the ‘male’ defined arenas for women politicians. Women’s Issues, thus, are much broader and have to include any and all policies which have a gender-related effect rather than a gender-specific target. Such a broad definition of Women’s Issues includes all issues which affect women and our myriad roles in society. In doing so, this broad definition embraces feminist issues (those which wish to change society’s structure and assumptions regarding gender roles) and the traditionally accepted women-specific issues as well as those with a gender-related effect, each of which forms a complete, but at points overlapping, subset within Women’s Issues. In consisting of these three subsets, this definition is much wider than the extant definitions of Women’s Issues given earlier. In fact, as this definition encompasses all issues which affect women’s interests, it is logical to devise a new label, that of Women’s Interest Issues, to more fully indicate the breadth of the category and therefore, from this point on rather than discussing Women’s Issues I shall employ the term Women’s Interest Issues (WIIs). As I am interested in examining the ways in which issues which, due to our social and economic position, particularly affect women (as a group and as individuals) to a greater degree than the lives of men, (and, in particular childcare) the phrase Women’s Interest Issues will delineate between WIIs and all political issues. As such, although women are concerned with the whole gamut of issues, WIIs are defined as those which have a particular influence upon, and interest for, women because of women’s gender role in society. Patriarchal politics: excluding women In the above section I argued that women are perceived to be in the private sphere whilst men occupy the public sphere. However, I should point out that although, like many other feminists, I dispute the actual existence of these two separate spheres I do find them useful shorthand for the way in which patriarchy views society. Nonetheless, the public/private spheres vary in definition over cultures and historical periods and do not always equal male/female divide; that is, even if women are excluded from the public sphere men have never been excluded from the private sphere, the family sphere. As Dahlerup has observed, the ‘boundaries between these spheres are getting more and more vague, and the relative size of the spheres is changing’ (Dahlerup, 1987:107). Nonetheless, it is still true to conclude that women’s political interests are circumscribed

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by the demands of society, for women are excluded from the fields of power and influence, not by any particular group or organisation of men, but as mentioned with regard to pressure politics, due to the whole ‘structural setting’ (Dahlerup, 1987:100) of society. This integrated system of male dominance, patriarchy, is the means by which men continue to exercise power in society; if the male gender role is the theory then patriarchy is the practice. Patriarchy is not a historical constant for, as the first wave of Western feminism gained some victories, patriarchy adapted to keep women in a subordinate position in society. In Victorian times the condition of women was very much dominated by individual men having the legal right to dictate to individual women. In contrast to some of the liberties enjoyed by certain women prior to that era, for example the right to vote for women achieving the property qualification, the restrictions on Victorian womanhood were intense. The shift towards public patriarchy resulted from the successes of the first wave of feminism in the beginning of this century in conjunction with the increasing needs of a market economy. The increased access of women to a wider range of paid employment which occurred after the Second World War and the later second wave of feminism’s achievements, manifest in equality legislation, further aided the transference from private to public patriarchy. However, this change in the form of patriarchy has not greatly transformed society. All that has changed is the dominant form of patriarchy: a shift from private control in the domestic sphere to public control and exploitation out in society (Hernes, 1987; Walby, 1990). Thus, although women have entered the public domain, Walby contends that it is on male terms and any woman brave enough to enter has to face the risks. Patriarchy permits women to have power in the private sphere but not in the public sphere. Thus a double problem arises for any woman who wishes to redefine the fields of responsibility open to women. First, she has to work with two disparate groups; women and politicians. Second, in attempting to enter the latter group she must first adapt to the dominant norms of that group to be accepted and, in doing so, is in danger of being distrusted by the former as she may be seen to be rejecting her position as a woman. The public policy arena is no more welcoming to women than any other area of public activity (Vallance, 1979; Randall, 1982; Ferguson, 1984; Outshoorn, 1986; Stedward, 1988; Swiebel, 1988; Eisenstein, 1990; Marchbank, 1994, 1996b among many others). Patriarchal assumptions shape the perception of women’s roles within polities and as targets of policies and create a self-perpetuating situation. This patriarchal oppression need not be overt, but still contributes largely to the structural setting referred to by Dahlerup, (1984) and the mobilisation of bias (Schattschneider, 1960) which effectively silences women’s demands. Women’s Interest Issues and nondecisions As previously outlined the term Women’s Interest Issues is employed here to denote all policies which impinge upon women’s lives and interests and not just policies which are peculiar to women, or set out to challenge societal structures (feminist issues). Although equal treatment issues seem to have more credibility with policy-makers and in the political field in general than feminist issues, it is still the case that they can become victim to practices which constitute nondecision-making. As I have illustrated an issue

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may not specifically include gender but can have both seen and unseen effects upon women which do not apply to men. The consensus of silence works in two ways: first, issues affecting women may simply not be considered; second, in formulating a policy the deliberate ignoring, or simple ignorance, of the differing effects of the policy upon the different sexes maintains the consensus of silence. Issue definition is vitally important to policy outcome. Outshoorn’s (1986) work on this area was referred to earlier where the practice of confusing family issues with WIIs was raised in a study of abortion policy definition. Policy makers can cause nondecisionmaking to occur by deliberately refusing to see the social and economic position of women as an issue in itself, thus negating the case for women’s interests. Further, allowing politicians, policy-makers and the media to ignore the arguments for WIIs and to label many as family issues also suppresses the subject. Denying, consciously or otherwise, the existence of issues which particularly or specifically affect women is an act of nondecision. Confusingly, issues from each of the three separate subsections of WIIs, have their own groups of advocates and opponents. Further, as the mobilisation of bias within a political system allocates greater credibility to traditional issues than to those presenting a challenge, certain established WIIs, for example, property rights in the UK, command more support than more recent demands, for example, modern feminist policies such as affirmative action. To cause further confusion a particular issue may be viewed by some as an equality issue and by others as a feminist issue; may have supporters from both of the two overlapping arenas, or may be labelled as feminist to delegitimise the issue completely (a tactic comparable to that used by Margaret Thatcher to discredit anti-Poll Tax demonstrators by accusing them all of being Militants). Conversely, feminists may identify an issue in equality terms in order to legitimise it. In the above discussion the different gender roles of the sexes have been cited as the reason why policies affect women and men differently. Although gender roles are a product of patriarchy they can also provide a patriarchal basis which excludes women from achieving equal intercourse in public life. I shall explore this more fully in the next section by addressing the nature and construction of gender roles and their effect upon public policy-making, in particular the gender roles assigned to parenting.

Gender roles and public policy Family forms can and do vary enormously, with kinship links being social and not just biological (Edholm, 1982). Marriage partners do not always live together, nor are children always in the care of their biological parents, some families include several generations of socially and genetically connected people, others only one generation. However, within the West the nuclear family is assumed by politicians and policy-makers to be the preferred form. Despite increasing rates of single parenting, divorce and alternative family groupings, economic, immigration and social policies are still shaped by this assumption. This results in public and social policies being both proscriptive and prescriptive with regard to family forms, with fiscal benefits being accrued by heterosexual couples and child support policies ensuring a link of economic dependency between parents and, usually, of a woman upon the father of her child. However, recent

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changes in British thinking have been displayed by Chancellor Gordon Brown’s declaration that New Labour would value ‘all families’ (Brown, Budget Speech, March 1998) resulting in the announcement of the abolition (by April 2001) of the Married Couple Tax Allowance, to be replaced by policies to offer fiscal benefits for those with children irrespective of marital status. Although it is widely accepted that it is a myth that men are natural hunters and women nurturers and not economically active, the notion of the nuclear family as the norm is pervasive and has its effects. Within a nuclear family men and women co-operate on the basis of a sexual division of labour which, although varying in some respects, ultimately allocates childcare and household tasks to women and social organisation/government and external activities to men. The result is that the family reflects and maintains the subordinate position of women. The ways in which welfare policy has defined women as family carers and dependants is well documented (Land, 1983; Ungerson, 1990; Sainsbury, 1996), whereas children are viewed as dependants because they require care, women have been so categorised because they provide care. However, as has been shown (Sainsbury, 1996 amongst others), this dependency often relates to women not as mothers but as wives. This supports patriarchal social relations and the assumptions upon which state policy, and sub-state policy are based. Gender and reproduction The established pattern of women’s nurturing and male dominance is common to all societies to a greater or lesser degree. Women not only give birth to the next generation but also are responsible for the primary care which an infant receives. In circumstances where the biological mother is unable to nurture a child it is usually another woman or women, rather than a male (who may actually have a closer biological connection to the child) who assumes responsibility for childcare (Chodorow, 1979). The fact of women’s mothering has been taken for granted and is extended into the reproduction of society; with the practice of mothering producing not just progeny but a new generation of mothers, a phenomenon which is assumed as natural and has, until the advent of feminist epistemological challenges, been left unexamined by most social scientists. Gender is a socially determined factor based upon the biological differences of the sexes. Women’s greater reproductive role and the human infant’s requirement for a relatively long period of nurturance compared to other mammals has created a distinct gender dichotomy. As Chapman (1992) contends this gender dichotomy is not, however, wholly based upon biological differences alone; cultural norms also dictate the sex of the adult nurturer and assign other tasks to the female because of her reproductive ability. Earlier, Mead (1962, originally 1949) argued that all cultures assign certain other tasks to males to compensate for their inability to be mothers. An important aspect of Mead’s work is that she illustrates that gender roles are almost infinitely malleable across societies; certain tasks being allocated to the male gender role in one society but to the female gender role in others. However, what remains constant across all studies is that adult males do little childrearing and women’s role is primarily concentrated around their responsibility for childcare. In addition, Mead’s work drew attention to the fact that the tasks assigned to the male gender role, although differing across cultures, are more highly valued than those

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allocated to the female gender role. Within Western society this difference has developed to mean not only that male tasks are viewed with more importance than female tasks but also that the male gender role has acquired superior social status. Western culture has utilised women’s reproductive role to facilitate male dominance. Recognising this situation de Beauvoir (1953, originally 1949) labelled motherhood as the enslavement of women and recommended that to be fully human women must avoid motherhood. Thus, de Beauvoir advocated that women must be liberated from biology which allowed society to set men up as the norm and the female as the ‘Other’, the ‘Second Sex’. One strategy by which this could be achieved was the rejection of motherhood.2 Firestone (1971, originally 1970) argues that the material base of women’s oppression lay in biological reproduction and recommends the abolition of motherhood to create a unigendered world by means of a women’s revolution forcing the introduction of cybernetic reproduction. By adopting the methodology of Marxist dialectics Firestone argues that removing the biological aspects of motherhood will eradicate male dominance. The early days of the WLM allowed for the expressing of these negative views of motherhood and, as Letherby (1994) argues, since the ‘right to choose’ was often only defined in the right to choose not to mother, this was to be not an experience of freedom and empowerment for all women but one of alienation for some as the status of motherhood was denounced and devalued. However, other feminist theorists, such as Chodorow (1978) and Rich (1976), argue that motherhood should not be devalued, with Chodorow arguing that men should be involved in nurturing too for, as [m]asculine development takes place in a family in which women mother and fathers are relatively uninvolved in childcare and family life…[and that]…Women’s mothering…creates specific personality characteristics in men that reproduce both an ideology and psychodynamic of male superiority. (Chodorow, 1978:180–1) that a system whereby men also nurture would prevent the perpetuation of the male gender role and thus the gender dichotomy as men would become more like women. This is diametrically different from de Beauvoir and Firestone with their advocacy of women becoming more like men rather than men taking on aspects of the feminine gender role. Rich (1976), in separating out the social institution of motherhood from the experience of mothering, challenges the notion that reproduction per se is the material base of women’s oppression; the institution controls women’s reproductive options but the experience provides the potential for extreme pleasure and power. Motherhood as experience was something to be celebrated. Private families, gender reproduction and public production Chodorow contends that mothering is ‘a central and defining structural feature of our society’s organisation of gender, one that it has in common with all other societies’ (1979:86). Likewise, as already noted, Mead found that women’s role centres around their primary responsibility for childcare. This universal responsibility for mothering, and

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human infants’ unique requirement of extended care, impinges upon women’s economic activity be it in the nature of the task, the location of work or in the financial rewards which women’s tasks accrue (see Ward, Dale and Joshi, 1996 amongst others). Leibowitz’s (1986) analysis of the development of the sexual division of labour inherent in every society proffers an explanation of how tasks are related to parenting. She argues that the development of projectile weapons by primitive peoples necessitated the development of hearth skills such as preparing hides, meat and cooking utensils. These new and complex skills required instruction and practice to achieve proficiency and children were mostly tutored in those skills which they would use as adults. As females would undoubtedly spend more time at the hearth in their adult lives than males, due to the physical restrictions of pregnancy and parenting, female children received more instruction in hearth skills than male children and thus developed greater proficiency at such tasks. Hence, she argues, females were eventually viewed as being more expert in these matters and male children were taught other skills to compensate, generally utilising physical strength rather than dexterity. In this way, the sexual division of labour and of parenting responsibilities became enshrined into human society. Earlier feminist anthropological studies show how the childcare responsibilities of women have created not just a sexual division of labour but also of society: a private domestic sphere for women and the public domain of men (Rosaldo, 1974). This came about, it is argued, due to the sheer time and energy commitment required by childcare, with the result that women were fully occupied whilst men, free from such constraints, had the opportunity to develop, shape and control ‘those broader associations that we call “society”’ (Rosaldo, 1974:24). The advent of the Industrial Revolution in the West heightened the sexual division of labour and the two spheres of public and private have diverged as industrialisation shifted production away from the home. The result of industrialisation was to remove women from primary production and, by separating family life from paid work, men were removed from the centre of the family thus increasing the sex dichotomy in nurturing. As Hall (1989) illustrates, in the early nineteenth century these changes became entangled with notions of the new domestic ideology of the bourgeoisie. However, these views of proper feminine roles transferred across social classes resulting in attempts to exclude women from certain trades and paid work (Walby, 1987). Historically, women have borne and raised children while doing their share of necessary productive labor, as a matter of course. Yet by the nineteenth century the voices rise against the idea of the ‘working mother’, and in praise of the ‘mother at home’. These voices reach a crescendo just as technology begins to reduce the sheer level of physical hardship in general, and as the size of families begins to decline. (Rich, 1976:26) Women did not cease economic activity upon marriage for although most women may not have returned to the factory, mill or workshop after marriage, it was only the very exceptionally placed artisan’s wife who could expect to give up waged work permanently after her wedding day (Hostettler, Davin and Alexander, 1979). In fact, women have always performed work within and outwith the home and the Industrial Revolution could not have taken place without women and girl workers, depending as it did equally upon

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female as on male labour (Lewenhak, 1980). Yet society has gone through a period of assuming that women do not, and, mothers in particular, should not, work. Further, Western society assumes that mothers work not as part of a routine contribution to the family income but merely to supplement the earnings of the person who has the ‘true’ right to participate in the public domain, the husband and father. Partly because of this perception women who do work are treated as though they are single, no allowances are made for their roles as mothers, despite the fact that all women are perceived to be potential mothers in recruitment and promotion stakes, for the ideology of the mother in the home remains with us. Of course, it follows from this view that mothers who do work and reject their socially prescribed roles do not deserve to be treated to allowances for their mother role due to their own choice to work and thereby abandon their children. Engels (1972, originally 1884) noted the connection between participation in capitalist production and the different reproductive roles of humans and stated that the first division of labour was in reproduction. Under Engels’s analysis, the family is a microcosm of the state with men as the bourgeoisie and women the proletariat. However, he did not utilise these categories outside the family; there people are classified by their relation to the system of capitalist production not by their sex. Within a capitalist society the family, according to Engels, is merely one part of the whole structure, reflecting external class divisions. Yet, the patriarchal structure and ideology of the family, with its need for reproduction, does not merely reflect the external patterns of society but also shores them up. In addition, it is most often the case that occupations associated with production are more highly valued than those which have no tangible results. Generally, men perform the former and women the latter (for example, nursing, teaching or domestic service). These ‘female’ occupations are extensions of the caring/nurturing duties assigned to the female gender role, and are, although vital to society, undervalued as the investment of labour into them does not produce concrete, solid returns. Housework is the least valued labour for the ‘housewife’ gives her labour free of charge, it is not part of the wage economy and, in the end, she still has no commodity to sell. Unlike other work, it does not involve the exchange of labour for a set period of time, for an established rate of payment. Rather, the production outputs of the housewife are consumed within the private household by her immediate family, who do not provide payment for them. As such, house-work differs from other forms of labour under capitalism yet housework is not completely separate from the capitalist economy but rather relates to it in a different fashion. The ‘father’ of the analysis of capitalism, Marx, did not consider the place of women in society for family and sexual relations are private and were, in his view, separate from production. Economic analyses, such as that of Marx, examine the arrangements by which men sell their labour and employers retain the surplus value of that labour.3 It is clear that the place of women in society is outwith the boundaries of such economic analysis. Nonetheless, many feminist Marxists have tried to adapt Marxian theory to include the analysis of the position of women. The most frequently held analysis by Marxist feminists is that women’s oppression is a functional part of capitalism and that housework is not economically futile. Marxist feminists argue that housework directly produces surplus value of labour, or at least contributes to its creation, as the price of labour embodies the costs of reproducing the labourer in the home. Although this debate

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has its short-comings, due to being a purely economic analysis which ignores the social position of women, there is a link between domestic work and capitalism.4 Rethinking the relationship between paid work and domestic labour allowed Socialist/Marxist feminists to develop the argument that it is not just capitalism which benefits from women’s unpaid domestic labour but also the majority of individual men. This relationship between housework and public production, therefore, is not restricted to the economic system of capitalism but also to the social system of patriarchy, a dual systems theory of economics (Hartmann, 1983). The patriarchal system is based upon the domination of one gender by the other, the exploitation of the resources (e.g. labour) of one gender by another, via domestic work (Walby, 1987, 1990). Men benefit from women’s labour directly, through the consumption of the goods and services produced, from laundry to food to childcare. In addition, women’s unpaid domestic labour operates through the two filters of capitalism and patriarchy to directly enhance her male partner’s economic viability. By physically, and socially supporting the man, she maintains his capacity to work and earn a wage, under the constructs required by capitalistic production. In addition, the contribution of women to other forms of production is often ignored, for example, the role of women within family businesses (Afshar, 1989) and agriculture (Delphy, 1984) where women’s unpaid domestic role is extended into an unpaid productive role. The performance of unpaid domestic labour has another economic effect: the ability of women to be economically active is constrained by domestic responsibilities, not the least of which is caring for men and children. Even women who are childless can be found performing these duties, for all have been subjected to socialisation processes which promote the acceptance of the ‘nurturer’ role. Further, all women are perceived as potential mothers and therefore are expected, and anticipated, to display the behavioural patterns of mothers. This observation is supported by Letherby who argues that both the institutions and attitudes of society ‘support the assumption that women’s ultimate role is motherhood and women who do not mother children are still expected to mother others’ (Letherby, 1994:525). Mothering is not confined therefore to physical and biological reproduction. Chodorow presents an argument that women also reproduce adult male workers psychologically. She quotes Talcott Parson’s claim that the ‘stabilization and tensionmanagement of adult personalities’ (Chodorow, 1978:97) is a major function of the nuclear family. This supports earlier studies of mental health which found that married men enjoy superior mental health to single men with the converse being true for women (Bernard, 1973). Chodorow investigated, from a feminist and psychoanalytic viewpoint, the way in which the mother/child relationship determines adult attitudes and instils adult gender roles, reproduces a new generation of mothers while also producing children with the specific personality traits required for the later stages of capitalism. Rather than enter into an investigation of Chodorow’s psychoanalytic theories it is sufficient to note her conclusion: woman’s mothering role and position as primary parent in the family, and the maternal qualities and behaviors which derive from it, are central to the daily and generational reproduction of capitalism. Women resuscitate adult workers, both physically and emotionally, and rear children who

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have particular psychological capacities which capitalist workers and consumers require. (Chodorow, 1978:100) Chodorow illustrates the necessity of psychological reproduction of workers (and it must be remembered that women also reproduce themselves and other women) and yet there is no reason why this has to take place within a nuclear family. Similarly, there is no biological reason for the physical reproduction of humans to occur within a nuclear family. However, there are economic reasons for the privatisation of physical reproduction, for the current organisation of domestic duties creates larger demands upon commodities than public provision would, and it is cheaper to have childcare performed privately, with perhaps a small state financial contribution, than collectively. As I have argued already, women, across history and geography, perform productive work within the home. However, with the separation of home and workplace, this role has been superseded by the role of the mother at home as a carer. Despite the fall in birthrate and an increase in domestic technology women spend more time on domestic tasks now than at the beginning of the century (Arnold, 1985). Concurrently, biological mothers have come to have an increased role in the exclusive nurturing of their children, just as the biological aspects of motherhood (due, for example, to the increasing availability of manufactured baby foods) were adapting and lessening. This increased exclusive mothering could be attributed to the fact that women, realising that they were no longer physically essential for the welfare of their child, began to concentrate on their child’s psychological dependency upon them. Woman’s mothering, as presently constructed, not only maintains society’s gender roles in the home and in the public/private divide, it even causes a dichotomy within both spheres. In the home the nurturing aspect of motherhood is not restricted to infants but is extended to include adult males, for example in the provision of food, clothing and emotional as well as physical support women tend to adult males in the same way as to children. In the public domain the occupations held by women are usually concentrated in areas which are little more than extensions of our caring role, or are in areas deemed to be traditionally female: for example, for each man working in health there are four women; similarly there are two women for each man in education. By contrast, men are over-represented in the construction industry (nine men to each woman) (CSO, 1995:30–1). Thus, even when women do work outside the home it tends to be in areas which reinforce the stereotype of the woman as a wife and mother. Women’s mothering thus, affects and effects family structure and the system of male dominance (patriarchy) in our society. Women’s mothering contributes to the development of capitalism through the reproduction of social inequality and gender roles and by providing a source of consumption and free labour in the home and cheaper labour outside it. Yet capitalism, although benefiting greatly from this situation, produces a contradiction: demographic changes and economic demands have produced a situation where the employment rate of married women has increased but little has been done to ease the double burden of home and work responsibilities.

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Families and employment It follows from our family role that women’s economic position is profoundly affected by the ability to control our fertility and to care for our children. However, these are not the only factors which influence the economic activity of women. As well as childcare and individual reproduction, general demographic changes, public opinion and political action all affect the rate of women’s participation in paid employment. However, in this section I concentrate on childcare provision for the pre-school child as it is this child which has no statutory state provision, unlike the school child who is required by law to be separated from her parents most days. The fact that women’s work patterns continue to be affected by motherhood, from choosing part-time work to fit in with school hours to accepting a lower status job on returning to work will be referred to where relevant. There is some debate amongst social scientists with regard to the economic activity rates of women, with Hakim (1995) claiming that in Britain in terms of the number of hours worked there has been little increase this century. However, her arguments are disputed by Ginn et al. (1996) who point to the increase in the number of women working, not the number of hours. Likewise Bruegel (1996) critiques Hakim for denying that there has been a substantial increase in the employment of certain groups of women this century. Where a rise is visible is in the growing numbers of married women, and especially mothers, in employment (Bruegel, 1996; Marchbank, 1993), recognising, of course, that one status can come without the other. The employment rate of married women (as a percentage of all working women) increased dramatically in Britain in the twentieth century. In 1901–21 the figure remained at a constant 13–14 per cent; in 1931 it was 16 per cent; by 1951, 40 per cent (Lewis, 1984); and by 1987, 60 per cent (Kiernan and Wicks, 1990). As a proportion of all married women this was 10 per cent in 1931, 21 per cent in 1951, 32 per cent in 1961 and 47 per cent in 1971 (Wilson, 1980). From 1971 to 1989 the percentage of married women in the labour force as a proportion of all women increased steadily from 43.9 per cent to 52.6 per cent (Social Trends, 21, 1991). In the early 1990s Government statisticians projected that the comparable figures for 1991 and 2001 would be 53.3 per cent and 55.4 per cent respectively (Social Trends, 21, 1991).5 It can be assumed, given that these figures include married women beyond retirement age, that the actual proportion of working-age married women working is higher than those figures given. Within the 25– 44 age group (when women are most likely to be mothers) the corresponding figures are: 1971, 52.4 per cent; 1989, 72 per cent; 1991, 73.9 per cent and 2001, 78.8 per cent (Central Statistical Office 1991). As Table 2.1 shows the pattern of the increasing participation of women in the workforce throughout this century continued throughout the 1980s. More important, however, is the relationship between motherhood and employment. In all categories the percentage of women employed, both full and parttime, increased with the age of the youngest child, the lowest figure being for mothers of pre-fives. Historically, it is among the mothers of young children that the rise has been most permanent (Mackie and Pattullo, 1981). A closer examination of the rates of economic activity of wives and mothers provides further information on women’s recent patterns of work. Table 2.1 illustrates how

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motherhood decreases the likelihood that a woman will work. As can be seen the group least likely to be economically active is ‘Mothers of Pre-Fives’. Further, women dependent upon partners for childcare are only available to work when the partner is at home and therefore are consigned to the ranks of the low paid and low status twilight shift jobs. Table 2.1 also provides evidence of how the number of hours a woman works is related to her motherhood responsibilities. It is clear that in 1984, 1989 and 1991 that all women with children under 11 years are more than twice as likely to work part-time than full time and even those with children between 11 and 15 follow a similar pattern to a lesser degree. This pattern of part—and full-time work has changed over the years, with the greater participation of mothers in part-time work becoming evident. In 1980 Moss and Fonda observed that there had been little change in the rate of women’s full-time employment for twenty years whilst the part-time rate nearly trebled in the same period (Moss and Fonda, 1980:11). Table 2.1 shows that from 1984 to 1991 this development had taken on a new dimension, although the part-time rates of mothers did increase, the greatest rate of growth was in full-time work; however, such working mothers remain a minority. Childcare policy—a useful case study? The connection between motherhood and the economic activity of women has been shown. The recognition of this connection has led to calls for childcare facilities to free mothers to enter the workforce and thus, along with assumptions of gender roles, has

Table 2.1 Proportion of women in employment (by age of youngest child) 1984 Women— youngest child Under 5

Full time

Parttime

1989 All

Full time

Parttime

1991 All Age youngest child

Fulltime

Parttime

All

7.1

20.1 27.2

12.1

27.3 39.6 0–4 years

13

30

43

5–10

14.7

41.9 56.8

19.7

45.7 65.5 5–9 years

21

48

69

11–15

25.7

42.9 68.7

30.5

42.9 73.6 10 plus years 33

44

77

All to 15

14.5

32.8 47.4

18.6

36.6 55.4

Women no children

46.6

19.4 66.3

49.9

21.6 73.2

55

21

76

All women

33.1

25.3 58.4

37.4

27.5 66.1

40

29

69

Source: Labour Force Survey, Employment Dept., in Social Trends 21 (1991), and table 4.8, Social Trends 23 (1993).

allowed childcare to become labelled as a matter for women only for, despite the increase in women’s entry into the various fields of paid employment across a range of societies, this has not resulted in a ‘deconstruction of the relationship between gender and mothering’ (Windebank, 1996:149). In fact, women not only retain overall responsibility

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for childcare but also rely upon other women to care for their children when they are not available themselves, for as Windebank (1996) points out numerous studies have shown that as mothers’ labour market participation has increased this has not been matched by a corresponding increase in fathers’ involvement with childcare. In other words, mothers’ entry into employment over the last 30 thirty has come about through a redistribution of child care tasks and responsibilities among women… This is broadly true in all countries and across all social groups. (Windebank, 1996:149) As our society views childcare as only affecting women it suffers in the same way as other issues seen to be about women only, that is, it receives little attention and resources. Thus, in this study of the role of nondecision-making in the marginalisation of Women’s Interest Issues childcare is a valid issue to investigate. Any change in childcare policies and practice do affect women disproportionately to men and as such, it is a particularly useful issue to use as a case study in examining women’s issues in general. In addition, childcare is not a clearly defined political issue as childcare policies can be presented and designed from different positions—education, child welfare, family policy to mention only a few. This allows considerable scope for the adaptation or perversion of the issue once on the formal political agenda, as explained in Chapter 1. Any change in the systems of the reproduction and nurturing of children challenges gender roles. As such it is clear why such changes face resistance from the dominant male gender and are often victims of outright suppression or the more subtle practice of nondecision-making through the mobilisation of bias. More concisely, the study of childcare as a political issue is a study in how gender is kept as a non-issue.

3 Modern mothers’ inheritance (1) Past practice, provision and policy Later in this book I focus on the policy processes and the employment of nondecisionmaking in the specific context of Scottish local government. However, such policymaking (or otherwise) does not occur in a political, let alone a social, vacuum. Hogwood and Gunn (1984) argue that the existence of certain factors can affect how an issue is received and treated by both the decision-making body and society: for example an issue can benefit from fashionability, public identification with the subject or simply from frequent recurrence. Similarly, an issue may be adversely affected by poor articulation, a lack of public sympathy, a deficiency of data, being overly technical or due to the existence of a counter consensus. These factors, amongst others, impinge on the acceptability of an issue for policy-makers and for the public. In Chapter 1, I outlined the barriers facing a policy in its development from structural setting to implementation, these will be further addressed and discussed later in the context of particular policy developments. However, at this point it is worthwhile to consider the context of childcare policy-making today, which requires an examination of the historical inheritance and experience of mothers, women workers and policies. In the following I discuss the issues of childcare provision, working women and state responses in the first half of this century in Britain. It can be argued that the ‘historical imagination’ of our society views wartime as a period of state-provided childcare and I examine this to illustrate the confused and contradictory nature of policy-making in this area. It is my contention that such confusion illustrates the range of attitudes held by the state and individuals towards the role of women in relation to employment and motherhood and that this has remained a significant cultural attitude which influences and affects policy-making and agenda setting to this day.

Motherhood and work: patterns in history There is little information on childcare provision prior to the Second World War, although contemporary reports of women’s work experience, such as the reports of the Women’s Co-operative Guild by Margaret Llewelyn Davis (1977, originally 1931) detail the experience of working mothers. In the main, women with children resorted to other family members, usually grandmother, aunt, sister or eldest daughter to supervise their children. Others were fortunate enough to be able to find a ‘professional’ childminder amongst their neighbours. Certain communities developed networks of support which included shared childcare; Ellen Ross’s study of London before the First World War stated that ‘to judge from neighbourhood behaviour, children were viewed as a common

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responsibility’ (Ross, 1983:12). She found financial arrangements existed between neighbours via which services were exchanged for money, usually younger women paying older women or widows for childcare or maternity nursing. As such, not only were there informal childcare arrangements but also a source of income for economically vulnerable women ‘who lived through serving neighbours’ (Ross, 1983:11). A precarious living was not confined to these widows and elderly women. Often working mothers themselves had to survive on low wages with the added burden of childcare. Clementina Black’s study for the Women’s Industrial Council in the 1920s (Black, 1983) detailed cases of women paying almost a quarter of their wages for this service. Although it is not clear from Black’s study whether this was a typical figure of the time, it does indicate that childcare payments diminished women’s wages. Ross’s finding is supported by the Royal Commission on the Poor Laws and the Relief of Distress in the Report from the Christian Social Union. Likewise, the Select Committee on Physical Deterioration 1904 found that half the working mothers of London who were surveyed left their infants with relatives while a full 30 per cent left their children with neighbours (PP104, vol. xxxii:290). In terms of this theme, little changed over the years: by 1968 official investigations still showed that over half of the sample relied upon relatives to perform childcare while only 12 per cent of 2–4 year olds were actually cared for in nurseries while the mother worked (Hunt, 1968). One issue which these figures indicate is that not only was there little overall change in the nature of childcare provision but, also, that the form of childcare determines the work pattern of the mother. Women dependent upon their husbands for childcare are only available to work when the husband is at home or the child/ren are in school and therefore are consigned to the ranks of the low paid, low status ‘twilight shift’ jobs in the secondary sector (see Witz, 1997). Estimating the labour participation rates of women is fraught with difficulties given the discrepancies in census data available. Often part-time work by married women was not fully documented (Roberts, 1988:18), perhaps because the work was frequently seasonal so that many women were not actually working at the time of the collection of the census and, in addition, cash-in-hand work was also unlikley to be recorded for fear of tax implications. Another explanation is that the census asked for ‘Occupation’ rather than work, thus married women who sometimes worked would be noted as ‘housewives’. However, the census does show that the majority of married women did not work full time; in fact, up to 1931 the figure never exceeded 16 per cent (Hakim, 1979). The remainder were not necessarily inactive economically for, as stated, many may have worked seasonally or on a casual and part-time basis. There is little detailed information regarding this employment but oral evidence (Roberts, 1984) indicates that at least 40 per cent of working-class married women earned money on this basis. Despite these figures the predominant view promulgated by policy-makers throughout the first half of this century was that mothers should not work. This was later to come under attack, forcing some to publicly defend the role of the full-time mother, often through the medium of childcare and women’s magazines (e.g. Nursery World). Nonetheless, it was generally accepted that women had to work in times of economic necessity. A report for the Central Office of Information in 1944 (Thomas, 1944) found that 49 per cent of women who detailed advantages to work cited additional money for the family income. However, Thomas observed that this was probably an underrepresentation:

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the primary advantage of work to most women, the economic gain resulting from it, is so obvious that it is quite possible that many women have given secondary reasons only. (Thomas, 1944:21) Other findings of this investigation included the opinions of women towards work after marriage and, although many women felt that it was not a woman’s place to leave the family home, the same women would not denigrate any woman who did so on the grounds of financial need (Thomas, 1944:26). Single mothers, of course, were one group which faced such economic circumstances. However, childcare provision was frequently not deemed appropriate as not only was the number of single mothers viewed as minimal but such women were often labelled as undeserving, either through their own immorality, or due to their connection to ‘feckless’ men. Concurrently, throughout the first half of this century (and no doubt, also beyond) working wives were accused of ‘stealing’ men’s jobs. After the First World War men of the London box packers’ trade took strike action to gain a guarantee from their employers that, in the event of a shortage of work, women would be the first employees to be ‘laid off’ in order to ‘give men fullest preference over women’ (Common Cause, 14 November 1919). In addition to this the Restoration of Pre-War Practices Act 1919 not only ensured that women were excluded from many jobs undertaken by them during wartime but also, in practice, the Act allowed for the exclusion of many women from positions which had never been held by men. Indeed, it was noted that some 340,000 were arbitrarily forbidden from working in various trades which were previously not exclusive to men (Common Cause, 6 June 1919). This public and political attitude prevailed despite the fact that the First World War had ‘enormously increased the number of surplus women so that very nearly one woman in every three had to be self-supporting’ (Strachey, 1978, originally 1928:370). The situation for England and Wales remained one of ‘surplus’ women throughout the first half of this century: the male to female ratios for the 15–44 age cohort for 1921, 1931 and 19511 were 1:1.142; 1:1.094; 1:1.032 respectively. The imbalance was not quite so extreme after the Second World War as the First for, as the Census noted, there were many fewer deaths than in the First World War and less emigration (General Report, Census England and Wales, 1951). This 15–44 year-old cohort would obviously have included some women who had never married; however, it can also be assumed that this group included the majority of women with young children who would be required to financially support their families themselves. Other difficulties faced working women. It was not automatic that a woman would find a job, nor that she could retain it after marriage. An examination of political policies illustrates that by 1927 official attitudes had adapted somewhat to allow for the passing of the Married Women (Employment) Act which stated that women could not be refused employment or dismissed from employment in public authorities and local and national government on the sole ground of marriage (Married Women (Employment Act), 1927, Section 1). Nonetheless, some government employees still laboured under the old restrictions (Walby, 1986:240). For example, it was not until the Education Act of 1944 that an end to discrimination against married women teachers was formalised within law (Carter, 1988:13) and the Civil Service only abandoned the marriage bar in 1946 (Royal Commission on Equal Pay, Cmd 6937, vol. xi:651). Despite the removal of this inequity

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38

from the Civil Service it pertained in the Post Office until the 1960s. This is partly due to the insistence of some of the trade unions that the practice be maintained and, in fact, the Union of Post Office workers ensured its operation in sections of the Post Office until 1963 (Lewenhak, 1977:265). In addition, many private firms also retained the ‘marriage bar’ in some adapted form throughout the 1950s and 1960s by agreeing with trade unions to lay off married women first in times of economic difficulty (Solden, 1978). Together, these and other practices ensured, despite government legislation, that the employment of mothers would not become an issue on either the public nor the formal political agendas. As late in the century as 1961 The Woman Teacher, the journal of the National Union of Women Teachers, illustrated how the ‘marriage bar’ was still in operation via a reluctance to train women for higher posts on the assumption that there would always be the possibility of losing them on or after marriage (Wainwright, 1961:4). Of course, it would appear that the recruitment and development officers of firms and employers would not consider it inadvisable to train ambitious men who might then change jobs for career reasons, or perhaps even for additional wages due to their increasing family responsibilities brought on by marriage and fatherhood! The gender segregation of employment which is still prevalent today, with women over-represented in the secondary sector and men more likely to achieve posts in the primary (Witz, 1997) is obviously a continuation of previous social attitudes and policies (governmental, institutional, societal and company based). It is clear that throughout this century there has existed a structural setting within British society which acts against the employment of women, in particular mothers. Despite the passing of gender equality legislation from the late 1960s onwards it is arguable that the attitudes have prevailed in certain quarters if not the legal right to exercise them. Often the reason for this has been a patriarchal notion that women, and especially mothers, are better fitted for full-time domestic work than paid employment. It has only been in the past two decades that employers have considered that if offered childcare assistance trained and skilled women might elect to remain economically active, and loyal to the employer offering such provision. Male trade unionists often opposed women workers in various ways, including women’s campaigns for workplace nursery provision as they (the male leaders) viewed such provision as exercising a downward pressure on male wages and conditions. However, a more accurate explanation of trade union opposition includes the patriarchal opinions held by male trade unionists who, in seeking to protect their jobs and earning potential, did little to ease, and often actively hindered, the difficult situation of the working woman. During both World Wars the Amalgamated Engineering Union sought declarations from Government and the Engineering Employers’ National Federation that women would be regarded as temporary employees. Thus, any practices to assist women workers, for example childcare, were also regarded as temporary. It can be seen, therefore, that the structural setting of the early years of this century and beyond was not one where the objective interests of women workers, in particular mothers, would achieve agenda status. However, popular discourse indicates that the Second World War was a period in which childcare achieved not only agenda status, but policy development and implementation.

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‘Emergency’ childcare Lewenhak argues that ‘only during the 1939–45 war…was there a considerable provision of crèches and day nurseries in Britain’ (Lewenhak, 1988:53). At the beginning of the Second World War there was little concerted effort by government to increase the number of women in paid employment. When the policy changed to encourage women into war work there was an increase in the number of nurseries (reaching 1,550 nursery schools in 1944) (Lewenhak, 1977:239). Although this can be viewed, along with the other provisions such as workers’ canteens, as a move towards a more ‘womanorientated’ style of policy, it was far from this. An examination of the debates surrounding childcare policy during this ‘emergency’ period illustrates the confused view that policy-makers held of the role of women and the place of children; furthermore, this set of attitudes, ideas and assumptions pertained well beyond the end of the war, as previously noted. Assessing the actual number of places available across all forms of nursery facilities during the war is difficult. The policy proposals under examination here relate to day-care facilities provided by the state, primarily for the use of women working for the war effort and not to other facilities such as the nursery centres established in evacuation areas, or the private sector. The Annual Abstract of Statistics (CIO) does not detail the number of day nurseries but it is clear from the Ministry of Health figures that what provision there was was limited. In fact, in 1938 just over 10 per cent of the pre-school population of England and Wales were in receipt of state nursery education, with no corresponding figures quoted for Scotland (Annual Abstract of Statistics, No. 92, 1955, Table 93). Figures for day nurseries start to be reported during the war with the Ministry of Health reporting in 1943 that 1,345 day nurseries had been established under the Wartime Nursery Scheme providing 58,716 places (PRO/LAB 26/58, MoH memo to Select Committee on National Expenditure, August 1943). Comparing this figure with the number of nursery education places available in 1938 (173,609)2 it is clear that day nurseries served less than 5 per cent of the 2, 3 and 4 year olds in England and Wales.3 Ferguson and Fitzgerald (1978) cite an increase to 71,806 care places by September 1944 by which point some 106,000 children in England and Wales were receiving some form of nursery provision. However, this level of service went little way to diminish the childcare requirements of working mothers for, as Summerfield (1984) has shown, the majority of children were still supervised by the old practices of using siblings, other relatives or neighbours as minders. Thus, Summerfield concludes that claims that there was ever a collectivisation of childcare during the Second World War are little more than mistaken myths. In fact, the estimate quoted by Summerfield, extrapolated from contemporary sources such as the Ministry of Labour and including children in part-time nursery education, was that there were places for only 25 per cent of the pre-5 children of women war workers in 1944 (Summerfield, 1984:84). Such a percentage coverage is not a small achievement but it is hardly full collectivisation. Official attitudes regarding gender roles and the employment of women, especially mothers, is visible in the conscription legislation of this period. Women were conscripted into war service via the 1941 Registration for Employment Order and the 1942 Control of Engagement Order, neither of which extended to mothers of children under 14 years. In addition, the 1941 Order did not even apply to childless wives of servicemen as,

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presumably, policy-makers thought such women would be of greater value to society at home awaiting the return of their husbands. Like all wartime statistics there is difficulty in determining the number of mothers involved in war work (given the lack of a Census in 1941), but Riley (1983) judges it to be approximately three-quarters of a million mothers active in official war work, not to mention those occupied with voluntary duties.4 Given that the Government did not require mothers of young children to work, those who did were deemed to have volunteered and therefore, the responsibility for the supervision of their children did not rest with the state. Yet, as the demand for labour increased the issue of childcare provision correspondingly became salient. This gave the longstanding advocates of nurseries the chance to establish a campaign for the proper and adequate supervision of the children of war workers. In terms of the policy development model detailed in Chapter 1, the need for war workers had legitimated women’s work and thus the first barrier to childcare policy, that of the structural suppression, with its inherent feature of gender socialisation (Dahlerup, 1984), had been partially, though not permanently, overcome. As such, certain women began to voice the objective interests of women workers and, with the increased legitimacy of this issue on the public agenda, they made demands for the development of policy and services. However, many, though not all, of these representations were made on the basis of child welfare, only some, from organisations such as SJCWWO (Standing Joint Committee of Working Women’s Organisations) spoke about the needs of working mothers. Initially the emphasis lay in lobbying the government to regulate informal childminding arrangements (a policy later enshrined in the 1948 Registration of Childminders Act). This was undertaken by the National Council of Women of Great Britain who, in August 1940, approached the Ministry of Health requesting that adequate day care be provided for the children of war workers as well as requiring local authorities to supervise and approve the existing informal childcare arrangements between neighbours (PRO/ LAB 26/57). Such action was obviously necessary for four months later the request became more urgent (Resolution of NCWGB, 18 December 1940, to MoH, PRO/LAB 26/58), reflecting perhaps that the National Council of Women were more aware than the Government about the nature of childcare available to women. Another organisation which made demands to the Government was the National Society of Day Nurseries. From February 1940 they were making regular representations for nursery provision to the Ministry of Labour, mostly via its spokeswoman, Lady Reading, directly to the Minister, Ernest Bevin. The arguments of this organisation centred around how ‘the care of children of working women…affects the efficiency of the individual women’ (PRO/LAB 26/58) and seems to have had some degree of influence. Subsequent to this particular exchange Bevin instructed that a survey be undertaken in the district of Chorley to ‘establish, as a general principle, whether the provision of such Day Nurseries was a matter of importance to the War effort’ (Memo 13 March 1940, PRO/LAB 26/57). These were not the only two methods by which the objective interests of working mothers were being transferred into political demands. The response by the Ministry of Supply to notification of the Chorley survey was that this issue had already reached that Ministry from a variety of sources and was already under consideration (Memo, 5 March 1940, PRO/LAB 26/57). So, it is clear that even before the state enforced the employment of women and, in particular, of mothers the wartime situation had altered the status of the issue of childcare on the public agenda and that it was already being debated

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and considered on the political agenda. However, although the issue of childcare had appeared on the political agenda by early 1940 that did not mean arguments had been won nor decisions taken and implemented. The first point to note is that by March 1940 the childcare issue was being considered in several areas of the state, notably the Ministries of Labour, of Supply and of Health (PRO/LAB 26/57). The matter of which Ministry was actually responsible for wartime childcare was unclear and this was to become a major factor in the development of the policy. As Van der Eijk and Kok (1975) argue, decision-makers frequently only adopt part of an issue being presented as a demand. Prior to the ‘emergency’ situation the predominant public discourse around childcare was as an educational experience for the benefit of children and not as an aid to facilitate women leaving the domestic sphere. Many of the supporters of nurseries before the Second World War displayed the attributes of benevolent, and rather patronising, welfarism—for example, Nancy Astor claimed that nursery schools were the only way in which the ‘slum mind’ could be eradicated along with slum housing (Acton Gazette, 14 December 1934). At this time only 63 nursery schools were known to exist in Britain (Acton Gazette, 14 December 1934), day nurseries were slightly more numerous by the eve of the Second World War (at just over 100) although this was still a decrease from the 174 officially sponsored day nurseries of the children of First World War women workers in 1919 (Ferguson and Fitzgerald, 1978). This decrease is indicative of the nature of the childcare issue on either public or political agendas, i.e. that it was viewed as a temporary expedient; and so, after 1919, day nurseries which permitted women to work were closed and the only legitimated public discourse promoting any form of childcare was that of child development. However, even this position met with opposition illustrating the depth of cultural antipathy to women entering the public sphere which was also applied to provision which was, in policy terms at least, child defined and not to benefit the mother. As one Director of Education in London noted the opinions he faced were hardly positive nor recognised the role nursery provision could make to the development and welfare of children: It was argued that the place for children of tender years was in the home, under the loving care of their fond mothers. The picture conjured up was that of inhuman officers dragging babies from the arms of distracted mothers and institutionalising them in barracky schools…(when)… the most ardent advocates of nursery schools…were the mothers themselves. (Dr E.Davies, Director of Education, Willesden, Willesden Chronicle, 14 January 1938) It is clear then that the structural situation faced by advocates of childcare (irrespective of the mode of childcare) was adverse, this was to remain the case during the subsequent ‘emergency’ of wartime. In fact, in terms of national policy there was no national sanctioned provision for, under the terms of the 1918 Maternity and Child Welfare Act, the provision of nursery facilities remained the responsibility of individuals or individual local authorities, although these were supervised by both the Ministries of Health and Education. Thus, as shown, Britain entered the Second World War once more dependent on women’s labour yet with no national policy on childcare and, in addition, with a conflict of interests between Government departments. This conflict ensured that even

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when the issue of childcare once more became legitimated by the needs of a society ‘under siege’ the demand stage of policy development faced hostility from the prevailing patriarchal discourse both from the public and the political agenda. This was to have a considerable effect upon the development of a coherent and responsive childcare policy during the Second World War. Childcare policy development during the Second World War Investigating the development of childcare policies at this time reveals both outright opposition to the issue and also, even amongst supporters, a general degree of ambivalence. Throughout this period the Government repeatedly insisted that nurseries were an aid to working mothers and not a statutory social service. As already stated by March 1940, the issue of childcare was being considered by several Government departments; the Ministries of Labour and Supply and of Health (PRO/LAB 26/57). The matter of which Ministry was actually responsible for wartime childcare is relevant; although initially representations were being made to the Ministry of Labour, in May 1940 responsibility for wartime childcare was transferred to the Ministry of Health (whose responsibility childcare had been in the interwar years), for the issue would become a Labour matter only ‘(i)f a situation should arise in which employers were unable to obtain badly needed supplies of married women owing to the absence of day nursery facilities’ (PRO/LAB 26/57). However, the Ministry of Labour was not able to completely free itself of responsibility for the issue. This was partly because the Ministry of Health remained unconvinced that it was wholly their remit, thus both Ministries remained involved despite the fact that it was to be another month before the issue of workplace nurseries was considered as being able to ease labour problems, leading to the Ministry of Labour pressing hard for the Ministry of Health to take ‘immediate steps towards the provision of day nurseries’ (Gould, 8 June 1940, Minute Sheet 522/1940, PRO/LAB 26/57), this demand being precipitated by the problems faced by Ministry of Labour Divisional Controllers in securing sufficient women workers. These representations regarding the correlation between childcare availability and the availability of women’s labour contradicted previous opinions and findings expressed via the previously mentioned survey of working women’s needs. The results of this survey (based at the Chorley Royal Ordinance Factory in Euxton, Lancashire) were taken to indicate the lack of demand for day nurseries (PRO/LAB 26/57): of the 5,000 women workers, of whom 1,607 were interviewed, less than 10 per cent affirmed that they would use a crèche if one were provided. A closer consideration of the structure and design of this survey reveals the existence of an inherent bias against such childcare provision which was either not noticed or deliberately ignored. First, this survey was conducted in an established workplace with a work force which had already overcome any childcare problems or else would not have been able to work. Second, not all the women interviewed were married or mothers, in fact only 612 of the interviewees were mothers. Comparing the 106 who claimed they would use a crèche to the number of mothers (even without knowing the ages of the children of these women) indicates that 17 per cent of those who managed to work even without childcare provision and saw workplace nurseries as a positive advantage. Using an already established work force may have been a deliberate spoiling tactic, but it is not possible from the limited evidence to draw a

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definite conclusion. However, what is clear is that the Ministry of Labour recognised the survey was flawed, pointing out that the long distances women had to travel to work discouraged them from taking their children and continued to press for facilities to encourage mothers in other areas to work. It is not possible to prove that that the Chorley survey either was or was not a serious attempt to gauge childcare demand, it may simply have been badly designed and ignorant of the inherent bias against the interests of mothers as workers with particular needs. On the other hand it may have been a successful use of nondecision-making to covertly silence an issue which was already on the political agenda without being seen to be in opposition to women workers whose services were desperately needed for the ‘war effort’. Less ambiguous are other tactics which emerged at this time; for example the renaming of all childcare facilities. In an attempt to ensure that where they did exist nurseries were not to be assumed as a ‘right’ nor that they would be anything but temporary, it was suggested within the Ministry of Health that childcare facilities should be referred to as ‘nursery centres’ for: the very fact that a Nursery Centre is neither a nursery school nor a day nursery would stamp them as a purely temporary expedient to deal with war conditions and would make it easier to get rid of them after the war. (Arrangements for the Provisions of Wartime Day Nurseries 1941–2, PRO/MH 55/695) Unfortunately for the Ministry of Health, their very involvement negated this attempt, as it was necessary to engender the support of child welfare agencies and professionals to publicise the facilities as beneficial to child development as well as to the war effort, all of which were then difficult to refute and revise at the end of the war. This reveals a further tension in policy development and implementation. Although it was the Ministry of Labour arguing for day nursery facilities to increase the number of women workers, it was the responsibility of the Ministry of Health to convince the Treasury of the need for finance to run such services. Therefore, although it was the Ministry of Labour that required the facility, the Ministry of Health was responsible for their running and maintenance. Thus, the perception of day nurseries remained as a facility for the welfare of the child and not for industrial reasons. However, although many problems and policies had still to be resolved several facilities were provided, though this was not an extensive supply; by November 1940 fourteen day nurseries were established, five were on course, eight had been approved and a further six were under consideration (PRO/ LAB 56/27), only twenty-seven areas of England were deemed to be in need of a day nursery with another six under examination for: hard headed councillors wanted to see an existing need before committing themselves and the ratepayer’s money to any new venture (Ferguson and Fitzgerald, 1978:184) (original emphasis) In a further fifty-four areas of England, and throughout the whole of Scotland and Wales, it was decided that the need was not sufficient to justify action (PRO/LAB 56/27).

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Policy development and implementation does not have to be hampered by the involvement of several agencies as much recent multi-agency work on a variety of services has proven; however, the involvement of the varied interests of the Ministry of Labour, Ministry of Health and several local authorities seems to have been more of a hindrance to policy development and implementation. The cost to the ratepayer was certainly a block on implementation for, until May 1941, when the Ministry of Health decided to provide 100 per cent grants to local authorities who ran day nurseries, the cost to the ratepayer could be 12 shillings per child (extrapolated from figures given for Preston in Ferguson and Fitzgerald, 1978). Despite agreeing to recompense local authorities’ day nursery costs the attitude of the Ministry of Health was to become a source of irritation to the Ministry of Labour, as Health maintained the position that nurseries were not wanted and were under-utilised. The prejudice that existed within the Ministry of Health and its fieldworkers against mothers working has been well documented by Summerfield (1984:79): by incorporating figures for Saturday attendances (when many mothers did have access to alternative childcare) within weekday figures, the Ministry of Health argued that overall attendances indicated a lack of demand. However, the Ministry of Labour prevailed at this point, arguing that a nursery did not require 100 per cent usage to justify its existence. Nonetheless, this conflict between Ministries and between central and local governments prevented the development and implementation of a truly collective childcare strategy, even one aimed at benefiting the whole nation: it seems that a society which viewed women’s work as necessary for the war, and viewed war as necessary, still could not agree on a slight restructuring of gender roles promoted and supported by the state. Confusions and controversies The many tensions between the Ministries of Labour and Health stemmed from a basic problem of issue definition. This administrative problem has already been mentioned, with the Ministry of Health wishing to present to child welfare agencies, amongst others, a public image of wartime childcare policies as facilitating child development and welfare, that is being child-centred. Similarly, although it may appear from the above that the Ministry of Labour had a more woman-centred view of wartime childcare needs, this too requires teasing apart to reveal the pressures and priorities driving forward their position. It is not really possible to discuss a state-led national childcare policy as such. What seems to have been in place was a combination of pressures, interests and forces some of which were, whilst trying to move in the same direction, distinctly conflictual. This is illustrated by the way in which the Ministry of Labour, feeling under pressure from industry and wishing to react to the immediate demands for wartime labour, superimposed that pressure onto the already confused childcare agenda within the Ministry of Health resulting in the conflicts and contradictions traced above. In addition, the fact that neither Ministry had outright control of war nurseries, but that they were merely added onto the Ministry of Health’s existing child welfare responsibilities, contributed to a further confusion: which mothers were deemed to be qualified to use the limited services available? War nurseries were established to care for the children of essential women war workers but again the existence of contradictory tensions militated against coherency and

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efficacy in policy delivery. The Ministry of Labour, responsible for ensuring that essential work was staffed, discussed this matter with Health, yet little headway seems to have been made on the definition of an essential worker for, although the Ministry of Labour clearly understood that: ‘eligibility for the use of day nurseries…is that the children of any woman engaged in work definitely contributing to the war effort are entitled to admission’ (Eames, October 1940, PRO/LAB 26/57) the definition of contribution to the war effort was unclear. Not only did munitions workers qualify, so did bus conductresses and nurses. However, shop assistants, even those directly replacing men for war service, did not qualify. Further, despite responsibility for staffing the war lying with the Ministry of Labour, the responsibility for determining the classification of ‘borderline’ cases was with the Ministry of Health. It seems rather strange that the duty of defining whether a particular job, in a particular area, was necessary and contributed to the war effort should be allocated to a department concerned with the health of the nation rather than be retained by a department whose very name denoted its role and experience in determining essential duties for wartime. However, such a scenario serves to illustrate the fact that the issue of war nurseries did not have a coherent and established policy base. This confusion had both an economic and a social effect for women in ‘qualifying’ occupations received priority in the allocation of childcare places and a maintenance grant from the Ministry of Health to subsidise the cost for each child of a qualifying woman. So, although other mothers could use excess places in war nurseries they had to bear the full cost, casting a degree of doubt on Lewenhak’s description of provision as ‘considerable’ (Lewenhak, 1988:53). The ambiguity regarding the Ministry of Labour’s role with the day nurseries continued throughout the war. This was not aided by the conflict of opinions that also existed within the Ministry: in general the Ministry was convinced that nurseries were necessary for the war effort yet Mary Smieton, the civil servant responsible for factory welfare, argued against factory nurseries as, in her opinion, they harmed the child due to the length of time a child spent in care whilst the mother worked. As Riley (1983) has argued a nascent maternal deprivation theory was evident in the actions of the Ministry of Health and appears also to be Smieton’s view. The provision promoted and preferred by the Ministry of Health was not unlike the informal systems detailed in Ross’s (1983) study: systems of neighbourhood support and self help. Childminding was already an established practice and this was seen by both the Ministries of Health and Labour as the solution to a lack of day nurseries (MoL circular 128/50, 3 June 1941, PRO/LAB 26/58). However, it appears that the Minding scheme established by the Ministry of Health, despite attempts to appeal to non-working women to volunteer to childmind as their contribution to the war effort (PRO/MH 55/695), came to very little for by 1944 only 4,280 children were being cared for in this way. There do appear to have been a number of barriers and contradictory policy agendas in process for the first couple of years of this war. Nonetheless, some improvement and agreement was eventually achieved and Ferguson and Fitzgerald (1978) note that by May 1941 nursery policy had reached a turning point with a two-tier system decided upon: day nurseries for children up to 5 years, open 12–15 hours a day and part-time nurseries for children from 2 to 5 years, open in normal school hours only. This provision eventually reached over 1,500 facilities at its peak. However, the actual extent of childcare provision during the Second World War was far from universal; even in areas where it was

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available only certain women and their children qualified for subsidised usage. Further, as discussed, there existed a reluctance to develop a coherent policy under the direction of a single government department. The Ministry of Labour which was most committed to the policy of workplace nurseries was hampered not only by the attitudes and prejudices of the Ministry of Health who held the purse strings but also by members of its own staff. In support of state provision of childcare rather than a state-sponsored childminding scheme were several interests, not only those of big business but of many women’s organisations, such as the Women’s Co-operative Guild and the Labour Women’s Advisory Councils, and other industrial interests in the form of the Factory and Welfare Board and the Trades Union Congress (PRO/MH 55/695). Eventually the case supported by these latter groups won through, but not without facing other contradictions and confusions over usage already outlined. As such, Summerfield’s (1984) assertion that the notion of a wartime collectivisation of childcare is a myth appears to be valid. Such childcare policy that was made was confused in formulation and implementation and was primarily based upon the assumption that it was for the ‘duration’ only. In addition, it was devised on the competing imperatives of the industrial requirements of the national ‘emergency’ and the developmental needs of the pre-school child; nowhere in the formulation, discussion or implementation do the interests of mothers in employment seem to take priority. Prior to the end of the war a closure programme for wartime nurseries was instigated. This too reflected the interdepartmental tensions which were to come to the fore again, as early as July 1943, when a closure policy was first implemented. In the end the round of nursery closures was reduced due to the acceptance of the Ministry of Labour’s aforementioned argument (regarding necessity and less than 100 per cent usage) and only 43 out of the planned 1,345 nursery closures occurred at this point (Memo, August 1943, PRO/LAB 26/58). It is interesting to note that virtually all the nurseries were therefore considered for closure only two years after the final setting of the policy. The actual closing of the war nurseries did, however, occur ‘at speed’ (Riley, 1983:118) reflecting the temporariness already suggested by the renaming of facilities referred to earlier and in contrast to the espoused aim of providing nurseries after the war. Such closures were once more justified, in response to Parliamentary questions, by the argument of a lack of demand from mothers. Riley (1983) details the various cases made for the continuation of childcare provision concluding that these had little effect as the ‘authenticity of “demand” could always be queried by a Ministry committed in advance to ignoring it’ (Riley, 1983:121) highlighting not only a bias within the system antagonistic to state childcare but also an instance of nondecision-making. The links drawn previously between women’s economic activity and childcare provision are relevant to both the immediate and long-term postwar periods. Further, the patriarchal social attitudes towards working mothers which were so clearly demarcated during the wartime emergency, pertained after the resumption of peace in Britain. Several related matters have bearing upon the childcare policies which were to be developed and implemented in the following decades. These include the economic demands of the reconstruction period, the influence of the periodical press and the role of psychological ideas (especially with regard to child development) in the promotion of a new ‘cult of domesticity’ for women, and in particular, mothers.

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Post-war policy, the press and public opinion Before turning to examine the nature of the childcare policy debate in the 1980s and 1990s it is beneficial to outline both the historical biography of the policy area and some of the major themes of social discourse existing from 1945 to the 1970s. It is useful to remember that for many of our modern and recent policy-makers this was the period of their socialisation, and the structural setting in which they developed their social and political viewpoints. Further, investigating the policy process and its inherent contradictions develops knowledge of the prevailing norms of this community as well as of the wider societal community or, as Schattschneider (1960) describes, it enables us to reveal which issues were organised in and which organised out of the political agenda. The starting point for uncovering this organisation, or mobilisation of bias, is the period of post-war reconstruction. Fate of the wartime nurseries Many of the contradictions, complications and confusions which were evident in the formulation of a wartime policy on women’s employment and the care of their children are evident in the fate of the wartime nurseries. The transfer of responsibility for childcare to the local authorities after the war, and the haste with which this transfer was enacted, seem to betray the Ministry of Health’s true feelings on the matter of nurseries. In spite of the recognition that reconstruction would require women’s labour and protestations from Edith Summerskill MP and others representing working women (for example, the Standing Joint Committee of Working Women’s Organisations (SJCWWO), the Women’s Citizen’s Association and several Public Health Committees) the nurseries remained under threat. The Ministry of Health’s determination to end workplace nursery provision is indicated by an examination of the nature and source of some of the arguments and figures which were ignored. Not only were the figures of MPs overlooked but also those of the Ministry of Reconstruction, collected by Geoffrey Thomas, which were either deliberately ignored or neglected. Thomas (1944), in his survey of working women’s attitudes to post-war work revealed a difference between the intentions and expectations of mothers and non-mothers. The figures which led Thomas to this conclusion are detailed in Table 3.1 and result from asking each respondent if she intended to work after the war, either full or part-time and reasons for working. These figures not only indicate that mothers were over represented in both full and parttime work, where it could be surmised that a certain level of choice occurred, but also in the section of coercion due to economic circumstances: the ‘may have to’ group. So, although it could be argued that some women indicated that they would choose to remain in employment the Government knew, by 1944, that mothers would feel the economic need to work greater than other women, married or not. Nonetheless, plans for the withdrawal of women from the wartime labour force had been made prior to the cessation of hostilities, with married women being placed upon the list of priority for release from labour. However, the economic situation of the late 1940s, with its need for a drive for exports to earn foreign exchange, meant that once more the reserve army of women’s labour was required. By 1947 there were 300,000

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Table 3.1 Attitude to work post-war: married women with children compared to all married women (percentages) Attitude/lntentions re post-war employment

All married women (sample 1315)

Married with children (sample 445)

Full time

29

36

Part-time

10

13

If possible

4

4

May have to

11

14

Don’t know

10

9

Not at all

36

23

Source: G.Thomas (1944), Women at Work, Central Office of Information.

vacancies for women (MoL Gazette, 1947) whilst the Ministry of Labour aimed to recruit thrice that number. Posters, films and special recruitment centres (Women’s Recovery Committees) were all brought into play to woo women back into productive labour, though the areas where they were seen to be most suited were prescribed (textiles, agriculture, laundries, hospitals and domestic industries). The Economic Survey of 1947, in attempting to increase the employment of women, advised employers to make adjustments in work patterns to allow women with domestic responsibilities to engage in paid work also (Economic Survey of 1947, Cmd 7046, xix), such as the introduction of ‘twilight shifts’ in factories. By 1948 the Ministry of Labour estimated that the working women population had increased by 70,000 on the 1939 figure but was still over 1 million fewer than the wartime peak (The Economist, 13 June 1947). Various schemes were created to encourage women to work in the reconstruction drive, such as extra clothing coupons issued to workers in export industries. However, this was not a universal drive to get women into work; in areas where there was no production drive, for example in Wales, and where many men were without jobs, women often faced the old hostility when applying for employment. There was, therefore, in particular areas and particular industries a realisation that women required encouragement to take on the double burden of home and external work, not for the benefit of women but for the nation’s Balance of Trade. Such inducements were not enough and little was actually considered to ease the dual role women played as displayed by a call published in the Liverpool Post in 1947: A much better inducement would be to increase what are commonly called ‘amenities’ instead of (as we are) tending to discontinue them… Such things as canteens with decent meals ‘available at hours which suit the part-time worker’, nursery schools or play centres for the child who does not need its mother’s continuous care, better shopping facilities, transport…an appeal more potent than any broadcast or poster would be the recognition…of equal pay.

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(Mrs G.D.H.Cole (sic), quoted in Public Opinion, 18 April 1947) Despite such appeals provision remained sparse, as late as 1952 a survey revealed that in Lancashire, although there existed 64 county council day nurseries and 100 run by the borough councils the ‘number is not adequate to meet demand, and there is a long queue of mothers on the waiting list’ (Zweig, 1952:76–7). Margaret Cole’s view (above) was far from accepted in some quarters of public opinion. An article in the Birmingham Post in the same year took a negative view of employing mothers. This article implied, by quoting a professor of Child Health from Edinburgh University, that the nation’s welfare was under threat. Industry needed married women, it began, but: The mother of young children is performing the highest form of national service by looking after them at home. The day nursery was a necessary war-time expedient…but caution may well be exercised in prolonging the employment of such women. (quoted in Public Opinion, 27 June 1947) It is clear then that although Government required women’s labour for reconstruction the placing of married women on the priority list for demobilisation indicates that some of the sentiments expressed above had more import than others, in particular, those that already fitted with pre-war assumptions about appropriate roles for wives and mothers in society, which was to contribute via the private, domestic sphere. As such, confusion around policy implementation continued with the Ministry of Labour, like Health, bowing somewhat to the concerns of child welfare organisations. Similarly, the Ministry of Health’s intentions seemed not only to be in conflict with those of the Ministry of Reconstruction but of the Ministry of Education also. The Ministry of Education had plans for the wartime nurseries, in fact Education informed the SJCWWO in 1946 that ‘many of the war-time nurseries will form a good nucleus for nursery school expansion’ (SJCWWO, 1946:10). In addition, Miss Wilkinson of the Ministry of Education was reported in The Times stating that plans existed for ‘a vast expansion in nursery schools’ (The Times, 30 October, 1946:2). However, it must be noted that these plans, unsupported by the Ministry of Health, were not being developed to aid women workers but as educational establishments for the welfare of the young child. By the end of 1945 the responsibility for nurseries was transferred to local authorities and, with the halving of the grant from the Treasury, the cost of provision had once again to be met from the rates. Given the differences across local government it is not difficult to conclude that the pattern of provision developed according to the vagaries of each local government unit, depending on the political leadership, local attitudes and local needs. However, one unifying principle did remain, the 1944 Education Act. This Act made it obligatory upon local education authorities to provide a wider service than pre-war for the under fives and that these could be added to by day nurseries and day guardians if required, to:

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meet the special needs of children whose mothers are constrained by individual circumstances to go out to work or whose home conditions are unsatisfactory. (MoH Circular, 221, 14 December 1945, quoted in Planning, vol. xv, no. 285, 23 July 1948:48) Despite this obligation, the situation remained ambiguous; it was difficult to argue what ‘wider provision’ actually meant and also left open to debate was the necessity, not right, of mothers to perform paid work. It would appear the Ministry of Health was aware of this weakness and was prepared to use it to its advantage (PRO/MH 55/803): the Ministry of Health correctly surmised that once nurseries had to compete with all other services, most of which were statutory, for finance from the rates then their demise was virtually guaranteed. Actual figures vary but Riley (1981) states that by the end of 1947 the number of day nurseries was 879, a drop of over 700 from the wartime peak. However, Riley does not make it clear if she is talking about the whole of Britain or if nursery education facilities are included in her figures. Certainly, of the 460 play centres established during the war, for school-aged children outwith school hours, very few of the 30,000 places remained by 1948 (Planning, vol. xv:49) illustrating the effectiveness of reclassification of such childcare services under ‘welfare’ and on the rates bill. The actions of the Ministry of Health in transferring nurseries to local authorities certainly lead to a decline in provision; however, it would be incorrect to assign the responsibility for declining services to local government alone as there was also a decrease in demand for workplace nurseries. It is obvious that a nursery facility attached to a munitions factory would no longer be required for there were no workers post-war. Where these former munitions workers required nurseries in the alternative employment they may have obtained is more difficult to determine. It is also obvious from the refusal of the Ministry of Health to delay transfer to local authorities or to make any provision for the maintenance of nursery services that, even if nurseries had remained a central government responsibility, their numbers would have been cut. It can be seen, therefore, that childcare as a service to provide for the needs of working mothers was, although temporarily and partially legitimated during the war, not on the political agenda. As also shown there was a difference of opinion evident in the debates in the daily press quoted here. What then of the periodical press directed at women? Friendly advice A major influence on social attitudes in the post-war era was the periodical press for women. At first peacetime sales were restricted due to a shortage of resources, primarily paper, but circulations soon increased to record levels with Woman doubling circulation and Women’s Own trebling sales (White, 1977:8). During the war magazines had been one method of promulgating government messages and this continued with the printing of the Reports to the Women of Britain to encourage women, in a rather patronising manner, to contribute to the economy. In particular women’s magazines supported the new social policies of the emerging Welfare State, but this organised co-operation between Whitehall and editors did not long survive the war.

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The message of these magazines became less feminist and more quiescent each year. During the war women had been encouraged to try new skills and jobs and to entrust their children to the care of others, whereas in the later magazines homemaking became more prominent. Ferguson (1983) argues that by promoting the Beveridge Report (the ‘blueprint’ of the British Welfare State), which firmly located women in the matrimonial home, these magazines began to enforce the ideology of the domestic idyll once more. However, to assign women’s magazines to the status of a simple government mouthpiece is much too simplistic. It was definitely in the interests of women to be informed about the new services being constructed under the welfare reforms, such as the National Health Service (as for many women it would have been their first opportunity to receive medical treatment). Also, Woman magazine, through the editorials of Mary Grieves, intervened on behalf of women arguing that it was pointless and short sighted to expect women to return to industry without domestic support. ‘Women must be helped back’ (quoted in Winship, 1987:33) she wrote, even jocularly suggesting a Mothers’ Union affiliated to the TUC. Women were not helped back and by 1950 the theme had changed to that of ‘The Working Wife is a Bad Wife’ (Ferguson, 1983:54). Women’s magazines both reflected and affected the philosophy of postwar Britain. This philosophy has been summarised by Braybon and Summerfield (1987): The belief that mothers of young children should not work was the prevailing view of the time. Medical opinion…held that a woman’s place was in the home where she could look after her children… The demand for women’s labour in the two world wars had done little to shake this. Increasingly in the 1940s psychologists contributed the authority of their view that children who were not mothered intensively during their first five years and possibly throughout their schooldays, would grow up suffering from all sorts of neurotic and psychopathological ills. (Braybon and Summerfield, 1987:279) Braybon and Summerfield go on to argue that this psychological approach became enshrined in the practices and attitudes of those professionals who held power over women’s lives, for example doctors, social services and educationalists and created a further restricting factor on women’s lives at this time. If this were the case then it would be a very strong argument for the existence of a strong mobilisation of bias both within decision making elites and the public. As such it is necessary to examine if these views did create a ‘cult of domesticity’ or merely reflected an existing one.

Maternal deprivation and pronatalism There is a fair amount of feminist and other writing on the post-war period which addresses the promotion of motherhood and its connection with fears of a dwindling British population. In the remainder of this chapter I revisit several of these in an attempt to draw some conclusions regarding the inheritance of the modern working mother. The promotion of motherhood through psychological theories owes much to the work of John Bowlby (1980, originally 1953), therefore, it is his work that will be referred to

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as his name was later attached to this ‘school of thought’. However, Bowlby was not alone in working in this field of child development and maternal deprivation and it should not be considered that his work existed in a vacuum. Colleagues at the Tavistock Centre in London included Melanie Klien, D.W.Winnicott and Susan Isaacs, all of whom were working on aspects of the mother-child relationship. Bowlby’s work has been selected for comment as it is typical of the time and was widely distributed and discussed through the popular press and cheap publishing houses—not to mention the films produced and promoted by Jimmy Robertson.5 Promotion of motherhood The post-war period witnessed the advance of two related fields: science and technology. The ‘new’ sciences of psychology and sociology combined with the ‘new’ technologies in publishing and media rapidly became instruments of social influence. Several socialist and feminist theorists have attributed these advances with aiding the advance of the ‘cult of domesticity’ which returned after the Second World War as after the First. Brienes (1985) has examined how these ‘new’ sciences were used to promote ‘full-time motherhood…as the acceptable goal for women’ (Brienes, 1985:601). She concludes that the 1950s were a contradictory period for women and cites the proliferation of childrearing literature to illustrate that the socialisation of children was a major preoccupation of women. Like the writers studied by Brienes, Bowlby emphasised that early mothering was essential to the intellectual, emotional and social development of a child. In other words, there existed a school of psychological thought in the 1950s which seemed to promote the view that exclusive mothering and that alone, would ensure the healthy growth of a child. Such theories were guaranteed a wide audience through the advent of cheap paperback publishing: the Penguin group first published Bowlby’s Child Care and the Growth of Love in 1953. Therefore, although it had been commissioned in 1951 for the narrow audience of the World Health Organisation it exploded upon British mothers from libraries and high street shops. Bowlby’s theories It is not possible here to give a full account of Bowlby’s complex ideas nor am I able to provide a psychological critique of the methodology or the premises of the study. Rather the intention here is to offer an outline of his ideas and to discuss the influence his writings had on public discourses regarding appropriate mothering. Bowlby studied the effects of maternal deprivation (the lack of a mother) upon institutionalised children to advocate different treatment for such children. However, the public took his book to have a direct bearing on every family. Despite the fact that he later modified much of his theory (Schaffer, 1991) to distinguish between the effects of total separation found in institutions and partial separation due to a short break, his conclusions were taken to mean that only exclusive mothering guaranteed a well-adjusted child. The wisdom of Bowlby’s recommendations regarding parent and baby facilities in hospitals are not in doubt, for as he wrote, for a baby:

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Long periods away in strange surroundings with no person to attach himself (sic) to, can sometimes have very serious consequences. (Bowlby, undated pamphlet, p. 11) This quotation is taken from a pamphlet written for the National Association for Mental Health, Can I Leave My Baby?. At a cost of one shilling and sixpence (the equivalent of a place for one day in a nursery) the pamphlet was fairly accessible and illustrates not just the respect with which Bowlby was viewed within the psychological establishment but also how such advice was deemed beneficial for the masses and therefore published in such a format. Bowlby’s influence upon public attitudes towards motherhood cannot be ignored and not all his statements were quite so acceptable and seemingly unbiased. Most disturbing of his contentions was perhaps his conclusion that ‘deprivation’ could lead to cognitive retardation and problems in the social development of children. The widespread adoption of his views is also explicable by the fact that in his classification of ‘failed home situations’ (sic) he included the full-time work of mother in the category with death of a parent, divorce, famine and war. As he wrote: Any family suffering from one or more of these conditions [in any three categories] must be regarded as a possible source of deprived children. (Bowlby, 1980:86) In the aforementioned pamphlet Can I Leave My Baby? Bowlby claimed that no one had said that mothers could not. However, apart from that one denial, the remainder of this short pamphlet betrays his belief in the superiority of the mother’s care: when toddlers get hurt ‘it is mother, and mother only, that they want’ (Bowlby, undated, p. 4), even a 4year old ‘is going to get upset if he (sic) is away from mother for long. His security is still inextricably bound up with her’ (Bowlby, undated, p. 5). The conclusion of this pamphlet, meant to calm a mother’s fears, excludes the possibility of maternal employment without even granting the subject a mention: By all means let a mother take a half-day off, or even an occasional whole day, but anything longer needs careful management…if you follow this plan, you will be providing for your child the essential security which he needs in his early years, the benefits of which both of you will reap in years to come. (Bowlby, undated, pp. 13–14) Bowlby’s belief in motherly affection led him to argue that those governments which spend financial resources on residential care of children should consider giving financial assistance to ‘a widow, an unmarried mother, or a grandmother to help her care for the baby at home’ (Bowlby, 1980:100) while simultaneously urging for money to pay a housekeeper to allow a father to keep his children at home and support them. It is doubtful whether anyone would now argue against the importance of keeping children with families and out of residential care and it is equally doubtful if the overly obvious sexual role assumptions made by Bowlby would now pass without mention.

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It is clear then that although Bowlby did argue much to benefit the institutionalised child his ideas were spread wider than that and did impinge upon individual families. It is also evident that Bowlby had a definite concept of the appropriate gender role functions with regard to ‘proper’ parenting and some have gone as far as to claim that Bowlby and his followers ‘did more in fact to keep mothers at home than any chauvinistic husband’ (Mackie and Pattullo, 1981:118). Conspiracy theories Certain feminist social commentators have drawn a causal link between the promotion of the theories of Bowlby et al. and the post-war antipathy towards nurseries evidenced in both closure programmes and in expressions of public opinion. Elizabeth Wilson has argued that: Psychologists took a more polemical stance…and urged women to return to or remain in the home. The theme of latch-key children was taken up in the popular press and neglectful working mothers…were blamed for juvenile delinquency. (Wilson, 1977:64) In much the same vein, Juliet Mitchell stated that: the political reconstruction of the family in post-war and cold-war Britain was buttressed by social welfare, which was family orientated, and by sociology, psychology and psychoanalytical theories, massively popularized. (Mitchell, 1974:231) Both of these views allude to a supposed connection between Bowlbyist theories and government policy and certainly Bowlby’s ideas did influence the government, illustrated in the Crowther Report on Education in 1959 which encouraged the teaching of domestic skills to schoolgirls (Wilson, 1977). Yet it has to be considered that the domesticity of women was already on the agenda as shown both previously and by the fact that the Beveridge Report of 1942 was more than explicit in its design which placed married women as economic dependants and ‘set out to strengthen marriage and encourage married women to stay at home’ (Carter, 1988:15). However, given that Bowlby did have many friendships with Labour (Government) politicians at this time (Schaffer, 1991)6 this may have also allowed for a flow of information and ideas informally. More directly Bowlby’s expertise was used in the formulation of childcare policies, for example, he was a witness to the Care of Children Committee (Curtis Committee) in 1946 (Cmd 6922, September 1946). However, this was an investigation into children in institutionalised care and did not develop policy in other areas, though it does indicate that Bowlby was viewed as a relevant person to advise on matters of Government policy where children were concerned. As in the area of wartime childcare policy development and implementation, this is an area of contradictions and difficulties. It is not easy to assess how much a particular

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vogue theory of psychology or sociology affected or effected government policy. Riley argues that post 1968 feminism has grown up with a depiction of a mass post-war return of women to the home after 1945, engineered by governmental deployment of maternal deprivation theories… This depiction misleads in so far as it assumes a collusion between the State and a particular psychology. (Riley, 1981:63) One thing which is clear from the previous discussion regarding state wartime childcare policy is that the state cannot be viewed as holding true to any one policy, nor can we even discuss the state as a single homogeneous institution given the divisions and dissensions already described. The point has been made that the different Ministries all had different plans and priorities with regard to nurseries and, therefore, it is not useful to refer to a monolithic state with a single policy. To do so would not only exclude the internal divisions but also the external pressures of the economy, industry, society and population which, surely, must be considered in any discussion of state action. In this context, the national issue of population was to have quite a pronounced effect engendering debates about family size which knitted into the existing discourses on women and work. Population and pronatalism In the late 1940s there was a belief amongst many policy makers and academics that the British population was in decline (and that this was a negative trend). Books such as that by Richard and Kathleen Titmuss, Parents Revolt: A Study of the Declining Birth-Rate in Acquisitive Sodeties (1947) began to appear addressing the ‘question of the fall in the birth-rate, threatening the survival of the white race’ (Webb, in Titmuss, 1947) and citing the increased usage of contraceptive devices by people not wishing to bring children into a world where they could not be properly nourished as the cause. The conclusion of this Fabian text was that there was a noticeable narrowing in the birth rate of the rich and the poor, with poorer families becoming smaller. However, census figures do not seem to bear this out completely and actually reveal that this fear of a dwindling population was misplaced. The collection of population figures was one more casualty of the war: a Royal Commission on Population was established during the war but it did not report until 1949 and its task was hampered by the lack of a census in 1941. The remit of this Commission was to investigate population trends and their causes and to consider what measures, if any, should be taken to influence future trends. In the early 1930s the number of live births (England and Wales) was declining encouraging the establishment of this Commission. Unfortunately, the combination of these lower birth rates and a missing census meant that the majority of population projections were conducted on the basis of this downward trend, despite the fact, as the 1951 Census showed, that the birth rate actually rose quite steadily throughout the 1940s (as displayed in Table 3.2).

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Table 3.2 Annual live births, England and Wales, 1930–1947 Year

Live births

Year

Live births

1930

743,360

1941

668,834

1933

666,959

1944

847,419

1935

686,684

1945

766,869

1938

709,831

1946

925,125

1940

676,523

1947

994,173

Source: Statistics Committee, Royal Commisssion on thePopulation, Census, England and Wales, 1951.

With the benefit of hindsight we can see that this alarm at a declining birthrate was misplaced; however, it was to precipitate a new social policy, that of pronatalism. Riley (1983) provides a detailed discussion of post-war pronatalism and it is useful here to note her arguments in terms of how a pronatalist agenda developed in British social policy and was promoted through the emergence of the new Welfare State. The term pronatalism, as employed by Riley (1981, 1983), relates to the combination of this anxiety over the birth rate and its solution being seen to be in persuading women to have larger families, around four children was deemed to be an appropriate number (Riley, 1983:151). Pronatalist ideas gave rise to a great deal of discussion and debate around the subjects of ‘family’ and ‘women’, more often than not, completely conflating the two into one unitary subject. Women’s work was also up for discussion with increasing recognition being offered in the immediate post-war period of the ‘real and vital work’ being done by mothers (Riley, 1987). Socialists, and especially the Fabians, argued that such women’s work must be accepted as an important aspect of society. The danger of this view is that women’s role can be assigned too easily to this category alone and therefore limit the range of opportunity available to women: mothers or nonmothers. Further, such notions had a twofold effect upon women’s economic activity: first, frequent presentation of motherhood as women’s ‘real’ work reduces the advocacy and legitimacy of organisations representing the needs and demands of women working outside of the home. Second, this discourse whilst prescribing motherhood as an uncritiqued positive in women’s lives, denies a real comprehension of needs of mothers, both as women and as workers. It was this tendency, along with the presentation (in Britain) of pronatalism in ‘progressive’ rhetoric and the growth of the Welfare State that meant that it was quite possible for nurseries to be both praised and closed at the same time—which is what has been shown to have happened to the wartime facilities. Pronatalism was more than simply a discourse, it was also a policy reality both in terms of governmental deliberations and external organisations; for example, the broadsheet of Political and Economic Planning provided a forum for discussing the supposed declining population under the title ‘Retreat from Parenthood’ (Planning, 7 December 1945, no. 242). Even working women’s organisations were not exempt from this pressure with the SJCWWO being requested by the Royal Commission to deliberate

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upon the reasons for a falling birth-rate (SJCWWO, 1946:1). Such a level of debate on population filtered through to women and was reinforced by media presentations via women’s magazines and the nature of policies of the developing Welfare State which firmly positioned women in the category of dependent, heterosexual motherhood (Ungerson, 1990). Pronatalist discourse, as presented in Britain,7 acted to silence, both on the public and the political agenda, those voices which once spoke for the needs of mothers who worked—drowned out by the rhetorical chorus chanting platitudes and praises about women’s reproductive and nurturing purpose. Of course, it is difficult to quantify exactly the effect or influence a particular ‘body of thought’ might have had on the real lives of people. This is a problem recognised by Riley (1983) and, although she does not claim to have achieved a numerical measurement, she does point to the successes of pronatalist discourse by the counterfactual; that is, by highlighting the absences of any opposing articulation. This was possible because of the creation of a structural setting in which ‘certain objections [were] unable to be raised’ (Riley, 1983:153).

Legacies, hand-me-downs and cast-offs So, what then has the modern woman, mother or not, inherited from this period of recent history? It would appear that the realities of the wartime and post-war situation were that women were, at the same time, viewed as ‘gendered’ and desexed. In other words, few allowances were made for women workers prior to the Second World War and this situation did not improve greatly during the war. As can be seen in the attitudes of the Ministry of Health and, to a lesser degree in Labour (Mary women who fulfilled their gender roles by being mothers were not to be given any encouragement to step out of that role into employment. At the same time, however, the acceptance of women’s work for the ‘duration’ only further exaggerated women’s gender role—that is, not employed in the public and, thereby, masculine world of work outside the family. Therefore, it would appear that, far from the experience of war work advancing the cause of women’s employment, it merely served to ghettoise it further. However, it has been argued that the war did make women, irrespective of their domestic responsibilities, visible as workers for the first time (Riley, 1987). I have already discussed the invisible and hidden nature of women’s work and whilst I understand the argument made about war work I cannot accept Riley’s conclusion completely. Riley’s theory is limited for this wartime visibility of women workers was not that of a person with a right to work but of either androgynous workers requiring no specific assistance or of women temporarily stepping out of their gender role. If viewed as the former, no policies were required to assist women workers and, if viewed as the latter, then any policies were to be as temporary as the workers. The policies of the wartime and post-war Governments reflect that women workers were viewed as both. Thus, it is not surprising that policies relating to women at work were confused as policymakers’ perceptions of working women were themselves made self-contradictory by patriarchal notions of women’s role. A Pluralistic view of the world would see these competing views of working women to be a normal part of the democratic process, each with an equal opportunity for

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articulation and for being heard. However, as already argued (Chapter 1), some voices just never achieve the platform to start to speak due to the pre-eminence of the status quo and the biases inbuilt into the process of public agenda-building. Given this, it is obvious that a direct and definite legacy of this period was the existence and sustainment of a structural suppression (Dahlerup, 1984) built upon the triple peaks of pronatalism, patriarchal notions and fears of maternally deprived children. This created a socialisation climate in which it became difficult, if not impossible, to voice dissension. As I detailed in Chapter 1, such socialisation is a definite barrier to policy-making, in that an atmosphere can exist which not only encourages women not to speak out for fear of some retribution but also, more insiduously, one that socialises community members into not even realising that alternative voices and demands may exist and be legitimate. These community members spanned different generations socialising not just one cohort of mothers but also their children ensuring the continued influence of these ideas into the following decades.

4 Modern mothers’ inheritance (2) National, global and local In the next chapter actual examples of nondecision-making with regard to specific local government childcare policies are outlined and analysed. The two case studies are both examples of Scottish local government in the 1980s. Prior to that it is instructive to examine childcare policies and discourses in different states, across the European Community, across the United Kingdom and across Scottish local government.

Pre-school child provision: priorities, provision and prejudice Childcare, as discussed earlier, has an ambiguous policy identity. In addition, parents have a number of expectations and requirements of childcare services, not to mention feelings of ambivalence about leaving their young children in the care of others. This double ambiguity has not made childcare for the pre-school child a simple issue upon which to legislate. False starts have been made, ideas have fallen at each and every stage, philosophies and prejudices have each had their day. None of these things happen all at once, in the same place or country; however, it is possible to begin to trace similar experiences and expressions of childcare services across a number of industrial states and philosophical positions. At present, looking internationally, it is clear that a number of different, sometimes overlapping discourses exist at the level of both state (political agenda) and societal (public agenda) conceptualisations of childcare. In liberal welfare states (EspingAndersen, 1990) such as the United States, Australia and Britain childcare has been viewed as an individual, private family responsibility in which the state should only intervene in cases of ‘normal’ family breakdown. By contrast, social democratic welfare state regimes are more likely to provide childcare as part of universal welfare provision (Esping-Andersen, 1990). Such philosophical traditions shape the formation of childcare policies, some states, such as France and Sweden employ childcare policies as constituent aspects of wider policies on family and population (Sainsbury, 1996); others as in the case of the United States or Britain in the 1980s and 1990s have focused on the needs of the economy in terms of women’s participation in paid employment, and have looked to the market to provide these facilities. In addition, in Britain in the 1960s and 1970s the major debate on childcare was educational, focused on nursery education rather than on social childcare, demonstrating a victory for the advocates of such facilities stretching back to the campaigns and arguments of the 1930s and the Second World War. Finally, childcare is most definitely a WII yet this discourse appears to have been less readily articulated on any political agenda which is significant for, as Outshoorn (1986) reminds

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us, we cannot expect a feminist policy outcome given a non-feminist conceptualisation of the original issue. Review and discussion of these various childcare discourses is required. Studies by the European Commission Childcare Network (ECN) illustrate the differing emphasis and priority placed upon childcare across the member states in the 1980s to 1990s. Despite difficulties with inadequate information, with some countries having no official statistics on publicly or privately funded childcare and each state collating figures differently, the ECN have produced several reports on childcare. In addition to report writing the ECN has made recommendations on childcare, setting out basic principles for services for young children which include the need for diversity and flexibility of service, provision for children with special needs and guidelines in the geographical spread of services (ECN, 1996). The various reports of the ECN reveal that of all the European Community members only Ireland and Luxembourg have done as little as the UK for under-threes. However, very few did much better for only in Denmark, Portugal, France and Belgium was provision greater than 5 per cent for underthrees in 1990 and by 1993 only France, Belgium, Denmark and Germany (in the former East German areas only) could boast provision for over one-fifth of the pre-five population (see Table 4.1). Welfare services tend to provide the majority of public childcare for the under-threes in Europe, though in France and Belgium a considerable number of two year olds are admitted to nursery education (or pre-primary education in ECN terminology). In addition, states with other policies which support parents, such as well-developed and resourced parental leave schemes (paid parental leave is available in Denmark, Austria, Sweden, Finland, Belgium, Germany, France and Italy) may find that the actual extent of their state childcare provision is masked. For instance, the extension of parental leave in Denmark has, according to the ECN: reduced demand very substantially for children under 12 months—so that the 50% coverage of children aged 0–3 years is probably, in effect, nearer 70% coverage for children aged 1–3 years. (ECN, 1996:127) A further confusion regarding comparative figures derives from the differences in coverage. In other words, the number of places available may be equal in two states but the volume of time they service may not be. The ECN (1996) draws attention to the UK and Denmark to illustrate the two extremes of the range across the EC. As will be highlighted further later in this chapter the most frequently utilised service for three and four year olds in the UK are playgroups and nurseries (pre-primary schooling). These services often only operate for up to 40 weeks per annum and children often attend in shifts across limited opening hours. The ECN estimates that this constitutes an average coverage of 525 hours per child, per annum. Danish provision for the same age group is available year round and is normally open 50 hours a week, with children attending for an average of 35 hours per week, making per child coverage over 1,500 hours per year. As such a place in Denmark provides almost three times the coverage as a place in the UK (ECN, 1996).

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Table 4.1 Public childcare for under-3 years, ECa, 1988, 1990, 1993: percentage provision for the under-3 population 1988 Germany

1990

1993

3

3

2(W), 50(E)

25

20

23

5

5

6

Netherlands

1.5

2

8 (0–4 years)

Belgium

25

20

30

Luxembourg

1

2

/

UK

2

2

2 (0–5 years)

Ireland

1

2

2

44

48

48

Greece

3

4

3 (up to 30 months)

Portugal

4

6

12

Spain

5

/

2

France Italy

Denmark

Sources: ECN (1988), Childcare and Equality of Opportunity, CEC; ECN (1990), Childcare in the European Community, 1985–1990, a ‘Women of Europe Supplement’, No. 31, CEC; ECN (1996), A Review of Services for Young Children in the European Union, 1990–1995, CEC. a Excluding Austria, Finland and Sweden

Similar European Community comparison with British provision for children over three years is at least as complex, for most children in Europe begin schooling one year later than British children;1 further the length of the school day also varies across Europe from three to eight hours (ECN, 1990, Women of Europe Supplement, No. 31). However, the patterns are worth noting and, although direct comparisons cannot be made, it is clear from Figure 4.1 that Britain’s performance in this age group is hardly impressive. Given these significant differences in provision across Europe it can be assumed that different philosophies and priorities exist in different states from market led to pronatalist. By examining these discourses an analytical as well as descriptive picture can be developed.

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Figure 4.1 Public childcare, EC; from 3 years to school age Sources: ECN (1988), Childcare and Equality of Opportunity, CEC; ECN (1990), Childcare in the European Community, 1985–1990, CEC. Educational and welfare services As a policy issue education has shifted from a position of being a private, familial responsibility (as in pre-industrial times) to an issue viewed as being a public benefit and therefore, a public, community responsibility (if not universally, then in the majority of ‘developed’ and ‘developing’ societies). An educated population is generally politically and culturally supported, recognised as both a social and economic benefit to the wider community. Likewise, educational services for the pre-school child have received greater support from both public and policy-makers alike than have social childcare services such as day or workplace nurseries. As discussed in the previous chapter, British policymakers were keen to emphasise the temporary nature of wartime provision by ensuring that the nursery centres were not conflated in the public mind with nursery schools. However, it is often difficult to separate out educational from welfare services. By the end of the 1980s most countries in Europe were already providing, or planning to provide, places for older pre-school children in either nursery schools or kindergartens (nurseries for children of two years and above). The first service is usually the responsibility of the education authorities and the second of the welfare authorities. Together these two categories (in the 1980s) provided for over 80 per cent of children between three years old and school age in Denmark, Italy, Belgium and France whilst Germany (West), Spain and Greece all achieved between 60 and 80 per cent coverage (see Figure 4.1). Separate nursery education was limited in the Netherlands, Portugal, Ireland and Britain and often only provided through the early admission of children into primary schools. The figures for Britain show that in 1990 there were publicly funded

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places for 2 per cent of three and four year olds and that a quarter of this group were in nursery education and 20 per cent were early entries into primary schools. Taking into account that the attendance patterns of children in nursery education tends to be on a parttime basis the availability of full-time state facilities was no more than 38 per cent of all places (ECN, 1990). In Scotland provision was slightly greater (Cohen, 1988). Nonetheless, publicly funded childcare, that is day care provision, was as limited in Scotland as in the rest of Britain and, when it came to services for working or studying parents Scotland fared less well than England and even more poorly when compared to the European Community. Two factors are of interest here: firstly, nursery education is solely focused upon the needs of the child and is not structured in ways which would normally assist a parent to be economically active on an equal basis with other workers (that is, full time). Even the expansion of nursery education precipitated by the Plowden Report (1967),2 which increased the number of English children receiving nursery education by 47 per cent from 1975 to 1985 (translating to an actual provision of 23 per cent of three and four year olds—Cohen, 1988:3), did little to ‘free’ mothers for work in the primary sector of the labour market due to the fact that over 80 per cent of this provision was part-time. Working mothers whether full or part-time require access to affordable day-care places rather than nursery education as not only are the hours more suitable but also, the facility is usually available all year round and not limited to school terms and hours. Unfortunately, this service has been even more limited than nursery education; a 1990 study found that, in England, local authorities provided only 28,951 such places for over three million pre-five children (Thomas Coram Research Unit, 1990). This could have been ameliorated to a degree by a huge expansion of nursery education places: the Plowden Commission had targets of 300,000 nursery education places by 1972 and 700,000 full time places by 1982, however these were not achieved. Further, in 1975 when the actual increase totalled a mere 13,000 nursery education places, local authorities were informed by central government that these places were ‘intended to give priority to meeting the needs of disadvantaged children’ (Circular 8/75 cited in Mackie and Pattullo, 1981:117). Therefore, although recognising childcare needs, once again, the needs of employed mothers were to be ignored, unless their working status were seen to disadvantage the child. In addition, Circular 8/75 issued restrictions which appear to castigate those women who sought childcare because they worked for any reason other than extreme economic necessity, hardly a positive view towards working mothers (it is interesting to note that this opinion was expressed in the same year that the Sex Discrimination Act was enacted and the Equal Pay Act implemented). Thus, although the provisions of the Plowden Report were designed to be educational, in effect, the limited numbers of places available encouraged the prioritisation of these places to the children deemed to be in the greatest need, those children viewed as socially disadvantaged, and as such, provided a welfare service as much as an educational one. It appears then that, in Britain, two different discourses have existed regarding childcare; emergency wartime provision for women’s employment and educational requirements, which subsequently became social education. This background seems to share more with the Canadian and United States situations than with the EC (European Community). Unlike many European states neither the US nor Canada has a national strategy for the provision of childcare, which in both countries is identified mostly as an

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employment issue or as a welfare issue to educate disadvantaged children to avoid poverty (Project Head Start, an early childhood education programme for children from low income families). Many childcare services and subsidies are accessed in the US via welfare services illustrating a similar prioritisation to that in Britain in the 1970s (England, 1996). Looking once more to European childcare facilities reveals a great degree of variation (see Figure 4.2 which includes provision across the extended EU) with Germany (East), France, Italy, and Belgium having by far the highest provision for the over-threes (by 1994), with Germany (East and West) being the only state to achieve 50 per cent coverage for the under-threes.3 Growth and development of facilities illustrate which countries prioritise childcare and those that do not. Denmark, France, Portugal and Luxembourg all

Figure 4.2 Levels of publicly funded services for young children, EC, 1991– 4 Source: ECN (1996), Review of Services for Young Children in the European Union 1990–1995, CEC. increased their provision by over 10 per cent between 1985 and 1989. The Netherlands too have given higher status to childcare by an expansion programme dating from 1989 whereas, Britain, Greece, Italy, Ireland and Belgium developed at a slower pace, or not at all, from 1985 to 1989 (ECN, 1990).4 It is difficult to find a simple pattern through these various sets of statistics but what is known is that despite these developments the ECN observed that at the end of the 1980s there was still ‘evidence of substantial unmet publicly funded services throughout Europe, mainly for children under 3 and outside school hours care for over 3s’ (ECN, 1990). However, ‘substantial increases’ (ECN,

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1996) are visible in publicly funded childcare services in several states from 1989 to the mid-1990s, for example in Denmark, Sweden, Belgium, France, Luxembourg, the Netherlands and Portugal these increases have included not only services for the underthrees but also play and care provision for school children. When compared to north American levels of public funding of childcare it appears that many EC and Scandinavian states display extensive provision (Melhuish and Moss, 1991) and, in several states, childcare policy is given priority on a national level (in conjunction with other quite generous parental and family policies) (Melhuish and Moss, 1991). Historically, in both Canada and the US, childcare has been, as stated, more related to employment policies rather than family policies or seen as an issue of social welfare (England, 1996). As Sainsbury (1996) has noted, two themes emerged in the US from the 1970s in childcare provision, both related to employment. The first has been the growth of for-profit childcare centres and the second has been the development of fiscal benefits to ameliorate the costs of childcare for those paying income tax. At the same time, state funds have been restricted to funding welfare childcare services. Both of these factors reflect the strict classification of childcare as a private, not a public, concern. Childcare and labour force rhetoric The ECN noted an increasing interest in childcare as a political issue in several EC Member states in the 1980s (ECN, 1990) when in several states it achieved agenda status: Germany, Denmark, Ireland, Italy, the Netherlands and Britain. However, the nature of the issue was limited to a labour force issue in both the latter states, compared to wider discussions in others, for example about the rights of children in Italy and, in France, as an integral part of the pronatalist population policy along with large family allowance benefits. The labour force debate is related to the declining numbers of young workers in many EC Member countries and this was reflected in the fact that most of these states included the children of workers in their priority categories for publicly funded childcare places (ECN, 1990:12). In fact both Britain and Ireland were exceptional in that they did not prioritise this group despite calls upon women to rejoin the labour force after motherhood.5 Looking beyond Europe Fincher claims that, internationally, it is clear that childcare ‘appears to be a product of government efforts to retain women’s labor force participation’ (Fincher, 1996:147), pointing out that in the US the increase in the last decade of workplace-based commercial childcare provision is a direct result of a government whose policies have reduced public funds to childcare but which has a labour market in which increasing numbers of women are contributing. Such provision is shaped by a discourse which does not prioritise the mother or the child but is loaded with the rhetoric of investment in human capital and employers’ returns. In Britain a system of employer-based childcare was only widely discussed (in the late 1980s) as an attempt to prevent companies from losing skilled women workers. An example from one multinational firm involved in a childcare partnership in Scotland illustrates the human capital argument obviously held by the male Personnel Manager interviewed who stated that he had not considered offering childcare to low-grade women workers nor to male employees as it was viewed as a ‘perk’ and a benefit which might encourage high-grade women to remain in post (Personnel Officer, Company One). One reason for such myopic views could be a patriarchal assumption that women, and

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especially mothers, are better fitted for full-time domestic activities than for paid employment and that childcare services are a bonus to be earned. As relatively late as 1970 one British business journal urged that ‘a firm…should not hesitate to withdraw the use of this facility (nursery) if a woman has a bad absenteeism record’ (Personnel Management, March 1970). This quote is doubly interesting in that not only does it betray the author’s assumption that only women have childcare responsibilities, it also illustrates a belief that mothers are unreliable employees. It would also appear to be illogical to withdraw childcare provision from a woman who is absent, perhaps due to the illness of her children, for it can surely only make her situation worse and force her resignation. Though, perhaps that was what the (unnamed) author intended: absenteeism due to motherhood is punishable by virtual forced resignation. However, by the next decade attitudes in the British polity had developed slightly towards working mothers, not in response to women’s needs, but in support of workplace nurseries for economic need. Once more childcare was to be used as an expedient in times of national need. In the 1940s it was war, in the 1980s it was the aforementioned shortage of workers. A similar situation had occurred in the Netherlands in the 1960s to early 1970s. This time was a period of labour shortages which encouraged employers to provide day-care centres to encourage women to work, consisting of approximately 10 per cent of all provision by 1973 (Gustafsson, 1994:53). With the economic changes that followed the 1973 oil crisis this labour market need disappeared so that firms lost interest in providing childcare and services were cut to only 1 per cent by 1977. Once again Dutch society returned to a position which saw no role for childcare except poverty relief and state centres would only accept the children of women who, out of economic necessity, had to work (Gustafsson, 1994). This is a clear example of the vulnerability of childcare services provided on the basis of a perceived economic requirement and not due to a philosophical commitment to allow women to participate on equal terms in the workplace. Examination of the British (Conservative) Government’s policies and philosophies illustrate that there was no real ideological commitment to women workers, in fact the exact opposite appears to be the case. In 1977, Patrick Jenkin the Conservative shadow spokesperson for Social Services launched the Conservative campaign on the family in advance of their (successful) 1979 general election campaign. In his speech Jenkin declared the family to be the foundation of free society and he was quite explicit about the nature of the family: I don’t think mothers have the same right to work as fathers do. If the good Lord had intended us to have equal rights to go out to work then he wouldn’t have created men and women. These are biological facts. (Jenkin, cited in Campbell, 1987:199) More than half a decade later in 1983, a leaked document from a Cabinet Committee (the Family Policy Group), revealed that Norman Tebbit (an influential and powerful Minister) held similar views, for his remedy for unemployment was to remove women from the workplace (Campbell, 1987:175). However, by 1983 this ‘traditional’ (sic) view of women was becoming less acceptable even within the Conservative Party which was advocating economic and individual liberalism and was, of course, headed by a working

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mother (Margaret Thatcher). Thus, little was said about the family in the following two general elections in the 1980s (1983, 1987). It was not until 1989 that family life again became an issue of concern, focusing mostly on the re-establishment of two-parent families with male breadwinners. This did not sit comfortably with the stated desire to have women in the workplace, which was part of the Conservative employment strategy of the 1980s. However, actual policies did not support women workers. Several restrictions of the rights of part-time workers and wage protection legislation affected women disproportionately as did cuts in public sector funding, as the latter was, and is, a major source of women’s employment and as Table 4.2 reveals, part-time work was and remains the most popular (or available) option for mothers of younger children (under 11 years). The removal of benefit from anyone who could not work unsociable hours or make immediate arrangements for the alternative care of their dependent relatives (Guardian, 28 October 1986) further disadvantaged women seeking to remain in or enter the workforce.

Table 4.2 Economic activity status of mothersa (by age of youngest child, UK 1994) Marriedb mothers

Lone mothers

All mothersa

0–4 years Working full time

9

18

16

Working part-time

14

33

29

8

5

6

69

44

49

Working full time

16

21

20

Working part-time

28

49

44

Unemployed

10

5

6

Inactive

46

25

30

Working full time

32

34

34

Working part-time

29

42

40

9

3

4

30

20

22

Unemployedc Inactive 5–10 years

c

11–15 years

c

Unemployed Inactive

Source: Employment Department, cited in CSO (1995), Social Focus on Women, HMSO. Notes a Aged 16 to 59. b Includes those cohabiting. c Based on the ILO definition.

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By the late 1980s the economic situation in Britain had stabilised and unemployment was not the major problem it had been early in the decade. The then Conservative Government (1987 to 1992) recognised the demands of industry and commerce for staff, and, following the lead of Margaret Thatcher, urged greater use of married women. This attitude reflected the aforementioned changing demography of Britain with the number of 16–24 year olds entering the labour force being projected to fall from 6.2 million in 1987 to 5 million in 1991 (Guardian, 19 January 1989) and the expected response of employers to this change. However the predictions that the business community would have to appeal to married women to replace the missing youth did not prove true across the whole of British business and only a minority of companies offered childcare and ‘returner’ schemes. In fact a 1990 survey of working women found that less than two hundred of the 1.1 million women surveyed had a child in an employer-provided facility (Independent, 9 April 1990), despite Government policy to encourage employers to take responsibility for childcare voiced by Angela Rumbold (Dept of Education and Science): ‘employers might start thinking quite seriously about subsidising childcare’ (News, Radio 4, 17 January 1989) and that ‘employers…could develop more flexible hours of work and more flexible work for mothers’ (Hansard, 18 January 1989). This was endorsed by Conservative Central Office the following year who advocated luring women back to work with ‘enticing packages to enable them to combine their work with their families’ (Whetstone, undated: 3). Thus, the market was to create both the demand and the supply of childcare places for working mothers. Such a policy position fits well with economic and social rhetoric about individual responsibilities and privatised families. Fincher (1996) reports that another conservative administration, Reagan’s US governments, held similar philosophies which, in conjunction with dissension amongst those already providing a range of voluntary and non-commercial childcare, resulted in a shift towards the development of commercial, profit-making facilities which parents might choose to utilise if they wished—the rhetoric of individual family choice of service. There are arguments on both the left and the right of the political spectrum regarding government intervention in childcare. The Left has argued that much state-provided care is inaccessible, inappropriate, too culturally specific, too expensive and so on, and that what is required is flexibility and choice to ensure that different groups of parents and children can access services which meet their needs, and that government regulation and standardisation can prevent this. The attractiveness of the flexibility argument is not restricted to left-of-centre views and, as already shown, is part of the mainstream of European Community guidelines on childcare. More right-wing proponents of choice and flexibility see it as a way to reduce the regulation and funding role of government, thus removing commitment and public funds from childcare services. In Australia although publicly funded childcare is not categorically an aspect of employment policy, it has gained some recognition as an issue of employment equality, partly due to the fact that it seemed to some activists to be the only way in which to gain bureaucratic recognition of the issue. This has resulted in a situation where women, as workers first, not mothers are prioritised. In turn this policy has been critiqued for ignoring the needs of children. In addition, the employment discourse allowed the Australian government to move away from public childcare towards employer-provided facilities and a work-related service.

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It would seem, therefore, that in many states discourses around childcare have prioritised economic and labour market concerns and, as such, have been neither egalitarian nor effective in serving the whole community of women who may wish to work and, as importantly, ignored the needs of children. Many commercial childcare options are too expensive for the majority of working parents and can act as a positive discouragement for poorer families to get into paid employment. It was just such a problem that Britain’s (1997) Labour Government aimed to resolve with the announcement of Britain’s first National Childcare Strategy in their initial budget (July 1997). The Chancellor of the Exchequer (Gordon Brown) declared that single parents in work and claiming a particular state benefit (Family Credit paid to low-waged families) could offset extra childcare costs before losing benefit virtually doubling the threshold of the ‘childcare disregard’. Although this is only one aspect of the National Childcare Strategy (which includes new money for out-of-school care and for other forms of care), and one devised by a Labour administration, it too is firmly located within the ethos of childcare as economic incentive as it is designed ‘to encourage lone parents to find jobs’ (Guardian, 16 August 1997). Evident from the above is that different states employ different philosophies in the shaping of their childcare policies which also indicate state attitudes towards working women, families and gender roles. Lewis (1992) and Gustafsson (1994) have both outlined how the underlying typology of state welfare affects and effects the provision of childcare in different states. Utilising the concept of male breadwinner states (a system designed and utilised to reinforce male authority and economic dominance within the family and workplace and in which social policy is designed to support male worker and female carer) Lewis illustrates how a strong male breadwinner state privatises childcare whereas a weaker model, such as in Sweden also recognises women as workers. The ‘weak’ breadwinner status of social welfare in Sweden then is a model which treats women as well as men as citizen workers but also acknowledges women’s responsibilities as mothers through parental leave schemes and legal rights to work part time. By contrast, strong male breadwinner states, such as Britain and the Netherlands (which have only recently seen some modification of this model) seek not to encourage women out of the gender role of primary carer. Therefore, when women enter the labour market no special provision is to be made by the state for their responsibilities as mothers.

Available for work: childcare and parental employment Throughout this book an assumption has been made that parental, and in particular mothers’, employment opportunities are enhanced by the availability of childcare facilities, especially publicly funded services. This is a common sense assumption which may appear too self-evident to challenge but it is necessary to examine the degree of relatedness between these two factors: publicly funded childcare availability and the employment of mothers of young children. Attempts to gauge parental employment figures across Europe face many of the same difficulties as trying to collate childcare figures. Some countries only report mothers in permanent employment whereas others, such as Spain, Portugal and the Netherlands report temporary employment of mothers

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(between 15 and 20 per cent from 1985 to 1989) which affects the overall figures. Further, employment and unemployment vary across regions within countries, as do the classifications of these terms. However, Table 4.3 details the employment patterns of mothers compared to childless women of 20–39 years (the years in which most women have children under 10 years) (for states which were members of the EC in 1988). Calculating the correlation between the employment of mothers with children under school age faces the same difficulties as the European Community-wide comparison of provision patterns of children aged from 3 years to school age, given the aforementioned differences in school starting

Table 4.3 Employment patterns, mothers in the EC, 1988, 1990, 1993 Women with child/ren

Childless women aged 20– 39

Under 10 years (1988) % Emp.

5–9 3–10 3–10 0–4 0–3 0–3 1988 years years years years years years 1988 1990 1993 1988 1990 1993 % % % % % % % Unemp. Emp. Emp. Emp. Emp. Emp. Emp.

% Emp.

Germany

38

5

39

—

58

34

—

40

76

France

56

10

56

61

64

56

52

52

75

Italy

42

8

42

44

43

42

42

42

55

Netherlands

32

8

33

39

48

29

35

45

68

Belgium

54

12

54

60

62

54

56

62

68

Luxembourg

38

2

38

—

—

38

—

—

69

UK

46

8

53

60

59

37

38

44

83

Ireland

23

8

20

25

33

25

31

38

67

Denmark

79

8

80

75

78

76

72

70

79

Greece

41

6

41

40

45

41

40

46

52

Portugal

62

6

62

65

71

62

62

69

69

Spain

28

10

28

33

35

28

30

33

44

Sources: ECN (1990), Childcare in the European Community, 1985–1990, a ‘Women of Europe Supplement’, No. 31, CEC; ECN (1996), A Review of Services for Young Children in the European Union, 1990–1995, CEC.

ages. A further complication arises from the format of the data available as the employment of mothers is categorised in two groups for 1988; under 5 years (A) and 5–9

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years (B), and two different groups thereafter; under 4 years (A) and 3–10 years (B). A ‘best fit’ correlation measures the interrelatedness of category A and C (the employment of mothers of children in category A). This provides an indication of the relationship between mothers’ work patterns and children’s ages. This correlation comes out at r=0.811 (1988) and r=0.79 (1993), which shows that there is a strong positive relationship between the availability of publicly funded childcare and a mother’s likelihood of being economically active. However, an examination of Table 4.3 indicates that certain countries employ as many mothers of under-fives as of over-fives, for example France and Italy with Denmark, Spain, Belgium and Portugal coming very close to doing so. Comparing this observation with the fact that these countries are the six with the best6 (though highly varied) records on provision for the under-threes supports the statistical argument that there is a connection between the employment opportunities of mothers and publicly funded childcare. As can be seen from the data the employment rate of mothers is consistently the highest in Denmark which I consider to be connected to the very high level of state childcare provided. Interestingly, the only state in which the general employment trend of mothers fell between 1985 and 1993 was also Denmark (ECN, 1996). The second highest rate of employment of mothers of children under 10 years was in Portugal where in 1988 there was only 6 per cent provision for under-threes in public childcare and 32 per cent for the 3–5 years age group, though by 1993 under-three provision had increased to 12 per cent. In addition, Portuguese mothers have enjoyed an advantageous tax system allowing claims for tax relief on childcare costs and although there are no figures available for the numbers of children cared for in this way it has to be considered that this form of state subsidy probably assists mothers who wish to work. It would be naive to assume that such a statistical correlation as observed above proves that state childcare alone enables mothers to work: some states provide parenting and family leave which ameliorates demand, especially as seen in Denmark for very small children. Likewise, an examination of the employment patterns of mothers in Sweden, which is frequently referred to as a ‘woman friendly’ state, illustrates that despite high levels of working mothers a significant number of pre-school children are looked after by their ‘stay at home mums’, often through parental leave schemes—40 per cent in 1987 (Windebank, 1996:152). Therefore, state policies which provide flexibility and choice and which recognise the rights of women as workers and citizens can actually decrease the number of mothers in the labour market at any one time. Another factor which shapes mothers’ employment patterns is the very structural setting. Different states have differing employment cultures and patterns of women’s economic activity; across the EU as a whole in 1995

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Figure 4.3 Parental employment, EC, 1988; parents of children under 10 years Source: ECN (1990), Childcare in the European Community, 1985–1990, CEC.

Table 4.4 Parental employment, EC, parents of children under 10 years, 1988 (percentage) Mothers employed

Fathers employed

Childless women employed

Germany

38

94

75

France

56

93

75

Italy

42

95

55

Netherlands

32

91

68

Belgium

54

92

68

Luxembourg

38

98

69

UK

46

88

83

Ireland

23

79

67

Denmark

79

95

79

Greece

41

95

52

Portugal

62

95

69

Spain

28

89

44

EC

44

92

71

Source: ECN(1990), Childcare in the European Community, 1985–1990, CEC.

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one-fifth of all employed mothers held part-time jobs, though in the Netherlands and the UK the proportion was at least two-thirds and in Portugal, Italy, Greece and Spain the percentage of employed mothers who held part-time posts was 15 per cent or less (ECN, 1996). Figures from 1988 reveal that societies which tend to have a high rate of employment for childless women, such as France (75 per cent), Belgium (68 per cent) and Portugal (69 per cent), have a high rate of employment of mothers also. However, even this pattern is not without exception as Germany (West) with 76 per cent employment of childless women and Britain, which at 83 per cent was the highest employer of women, only employed 38 and 46 per cent of mothers respectively, despite also having two of the highest rates of part-time employment. The employment rate of mothers does not necessarily correspond to that of childless women which is shown by a statistical correlation which compares the employment rates of mothers of children under five to the employment of nonmothers, a correlation coefficient, for 1988 of only 0.376 which, although positive, is rather weak. This surely indicates that it is not simply a culture of employing women which determines a women’s continued economic activity after becoming a mother but the existence of other factors such as childcare facilities and parental leave policies. This becomes clearer when the employment rate for mothers is broken down by the age of the child; Figure 4.4 indicates that there was a significant difference in the employment rates of mothers with a child under three and those with older children. These figures differ from those relating to 1988 when in France, Belgium and Portugal, which all had policies to assist mothers to work, there was no

Figure 4.4 Difference between employment for women. Youngest child aged 0–3 and 3–10, 1993 Source: ECN (1996), Review of Services for Young Children in the European Union 1990–1995, CEC, fig. 2.

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difference in the employment rates of mothers with younger or older children. However, in Germany (West) and Britain in 1988 fewer women with children under five years were employed than mothers of the under-tens whose children attend school for part of each day. However, even in Germany and the UK this differential decreased between 1991 and 1993 as a result of rapid growth in employment rates among women with very young children (ECN, 1996). These observations and arguments are supported by the acceptance by the European Commission that the unavailability of childcare is a barrier to women’s full participation in the labour market (CEC, 1991:11) and the EC’s advocacy of a greater range of benefits to be available to working parents, both men and women. The integration of women into the labour market, developed by a Community Initiative entitled NOW, includes support for the provision of childcare in industrial zones. Such action recognises the connection outlined above between the employment patterns of childless women and mothers in states which provide childcare and those which do not. The former maintain similar levels of female employment irrespective of motherhood status while in the latter motherhood heralds a whole new set of hurdles for women in the job market, unless, of course, they can afford private provision. Lack of childcare not only influences how many women work but which women work: Women in the professional, employer and manager classes are more likely to be economically active than women from other groups. Additionally, for all socio-economic groups women are most likely to be in full-time work if they have no dependent children. Two thirds of women in the professional, employer and manager class who have a very young child are economically active. (Social Trends, 1993:55) Whereas only 51 per cent of mothers in the unskilled manual class were economically active in Britain, and the vast majority of them worked part-time in 1991 (Social Trends, 1993). Thus, it is clear, that in the policy community of the EC at least, there is a recognition of the connection between the availability of childcare and a mother of young children’s access to work on a basis equal to men and nonmothers. It would also appear that it has been accepted by the European Community that childcare has a degree of validity in the discourses of economics, employment and equality between women and men, mothers and nonmothers and that those charged with investigating equality of the sexes within the EC have taken a thorough look at childcare. The state, the family and childcare I have already alluded to the privatisation of the family and to the discourses of choice and flexibility articulated by supporters of both left and right of centre views. However, these are not the only discourses surrounding debates on the role of families and the position of women as mothers and as workers. As such it is informative to examine in greater detail the policy positions and discourses of Britain and other comparable states in relation to these issues. I have argued that the position of Britain (up to 1997) was one

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which viewed childcare arrangements as a private family matter and it was certainly the view of the Conservative Government that it is not the place, in a democracy, for government to stipulate to either private companies or local authorities to provide childcare services. However, this Government did influence childcare provision via a system of childcare vouchers which permitted parents to choose to purchase either private, voluntary or local government services showing the Conservative Government’s commitment ‘to a market approach to services’ (ECN, 1996:126). Once again this was presented as a matter of family choice, child development and as a rejection of state, especially what was viewed as socialist (local) state, provision. All of this was clearly articulated in a radio interview in which Thatcher declared that the Cabinet did not want to raise a ‘nation of crèche children’ (Women’s Hour, BBC, 17 May 1990) and thereby rejected any notion of a national childcare policy. Despite this combination of antipathy and reticence however, there was legislation dictating to employers regarding workplace nurseries resulting in the introduction of a tax on workplace childcare in 1987. This restricted the use of such facilities by making them economically difficult for parents to use and ‘making it virtually impossible for any more to open’ (Straw, 1989, Hansard). A pressure campaign (Workplace Nurseries Campaign) to remove the disincentives facing company crèches operated throughout 1988 and 1989, resulting in the removal of employer-provided childcare from the ‘perk’ category under personal income tax.7 However, it has been estimated that this action affected no more than 3,000 women and further efforts to include other forms of employer-assisted childcare in the exemptions list were voted down (Coote, Harman and Hewitt, 1990:39). Such fiscal restrictions on childcare were not justified in terms of national economic strategies and revenue base by the Chancellor of the Exchequer (John Major) but by reference to privatised family choice. We have always made it clear that it is not for the Government to encourage or discourage women with children to go out to work. That is rightly a decision for them to take, and one in which the Government would be wise not to interfere. (Major, 20 March 1990, Hansard) This ‘libertarian’ attitude towards working women masked the dissension which existed in the ranks of Conservative MPs in the early 1990s. On the one hand women’s economic autonomy was strengthened by the introduction of independent taxation for married women (April 1990), on the other the Child Support legislation8 forcing women to declare the name of the father of their child so as to permit the state to extract maintenance payments is an example of state-enforced economic dependence upon an expartner. Perhaps the inability to produce cohesive and consistent policy on women is explicable by the conflict of opinion existing in the Conservative Party at this time. One example serves to illustrate both sides: no doubt encouraged by various schemes to promote women ‘high flyers’9 in the Conservative Party, one MP Teresa Gorman proposed a ‘Tax Relief for Household Employees’ Bill to allow working women tax relief on the costs of domestic services such as home helps and nannies ‘in cases where such employment is essential to the earner’s availability for work’ (Gorman, 6 March

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1990, Hansard). This attempt precipitated an immediate and vitriolic response from one of the men from her own party: The Bill is an affront to mothers who see it as their duty to stay at home with their children… If the Government are, as they should be, dedicated to Christian virtues or even Victorian values, they should encourage the mothers of young children to be at home with them by allowing them tax benefits for doing so rather than encouraging those who see fit to evade their responsibilities… (Stanbrook, 6 March 1990, Hansard) Similar examples can be drawn from North America (see England, 1996) which show that the agendas in society and in the polity remain without a consensus on the question of mothers working and whether they should be supported in doing so from the public purse. However, there is one group of mothers whom contemporary politicians in the US and in Britain will support to work, mothers who in fact are expected and required to work. These are, of course, lone and poor mothers. Rhetoric about family choice and family responsibility is totally abandoned when poor, and often single, mothers are the policy target. As already stated family choice is an ideal which, to be achievable, requires the existence of a variety of modes of childcare and other benefit and work structures, as is evident in Sweden. In Britain changes in fiscal policy as well as changes in social policy were employed to achieve New Labour’s National Childcare Strategy. New Labour rhetoric has promoted the image of the citizen worker whilst recognising the conflicting demands parents can face. Thus policies have focused upon the creation of parenting leave rights for fathers and childcare tax disregards for all working parents (Brown, Budget, March 1998). Although this was a clear move away from a strong male breadwinner model towards more gender equity in government policy it is still far from collectivised state childcare, in fact it remains a private arrangement (parents find their own childcare, make their own ‘choices’ from what services are available) but with some fiscal assistance from the state. In the US up to 15 per cent of families choose to opt out of for-profit childcare and utilise the services of organised group care (family day-care, childminding, community groups, etc). This form of organisation of care doubled between 1980 and 1990 and, in conjunction with parental care, became the largest source of childcare (Sainsbury, 1996:96). However, at the same time, more than half the children in centre-based care in the 1980s were in for-profit centres (Sainsbury, 1996). This at first looks like the implementation of family choice in childcare arrangements; however, when financial costs are taken into consideration questions arise as to the freedom of this choice. First, as childcare costs can be offset somewhat by the system of tax credits it has meant that families which are economically better-off have utilised this fiscal benefit more than poorer families and, as Sainsbury (1996) has noted, the number of families claiming tax credits falls far sort of the number of families paying for childcare. In addition, the percentage of family income which childcare devours ranges from 10 per cent for the average family, but can be up to 50 per cent for the lowest earners. Given that a ‘substantial number of families did not receive any help in bearing their costs of day care,

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and it appears to have been poor families whose costs were a larger portion of their income’ (Sainsbury, 1996:97) it can be argued that the majority use of community, and especially, parental care indicates not so much a parental choice but a financial necessity. Choice seems to be most enjoyed in Sweden where, although there is a comprehensive system of collective childcare, many parents (predominantly mothers) choose to remain at home during the first years of their child’s life. Other practices such as parental leave (most of it available at 90 per cent replacement wages), shared parenting leave to care for sick children and a dense network of nurseries and municipally registered childminders (with usage subsidised by the state), have resulted in a greater proportion of Swedish children being cared for by parents (over 80 per cent in 1989) than would be expected in a state where the public sector has been heavily involved in the provision and resourcing of childcare (Sainsbury, 1996). Ironically, the breadth of public provision in Sweden (supporting the care of three-quarters of preschool children by the end of the 1980s) has not caused the breakdown in the traditional family that is frequently predicted but rather the opposite. By 1991 more Swedish infants were being cared for by their own mothers than were US infants (95 and 55 per cent respectively) (Sainsbury,1996:100). Swedish policies may appear to be more generous and egalitarian than most but it would be a mistake to assume that they are based on liberal notions of social equality alone. Swedish family policy is concerned with pronatalist issues, encouraging women both to stay in waged work and to reproduce. Although Swedish women earn more than women in Europe their domestic role has not diminished despite state attempts to encourage men to involve themselves more with childcare. One interpretation of Swedish policy is that, in attempting to foster equality by increasing women’s rights in the world of paid work, men have experienced an increase in their rights in the parenting arena without a corresponding improvement in the position of women (Leira, 1992, 1993). This institutionalising of women’s double shift has not been restricted to Sweden: Borchorst (1990) argues that across Scandinavia although women have moved into the public world of paid work the way work is structured remains masculinised. This raises the query, has any state ever managed to address the real question, the question of childcare as a women’s issue? Feminism and childcare According to Fincher (1996) no state has managed to develop a childcare policy which addresses the needs of women as mothers and workers. She outlines how in the US women are viewed by policy-makers as producers of children without any addressing of the issue of how the care of these children should be achieved in conjunction with the other pressures facing women, such as work, training or education. Even Sweden’s policies to aid men in sharing the caring role are defeated by other social structures which ignore the amount of work actually involved in childcaring which still falls on women, making this work invisible and under-enumerated. This is despite the intervention and involvement of feminists in the policy-making arena. It may be that feminists have found that their aims have been adjusted as Fincher (1996) claims has occurred in Sweden, Australia and Canada and which I believe occurred in Britain in the 1990s. The policy development around the issue of family, childcare and working women of the Labour Government (1997–) really began life in a document published by the left-of-

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centre policy think tank the Institute for Public Policy Research. This document, entitled The Family Way, published in 1990, advocated that the first priority of a Labour Government should be to provide a nursery or childcare place for 90 per cent of four year olds (and 50 per cent of three year olds) (Coote, Harman and Hewitt, 1990:40). This document basically furnishes Labour policy on the family. Surprisingly, given the feminist credentials of the authors, the paper suppresses women’s rights by equating them with the rights of the child, not considering that the two often come into conflict. The prioritisation of the reasons for increasing childcare provision illustrates the secondary place of women. First, childcare is needed to improve the education of the pre-fives. Second, it is needed due to changes in work patterns of adults as this can lead to children being placed in inadequate facilities and thirdly, ‘the promotion of equal opportunities for women’ (Coote, Harman and Hewitt, 1990:39). This marginalisation of a women’s right to equality of access to the workplace is not consistent throughout the document. In the section on the relationship between family and work the authors state that there is a need for a new policy framework to enable all adults, male as well as female, to meet the needs of both work and family. The policy suggestions on parental leave and flexible work include both sexes. At first it appears that the authors are challenging gender roles, ‘women’s earning power needs to be enhanced: men’s caring abilities need to be recognised’ (Coote, Harman and Hewitt, 1990:48), yet this would not necessarily affect men’s contribution to caring and may actually do the opposite of that intended; making part-time work more attractive by the extension of employment protection rights does not guarantee that couples will choose for both to work part-time rather than one full-time. It was recognised that part-time work is low status and low paid but the authors sought to change that through a level playing field. However, any level playing field will always disadvantage the part-time worker as wages will still be lower and experience-based promotion just as difficult to achieve. The place of women’s rights in The Family Way reflects the Labour Party’s attempts to outflank the Conservatives on family policy in the early 1990s. The fact that women’s rights to childcare and equal opportunities should be contained within a document on family policy is an example of issue suppression through the redefining of the issue away from the rights of women towards child welfare. Women, according to The Family Way, and by association, the Labour Party, have the right to work, but only secondary to the rights of children. As Egerton states: The authors tell us that ‘families need strong self reliant women’ as if female autonomy is only valuable in so far as it serves children and husbands. (Egerton, 1991:5) Although the Labour Party has instigated Britain’s first National Childcare Strategy (in 1997) there has been no overt recognition of childcare as a parental, let alone, women’s right per se. Much of the rhetoric has been couched in terms of economic efficiency and returning people to work, though the issue appears to have a different presentation to different audiences10 (though from 1998 fiscal policy changes as noted above were providing tax disregards for working parents). Perhaps this is a pragmatic dilution of actual beliefs in order to have a policy accepted by an anti-feminist public agenda;

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however, even so it could be argued that any childcare gained on these terms remains vulnerable and more may be lost that won by such a tactic. The suppression of specifically feminist voices in the creation of childcare policies does more than marginalise the validity of women’s demands on the polity: it also diminishes the nature of that childcare. Original feminist childcare demands were for facilities which were locally controlled, flexible and provided choice, no matter how good state nursery education is it does not meet these criteria. Further, as women witness their needs being ignored once more, or their arguments being sidelined in favour of the promotion of discourses promoting economic and fiscal benefits, another layer of structural suppression is created.

Reflections It is clear that on a global scale, or at least across westernised, industrially developed states, childcare policies vary. What does not seem to vary however is the nature of discourses around childcare, or rather which discourses are silenced and marginalised. The discourse which has been suppressed on political agendas is most definitely that of the feminist voice, the demand for childcare as an equality issue. In several states childcare has been focused as a fiscal benefit, for example the tax deductions available to parents in Quebec (Rose, 1990), for those who earn the least this fiscal welfare is not applicable. In others subsidised care has been available but as Fincher (1996) points out in both Sweden and the Netherlands the shape of these policies militates against lowearning families as the benefits are only available for formalised childcare. This finding is also gendered as women still earn less than men and lower earners are more likely to utilise informal, family and community based childcare arrangements (Windebank, 1996). Likewise, across states it has been found that employers are reluctant to provide access to childcare facilities for low earning workers (Personnel Officer, Company 1), or to provide any childcare whatsoever in times without a labour shortage (Gustafsson, 1994), another way in which the majority of working women find their choices diminished. Having now considered the political inheritance of working women across a variety of states it is time to introduce the actual case study areas, which are two comparable local government units in Scotland.

Childcare situation in Scotland Childcare is a highly complex political issues which, as shown, is surrounded by many different discourses, some given greater priority than others in different geographical and political locations. One constant seems to be the marginalisation of discourses which support childcare as a feminist issue and this is especially evident in the case study polities, both of which are former regional authorities in Scotland. During the period of this study (policy development from the mid-1970s to early 1990s) Scottish local government was divided into two tiers, with responsibility for education and social services lying with the eight Regions (and two single-tier Island authorities). These eight

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regions covered the whole of mainland Scotland serving agricultural communities, vast unoccupied areas of the highlands and the urban, industrial central belt. Central Government in Scotland was, at this time, facilitated by the Scottish Office, basically a Westminster department based in Edinburgh, which had the responsibility for the collection and collation of childcare figures. Responsibility for nursery education, the social care of children and the registration of playgroups and childminders was the statutory duty of the regions as a branch of local government. The figures discussed below relate to provision from 1981 to 1990 as these dates cover the majority period of policy development and illustrate the existing structural setting in which childcare discourses were situated in Scotland during the periods of agenda setting, policy development, decision-making and implementation. As mentioned, provision in Scotland has differed from that in England and in 1988; although Scotland had a higher ratio of nursery education provision than England, Scotland had far fewer services for the children of working parents. Likewise, Scotland in 1988 had more local authority day nursery places providing for 1.6 per cent of pre-five children compared to under 1 per cent in England (SCAFA, 1990). However, these local authority places tended to be limited to children in certain priority categories and as such were not often available for the children of working parents. Generally, working parents have used private nurseries and childminders and although such provision definitely increased, provision remained limited (SED, 1992, Edn/A2/1992/11). In fact, private and voluntary nursery provision in Scotland in 1988 only served 0.4 per cent of the pre-five population compared to 0.7 per cent in Wales and 1.2 per cent in England (SCAFA, 1990). Similarly childminding places were fewer in Scotland despite the fact that between 1981 and 1987 places available with childminders in Scotland rose from 3,570 to 10,150 (SED, 1988, 6/A2/1988), an increase of over 180 per cent and a coverage of almost 40 places per 1,000 pre-school children. By 1990 childminding provided 63,397 places, adding 14,519 places to the figure for 1981 (SED, 1992, Edn/A2/l992/11). One service which cannot be considered daycare but which is used extensively is preschool playgroups. More children attend playgroups than any other service with the number of places consistently above 43,000 throughout the 1980s and the number of groups increasing from 1,752 to 1,959 in 1987 though falling to 1,941 by 1990 (SED, 1992, Edn/A2/1 992/11). Playgroups provide a stimulating play environment for children rather than formal education often with parents expected to attend and participate in the running of the playgroup. As such playgroups, like nursery education have restricted hours, and are not appropriate services for working parents. Nonetheless, they are worth investigating as they are the most heavily used service and were often relied upon by local authorities. In addition, the Scottish Office collects and collates statistics on playgroups as on nursery education and day nurseries (the SED references) indicating that this part voluntary, part private and part public service is viewed officially as a service. Given that day nurseries only provided an additional 1,460 places over the decade of the 1980s the declining reliance by regional authorities on playgroups for childcare cannot be explained by increases in day nurseries. Rather, playgroups’ share decreased due to the increased number of places with childminders from 1981 to 1990; from 4,162 to 14,026. This was facilitated by the fact that from 1982 to 1990 the number of registered child-minders trebled (from 2,016 to 6,213) (SED, 1992, Edn/A2/1992/11).

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Despite this level of playgroup coverage this provision, although claimed by both the Scottish Office and regional councils as a pre-five service, was limited. As has already been noted parents often are required to attend with their children. In addition, most children were allocated part-time places so even where a playgroup took children on their own mothers were still restricted in their opportunities to take up employment. The case study regions throughout the 1980s In what follows the pre-five policies adopted by two regional authorities are discussed; as the focus of interest is in the policies and not the local authority I shall refer to them throughout as Eastern and Western Regions. Prior to such a discussion it is necessary to detail the trends in provision of childcare to compare against policy innovations. Table 4.5 provides details for the years 1981 to 1990 for Western. As can be seen the number of places in day nursery facilities increased by approximately 750 over this period. In addition, although the number of playgroups increased until 1987 they actually served fewer children. The greatest difference, however, is in the childminding category, with over a threefold increase in the number of registered childminders between 1981 and 1987 and in the number of children cared for. As will become apparent later, increased registration of childminders was a part of Western Region’s Pre-Five policy. An equivalent breakdown of Eastern Region is detailed in Table 4.6. The pattern of development of childcare services in Eastern, prior to the development of the Partnership policy which is discussed in Chapter 5, clearly

Table 4.5 Day-care of pre-fives, Western Region, by year 1981 No. day nurseries No. of places in day nurseries No. of playgroups No. of places in playgroups No. of registered childminders No. of places with registered childminders Total no. children served Total children served as % of pre-five pop.

1983

1985

1987

1990

50

49

50

60

66

1,970

1,920

2,024

2,260

2,720

680

680

728

724

684

19,820

18,090

17,740

16,820

16,611

516

791

1,400

1,650

1,558

1,100

1,920

3,050

3,810

3,930

22,900

21,930

22,820

22,900

23,261

14.0

14.3

14.7

15.0

15.4

Source: Derived from SED (1982,1984, 1986, 1988, 1992), Provision for Pre-School Children (No6/A2/1982, No8/A2/1984, No6/A2/1986, No6/A2/1988, Edn/A2/l992/11).

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Table 4.6 Day-care of pre-fives, Eastern Region, by year 1981 No. day nurseries

1983

1985

1987

1990

2

5

5

4

4

No. of places in day nurseries

70

300

280

280

255

No. of playgroups

89

92

98

106

105

2,240

2,340

2,180

2,320

2,443

No. of registered childminders

122

206

298

354

634

No. of places with registered childminders

240

400

590

750

1,385

2,550

3,040

3,040

3,350

4,083

11.8

13.6

13.4

15.1

18.1

No. of places in playgroups

Total no. children served Total children served as % of pre-five pop.

Source: Derived from SED(1982,1984, 1986, 1988, 1992), Provision for Pre-School Children (No6/A2/1982, No8/A2/1984, No6/A2/1986, No6/A2/1988, Edn/A2/l992/11).

shows a demand for provision which allows parents to work. This was not available through council run day nurseries, by playgroups nor even Eastern’s excellent nursery education policy (which involved almost 50 per cent of three and four year olds in 1987) (SED, 1988, 6/A2/1988, table 4) but was facilitated through an increase in the number of childminders and places available with them. Table 4.6 clearly shows that this category experienced an almost sixfold increase in the 1980s. Tables 4.5 and 4.6 both provide the background scenario for the policies which are to be discussed in the following chapters. They clearly indicate that in both regions childcare facilities which would enable mothers to work were woefully inadequate at the beginning of the decade, requiring many women to utilise childminders. This is the provision backdrop to the policies developed in both the case study regions to which I now turn.

5 Positive partnerships and sexist societies This chapter will examine the formation of one of the childcare policies operated by Eastern regional council, a Partnership Project with a local district council and local employers (hereafter Partnership). In doing so it is first necessary to explain the structural setting in which the policy was devised. This is followed by a history of the development of the policy before turning to the nondecision-making model outlined in Chapter 1 to highlight the instances of nondecision-making which occurred to the disadvantage of working mothers. Much of the source material for this section was collected by a series of interviews with council officers, with local politicians, employers and with members of the community. As confidentiality was promised the interviewees remain unnamed, but their words are used, and they are referred to by their post. Another research method was the analysis of council documents and minutes and these are referred to throughout by their correct notation, I have simply removed the actual name of the region. Before we can understand the instances of nondecision-making which occurred in Eastern in the late 1980s we need a clearer idea of the context in which the Partnership policy was developed and a history of that development. In the first part of this chapter I explore the most relevant features of that history, examining and detailing the various stages of policy-making and related developments. In the second section I focus specifically on the nondecision-making model outlined in Chapter 1 to illustrate exactly where and how in the policy process nondecision-making occurred by addressing questions of how the issue of childcare was defined, what demands were made, whether the issue on the formal political agenda differed from that on the public agenda and what barriers faced the Partnership policy.

Structural setting of Eastern region In this case I use the phrase structural setting in more than one way. One such use is akin to Dahlerup’s (1984) usage outlined in Chapter 1, which relates to the social and political culture in which an issue is based, another relates to the constructs of the decisionmaking bodies. However, my initial usage in this section is the structure of existing childcare provision prior to the creation of the policy under investigation here. Childcare provision prior to the Partnership policy The particular childcare policy of Eastern under discussion, the Partnership policy, was basically a partnership system between the region, one of the constituent district councils, (DC2) and local industry and which was developed in addition to the usual Social Work and Education services. Provision by the latter departments in Eastern, in 1990,

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encompassed a wide range of services from childminding and playgroups to nursery education and joint projects between Education and Social Work Departments. In the mid-1980s Eastern had just over 22,000 children under five and 13,500 under three years, of which 4,525 were pupils of the 92 nurseries (SCAFA, undated). In fact, of the total pre-school year Eastern claimed to provide at least a half-day service for 95 per cent. In addition the 103 playgroups had one registered place for every four children aged three and four years. Childminding covered over 1,300 places but despite a threefold increase in this provision that was still only one place per 17 children under five. A joint project between Education and Social Work provided four nurseries with a total of 257 fulltime equivalent places1 and private day nurseries served a further 70 plus children (though not the very young). Experimental projects included a family unit which offered an extended service, for example remaining open throughout school holidays, and a small rural facility offering two nursery sessions at small schools. The above may at first appear to be reasonably comprehensive and varied provision but, apart from childminding, there was very little available which would actually permit parents to take up full-time employment or training. This shortfall was recognised and encouraged the establishment of a day-care service attached to a local college to open up access to education to parents. Other departments such as Community Education also permitted voluntary groups, for example, Mothers and Toddlers, to meet on council premises. However, although this was a decent record in comparison to other areas of Scotland, Eastern continued to extend provision and in April 1990 they opened the first of a number of planned day-care centres specifically for the children of working or training parents, the first Partnership facility on an industrial estate on the outskirts of one of the major towns of the region. The reasoning behind the facility was explained to the onlooking media as ‘helping women to return to work’ (EOSC Chair), yet this was not simply a rhetoric of the labour market but one of equality of opportunity. The policy was the product of an equality initiative, namely the Equal Opportunities Sub-Committee (EOSC), which was itself the result of a hard-fought battle, for the political culture of Eastern was not one that expected to be challenged on issues of equality, especially equality of the sexes. Demographically Eastern was (and is) fairly homogeneous, with five major centres of population but no great conurbations. In the north-east it is predominately agricultural in nature, combined with fishing on the coast, in the south mining was a major and important employer until the 1980s. Modern industries such as petrochemicals, electronics and the service and finance sectors have established successful bases in the region, in particular on purpose-built industrial estates. Eastern, like other regions in Scotland’s industrial central belt, was Labour Party controlled since its creation as a region in 1974. Throughout the time the Labour Party in Eastern reflected the traditional attitudes of an ‘old’ socialist ‘community of miners’ (Convenor) though it became increasingly politicised regarding equality issues from the late 1970s and these issues found a useful advocate in the election of a new Convenor in 1982 and to a degree, this politicisation began to enter into policy-making discourses and decisions. The Convenor, impressed by the achievements of the Greater London Council, believed that removing the barriers of inequality should be done through practical policies, one result of which was the establishment of an EOSC in 1985.

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When asked to explain how the Council managed to establish an EOSC (albeit a SubCommittee of Policy and Resources) more than one respondent attributed it to a combination of the support of the Convenor and the abilities of a newly appointed member of the Chief Executive’s staff. Although beginning with neither a budget nor an overall strategy, the EOSC managed to overcome the hostility and contempt of some Opposition members and achieved a moderately high profile within the Council. This is partly explained by the involvement of the Convenor who lent authority to the SubCommittee which he initially chaired. The ability of the EOSC to overcome inherent local hostility within what has been described as a ‘community of ex-miners’ (Convenor) is worthy of further discussion as it illustrates tactics and beliefs which were to manifest themselves in the Partnership project. Conception of the Equal Opportunities Sub-Committee Prior to the establishment of the EOSC Eastern had not been involved in political and social issues which transcended departmental service boundaries, though it would be fair to state that this was the case for most local authorities (with some notable exceptions in England). In other words, Eastern was very much a traditional Labour authority, leading some influential politicians to believe that certain key issues did not receive a high profile as they did not neatly fit any one department’s responsibilities. The submergence of such issues as low pay, disability and women within mainstream policy provision prevented the public from consciously recognising the existence of discrimination in these areas. There was some initial opposition to the establishment of the EOSC centred on the usual ‘psychology of prejudice’ (Convenor). Opponents fell into two camps; those who caricatured equal opportunities as some extreme action for ‘undeserving’ (sic) groups, such as gay men and lesbians and those who felt that it was a waste of money as they perceived Eastern’s service level as superb. Both these reasons for opposition are classic examples of councillors wishing to maintain the status quo in resource allocation. The fact that there were not a lot of groups agitating for increased provision in conjunction with the majority belief within the council that it was unnecessary to encourage groups to organise their own facilities as the Council would provide them, indicates that, on the whole the prevailing ethos of the Labour Group was one of ‘welfarism’2 rather than of ‘radicalism’3 or community empowerment. It is clear that such a situation prevented the articulation of demands which may have existed within the community of Eastern, a clear act of nondecision-making. To counter this those few groups which were in existence and which felt that they were neglected by traditional services, such as Gingerbread (a national single parents organisation with local branches) were encouraged by the council leadership to network and band together. In the process such groups, which had already formulated their objective interests, were able to articulate their demands. This resulted in what the Convenor describes as an ‘explosion of interests’ but it did not encourage the creation of other organisations. In other words, once approached by the Council the groups were able to supply a number of demands which they had previously not felt able to articulate to the Council and thereby overcome one nondecision-making barrier. However, contacting and working with the few groups which were established still disenfranchised the vast

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majority of the population who were not members of such organisations. Therefore, there was a distinct lack of community objective interests being voiced. Given the lack of community pressure and the opposition of both officers and councillors in certain quarters, the tactics adopted by equality proponents were those of gradualism rather than to use the authority of senior councillors to bulldoze the policy through, as they felt that this would only engender more opposition, in particular from the officers and councillors who already felt their own departments to be under threat. The initial aim was to create a committee which could enable and facilitate change rather than one which would enforce its own way. In other words the committee was to be more than a simple service provider, it was to enable the raising of issues which previously did not receive attention, ‘to remove barriers’ (Convenor). Thus, the tactics adopted were those of gentle persuasion by demonstration of success on fairly apolitical issues. This took the format of a heavily skewed agenda on nonobjectionable (sic) issues, initially in favour of action for people with disabilities, to establish the principle of assisting specific disadvantaged groups. Under the Convenor’s direction the sub-committee’s aims were to create tangible benefits for the community and to generate ideas for other council departments to develop. Given the aforementioned political opposition to the concept of equal opportunities the primary aim of the EOSC was to engender respectability and legitimacy within the council and the community. Therefore, initial business deliberately did not focus on ‘hot issues’ (sic) which challenged societal norms regarding gender roles. Nonetheless, childcare immediately appeared on the EOSC’s agenda and at the first meeting it was agreed that ‘a paper be prepared on the issue of nursery and playgroup facilities in relation to employment’ (Eastern Minutes, PR372, February 1985). From the outset the issue of childcare was clearly defined in the rhetoric not of educational and welfare services, not in terms of the needs of the child but in the discourse of equality of access to work for all parents. However, it was felt that it was tactically advantageous to work gradually on the single issue of disability, for ‘establishing the principle was more important than doing anything’ (Chief Executive Department Officer). Included in this process of incrementalism was the decision not to request funds from the council at first but to work quietly on issues of disadvantage and discrimination. As previously noted, initially politicisation on equality issues within the council and the ruling Labour Group was limited. However, by adopting this incrementalist approach and by anticipating possible problems and objections, in conjunction with a small central policy department which allowed for ‘tight’ management, the EOSC established itself within the structure of the council. Within this framework the EOSC worked to engender a mood of acceptability around itself which allowed it to progress equality work in a number of areas; thus it seems that the EOSC was able to deflate potential opposition by its incrementalist tactics.

Childcare as an equal opportunities issue in Eastern Region From the outset Eastern’s policy objective seems to have been to provide a service for working parents. After the initial meeting of the EOSC in February 1985 the Chief Executive’s department brought forward a Discussion Paper and by the second meeting

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(in June) reports had been circulated on (a) facilities for single parents and (b) employeebased facilities with employer contributions. This meeting further decided to carry out a survey of employer-provided facilities which discovered that no local employer provided any form of assistance to employees with childcare responsibilities let alone any actual specific facility such as a workplace nursery (Eastern Minutes, PR466, October 1985). Thus, the EOSC resolved to further pursue the issue with major local employers and the council suggested that several companies on the same industrial estate might work together to arrange a co-operative style childcare facility, though as one Personnel Manager outlined, initially these first approaches were not met with a great deal of enthusiasm (Personnel Manager, Company 1). Given this lukewarm response a further report was viewed necessary and, in keeping with the incrementalist approach, it was agreed to explore the idea of a survey of need and to include local trade unions in the formulation of the policy (Eastern Minutes, PR466, October 1985). By the advent of a new year the above report had been completed, more important, however, was the receipt of a letter from a local district council’s Equal Opportunities Committee (DC2). This letter, partially prompted by networking via by the local Labour Party, proposed the creation of a region/district forum on childcare issues and joint action. However, little of note occurred until ten months later when several recommendations were made including the formation of a Charter for an integrated policy for the pre-fives and to explore the development of facilities with local employers. This is the first time that a policy was actually defined rather than possibilities merely being discussed. The policy was subsequently refined in January 1987 when it was stipulated that: the proposed Charter would concentrate on the needs of children and parents…not on the provision of one particular Department. (Eastern Minutes, PR133, January 1987) The fact that such a task was to be the responsibility of the Chief Executive in conjunction with Education and Social Work illustrates that co-operation between departments was deemed to be sufficient to fulfil the policy. This is an example of the incrementalist approach as the EOSC did not try to challenge the existing structures of the Council. Further, the practice of continually including the various departments in the policy formulation ensured that opposition could be subsumed into the policy as a whole and dealt with in the formulation stage thus protecting the policy from outright hostility. The incrementalist approach is also demonstrated by the fact that the EOSC did not seek to enhance its own powers or to flood the regional council with policies. In fact, the Sub-Committee met infrequently having decided not to meet at every cycle of council but less frequently at every three months. This was partly due to a shortage of resources and staff to serve the committee but was also due to the reluctance of the Sub-Committee to demand more financial support (see above). So, despite the protests of some members it was accepted that the lack of resources would mean fewer meetings rather than risk making enemies for the Sub-Committee by campaigning for increased spending (EOSC Chair). In addition, Convenor’s view that the EOSC did not have to produce tangible benefits to be successful, but rather could ‘spawn ideas for other departments to adopt’ (Convenor) influenced the aims of the committee.

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However, the policy of childcare provision continued to develop despite the lack of resources and irregularity of the meetings. Eventually, after negotiations with local employers and over two years after the subject was first raised, the EOSC recommended the establishment of a Working Group to ‘look into the options for establishing child-care facilities on a co-operative basis’ (Eastern Minutes, PR160, March 1987). It appears that delays were commonplace, for the next meeting rather than moving the policy forward merely discussed the suitability of proposed childcare premises and it was not until after a further three meetings had passed that, eventually the Sub-Committee received a draft report of the investigations of the Childcare Working Group. Delay became layered upon delay. One interpretation of this could be that the gradualism of the incrementalist approach favoured patience. However, due to waiting for reports on various implications, especially financial, of any such development it was another six months before the Charter for Children was debated.4 However, advocates of services for children and parents used this time to complete the evidence they were to use in their proposals for a pilot childcare scheme in the 1989–90 financial year. The council response The parent committee of the EOSC considered the proposals on childcare in November 1988 and agreed to fund the setting up costs of a childcare facility if a significant financial contribution could be guaranteed by their partner DC2. A further requirement was the direct involvement of the private sector (Eastern Minutes, PR454, November 1988). The first signs of dissent arose when the full council had their first chance to debate the matter with opposition coming from two political parties, the SNP and the Liberal Democrats; however, the fact that the Labour Party had a majority within the council ensured the passing of a policy developed mostly by Labour councillors. Implementation The background of the Partnership policy, having been developed by the EOSC, meant that the policy emerged from discourses around not simply economic and labour-market needs but issues of equality. The categorisation of the policy as one of equality was maintained in the recommendation that the charging policy be based upon the ability to pay (i.e. means-tested), thus issues of social class were recognised not just of gender inequalities. However, gender was not a moot issue but one at the forefront: throughout the formulation and implementation of this policy there was a recognition that a policy to assist working parents would have a greater affect on women than men as there was, as one council officer stated, a ‘pragmatic recognition that in most households it is the woman, the mother, that has the responsibility for childcare’. Thus, the utilisation of the phrase ‘working parents’ was not intended as an attempt to marginalise the position of women but rather, as an effort not to exclude the needs of male parents also. However, the decision to delegate the allocation of industry places to the employers involved diminished the ability of men to call upon the service as companies did not always recognise the parenting requirements of men. The sale of places to companies also diminished the equality principles in relation to women. Not only were few men offered the opportunity to utilise company-owned Partnership places, only certain women

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seemed to qualify too. As one Personnel Officer confirmed it was only in the case of senior staff potentially being lost that he considered offering childcare services, seemingly being prepared to lose lesser-skilled women rather than assist them with childcare. Thus, in actual implementation the policy became limited and unequal. However, other aspects of these relationships were very positive and a major aspect of the Partnership project was the fact that it was a contract amongst two councils, local businesses and business organisations, with the local Chamber of Commerce providing a location at no cost. The commitment to equality, as stated, extended beyond issues of gender, to include issues of social class. In addition it was agreed that parents who were retraining rather than working or working part-time should also be allowed to use the facility. However, this is a further example of efforts to open the service up to women in particular (for the retraining aspect was connected to a European Community project to retrain women). Further, the hours which the Partnership facility was available, from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m., further indicates that the policy seriously attempted to assist working parents, and given that even these wide hours were open to variation providing maximum flexibility the Partnership achieved its aim to be accessible and available to working mothers by addressing equality issues other than those which, on the surface, focus on gender inequality. In addition, plans proposed in 1991 included the possibility of providing a childminding service at home for sick children, again recognising the different parental roles which pertain in society, i.e. that it is usually the mother that takes time off work to nurse a child. In addition, it was considered that parents should have the choice of having their child in the centre or cared for by a childminder, who would be part of a linked service. Thus, it can be seen that Eastern’s policy attempted to provide maximum flexibility and choice, though in practice, through employer allocation of a set number of places this could be thwarted. It seems fair to conclude that the attitude and approach of Eastern’s EOSC was one of providing for childcare to facilitate equality of access to employment and training, regardless of childcare responsibilities, thereby assisting women who, in the main, retain the primary responsibility for childcare. The charging policy, a sliding scale based upon parental income, further assisted equality as women are often the lowest paid and perhaps unable to make use of costly facilities. This scheme was a sizeable commitment to the working parents in Eastern region, and in particular women either working, training or seeking either. This commitment to, and recognition of, the interactions and interconnections amongst equality issues ensured that the design of the Partnership policy was relevant to the community it was to serve. One of the reasons why this was so was the background, knowledge and political nature of those involved in the agenda setting and policy development.

The players As I have previously indicated an influential presence on the development of the Partnership policy was the involvement of DC2, one of three councils forming the second tier of local administration in the Eastern region. DC2 administered the south-westerly section of Eastern region. It was overwhelmingly Labour Party controlled since the early

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1970s5 and, as in Eastern Council, the political ethos has tended towards ‘welfarism’ rather than ‘radicalism’. Most active women within the local Labour Party graduated from trade union backgrounds and have, as described by one, ‘tended to prefer to be involved in mainstream politics’. By the mid-1980s developments in national politics indicated that the Labour Party was keen to act on issues of equality and this aided such issues in Scotland, for as those involved related, this helped to create an environment more conducive to the concept of equality legislation amongst councillors and Labour Party activists in DC2. As a result a Equal Opportunities initiative was established in 1986. Despite resistance from some officers and a degree of lack of enthusiasm remaining amongst many councillors this Equal Opportunities (EO) committee worked on issues of disability, staff policies, equality awareness, consulted a local college and trade unions and began to devise a draft policy. The EO committee achieved full council status in 1988 as a result of a manifesto commitment of the new Labour administration (formed after elections in May 1988), though as one councillor pointed out it did not receive a budget allocation for almost a full year. The aforementioned manifesto commitment included a pledge to maintain work on childcare provision. The issue of childcare, in conjunction with training and work opportunities for women, was a major area of activity for the Equal Opportunities Committee from its inception, building upon DC2’s involvement in the Partnership programme. This involvement was instigated by the aforementioned letter (dated October 1985) to Eastern which proposed that the two councils co-operate on establishing a Forum on Childcare (Eastern Minutes PR516, January 1986). An important point to note here is that the letter was sent on the insistence of the District Labour Party6 a group whose members included the Chairs of the relevant WI of both DC2 and Eastern. This letter formed the basis of the Partnership later established between Eastern region and DC2 from which the Partnership policy evolved. This seems to be a positive use of networking and the employment of connections outwith the actual constrained structures of local authority polities. A similar valuable collection of people was the membership of the Working Group convened to plan the Partnership policy. Partnership Working Group As I have outlined above, in March 1987 the EOSC of Eastern agreed to establish a Working Group on the childcare issue (Eastern Minutes, PR160, March 1987) which was approved by the parent committee, Policy and Resources a couple of months later. Chaired by Eastern’s Director of Social Work, with two vice chairs, the EO Chair of DC2 and the EOSC Chair, it set to work on the practicalities of establishing a childcare facility. The membership of the Working Group is important to consider as it was this body that examined the possible childcare options and made recommendations to Eastern regarding the most suitable form of facility. Thus, although not a formal decision-making body itself, the Working Group basically shaped the Partnership policy. The Working Group consisted of seventeen members, all of whom, excluding the Chair were women. Membership was intended to be determined by the criteria laid down by the Equal Opportunities Committee’s March 1987 meeting:

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[a] Working Group which would comprise representatives from [Company 1], other interested employers from the […] Industrial Estate, [DC2] and appropriate community associations. It was agreed that the Sub-Committee [Equal Opportunities] be represented on the Working Group by the Chairman and one other member and that the appropriate officials be nominated by the Chief Executive. (Eastern Minutes, PR193, May 1987) This structured membership did not, in effect, occur for two reasons. First, in reality the members of the Working Group appear to have been appointed in rather an ad hoc fashion. There was no organised attempt to approach local women’s organisations such as the Townswomen’s Guild, Women’s Institute, feminist groups; however there was an attempt to get a breadth of opinion and input. The EOSC Chair described the process thus: We approached the Trades Council who sent along […] who was a particularly active women’s trade unionist…we also contacted the Convenor of the Shop Stewards at [Company 1]…as we thought it very important to have the trade union input… also some local unemployed Nursery Nurses because a number of them had come along to a public meeting…and they had expressed a very keen interest… We also thought it was very important to have the support of the local Social Work manager…she was a good link…she was one of the advocates…that we had a strong link with Childminders as well… we asked for representation from local management and they [Company 1] sent along two Personnel Managers. (EOSC Chair) As already mentioned this was a group (almost completely) of women, but not deliberately so. The companies involved could have sent male representatives, but in fact, the male Personnel Manager of Company 1, when approached decided to delegate this role to one of his assistants, a woman. Similarly, the council officers, trade unions and community organisations could have been represented by men. The fact that all groups were represented by women could be interpreted as these groups viewing childcare as a ‘woman’s issue’ and allocating it to a woman’s remit. However, it is also possible that this Working Group was predominately female due to the ad hoc way in which some of its members were recruited: some were self-proposing through expressing interest at a public meeting, others such as the council officers had professional and personal interests in childcare while some women had political reasons for joining the Working Group. The different interests of the members of the Working Group appeared to allow them to overcome their personal roles as childminders, councillors, officers, personnel managers, social workers, trade unionists and, as one observer commented: those people came together wearing particular political roles, they didn’t stick to role all the time; they moved in and out of role as and when the

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process demanded… They would be mother one moment, and an elected member, as and when the political process required. (Chief Executive Officer) However, not all members of the community supported the policy, in fact there was a considerable amount of debate in the local press late in 1989 as well as attempts by childminders to steer the debate towards one-to-one care rather than institutionalised care. However, such opposition did not gain much purchase due to the network of support which the incrementalist equality policies which shaped Partnership had developed.

Why in Eastern Region? As stated above, the combination of the personalities and abilities of the Council Convenor and an officer of the Chief Executive’s Department appears to have influenced Eastern and encouraged the development of equal opportunities policies. Attempts to extend such policies throughout the council were not wholly successful: for example, as an employer Eastern was not a paragon of virtue, as the attempts to create a workplace nursery for their own employees met resistance within the Manpower (sic) Department. This was ameliorated somewhat by the fact that Eastern could reserve places in the Partnership facility. The momentum achieved by equality proponents maintained throughout the late 1980s (even after the departure of the Convenor to Westminster as an MP). At the beginning of 1989 the EOSC proposed that Equal Opportunities Officers be appointed to several different tasks: a Central Equal Opportunities Officer, a Manpower Services Equal Opportunities Officer and an Equal Opportunities Assistant based with the Working Group for the Disabled. Once clerical support and a budget for equal opportunity initiatives was added, the total costs exceeded £60,000 (Eastern Minutes, PR483, January 1989). When these proposals reached the full council the same parties which had opposed earlier equality moves on childcare acted, though they were defeated at the vote. Therefore, several new officers, all primarily committed to equality of opportunity, were appointed. In addition, when considering the influence of individuals, it is important to note that the EOSC Chair has a long-standing commitment to, and record of work in, childcare, reaching back to the 1960s (when she established nurseries in London, and interestingly was aware of the work of the woman who was to become Western’s PreFives Officer—see Chapter 6). The influence of the EOSC Chair is particularly interesting in relation to the recruitment of Working Group members, most of whom shared her politics with regard to childcare for working parents for it would appear that she was able to utilise networks of local women activists, several of whom became members of the Working Group. This is not to say that the EOSC Chair ‘packed’ the Working Group with her like-minded friends, simply that she shared many other connections with them other than Working Group membership. These networks are illustrated in Figure 5.1 where the EOSC Chair is positioned in the centre of the diagram to demonstrate, as clearly as possible, the number and types of links which she had with most other members. As can be seen, the EOSC Chair had previous personal connections with seven members and Labour Party connections with a further two. Professional links

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added two more members to the EOSC Chair’s network. In all, EOSC Chair through her political, council, professional and personal affiliations, networked with all but five Working Group members in areas other than the Working Group itself. Overall, it can be concluded that by 1989 there existed a framework of support for the Partnership project as Eastern committed itself to equality work. However, what does this tell us about nondecision-making?

Nondecision-making model In Chapter 1 models of the barriers to agenda building were examined and an adapted scheme proffered in Figure 1.2. Applying Figure 1.2 to the Partnership policy does not immediately highlight any examples of nondecision-making. After all, the Partnership policy was implemented, as initially envisaged, and expansions planned. Thus, it appears that the Partnership policy had not only achieved formal political agenda status but transcended it and become a fully implemented policy. In the following I focus on the various aspects of the policy’s journey to implementation to show that even in Eastern, with all the equality advocacy detailed above, nondecision-making did occur. Barrier 1: socialisation to objective interests Despite the involvement of women in mainstream party politics (mainly Labour) from the time of establishment of Eastern region, this activism did not transmute itself into demands for policies for women specifically.

Figure 5.1 Partnership Working Group However, by the mid-1980s Women’s Sections had been established within three of the four Labour Party groupings within Eastern region, although not all were particularly

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active nor involved in childcare. Apart from Labour Party Women’s Sections there appears to have been no other community-based organisation pushing for women’s interests (derived from interviews with several local women activists and politicians). It could be concluded from this fact that women’s interests were being serviced and therefore there was no need to organise as a group to formalise objective interests and articulate these as demands as their objective interests were already being met by the regional council. However, a more accurate picture emerges when the aforementioned explosion of interests on equality matters which followed the establishment of an EOSC is added to the equation. For example, although there was not a queue of organised interests demands were made by individuals, clubs and small groups for assistance for single parents, the unemployed, the elderly and people with disabilities. This then points to the existence of these interests within the community prior to 1985 which were not being voiced by those who had most need of them. Further, as noted above, the majority of the population was still not organised into groups nor expressing their needs through existing council structures. A further factor to be considered is the attitude of the few groups, such as Gingerbread, which did exist, towards the EOSC. The Convenor recalled that the EOSC ‘had to earn the trust of these groups’. This highlights the fact that not only were there needs within the community but that even organised groups were socialised into an expectation of disappointment and scepticism. Therefore, this is not an example of false consciousness as described by Lukes (1974) and Gaventa (1980) but rather a case of socialisation to expect little effective action from decision-makers, a formidable first barrier. Barriers 2 and 3: objective interests to demands to public agenda The classical model of decision-making is a linear progression from objective interests to demands to public agenda. However, what appears to have occurred in Eastern is the opposite. The socialisation barrier appears to have been very effective in training the community to anticipate failure (or to be satisfied with the level of childcare provision in other facilities) and so, until politicians placed the issue on the public agenda via press reports, few demands appeared to be made. Further, through the co-option of community representatives onto the EOSC and, later, the Working Group on Childcare, politicians influenced and encouraged the development of community demands for childcare and other equality issues and thereby helped elicit the objective interests of the community. However, the co-option procedure itself is open to abuse and is an easy utilisation of nondecision-making, thus it is necessary to examine this procedure. Nondecision-making can be facilitated by, for example, the selection of like-minded co-optees which avoids challenges to the power base of the co-opting committee. This did occur in Eastern. According to one senior officer in Eastern the EOSC sought out representatives of the involved groups and did so in such a fashion as to ensure that certain viewpoints were articulated. Although all Working Group members were qualified to attend, several had views on childcare similar to those of the EOSC Chair and this must have been known to her given that she was connected to several members through friendship and/or Labour Party membership as well as the Working Group. In this way the EOSC Chair was able to ensure that her view of childcare did not face opposition within the Working Group.

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However, this is not an example of nondecision-making to quash the Partnership project as the Working Group was itself established to bring forth policy recommendations for Partnership and the EOSC Chair was determined that it was to produce equality based recommendations. Therefore, although it may be suggested that the Working Group was biased, it was biased towards the creation of an equality-based childcare policy. Barrier 4: public agenda to formal political agenda Above, the way in which the linear progression of academic policy models was warped in Eastern was highlighted, with formal political agenda status being achieved before other steps. This implies that formal political agenda status was easily won, however, this was not the case. As shown earlier the issue of childcare as an equal opportunities matter was raised at the first meeting of the EOSC. However, according to senior officers this was initially viewed as a ‘hot issue’ and faced opposition within the ruling Labour Group. Therefore, it was decided to back-peddle and pursue other ‘soft’ issues to avoid the branding of the EOSC as radical. The decision to win over hearts and minds to equality issues through incrementalist procedures and ‘safe’ issues succeeded in educating the council to be more receptive to equality matters in general. Given that branding is one tactic which can be employed to maintain the status quo without venturing into open conflict, it must be concluded that a degree of nondecisionmaking occurred at this point, especially as branding was avoided through selfcensorship. In other words, fear of the reaction of the decision-makers (Labour Group of Eastern) led to nondecision-making occurring in that the EOSC diluted and delayed its own arguments. Barrier 5: formal political agenda to decision By the time the EOSC requested that the Chief Executive’s Department make a report on the various ideas and offers regarding a childcare facility to Policy and Resources Committee most opposition to the project appeared to have been surmounted. As detailed above the Policy and Resources Committee were in favour of financing the Partnership project. No new money was to be found however, with the required £50,000 to be found from the ‘corporate priorities’ allocation of the next financial year’s budget. In addition, this money was approved only on condition that DC2 and the private sector also allocate significant funds. Nonetheless, a decision was made by the Policy and Resources Committee, albeit limited financially, and the Director of Social Work was instructed to establish the Working Group which was to devise the actual plans and operating structures. With the exception of the appointment of members of the Working Group which has been discussed above, it cannot be claimed that any form of nondecisionmaking occurred at this stage. This does not mean that conflict did not exist. In fact, as already shown, the Partnership proposals became a partisan issue when tabled at a meeting of the full council, with opposition coming from the representatives of two separate political parties; Liberal Democrats and the SNP. Such open conflict, however, is not under investigation here and, due to its very openness, is not an example of nondecision-making but of democratic decision-making.

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Conclusions In Chapter 1 the barriers to decision-making were detailed in Figure 1.2 which shows that there are five hurdles to be overcome before a decision is actually reached. At each and every one of these barriers it is possible for nondecision-making to occur. Nondecisionmaking appears to be a ridiculous accusation to make about a regional council which produced a most progressive and equality-based piece of childcare legislation. However, nondecision-making did occur in Eastern, at Barriers 1, 2, 3 and 4. At Barrier 1 the nondecision-making was not necessarily of the council’s creation but a product of the structural setting (Dahlerup, 1984) of the community and of Scottish society. In fact, rather than describing Eastern Council, prior to the mid-1980s, as a ‘welfarist’ organisation, reflecting the ‘welfarist’ ideologies of its community, it is perhaps more apt to refer to it as ‘patriarchal’. This patriarchal system remained stable as possible challengers had no access points available to them through which to channel their demands: For it is precisely because certain groups have no representation in… recognised political structures that their position tends to be so stable, their oppression so continuous. (Millet, 1971:24) Thus nondecision-making was perpetuated. The socialisation of both sexes to patriarchal systems not only shores up nondecision-making by educating women in particular not to expect their actions to be effective nor their demands to be legitimate but it also supports the patriarchal system through the illusion of consent (Millet, 1971). With the introduction of an EOSC, with powers of co-option, the issue of lack of access of community-based women to the policy arena appears to have been tackled. However, two factors require examination at this point. First, it has been shown that nondecision-making was employed in the cooption of Working Group members to ensure that an equality based childcare policy was formulated. Although this meant that the views of many women who had extensive experience of childcare matters and community needs, both personally and professionally, were included it did still exclude other views. Second, a sceptical view of the establishment of the EOSC by the Convenor is that it may have been an exercise in damage limitation. Bachrach and Baratz denounce the Mayor’s ‘task forces’ on poverty in Baltimore as no more than a ‘pre-emptive strike’ (Bachrach and Baratz, 1970:71) to prevent more radical demands being forced upon decision-makers by challengers. Although it is necessary to consider the Convenor’s actions in this light, the actual lack of community demands tends to argue against this interpretation. Even if it is considered that demands did exist of which the Convenor was unaware, this does not prove that he was on a damage limitation exercise. From the evidence of the Convenor’s statements (detailed above) it does not appear that this was his motive. Nonetheless, when attention is turned to the decision of the EOSC to tackle ‘soft’ issues first, through a process of incrementalism, nondecision-making is once more apparent. First, the self-censorship evident in the fear of branding is a clear example of this phenomenon. Second, the softening of demands required by the incrementalist

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approach is also an example of nondecision-making, though in this case it appears that such political pragmatism was necessary and successful. Certainly, it did create an accepting environment for the more radical issues which the EOSC was to address once the Convenor handed over the position of chair. In Chapter 1 the point was made that the achievement of agenda status for an issue did not necessarily imply that nondecision-making had been defeated, for the manner in which the issue was defined upon that agenda was also of vital concern. Throughout the formulation of the Partnership policy it was recognised that it was to facilitate greater equality of employment and training opportunities for women. This categorisation of ‘equality’ was maintained in the sliding scale of charges to ensure lower income groups would not be excluded. Given that women still earn less than three-quarters of the male hourly rate of pay and that women are less likely than men to work full-time, the sliding scale ensured that the service was available to low-income women whilst not excluding women earning higher salaries from using the service. The simple fact that the Partnership was defined in these terms meant it automatically included the needs of women in its formulation, thereby avoiding the trap of issue perversion and thus, a final form of nondecision-making. Before summing up it is interesting to juxtapose the findings regarding Eastern Council to Bachrach and Baratz’s conclusion about race and poverty in Baltimore in the late 1960s. They wrote: So far as anti-poverty and race-relations in Baltimore are concerned, there are no longer any insuperable barriers to entry into the decision-making arena. If there are covert grievances, they are so well concealed that we cannot locate them. With the possible exception of the key issue of the black’s share in policy-making in the community, the channel of policy choices seems wide open. (Bachrach and Baratz, 1970:96) In other words, Bachrach and Baratz were of the opinion that future battles would be fought in the formal decision-making arenas of the polity. By substituting the words ‘childcare’ and ‘women’ in the appropriate places much the same conclusion can be made about Eastern. However, the same statement could have been made about Eastern prior to 1985. What was different about Eastern by 1990 was that the key issue of women’s share in, and access to, the policy-making arena was increased through the EOSC, its powers of co-option and its policies of community consultations all assisted the voicing of demands therefore uncovering covert grievances. Therefore, although nondecision-making most certainly occurred in Eastern, primarily at the first barrier of socialisation, the diligence and determination of certain policy-makers ensured that a proequality childcare policy was instigated in a framework which also has wider implications for women’s access to the policy process.

6 Discourses, demands and denials In the creation of any policy by any polity, different discourses and different demands exist. As has been previously discussed the discourses and demands which surround policy-making in the area of childcare are numerous and vary both within and across geographies and historical settings. This second case study is an example of such a variation and provides an examination of an innovative and comprehensive childcare strategy. This strategy was designed to challenge certain assumptions and discourses, most notably class inequality, but at the same time maintained the status quo in other areas of inequality. Working mothers were, as I show below, a part, albeit peripheral, of policy considerations from policy inception but this matter began to lose what primacy it had achieved by the late 1970s as it was edged out by discourses around social deprivation. In Chapter 1, I described models of policy-making which present a linear approach to policy development. However I recognise that, as Cooper (1994) comments, policy development goes in waves and circles with new directions able to be picked up at any time whilst others are dropped. Nonetheless, as both the council and the policy area were new, policy development did adopt a rather linear progression in Western Region. Western’s policy had two distinct phases, the first being the creation of a pre-five policy and the second being the delivery of that policy. Although linear development is evident in both these phases it is particularly obvious in the first. In addition, nondecision-making occured in both these phases but in differing ways which will be detailed later.

Agenda setting and policy development To understand the nuances of agenda setting and policy development requires a knowledge not just of the policy-making process but, as stated before, of the structural setting surrounding a policy. Of note in this case study was the sheer size of Western Region, with a pre-five population of over 150,000 by the late 1980s and home to over half of the total Scottish population, from island dwellers to urban and suburban lifestyles. The political complexion of this council was Labour, with a combination of philosophies held within this party, from traditional to radical. In the following, through discussion of material acquired via interviews and from analysis of council Minutes and published reports, the history of the policy is outlined. Although many of the reports from which I quote are published documents to give the full citation for them would clearly indicate which council is being discussed: as I wish not to disclose this information I have simply quoted from these reports without giving their exact notation.

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History The greatest future resource of […] is the young children of today, starting life with no prejudices and eager to enjoy the adventure of life. If they are to fulfil their potential it is vital that the Council and the staff charged with helping them on their journey are fully committed to working with and for them and their parents during the child’s formative years.

The above quote, from the introduction to the document which stated the final proposals for pre-five policy in Western summarised the impetus driving policy development, a committment Western began in 1981 with the establishment of a Member/Officer Group on the Under-Fives. This Group, comprising both elected politicians and professional council officers, was initially chaired by the leader of the council as an indication of the priority accorded to this policy area. Within the council there was a recognition that existing services for the pre-school child were not adequate to prevent Western’s children being ‘born to fail’ (Wedge and Prosser, 1973). Members were aware of the differing levels of provision throughout the region, due to the inheritance of unbalanced facilities from its antecedent local authorities, and had expressed the desire to produce an overall policy for the pre-school child. The nature of the services being provided was also becoming more complicated due to the introduction of various schemes to counter social deprivation. In addition, it was also believed that there was a need to examine pre-five services as a unitary facility rather than from the viewpoints of the various different agencies involved in service. However, social deprivation and child development discourses were not the only ones present in the initial formulations of the pre-five policy; from the beginning the childcare needs of working mothers were recognised in the issue search stage of policy formulation (detailed in the Final Report on pre-fives, dated 1981). The fact that this acknowledgement of the requirements of working parents was not reflected in the actual policy outcome is the subject of this examination. This situation may have resulted from clear and open action or from nondecision-making. It will be shown that it was this latter fate which befell the childcare concerns of working mothers. An examination of the forces which formed this innovative childcare policy must extend beyond the establishment of the Member/Officer Group. Primarily, the policy can be traced back to two initiatives: first, the adoption of the system of Member/Officer Groups by the ruling Labour Group to deal with ‘key’ issues in 1976 and, second, the publication in 1978 of a document on child welfare by the Social Work Department. Member/Officer Groups were adopted by Western only two years after its formation as part of the ruling Labour Groups’ practice of ‘openness’ and the encouragement of new ways of thinking about and developing policy. This was intended to ensure that established positions and attitudes did not simply dominate the agenda and to encourage the evolution of new policy practices and modes of agenda setting. As Western’s inhouse literature explained:

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Being free from the restrictions of committee agendas the member/officer groups tackle the problems informally and flexibly—giving councillors and officials the chance to come to grips with problems—gaining new insights and encouraging new ideas and solutions. In the late 1970s, the time of the beginnings of Western’s childcare policy, the Member/Officer Group was the main policy vehicle used—Chief Executive Officer favoured as it allowed for a fairly intensive review of existing policy and provision and for the development of new proposals in an atmosphere free of the formal pressures of the Committee system.1 Such Groups had developed as part of a programme of ‘new structures’ to facilitate decentralisation of decision-making in the hope of creating a more corporate strategy to issues. As policy-making mechanisms Member/Officer Groups differed from conventional policy-making procedures in three ways (Young, 1981:15). First, the traditional pattern of officers giving knowledgeable advice to councillors who made decisions was broken down, as both members and officers worked together on an equal basis. Second, this means of working meant that policy searches could embrace both professional and political elements, whereas previously, policies had been developed from only one type of search. Lastly, a political commitment and impetus was given to the implementation stage of the resulting policy. An influential councillor at this time was the convenor of the ruling Labour Group (hereafter CLG) who viewed Member/Officer Groups as the vehicle to produce policies free of the overarching influence of either the professionalism of the officials or of politicisation by members. However, they were primarily attempts to put more policymaking power in the hands of the elected members rather than the professionals (Young, 1981:17). This included the professionalism of senior councillors who occupied the chairs of various committees and who dominated the other, more junior, members. As such, these Groups were to be able to transcend the limitations of the traditional discourses around issues. One early product of the Member/ Officer Group system was the document Room to Grow by the Child Care Group. Although primarily a Social Work group and therefore mostly concerned with initiatives to improve the quality of local authority care, the range of alternatives to care and adoption and fostering arrangements, this Member/Officer Group did formulate a sub-group to devise a ‘Social Policy for Children’ ‘to explore broad issues in formulating a statement on children’s rights and needs’. The Group’s recommendations on pre-school children formed the basis from which Western’s childcare policy grew. Room to Grow recommended that the desired increase in pre-school education should be supplied by a massive increase in the range of daycare services and it noted that demand for such facilities far outstripped supply; the desire of mothers to work was to be addressed by assisting such mothers while offering aid to those mothers who wished to remain at home with their children. In summary, Room to Grow recommended flexibility and full-time, community-based facilities with the long-term goal being the universal provision of an integrated range of facilities of a high standard freely available to all. As shall be shown this proposed assistance to working mothers was to suffer from a degree of issue suppression. Due to limits on resources, the Social Work Department quickly became keen to involve the Education Department as their client pool overlapped in the area of underfives. Initially Education appeared to show little interest and this, coupled with the fact

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that Education had only recently reviewed nursery education in the region and had its own plans, led certain councillors to conclude that two separate systems working in the same region would not fulfil the requirements of integrated universal provision. Further, it was felt that there was sometimes a stigma attached to Social Work services which did not apply to Education services (Penn, 1992:15). Thus, it was suggested that a new Member/Officer Group be established, with the specific purpose of examining provision for the pre-school child, the aforementioned Group on the Under-Fives. As both Social Work and Education were involved with the pre-school project it was decided that the Member/Officer Group should be based outside either department (it was the first Member/Officer Group to be situated in the Chief Executive’s Department); however, this decision has also been attributed to the observation that there was ‘clearly a huge gulf between them [the departments]’ (CE Officer). This lack of common ground between Social Work and Education was to play a major part in the formulation and implementation of the emergent policy for the demands, discourses and desires of these two departments were not well matched. In fact, in the words of the CLG, what developed was an ideological battle over what was the ideal model for a pre-five service. In the four years in which the Member/Officer Group for Pre-Fives sat these ideological battles pertained. In those four years the Group developed the policy through four stages: a survey of existing provision and literature; identification of major issues; consultation with practitioners and the development of practical issues (through the establishment of pilot projects) and, finally, discussion of future directions. It was in this final stage that it was concluded that only by the integration of pre-five services could future developments be adequately planned and implemented, which required the establishment of a unit and committee to implement this decision. This commitment to the creation of an integrated pre-five service, rather than two coordinated but separate services, was to become a major difficulty in the creation and implementation of the pre-five policy due to the aforementioned disaffection between Social Work and Education and the differing directions of their respective policy preferences. However, the Member/Officer Group managed to establish several ‘Principles for Future Policy Development’ to govern the development of services for the pre-school child which supported integration and also committed Western to links with the local communities and voluntary organisations and to target areas of greatest need. Part of this aim was to consult with parents and staff to include their observations, demands and interests in the policy being developed. In Chapter 1, I discussed the views of Group Theorists and Pluralists with regard to the democratic efficacy of competing interests and moderated the view that democratic decision-making relies upon such competing interests to ensure its survival by stating that some groups have more power within certain structural confines than others (see Phillips, 1991). This moderated view is illustrated by the example of Western’s consultation exercises. I do not mean to imply that Western was simply conducting a public relations exercise in consulting selected groups, simply that some groups received a greater hearing than others and, in the end, the view of certain influential councillors was to hold sway. The major interests which were considered included parents, professional and voluntary interests, employees in extant pre-five services, officers and politicians. Parental views, expressed at public meetings, were mixed. Those already in receipt of some form of pre-five service sought more of the same and, therefore, viewed their

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objective interests to be challenged by the development of a new integrated pre-five policy. By contrast, those who were denied access (for a variety of reasons) to such services were, not surprisingly, more amenable to the notion of the development of a new system which met their needs in ways which the old systems (of nursery education or social day care) did not. As such, it can be concluded that some parents defended the status quo though many others required something new. A greater degree of assent was evident in the views of professional and voluntary organisations.2 Integration of services had been advocated on the national stage in the 1970s by the Trades Union Congress (TUC) in their Charter on Facilities for the Under-Fives. Professional opinion advocated a more integrated, less disjointed service. Similarly, the Scottish Council for Single Parents (SCSP) provided the Group with details of how bureaucratic barriers hindered the provision of service to the client group, concluding that ‘overall responsibility needs to be lodged in one department’ (Final Report, 1985:15). Health, housing, income and employment were all raised and noted as important factors and allowed the Group to develop a better understanding of the issues faced by parents of pre-school children. Further the comments of such groups as the Scottish Health Education Group, the British Association of Early Childhood Education, the Woman’s Royal Voluntary Service and Gingerbread served to highlight the necessity of getting the right policy to serve the children of Western as issues of education, health and development needed proper attention paid. Thus, the council’s position that pre-school services are of prime importance was supported. In addition to officers of the regional council, elected members and a voluntary organisation (the Scottish Pre-School Play Association, SPPA) the Group included representatives from several trade unions. Like the parents, the trade unions also had varying objective interests and demands, primarily associated with the perceived effect any new policy would have upon the status and employment of each respective union’s members. Some accepted the Member/Officer Report seeing integration of the service as a positive move with their main interest being to defend the working conditions and salaries of members in any changes of policy or practice and, although the aim of increasing the pay of nursery nurses was not realised, the new integrated structure did open up more career opportunities for staff formerly employed in the Social Work areas. However, the major opposition to changing the pre-school policy came from Education Department employees, i.e. teachers and their trade unions. Their representative on the Group, herself a headteacher of a well-resourced nursery school, put up strong opposition to integration with Social Work (CE Officer; EIS Representative). Other educational trade union interests viewed the proposals as an attack upon the educational content of pre-school services and as such they opposed a basic tenet of the initiative, that is the aim to create an integrated service (Morrison, 1989). Like the trade unions, officer opinion also seems to have experienced a binary divide with a consensus of opinion formed by a group of officers from the Chief Executive’s and Social Work departments which sought a more integrated approach with increased community and voluntary involvement (CE Officer). Predictably, perhaps, officers from the Education Department sought greater financial investment in the education model already operating, that is, nursery education. However, it would appear that the majority of officers quickly came to the conclusion that integration was the only way forward. Visits to the two sectors and conversations with parents had convinced the officers that

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the community required more than what was on offer in addition to illustrating that the two protagonist departments were not prepared to work together, even if only at ground level. Therefore, most of the officers decided that anything less than integration would fail. Not all the elected members were convinced of the case for integration favoured by the officers, some preferred the option of a co-ordinated rather than an integrated service. Eventually a decision was made, part of the delay simply being that the councillors were all so senior that it was difficult to arrange meetings when all were available. A major factor against coordination was antipathy between the two services of Social Work and Education (something which the Chairman experienced first hand on a service visit3). The decision to integrate the services provided by Social Work and Education was taken in 1984. This led to great opposition from some areas but was the basic tenet upon which the pre-five policy was built. The decision was not made by the whole Group but by the councillors with only one officer, from the Chief Executive’s department, in attendance. Minority opinion from the Opposition representative (Conservative) was that if the service was left to a supported voluntary sector to provide then coordination was all that was required, other councillors defended their parent committee positions (that is those representing Education backed the case for Education and so on). The main argument centred upon integration versus the rest (CE Officer) and, after a few days, the councillors once more met behind closed doors and eventually, all bar one, supported integration. Having decided that the pre-five service should be integrated the Group then had to decided where such an integrated service would be located, finally settling that it should be within the Education department. This was accepted as Social Work pragmatically preferred integration within Education to separation, whereas Education remained sceptical of the value of integration but adopted the position that if integration was unavoidable then it was going to be under the roof of Education. Resulting policy By early 1985 the Member/Officer Group had produced their Final Report and was able to pass on their recommendations and responsibilities to a newly established Pre-Five committee in the Education department. The recommendations had developed from the experiences of fourteen pilot schemes and included community responsiveness and involvement as major tenets (Final Report, 1985:19). The Pre-Five Unit began to work on administration, budgeting, social work liaison, admissions, health, children with disabilities, training and research (Penn, 1992:31). The Pre-Fives Officer states that this selection of the agenda was determined not only by the Final Report but also from external political and economic forces: This agenda arose out of the member-officer report or from unforeseen sequences of events or financial contingencies; a little of it was a result of our own particular expertise or professional interests. (Penn, 1992:31)

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However, there remained one area excluded from the list above which had been included in the considerations of the Final Report; the needs of working mothers. The dominant discourses and ideologies which had driven this policy were those of social deprivation. Even within this one discourse there were two competing ideological positions; first, a traditional ‘welfarist’ and rather paternal position which viewed it as Western’s responsibility to make people’s lives better. The second ideological principle was one of ‘radical’ equality, one which challenged the status quo which granted political power to senior officials and other professional politicians and which voiced ideas of community empowerment. Neither of these approaches really questioned equality beyond notions of social class so that challenges to other structural oppressions were not able to take a firm root and could not easily fight off erosion. An early casualty of such erosion was the needs of working parents which, despite the dominance of social deprivation and child development discourses, did find a place within the Final Report. Despite reference to this aspect of the pre-five policy, at first with regard to the balance of provision and then in the discussions of future policy directions which extensively detailed the areas of work that the Member/Officer Group thought that a pre-five service should cover, the issue remained neglected. At no point in the Recommendations chapter is any reference made to the needs of working parents. The statement ‘Services for under-fives are also services for parents—the two are inextricably mixed’ (Final Report, 1985:43) appears to relate only to the education and welfare aspects of the child and parent. The detailed proposals and considerations made throughout the Final Report emphasise the need for community involvement and the conclusion was that a community nursery facility would provide the best service. The community nursery would embrace many existing practices such as Mother and Toddler groups, information and advice, adult education, parents’ rooms, after school care as well as being a central base for local childminders and daycarers. It would appear that the Member/Officer Group went into great detail regarding the nature of provision and attempted not to exclude the positive aspects of voluntary and other services. The exclusion of a working mother facility then (except to recognise that childminders could use the community nursery as a central base) is therefore informative. Given the wide-ranging nature of the review of existing service and the deliberate attempts not to hurry the issue (CE Officer) it appears strange that a facility for working mothers was not included. This may be partially explained by the fact that the Member/Officer Group seemed to be concentrating on alleviating social deprivation and therefore, could be said to have been working in areas where employment opportunities were limited, and subsequently, demand small. However, this is not an adequate answer for demand did exist and this is illustrated by the fact that the Member/ Officer Group were aware of the fact that childminder services were most likely to be used by working parents rather than other groups (Final Report, 1985:53). The first serious acknowledgement that not all children have mothers available to collect them from nurseries during the day, or to attend playgroups with them came in one of the latter sections (Section 10) of the Final Report. Section 10 dealt exclusively with childminders and daycarers, noting that the service was less well developed in Western than in other parts of Britain. Comments noted in this section indicate that the Group were well aware of the lack of day-care establishments of all forms (Final Report,

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1985:53). An earlier attempt to alleviate this problem by the Social Work department whereby Social Work employed day-carers, recruited and trained them, still only provided for children of families with ‘difficulties’. The provision for working mothers remained negligible. Nonetheless, the recommendations in Section 10 all relate to the registration, recruitment and training of more childminders. Although this was a forward step towards ensuring the safe and regulated care of children it seems strange that the Member/Officer Group did not propose alternative schemes. This is even more bewildering given that the Group acknowledged that childminding was far from universally available and also that ‘even parents using childminders often state a preference for other types of provision’ (Final Report, 1985:53). However, despite being aware of the shortcomings of the practice of childminding the Report concluded: Clearly childminding has to be given more of a priority […], as in today’s economic climate it is the major option for developing day care for the under-fives. (Final Report, 1985:53) This appears to be a deliberate refusal to consider any other method of childcare for the children of working mothers and is a far from satisfactory solution. Further, what is definite is that although the Member/Officer Group was aware that a demand existed for the care of children of working parents and that existing practice was inadequate it was felt that financially the only option was to improve the inadequate service by providing a support network for minders and encouraging more applications for registration. This policy merely plugged some gaps and is far from radical, unlike many of the proposals in other sections of the Final Report. Indeed the practice of childminding may be considered to be an acceptable option by a nonfeminist organisation as it reflects accepted gender assumptions about the source and nature of childcare and does not challenge the status quo distribution of public funds, leaving the actual childminding arrangements as a private agreement between, usually, two women. From the above it is clear that the Final Report’s authors perceived the problem to be one of social deprivation which was to be alleviated by the involvement of parents and voluntary groups in educational activities. Provision was made for the training of staff, the training of parents and the education of children. The Member/Officer Group went as far as to recommend health screening within community nurseries, not just for children but for the parents also. This conclusion is further backed by Section 14 which concentrates on ‘The Wider Agenda’. This wider agenda includes issues of housing, state benefit levels, societal attitudes towards children, public transport and facilities for nursing mothers. The Pre-Five Unit’s role on these matters was to act as an advocate or agent for beneficial changes in these areas. It is also clear that the position of mothers who work was not considered to be part of the service despite the earlier recognition of their needs. This is clearly demonstrated by the fact that the officer appointed to implement the pre-five policy (the Pre-Fives Officer) claimed that working mothers, as an issue, were nowhere to be found on Western’s pre-five agenda at the time of her appointment (Private Communication, April 1992).

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Although absences in policies can result from poor issue search, it is clear that the needs of working mothers did in fact come to the fore at the issue search stage, yet failed to transfer to the issue definition phase of the development of the policy. In what follows I argue that working mothers were not simply not included in the issue definition but were actively defined out.

Nondecision-making model As in the previous chapter on Eastern Region (Chapter 5) the model utilised here is the adapted scheme (Figure 1.2) developed in Chapter 1. So far in this chapter I have charted only the development of the pre-five policy not the implementation and so the incidences of nondecision-making to which I refer relate only to this formulation stage. Barrier 1: socialisation to objective interests The common perception of the society of Western region is that of a male working-class culture which was reflected in the council, being composed mainly of Labour Party representatives, many of whom represented, and held, conservative values regarding the family and women. There was a strong Roman Catholic community whose influence affects WIIs such as abortion. However, it is not just the Catholic community which can be conservative (see Lieberman, 1989). Despite a long history of Women’s Sections within the Labour Party4 several women have experienced opposition to the establishment of these sections throughout the region (Marchbank, 1993, Survey Reponses) often coming from individuals but also from the ‘establishment’, that is the constituency party or Management Council. However, it also has to be noted that several Constituency Labour Parties have supported Women’s Sections and elected Women’s Officers. What this reveals is that even within local Labour Parties there can exist an ethos of conservatism. It also shows that some women have been prepared to tackle this ethos and establish their own organisations despite opposition. As in Eastern Region, there appears to have been no other organisation campaigning for women’s rights apart from Labour Party Women’s Sections and few of them existed at the time of the policy formulation. This seems to suggest two situations: either women’s interests were being catered for and therefore there was no need to band together to formulate objective interests or, that the structural setting acted in such a fashion as to prevent these possible objective interests from being articulated due to the socialisation of women in Western Region. Western Region was, by the late 1970s, providing certain childcare services which included some, rather limited, provision for working mothers. In fact, nursery provision was mostly restricted to children ‘at risk’, with most working mothers utilising the services of a privately engaged childminder. Therefore, it is difficult to argue that the first situation pertained. To conclude that there existed a structural setting inhibiting the articulation of women’s demands is also difficult. During the 1980s several feminist campaigns operated in the region; however, the number of women involved in such campaigns was always small compared to the general female population. Further, despite the history of women’s activism in the west of Scotland, at both community level and

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beyond, it has more often been on issues affecting the family or the community than on specific women’s concerns5 (this is not unusual, see Rowbotham, 1995; Basu, 1995). Nonetheless, it appears that despite the activism of some women in the region the majority were socialised into believing that their own needs were less legitimate than those of others. Thus creating a barrier to the formulation of their objective interests. Barriers 2 and 3: objective interests to demands to public agenda In the previous chapter I argued that the academic, linear model of decision-making does not always fit the reality of events and showed that until Eastern Council placed childcare on the public agenda there had been few cases of the public making demands or even recognising their objective interests. Similarly, it appears that in Western it was the regional council which was agenda-setting rather than any community group. According to the Convenor of the Labour group, Pre-Fives as an issue arose out of a discussion regarding ‘new structures’ of management and policy-making which was ongoing within the regional council throughout the late 1970s: Nobody was pushing us to put Pre-Fives on the agenda, absolutely NO push from anywhere. (Convenor of the Labour group) Parents did later make demands upon the council, but mostly in response to approaches made by officers and councillors on the Member/Officer Group. The diverse nature of these parental demands has been detailed above and what is of interest at this stage is how these demands were formed. Western conducted a programme of consultation which involved public meetings, informal information gathering and soliciting expert opinion. This continued during the implementation stage of the policy as there still remained a fair degree of confusion amongst parents regarding the new policy. In 1987 the consultation was conducted by the distribution of an explanatory video. This video was produced by Western to clarify the confusion around its proposals, especially to those parents who feared that their nursery school would be replaced by a day nursery or removed altogether. However, despite orders from regional headquarters not all parents were given a real opportunity to view the video, and its introduction by staff members was not always unbiased6 (NALGO Representative). Obviously, this was a clear attempt to shape the objective interests and, therefore, the demands of the parents against the proposed policy by a section of the region’s employees. However, although this is a most definite use of a mobilisation of bias, i.e. the dominance of the teachers over parents, it was attempted by the employees and not by the decision-makers. To discover if the policy-makers utilised nondecision-making at this stage requires an examination of the different organisations invited to comment upon the policy and to proffer advice during the formulation period, these included five institutions of higher education, three health organisations and several voluntary organisations and the British Association of Social Workers (Final Report, 1985). The only ‘women’s’ organisation to be consulted appears to have been the Women’s Royal Voluntary Service (WRVS) which focused on the need of expectant mothers for transport to ante-natal clinics. It seems that no consideration was made of the needs of working mothers as the only organisation

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contacted in this area was the National Childminders’ Association which was more concerned with its members’ interests than in advising Western to provide a rival service to themselves. In fact, the only organisations which put forward suggestions on the use of childminders and the problems faced by working women were Gingerbread and the Scottish Council for Single Parents, both concerned with the economic position of single parents, the majority of whom are women. It is obvious then that a degree of nondecision-making did occur in relation to the needs of the client group—parents. Until Western raised the issue of pre-fives, parental demands were not being made. Further, those feminist objective interests which were present in the region at that time do not appear to have been formulated into childcare demands upon the council. Therefore, it is possible to conclude that feminist aims failed at Barrier 3; that is in becoming demands for childcare to the council; while parental interests had to be stimulated by the council raising the issue. Therefore, parental interests never tackled Barrier 2 but were shaped by council actions in the hiatus between Barriers 2 and 3. That shaping ensured that a false dichotomy was created which separated out ‘parents’ interests from feminist interests in such a way as to marginalise those parents whose interests were actually expressed in ways which became categorised as feminist. Barrier 4: public agenda to formal political agenda Despite the failure of Western Region to consult organisations or individuals representing working mothers the issue of their needs was still recognised to some small degree in the Final Report. From the beginning of policy formulation the needs of working mothers had been raised with the Background Report in 1981, suggesting several service developments which the council should consider (Background Report, 1981:30–1). This expressed commitment to working mothers continued onto the formal political agenda as Section 10 of the Final Report. At this point it could be concluded that as the issue of the care of children of working mothers had been considered and recommendations had been made by the Member/Officer Group then nondecision-making could not have occurred. However, the nature of that debate and the recommendations have to be considered. Despite recognising that most parents found childminding arrangements unsatisfactory and expressing concern for the quality of the service provided, the Group’s recommendations merely prescribed more of the same. This in itself is not an example of nondecision-making either; childminding was considered and suggestions were made for the improvement of the service. However, the demands for a gender-equality orientated system of childcare for working mothers were simply not of high enough priority to justify funding. Where nondecision-making did occur was in the Member/Officer Groups continual reference to the needs of working parents. Right from the Background Report in 1981 the issue was raised, but it became more and more peripheral until by the Final Report in 1985 it was of the lowest priority. It is difficult not to conclude that the habitual mentions of working mothers were little more than palliatives. When, in interviews, I asked about policies for working mothers, the frequent reply was that this was a policy priority, yet no one could point to how this had been implemented. This suggests that nondecision-making occurred in that the failure to state openly that childcare for working mothers was not part of the intended policy avoided challenges to the policy.

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Barrier 5: formal political agenda to decision The Final Report passed into council policy in 1985 but not without its challengers for the Liberal Party (as then was) opposed the creation of a Pre-Five Unit (Minutes, SR664, June 1985). However, the overwhelming Labour majority in the council ensured that the Final Report’s recommendations became council policy. As stated earlier in relation to Eastern Region, such open conflict is not under examination here. Western Regional Council’s policy was certainly radical, it was an attempt to counter the effects of poverty and deprivation, as the Leader of the council wrote in the foreword of the Final Report: children […] were blighted with the label ‘born to fail’. It remains true that many of our children today start life in families with too low income, inappropriate housing and a poor physical and social environment but they also start with the love and affection of a family with all the warmth and generosity that means in […] My experience as a grandfather and a senior politician tells me that these qualities can go a long way towards redressing some of the inequalities perpetuated on our people… Only time will show whether our proposals have achieved the fundamental aim of giving the best possible start in life… We are creating the opportunity to work in a simpler and more co-operative style, the success which parents and children deserve is up to all staff to ensure. This radical policy was also paternalistic and welfarist and there is no way, given the inaction to provide better facilities for working mothers, that it can be called womanorientated. As one Pre-Five committee member explained: I don’t think the creche movement was as strong in 1982 as it has become, I don’t think that it was seen so strongly as a ‘woman’s issue’ than as a childcare and education issue. (Liberal Democrat councillor) This policy is quite clearly child-defined and the marginalisation of the needs of working mothers in the creation of the pre-five policy has been shown. For the council this was not a difficult utilisation of nondecision-making methods. More arduous were the experiences which followed the establishment of a Pre-Five Unit to implement the policy and which led to the status quo being challenged by the appointment of the Pre-Fives Officer who, according to an opposition councillor viewed the Unit as ‘much as a woman’s rights unit as…a child care/child development unit’ (Liberal Democrat councillor).

Policy implementation Nondecision-making is not only possible at the policy development stage of an issue however, for even those issues which have successfully traversed the developmental

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hurdles can face further marginalisation and opposition, both open and covert. Despite the marginalisation and nondecision-making detailed above, the childcare needs of working mothers did remain on the formal political agenda in that the Final Report contained references to their needs, albeit peripheral mentions. In the remainder of this chapter I provide a nondecision-making analysis of the fate of the working mothers aspect of the pre-five policy which can be described as the ‘defeministisation’ of the policy. In doing so I employ different aspects of nondecision-making from those already used to show how the policy and its development were hampered by the practices of delegitimisation, branding of officers, issue suppression, postponement and by the existence of an unsympathetic bureaucratic culture and policy community. Policy principles: How pre-fives was defined In the transition from Final Report to the policy principles and priorities guiding the PreFive committee certain principles pertained; for example, the involvement of parents and voluntary groups, the need for services to be sensitive to local needs and the necessity of representing the needs of the pre-five child and her family to wider agencies and departments. However, two issues were excluded: parenthood education and the childcare needs of working mothers. In fact, it appears that the question of equal opportunities was never looked at and the role of women in the labour force, and restrictive employment practices were largely ignored. It [the pre-five policy] was described as ‘riddled with paternalism’. (Penn, 1992:18) By examining what occurred when attempts were made to reintroduce working mothers as a policy area within Pre-Fives I shall illustrate several incidences of nondecisionmaking. The Pre-Five Unit The establishment of the Pre-Five sub-committee was shortly followed, in May 1986, by a Pre-Five Unit based in the parent department of Education. A new Education appointment was made to run this Unit: Head of Pre-Five Services (later Assistant Director of Education) (referred to here as the Pre-Fives Officer). It is around her efforts to do her job, to implement and develop the pre-five policy, (see Penn, 1992) that this analysis centres. It was her attempt to inject equality issues, of which provision for working mothers was one, into the pre-five policy and the reactions and responses which this produced that are under discussion here. The initial tasks of the new Unit included dealing with all the staffing and financial issues created by the integration of aspects of two services. The required transfer of almost 600 staff from Social Work into the existing Education Department had no precedent to follow. This was a new operation and the development of managerial lines and responsibilities took some time. The confusion and uncertainty occasionally led to frustration and acrimony. Within any organisation there is a natural resistance to

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structural change and the innovative organisational strategy proposed for Western’s prefive policy meant that the Unit had to breach this wall of resistance. In addition, staff and their trade unions were determined not to disadvantage their own positions, therefore much time and energy was consumed by negotiations to set up the administrative system before any pre-five work could even begin (‘The Pre-Five Revolution’, Glasgow Herald, 21 May 1986). However, progress was made and by 1990 the Pre-Five Unit had achieved a considerable amount of work on the policy. New policy frameworks regarding children with special needs, the training of staff and the training, registration and support of childminders were all developed. In addition, the Unit continued working with the voluntary sector and widened the scope of voluntary organisations connected to the policy, initiated curriculum development as well as amalgamating all nursery schools, day nurseries, family centres, play buses and other community facilities relating to preschool children and their families under the roof of the Education Department and a centralised, co-ordinated adminstration. In making this achievement Western Region fulfilled the intention behind the original Member/Officer Group; to break down some of the barriers to flexible policy-making and implementation. However, there were limits to achieving actual integrated policy on the ground, especially in relation to the development of community nursery provision. Not surprisingly there were also limits to the paper commitment to working mothers. However, as already stated, it is not the neglect of the Final Report recognition of the needs of working mothers that is of interest at this point but the response to attempts to reinstate working mothers as an issue. These attempts brought new factors and dynamics into play around the pre-five policy, not the least of which was a bid to integrate equality issues. In fact, attempts to integrate gender equality issues, such as provision for working mothers or the establishment of a working party on men in childcare (Minutes, Education, Ed1124, October 1986), into the existing policy definition and work of the Unit did not receive much support from the council and incurred a fair degree of opposition both overt and covert. It is to the incidences of covert opposition and tactics that I now turn.

Techniques of nondecision-making In Chapter 1, I detailed the debates around what constitutes nondecision-making and what additional practices can be employed surreptiously to ensure the defeat of a challenge to the status quo. Included in my own model of nondecision-making then are several categories of techniques all of which are visible in the repeated incidences of nondecision-making practised on Western’s pre-five policy. These practices helped maintain a status quo which held a particular view of gender roles, parenting and economic participation and, as such, marginalised the needs of working mothers. Postponement and issue suppression In Chapter 1 the importance of the definition of the issue upon the formal political agenda was highlighted citing the work of Outshoorn (1986) on Dutch abortion policy. Childcare as a policy area can have many definitions; education, social deprivation, welfare and

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equality. In Western, both during the policy formulation period and implementation, childcare was defined primarily as an issue of social deprivation and child welfare, secondly as an educational issue and only as an issue of equality as an afterthought. This is despite the fact that working mothers were presented as a policy consideration from the inception of the policy debate in that it appeared in the list of pre-five service aims. The first few years of the Pre-Five Sub-Committee provide example after example of issue suppression, that is the suppression of childcare as an issue of equality. This is shown by the reactions stimulated by the Pre-Fives Officer’s attempts to raise awareness of the needs of working mothers through the mechanism of visits from other councils to discuss their work in this area. The discussion which followed one such visit focused on the need to produce a document examining the relevance of equal opportunity issues to pre-five services which noted that ‘a major reason why women’s employment prospects are depressed is because of a lack of suitable childcare’ (Minutes, Pre-Five SubCommittee, Ed1124, Appendix 1, October 1986). This statement was not denied by the sub-committee, in fact they endorsed its sentiments; however, they did not see fit to act upon the matter and so suppressed the issue by utilising delaying tactics. This is an example of nondecision-making for it is a method of removing a challenger to the status quo. Rather than openly opposing the statement and refusing to deal with the matter which might have caused open conflict the actions, or, more accurately, the inactions of the sub-committee succeeded in bypassing the issue by seemingly being supportive while in actuality not providing any support whatsoever. The next obvious example of issue suppression relates to a survey of parental needs carried out in conjunction with local academics. The results of the survey provided empirical evidence in support of childcare services for working women.7 Again the PreFive Sub-Committee appeared to be in general agreement with the ethos of this survey’s results as it was agreed that all new developments in pre-five services would have to take the needs of working parents into consideration. However, when workplace nurseries were raised later (in the same meeting) regarding an economic development project, the decision on action was ‘referred back’ not to be dealt with for over two years. This is not only an example of trying to defuse a challenge to the status quo but is also a clear illustration of the tactics of postponement and nondecision-making. Issue perversion Issue perversion refers to the practice of changing the nature of the issue on the agenda, be it public or formal political, to turn the issue and its resources in the direction decided by the actor attempting the perversion. Several of the interviewees for this investigation expressed their belief that this had been attempted in the development of the pre-five policy. However, what was perceived as issue perversion by these interviewees was not the actions of the sub-committee or non-sympathetic officers but rather the actions of the Pre-Fives Officer in attempting to introduce (as they saw it) a sex equality component into the policy. It was the belief of some members of staff and the council that the Pre-Fives Officer had a separate agenda, more related to women’s issues than to the implementation of the policy principles of the Final Report (CE Officer; LD councillor; Labour councillor). However, such views cannot be said to have been held covertly for she is on record more

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than once stating her views on childcare discussing the implications of having a more feminist viewpoint than the original policy framers which may have led to these perceptions of issue perversion (Penn, 1992:4: 24–8:107). Given that various attempts were made to increase the gender and racial equality base of the policy seems, at first, to validate the accusations of issue perversion directed at the Pre-Fives Officer. However, when it is remembered that both the Final Report and the Social Work report, Room to Grow, had discussed provision for working mothers it appears that a certain degree of memory selectivity was in play regarding the actual source of any issue perversion. Notwithstanding these selective memories, the conclusion that the Pre-Fives Officer employed tactics of issue perversion was fairly widespread. That is, several people involved with the pre-five policy, officers, councillors and outside interests, perceived her actions as shaping the policy away from its original aims. However, as frequently stated, working mothers’ needs were an issue in the original formulation of the policy in Western and so this opinion appears mistaken, whether deliberately so is not possible to determine. What can be concluded is that, either purposively or not, it was those who excluded working mothers who were actually enacting nondecision-making in this context. Lack of sympathy Although not strictly a tool of nondecision-making the above can certainly be a factor in facilitating nondecision-making. A lack of sympathy can contribute to the creation of an atmosphere in which challenges are prematurely terminated and is an example of the latent power identified by Bachrach and Baratz (1970). Absence of sympathy is both created by, and reinforces, the established bias within the political system and as such is connected to nondecision-making. A lack of officer, councillor and public sympathy for a policy usually spells the death of that policy. However, it is possible to manufacture such a situation through the control of information. One tactic is to control the nature and extent of statistics collected, for if the empirical evidence is not available it is more difficult to argue one’s case. An illustration of this factor’s association with nondecisionmaking is the way in which it is possible to shape surveys and consultation exercises to determine the nature of the results. In addition to the survey commissioned by the PreFive Unit (see above) another ‘survey’ is of note here: the council’s own consultation exercise with parents. The council approached parents, local political and voluntary organisations, trade unions and educational institutions, collated their opinions in a report to the subcommittee and recommendations were made based upon the responses gathered. Nondecision-making occurred in that the report’s author did not utilise any of the data relating to working parents’ (particularly mothers’) needs in formulating the recommendations. In fact, the exhortations of several groups such as a Constituency Labour Party Women’s Section and various colleges and universities that there was a lack of provision for working parents and that such a service would assist women’s position in society were not reflected in the Chief Executive’s following document. This was entitled ‘Principles for Future Policy Direction’ and formed the basis of the principles actually determined by the Member/Officer Group. Of the nine

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recommendations made by the Chief Executive not one even mentioned the comments on the need to provide for the children of working parents. This is in sharp contrast to a later report written by the Pre-Fives Officer in which she summarised not only all the results of the consultation exercise but also the findings of the previously cited survey of parental demand. The recommendations of her report contained requests that the Pre-Five Sub-Committee should include the needs of working parents in future considerations, which they did, but as has been shown, in actuality this meant very little. However, what is indicated here is that there was only one senior officer promoting issues of equality within Western’s Pre-Five Service. This goes someway to explaining why this officer, the Pre-Fives Officer, felt it necessary to overcome the existing lack of sympathy and understanding on the issue of working mothers through commissioning her own survey. The resulting ‘market’ research survey for the Pre-Five Unit provided information to support the argument for more ‘women-orientated’ childcare and was a challenge to the lack of sympathy towards this issue within the internal policy community. Although this survey did succeed in highlighting the paucity of services for working women and its effects on women’s ability to return to the labour force it did not manage to create a more sympathetic atmosphere. This may be partly due to the fact that not all believed the survey to be useful, taking the view that surveys merely produce the answer sought by the commissioning body (Liberal Democrat councillor). This attitude was compounded by the aforementioned view that the Pre-Fives Officer was attempting to pervert the issue which led her opponents to believe that the survey was merely a mechanism to achieve this perversion. As such, the survey failed to reshape the bias within the Pre-Five SubCommittee and the council towards the requirements of working mothers. Attempts to challenge this bias failed and tacit opposition to the issue of provision for working mothers prevailed despite statements recognising the difficulties faced by such women. A lack of political response to community demands can result either from inaction due to nondecision-making but can also be due to inadequate issue search, in that poor research on an issue can lead to a degree of ignorance about the genuine demands on the public agenda. It has been shown here that, in the case of working mothers in Western, poor issue search was not the cause of unresponsive policy. Rather the existence of an unsympathetic policy community which, although willing to give paper support to working mothers, still refused to tackle the matter effectively was responsible. In summary, a mobilisation of bias existed which disadvantaged moves towards providing facilities for working mothers, as priority was given to the social deprivation aspects of the policy. Bureaucratic culture Swiebel (1988) shows how various factors within the bureaucratic culture can disadvantage attempts to devise and implement policies (see Chapter 1). Insufficient political support and an absence of career incentives within a bureaucracy can marginalise policy for women. Few bureaucrats will be willing to expend energy promoting policies which are not perceived as enjoying political endorsement or which would not be considered appropriate actions in promotion stakes. Given the political culture of Western at this time it would be logical to assume that very few officers would

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have anticipated that feminist demands would receive a sympathetic hearing. In fact, it can be concluded that such proposals would be labelled ‘radical’ and be dismissed. This appears to have occurred in Western where a clash of political cultures, one welfarist and one radical, but both socialist, meant that the radical agenda lost out: we only gradually came to understand the differences and implicit as well as explicit assumptions about the purpose and direction of services… In replies to the various papers we issued, education professionals made some of the strongest claims for the rightness of their professional discipline of teaching… [while in] social work…a working mother is frequently seen as a bad mother, a deviate from the ideal. (Penn, 1992:24–6) The values held by the staff of the Pre-Five Unit were, of course, another example of a challenge to the status quo, to the prevailing bias. The bureaucratic culture of Western, in being closed to radical opinion and proposals, provides another incidence of nondecisionmaking. This incidence of nondecision-making should not be interpreted as quiescence for although a closed bureaucracy can stifle dissent in the manner described by Gaventa (1980) challenges to the status quo were made. These challenges did not occur, however, until the arrival of the Pre-Fives Officer who, as has been mentioned already, was not widely supported in her aims and was rather isolated in her position. This isolation experienced by the supporters of a more radical policy was fairly intense in Western. At the time of her appointment, the then Chair of the Pre-Five Sub-Committee, (the convenor of the Labour Group), was a source of support for equality policies. Changes within the Labour Group which reduced his influence along with his transfer to another policy area left a vacuum of support for action on equality matters, in which the Pre-Fives Officer remained. A lack of sympathy for, or understanding of, feminist issues ensured that anyone holding such views felt marginalised and excluded: For most of the time I was in […] I felt uncomfortable as part of an allmale management team, not only with masculine assumptions about the relative importance of different aspects of the service, but with assumptions about hierarchy, status and worth. In retrospect, this is a familiar experience for women in management but at the time it was an isolating experience. (Penn, 1992:107) As the only woman in a Directorate of seventeen men and amongst a senior management team of fifty men this isolation must have been quite acute. This was heightened by the appointment of senior Education Officers in the late 1980s who were to epitomise the view that, in general, Scottish attitudes to education are more deferential and chauvinistic than those prevailing in England and were reflected in the hierarchical practices within the Education Directorate itself, such officers were soon to be dubbed the ‘educational barons’ of Western by the press, some councillors and the local community (see Penn, 1992, chapter 9 on differing educational cultures). In addition, the Pre-Fives Officer’s

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personal history as a previous local politician (albeit in England) did not fit in with Western’s division of duties and roles between Members and Officers, despite all the rhetoric regarding the breaking down of such distinctions inherent in the creation of Member/Officer Groups. It would not be fair to say that this was a strict fight between men and women, for, as in Eastern Region, the initial radical step (there in the establishment of an Equal Opportunities Sub-Committee and in Western the advocacy of a radical appointment in the Pre-Fives Officer) were the actions of individual men; the council Convenor and the Labour Group Convenor respectively. These men had a wider conception of the role of the Labour Party than many of their colleagues, more accurately reflecting the then pressures within the national Party for greater representation of equality matters (Eastern’s Convenor). Unfortunately, for the Pre-Fives Officer the Convenor of the Labour group appeared to be her only political support. Further, whereas the EOSC Chair in Eastern also had a network of professional support the Pre-Fives Officer was isolated to a considerable extent by personalised opposition from other council officers. This isolation was heightened by the perception of her as an outsider, encouraged and fostered by the nondecision-making practices described in the next section. Branding and delegitimisation In their list of nondecision-making tactics Bachrach and Baratz (1970) include the practice of branding. This means to label someone or something in negative terms so as to delegitimise what is being presented. Branding is a very common occurrence, the frequent accusations of ‘loony left’ directed at certain actions of Labour-controlled councils by their opponents in the 1980s are too profuse to document but their effect is obvious: once labelled it is difficult for the target to regain status in the eyes of the public or decision-makers. In the following I show how this tactic was employed to delegitimise an officer and, thereby, to create an atmosphere unsympathetic to that officer’s proposals. The subject of this branding, the Pre-Fives Officer, was a fairly easy target in that her personal politics regarding childcare were well known as she was already the author of several articles advocating a more radical and equality-based approach to childcare (Penn, 1984a; Penn, 1984b). This placed her outside the Education Department and the council. Further, her background as a politician was also public knowldege and was reported in a national newspaper upon her appointment as was her feminist viewpoint (Glasgow Herald, 21 May 1986:11). On top of these factors was a perceived difference between the needs of Western and London. The local tabloid media attacked the Pre-Fives Officer on the basis of her being an ‘outsider’ from another part of Britain (The Sun (Scotland), 16 August, 1988; 5 October 1988). Some councillors went as far as to confide in the press that ‘[her] appointment was certainly not a popular one’ (The Sun, 5 October 1988). Indeed, the fact that the appointee was English was also held up as a negative factor (Labour councillor). This illustrates that certain councillors and the community held a perception of the PreFives Officer which was far from sympathetic. In fact the situation was to become quite personalised, attributed by one respondent to a difference in political cultures: one a more radical and egalitarian culture contrasted with the other, the ‘macho culture in the Education department’ (Convenor Labour group). At this time Western’s Education

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Directorate was a perfect illustration of the ‘glass ceiling’ facing women professionals in that it was wholly male. The admission of a female officer challenged this, especially as the Pre-Fives Officer wished to ensure that women’s needs were being met by the policies the council was implementing (Penn, 1992:7). This hostility also included other labels with which the Pre-Fives Officer was branded, such as ‘left-wing’, ‘feminist’ and ‘loony left’. One extract from an article in The Sun illustrates the employment of all of these, in a single paragraph: Scots teachers are terrified of a new loony left regime—because a nursery boss had been employed from a notorious London council… She is accused of neglecting nursery schools in favour of free creches for working mums… One teacher said ‘We’re not having it—look at London. This is Scotland and we do not want politics in education. She is a feminist and I think she bases her ideals on her own background’. (The Sun, 5 October, 1988) This one quotation contains all of the negative labels used against the PreFives Officer and relates them to her feminism and past political career to create an impression that any policy sought by this woman must be illegitimate and, by implication, delegitimised the gender agenda. Concurrent with this was the hostility in certain areas of the community towards the prefive policy (primarily opposition from teachers and parents who viewed the community nursery model as a threat to nursery education) which became evident in personalised attacks on the Pre-Fives Officer as the officer responsible for the implementation of policy decisions taken by local politicians. This hostility is partially explained by the high profile of the policy but on the whole this was a case of shooting the messenger because of the message. This cursory rejection of the Pre-Fives Officer, as the embodiment of a policy unpopular with certain vested interests provides another example of branding in that the instigators of these personalised attacks felt that it was possible to delegitimise the whole policy (including many aspects of a community nursery model to which much opposition existed) through assailing and branding the officer employed to implement council policy. The pre-five initiative drew a great deal of media interest though, as shown, not all coverage was viewed as fair reporting by the staff concerned (Penn, 1992:61). Nonetheless, the Unit certainly had a high profile which was felt to be necessary due to the nature of the policy for, as a new and innovative policy, it was necessary to promote its proposals. This was done through a series of public meetings (as well as the Consultation Exercise) to enlighten the community on what their councillors were providing. However, these public meetings permitted some of the hostility directed towards the policy to be set against the Pre-Fives Officer, rather than the elected councillors, quite an unusual occurence (Labour councillor). There can be little doubt that such attacks were encouraged by the enmity (from certain quarters) surrounding the prefive policy and was assisted by the practice of branding which was not restricted to the tabloid press but was also used within the council, and by councillors who where happy to relate their enmity to the press. Whether or not this branding was deliberate is not important for it legitimised the view that the Pre-Fives Officer was not to be granted the respect commensurate with her

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position. This is a very clear example of marginalising a potential challenger through branding, conscious or unconscious, and as such is further evidence of nondecisionmaking.

Conclusions As has been shown in this chapter nondecision-making did occur in the creation, development and implementation of the pre-five policy in Western Region. This is not to say that all attempts at nondecision-making went unchallenged nor that there were no efforts made to counter such nondecision-making. It can be concluded that the survey commissioned by the Pre-Five Unit from a local university was one attempt to produce empirical data to support a particular challenge to the focus of the pre-five policy. It could also be argued that the actions to reorientate the policy towards a more feminist perspective were also an example of nondecision-making through the technique of issue perversion. However, the fact that the original policy guidelines, laid down in precursor documents, Room to Grow, the Interim Report of the Member/Officer Group and in the Final Report were more aware of the requirements of working mothers (at least on paper) than the eventual policy which was implemented, points more to the redressing of the original balance than to actual issue perversion on the part of advocates of a more woman-orientated policy. There is no doubt that branding was used to delegitimise not only the principal officer responsible for the implementation of the pre-five policy but also her attempts to develop equality of opportunity issues within the policy through association. In fact, other aspects of the pre-five policy which had opponents, such as the community nursery model, were also criticised using some of the branding which had been used to oppose equality matters and vice versa. The very structural setting of Western Council was also a player in the debates around the pre-five policy (Penn, 1992:107) and which situated the Pre-Fives Officer as a total ‘outsider’ (two Labour councillors made reference in interviews to the way in which others within the council viewed her as an outsider). In addition, the dominant male culture, to which we can attribute the scarcity of feminist demands in the region, was reflected in the council. The members of the ‘old Right’ who controlled the Labour councils in Labour’s strongholds until the 1970s were dominated by a working-class and trade-union ethos and had: [b]oth their personal and political position…bound up in a set of family relationships in which women have always been subordinate… providing the appropriate domestic arrangements… (Lieberman, 1989:257) It should be remembered that Western’s pre-five policy began life in the 1970s when several of the ‘old Right’ still retained influence within the council. Compounding this is the influence of religion in the area which also reinforces traditional gender roles, with some individual women councillors criticising the Pre-Fives Officer’s work on the basis of religiously based gender role stereotypes.

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It is conceivable that equality issues may have fared better had there been a greater sympathy for the issues of ‘race’ and sex equality or if the tactics employed to promote these issues had been different. The directness of the Pre-Fives Officer in her support of these issues (which were supported in addition to the remainder of the policy not to its exclusion) was obvious from her first press interview (Glasgow Herald, 21 May 1986:11) and the tenacity with which these were pursued did not meet with success in the very hierarchical and deferential Education Directorate of Western (Penn, 1992:108). This is another area of difference with the Eastern case study where the tactics of incrementalism were employed to ensure the creation of a favourable atmosphere towards issues of equality. Perhaps a more incremental approach would have had greater success in overcoming the inherent bias against what was perceived to be a radical challenge to the status quo. In conclusion, nondecision-making was most certainly a factor in hampering the development of the pre-five policy in Western towards serving the whole community, including women. In this chapter I have shown how the prevailing welfarist discourse permitted nondecision-making to occur in the formulation of the policy and how, through the tactics of issue perversion, branding, and issue suppression it created an unsympathetic bureaucratic culture for the development of policies for women. Despite statements and decisions made by the Pre-Five Sub-Committee in support of services for working parents very little was actually done to fulfil these promises and delays and denials were placed in front of those officers who did try, against bureaucratic and political barriers to provide an inclusive service for pre-fives, indicating the true level of commitment to the needs of working mothers and their children.

7 Getting beyond the barriers The focus of this chapter is to examine strategies and positions within the policy process which can be beneficial (or damaging) to WIIs. In doing so I primarily analyse the British policy process, in particular using empirical material from Scottish local government, including the two case study regional councils, and WIs from all over Britain. Some strategies can effect social and policy change others reinforce the status quo; as shown in Chapter 1, strategies for maintaining the status quo include the mobilising of a bias against challengers and the employment of nondecision-making. I have shown, by case studies and historical investigations, that both such techniques have operated against WIIs in the British policy process often resulting in a socialisation process which discourages women from even raising objective interests. As Maddock (1993:341) contends: In the past, authoritarian cultures have silenced women, which has made the prevailing culture of patriarchal relations appear pre-ordained and immutable. The sheer force of tradition has in turn left many women powerless and unable to contemplate the possibility of challenge or comment. The experience of WIIs in Eastern Region where a culture of supposed contentment with council provision existed adds weight to Maddock’s observations of English councils.

Bureaucracy and Women’s Initiatives In the first chapter I raised the concepts of Pluralists and Group Theorists and showed how they were not sufficient to explain the marginalisation of WIIs, positing nondecision-making and the existence of unsympathetic bureaucratic cultures as partial alternative explanations. Here I shall examine the position and strategies available to women in the British policy process, with particular reference to local government initiatives for women, to examine the nature of the bureaucratic environment and the relationship between that environment, women and policy-making on issues of gender equality. Over thirty years ago, Schattschneider argued against Pluralist and Group Theorists claiming that political participation is limited with only a small minority of the population of any ‘democratic’ state having access to the political system of pressure politics. Referring mostly to social class he wrote that the ‘flaw in the pluralist heaven is that the heavenly chorus sings with a strong upper class accent (Schattschneider, 1960:35). Perhaps Schattschneider can be forgiven for neglecting to add that all the

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voices in the heavenly chorus were tenors, baritones and basses given that he was writing before the advent of ‘second wave’ feminism. We do now have available feminist analyses of pressure group politics (Stedward, 1988; Randall, 1982; Lovenduski and Randall, 1993, etc.) which provide some answers to the questions surrounding the mobilisation of feminist influence within policy-making. However, despite being an advance on non-feminist work, some questions remain unanswered. Stedward’s (1988) study of the British Women’s Liberation Movement (WLM) provides evidence of women’s interests which have succeeded in gaining access to the policy process and influencing policy-making, and she argues that: women’s interests are not excluded per se from the political agenda. Some women’s interests have been remarkably successful in achieving their aims. The abortion lobby and Women’s Aid for example, illustrate the success available to even radical groups, whose aims challenge the status quo. (Stedward, 1988:210) If Stedward’s analysis is correct then it begs the question as to why some WII succeed where others, such as childcare, fail. One explanation offered by Stedward is the lack of unification in the WLM in Britain which prevents the presentation of a coherent and consolidated front to policy-makers for the British WLM is not a single organisation but rather a collective term encompassing a myriad of diverse campaigns and demands. As Stedward points out: no women’s party or unified pressure group exists to challenge the existing ‘mobilisation of bias’ in any concerted way. Rather, individual women’s groups have acted, either singly or in alignments with other interests, on particular issues. (Stedward, 1988:209) In Stedward’s analysis successful groups appear to be those which are granted some form of preferential treatment—‘insider’ status (Grant, 1984)—or behave in ways acceptable to the mainstream: Those women who are in a position to articulate the views of women, as group representatives, must be willing to comply with the accepted political mores. The importance of this for political success is underlined by the comparison between those women’s groups which achieve their aims and those that do not. This is not to imply that only conservative groups will win their case, the National Abortion Campaign for example, could not be described as an establishment group. However, it could be said to have more in common with the National Farmers’ Union in terms of political campaigning than with many of the radical women’s groups who share its aims. While the issue itself is an important determinant of a lobby’s success, so too is the style adopted by a group in pursuit of its object.

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(Stedward, 1988:187–8) Applying this analysis to the different tactics employed by childcare proponents within Western and Eastern regional councils immediately brings to mind the fact that Eastern’s incrementalist approach was far more successful than the confrontational technique adopted, or perceived to be employed, by the Pre-Fives Officer in Western. As has been shown there was a fair degree of suspicion and hostility surrounding the appointment of the Pre-Fives Officer and comments on her tactics and practices reveal that she was considered to be operating outwith the usual constraints of officer behaviour and politically legitimate causes. In contrast, Eastern’s EOSC Chair generated political and bureaucratic support for her activities through establishing networks and employing incrementalist procedures. However, Stedward’s analysis is not wholly appropriate for this investigation given that there was a distinct lack of pressure for childcare from the communities investigated. The case studies show that there was a lack of impetus from local women regarding childcare policy formulation, in fact, the initial push for equality-based policies appears to have come from men at the top of the councils’ respective hierarchies who then entrusted ‘acceptable’ policies to women more resolute, in relation to equality issues, than themselves. In Eastern region, the EOSC Chair persistently pursued childcare for working parents overcoming the paucity of community pressure by developing her own network of supportive women around the project from across the council and the community. In Western, the Convenor of the Labour group ensured the appointment of the Pre-Fives Officer to develop childcare policies of that region. Unlike, the EOSC Chair, the Pre-Fives Officer did not have the advantage of assistance and mutual nurturance provided by a network of like-minded women. In fact, as has been shown, she was incredibly isolated in her position as a feminist advocate. A deeper investigation, not just of the restraints on women’s political mobilisation (which is discussed more fully in the following chapter), but of bureaucratic practices is necessary to provide insight into the widespread nature of the problem. This will show that women and WIIs were constrained within the bureaucracies concerned and it is to the structure and functioning of political bureaucracies that I now turn. Feminist responses to bureaucracy A number of feminists have produced work theorising about bureaucracies. Ferguson’s (1984) The Feminist Case Against Bureaucracy argues for the complete ‘feminisation’ of ‘male’ bureaucracies as a base upon which to build alternatives. This study criticises the inherent ‘maleness’ of bureaucratic structures and the supposed rationality of established and formalised systems of operating. This commentary presents a programme of ‘feminisation’ as a base upon which to build alternative, non-hierarchical, nonbureaucratic ways of life and practice. Succinctly, Ferguson argues that it is not sufficient for feminists to enter bureaucracies and work within them, but that what is necessary is a radical restructuring of the nature of the state and bureaucracy to remove the ‘maleness’. Swiebel (1988) and Eisenstein (1985, 1990) critique Ferguson’s account as essentialist and failing to take into account women’s successes within bureaucracy. Like Swiebel, Eisenstein employs her experience as a public servant (in New South Wales, Australia) to

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argue that barriers exist within bureaucracies concluding that her ‘expertise’ was only effective when it fitted into the already determined priorities of the bureaucracy, a limited but positive role: What was effective, in my experience, was a form of alliance between femocrats and traditional bureaucrats, where our interests ran parallel. In this context one’s authority as a feminist expert was recognised, and even sought: one’s gender was legitimate. Speaking as an advocate of women, arguments had weight. In a curious way the power of femocrats stemmed from their explicit orientation and role. This provided some freedom to manoeuvre. But the power wielded was limited. It was hedged about by the priorities of the organisation as a whole, and in the degree to which one’s own feminist projects could be fitted in. The struggle was always to extend the areas within which one’s gender experience and expertise was recognised by the men who continued, overall, to set the agenda. (Eisenstein, 1990:102) Despite questioning whether or not this is an acceptable model for feminist behaviour within political bureaucracies Eisenstein does conclude that ‘it seems futile to argue that feminists should not where possible be seeking to use the political process to further our ends’ (Eisenstein, 1990:102) thereby challenging Ferguson’s rejection of participation within bureaucracies. Such a position was adopted by some British feminists from 1980 in local government in the form of agitation for, and participation in, Women’s Committees, Equal Opportunities Committees and other bodies (all of these are referred to hereafter as Women’s Initiatives, (WIs), unless a specific form is being discussed). Some women decided that the most effective action to take was to play upon existing prejudices, one local government officer cited by Maddock (1993:346) asserted that she took a stereotypical ‘mothering’ or ‘school-marm’ approach which managed to ‘shame’ men into accepting and acting upon her arguments. Thus, by playing on traditional attitudes this woman managed to effect some policy change and decision-making procedures. However, it must be noted that such behaviour is pragmatic and is not likely to ever manage to change attitudes. Through an examination of the experiences of women and WIs in local government in Britain it is possible to delineate the way that policy-making for women has been conducted, the barriers faced and the achievements gained. Although it is recognised that the empirical material is UK based I contend that the findings here are more broadly applicable.

A brief review of British Women’s Initiatives Prior to the introduction of WI councillors had often pursued seemingly gender-blinkered policies which disadvantaged women by ignoring women’s distinctive needs determined by gender roles:

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Housing estates were designed without play areas for young children, without adequate lighting or security and with long, dark, dangerous passageways. Tenants’ halls and community halls had bars, but nowhere for women with young children to go. Adult education classes, sports activities and community facilities lacked crèche provision and therefore ore excluded single parents who perhaps needed them most. Support services for those looking after the elderly, the disabled or young children tended only to be provided as a last resort, and social services were often withdrawn if the handicapped or ill client had a mother, wife or daughter to take over. (Lansley et al., 1989:143) Women’s and Equal Opportunities Committees have worked in nontraditional ways, traversing established departmental boundaries to influence (or at least attempt to influence) policy-making in virtually every type of department to be found in the various forms of local government. As Maddock’s research has shown the demands made by women were for: clearer agendas, a focus on problems rather than avoiding them, more planning on the basis of agreed criteria and sticking to agreements… This is ‘open management’. The value of women managers is not as yet appreciated by many local authorities. (Maddock, 1993:344) Despite this observation, there is evidence that these demands have made a degree of inroad into certain councils. Although it is not true to say that all councils introduced the strategies requested above, some have been affected by feminist demands from within and without. Not all went as far as to introduce an education programme in equality issues for all council staff (EO Officer, DC2) but in many councils such gender-blinkered policy-making as described above has been challenged. As has already been recognised, it was the existence of such a body, the Equal Opportunities Sub-Committee, which led to the development of a woman-orientated childcare policy in Eastern region. It can also be concluded that the initial absence of such a structure, and the administrative weakness of the body which was subsequently established within Western (an Advisory Group on Women’s Issues), contributed to the failure of the Pre-Five Officer to counter the marginalisation which faced her proposals to introduce a more equality-based aspect to the pre-five policies developed in her region. Given the differing experiences of the two case study regions, both fairly culturally similar, with regard to childcare policy formulation it is worthwhile to also examine the role that WIs have played more generally within British and Scottish, local government. It is my contention that these findings are not geographically specific but can also be applied across ‘Western democracies’. This examination is followed by an investigation into how successful WIs have been in facilitating women’s access to the policy process at the local level to see what conclusions can be drawn from this experience. It should be noted that although bureaucratic culture, as already stated, is not a consideration in traditional nondecision-making terms, the existence of a hostile

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bureaucracy can affect and effect nondecision-making within a policy-making body. It is this context, of relating bureaucratic culture and nondecision-making, that the following addresses. Before moving on to this consideration it must be noted that gender was not the only social cleavage which councils were challenged with tackling and other voices had already highlighted other biases perceived to exist within local government policies. By the mid-1970s in the newly formed Western Region, Labour councillors were tackling the supposed class neutral effects of policies which they viewed as benefiting the middle classes, developing new ways of working across departmental boundaries and between officers and members (Young, 1981; see also Marchbank, 1993), Women’s and Equal Opportunities committees can be seen to have built upon these influences developing in Western and across local government. Women’s Initiatives Edwards (1988) warns against the dangers of making generalisations about WIs given that each has its own, individualistic, story of how it came about. Likewise Lansley et al. (1989) point out that ‘there was no pattern’ to the formation of WIs and that they are composed of very differing membership. In fact, some included men, some were supported by a number of co-optees, some were full committees of council and others were no more than working or advisory groups. Nor is it possible to categorise the WIs by their status within the bureaucratic structure of the council for, although it would seem that full committees of council represent a greater commitment to women’s issues than a working party, not all full committees are well funded. Some Equal Opportunities committees had greater status and power (not to mention resources for women) than many full Women’s committees (Halford, 1988). However, one predominant feature was the lack of administrative support in the clerical sense. With the exceptions of the (now disbanded) Greater London Council (GLC) and Camden Borough Council (in the 1980s) very few WIs have enjoyed adequate administrative support to assist in the servicing and implementation of decisions. In fact, Halford (1988:251–9) found that 20 per cent of WIs in local government had no full-time staff at all, yet many managed to achieve their policy goals by relying on the goodwill of supportive officers and volunteers. Apart from a lack of resources and staff WIs share another feature: a perceived association with the New Urban Left was common currency with the attempts by the New Urban Left (throughout the late 1970s and 1980s) to reclassify left of centre policies in terms other than simply those of class. Broad coalitions of interests: ‘race’, disability, gender, sexuality, developed in those areas which had witnessed a transfer of power within local Labour Parties from the working class to professional, educated socialist supporters. WIs tended initially to be established in areas such as London where ‘the Labour Party has a stronger numerical following from within the middle-class intelligentsia than in the industrial heartlands’ (Lieberman, 1989:245). Lansley, Goss and Wolmar argue that is inaccurate to view Women’s committees as ‘a litmus test of “Leftism”’ (Lansley et al., 1989:145) given that the idea also appealed to several Labour councils that would not be classified as part of the Labour Left. Parkin (1992), who states that almost all arose from Labour controlled councils (though noting

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that a few existed in hung councils), appears to disagree with Lansley et al. regarding the influence of the Labour Left: Women’s initiatives are less likely to exist in very stable traditional Labour authorities where there is a ‘one party state’ with no change of political control… In Hackney London, which is always Labour controlled, there was, however, a political change within the Labour group. New councillors who were no longer predominately white and working class but included Left Wing professional people and feminists came into office. (Parkin, 1992:2) Parkin is correct in that, at first, WIs did arise from actions within nonconventional Labour authorities, but as Lieberman (1989) points out the trend spread to the more traditional Labour heartlands via political activists. In other words, the major thrust behind all these, even if indirectly, was the influence of the Women’s Movement. Scotland, in particular Central Scotland, is an area of Labour traditionalism and the history of WIs here is informative as it offers up instances of conflict between ‘trendy’ theories and entrenched vested interests. This conflict has been both overt and covert, providing examples of bias and a silencing of challenges as well as political differences (see Marchbank, 1993). Various political groupings can be seen amongst Labour activists at this time, from Militant supporters with their focus on the primacy of class to the welfarism of the ‘old right’ of Labour, neither of whom prioritised feminist demands, either seeing them as predominantly middle class or ‘trendy’ respectively. However, the success of Labour in the 1984 elections encouraged a ‘general optimism about the ability to promote municipal socialism…despite the national political context’ (Woodward, Private Communication, 1996) which encouraged all areas of policy work, including those feminists active within the Party. It would be incorrect to assume that all women within the Labour Party, and within the wider community, automatically supported the establishment of WIs as a priority issue, thus WIs had to establish their worth with women generally as well as to tackle existing biases within the administrative practices of councils and local political parties. This situation meant that they did not have too auspicious a start. Despite this growth occurred and by 1992 Scottish local government could boast of a range of provision: Equal Opportunities committees being established by three district councils and two regions; Women’s committees established by another two regions; combined Women’s and Equal Opportunities bodies were also created by one each of a region and a district, even the smallest local authority established a Women’s Forum. However, not all of these WIs lasted to the reorganisation of Scottish local government in 1996 and, in Scotland, as in other parts of Britain, many WIs transmogrified into more generic Equality or Social Justice bodies which focus on a range of issues.1 To claim that there was ever a mass feminist movement in Scotland campaigning for the introduction of WIs would not only be false but would contradict all that has already been said about the Scottish structural setting. Pressure for actions came from within the Labour Party itself, where this pressure also met opposition. As already argued, both the ‘old Right’ and the ‘new Left’ (not to be confused with New Labour)2 within the Labour

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Party viewed the class struggle as paramount and so were opposed to the calls from women, supported by ‘middle class men in the centre left ground’ (Lieberman, 1989:250) for specific structures to represent the needs of women. However, this is not to say that this was a strict conflict of working-class men against women and middle-class men, for both these camps included women and middle-class members. The involvement of two men, both looking to the more radical school of Livingstonestyle politics,3 was necessary to the future developments of the childcare policies in both the case study councils. The explanation of why it was men that stimulated the original equality actions (the Convenor establishing the framework of an Equal Opportunities Sub-Committee in Eastern and the Convenor of the Labour group in determining the appointment of the Pre-Fives Officer in Western) may simply be that such actions required the intervention of councillors with seniority and influence. Given the distinct under-representation of women in Scottish local government (Bochel and Denver, 1992:ii; 1994:ix), it would appear that only men, (and not many of them) held such qualifications and power (see Bochel, 1998 for the numbers of women in senior positions). In other words, given the ‘maleness’ of the bureaucracies in Eastern and Western it is fair to conclude that if anyone was going to act on women’s behalf it had to be a man, and one who was open, and had access, to the influence of Labour policies in the very different cultural context of London. Both Eastern’s Convenor and Western’s CLG fitted this description. Not only did these ‘new’ men support equality aims, they were prepared to use their power to instigate actions. In Eastern it was the Convenor’s awareness of the work done by the GLC and a neighbouring Scottish region (Convenor) harnessed to his analysis of Labour’s philosophy of equality4 which led to his establishment of Eastern’s EOSC. He was able to do this due to the power and influence he held both within the council and the Labour group. Lieberman (1989) argues that the appointment of Scotland’s first ever Women’s Officer also resulted from the support of an influential man, again the council convenor who was persuaded after a visit by members of the GLC to enact similar practices as operated in London. Lieberman argues that his support, and position, were crucial in influencing the Labour group’s decision and ultimately the council’s action (Lieberman, 1989:250). By contrast, in two major Scottish cities, the WIs were more dependent upon the support of active women, perhaps explaining why in these cities the WIs did not aim immediately for resources but focused on developing political support within their political hierarchies first (Woodward, Private Communication, 1996). Thus, the major thrust behind all these WIs has been the influence of the Women’s Movement via local political activists. As Woodward points out few WIs were initiated by councillors; although strong support by councillors quickened up the establishment of WIs, they were still reliant on party members starting discussions, maintaining pressure and persuading councillors (Woodward, Private Communication, 1996). Obviously, the two factors of active feminists and supportive influential men are interlinked and mutually supportive. Without the knowledge and arguments provided by feminists, both within the local and national party, some of these ‘new’ men might not have prioritised equality actions. Likewise, without the power of these men feminist arguments might have fallen on stony, if sympathetic, ground. However, another factor to be considered is political in that it certainly could, and may, have benefited the careers of such men within the national Labour Party to be seen to be supportive of WIIs and

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‘minority’ issues (Eastern’s Convenor continues this commitment to WIIs as a Government Minister). As advantageous as this was to the establishment of WIs in Scotland it also caused some problems. Ruling Labour groups faced with the prospect of implementing manifesto promises devised by sectors of the membership rather than the elected councillors were not always overly enthusiastic. This led to situations such as in one district council where there was a delay of over a year between the establishment of a Women’s committee and the creation of a support unit. It can be concluded that some councils took the view that all that was required to fulfil their pledge was the founding of a committee with no account taken of how that committee would function in relation to other areas of the council’s responsibilities. This is an example of nondecision-making occurring between the taking of a decision and the inability to create an effective implementation policy. It can perhaps be concluded that there was no incentive to develop effective implementation as the political step of showing support. had been taken, a similar situation to that which occurred in Western regarding the continued espousal of childcare for working parents as a policy with no actual investment. That is, nondecision-making by defusing a challenge with statements of intent. Rearranging the deckchairs? Throughout the time of the development of Scottish WIs (from the mid-1980s) national government was dominated by the Conservative Party. Given Conservative antipathy to feminist ideologies it could be concluded that such activities in local government were as futile as rearranging the deckchairs in the ill-fated Titanic. Another interpretation of this simile is that the actions of WIs in Scotland merely reflected the traditional gender role and responsibilities of women without challenging them, a rearrangement to ease the symptoms perhaps without alleviating the cause. It is immediately apparent that work on areas such as childcare, health and women’s safety reflect women’s traditional gender role. The construction of women in the British state (and many others) is as a dependant with caring responsibilities and specific physiological problems, none of which apply to men, in fact men are constructed as the opposite. However, to suppose that work on these areas is non-feminist is a misconception on two fronts: one actual and one tactical. The actual case would be to view, for example, childcare provision as merely supportive of women’s gender role. However, childcare work has, to some extent, challenged societal norms regarding the participation of mothers in the workforce and wider society, helps shape the socialisation processes of the next generation and, if state or employer funded, shifts resources from what is deemed to be the public domain to the private. This is not even considering the feminism inherent in providing any service which might, even for a single afternoon, relieve the burden upon individual women. The tactical misconception is to view the formulation of such policies as an end in themselves. This is not the case. Eastern Council provides an excellent example of the utilisation of the tactics of incrementalism to gain council backing for future, more radical, policies. Kane (1990) argues that as a Women’s Officer she viewed the establishment of a shoppers’ crèche as an extremely tactical move in that it not only provided extensive publicity opportunities for the new Women’s Unit but also gave it

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‘public legitimacy’ (Kane, 1990:20). Such legitimacy was able to ensure support, or rather non-opposition, to later proposals such as the establishment of a Women’s Technology Training Centre. Nonetheless, a review of the areas of work of WIs reveals the fact that most actions were on providing new, or improving delivery of existing, services rather than on involving more women in decision-making. Several attempts were made in this area, for instance, in Western the Advisory Group on Women’s Issues sought to increase women’s involvement through the organisation of events such as Women Into Politics. However, until women are also in senior positions within the bureaucracy such actions are limited, in 1991 only three of the ninety senior officers in Western were women, and they were all in ‘traditional’ areas of Cleaning, Catering and Social Work (Western’s Women’s Officer). This was not an unusual situation and was reflected in a corresponding deficit in the number of women councillors who held senior posts in regional councils (e.g. Convenor, Vice Convenor, Leader). Bochel (1988) shows that before 1987 none of these posts was held by a woman with only two women achieving such office by 1993. Bochel’s analysis also notes that the type of committees chaired by women from 1977 to 1985 emphasised ‘caring’ roles. By 1993 this appeared to have broadened to a much wider range, although education, social work, personnel and women’s/equal opportunities remained significant. (Bochel, 1988:14) From the beginning WIs recognised that council bureaucracies were not overly welcoming of community opinion from women and several attempted to ameliorate this situation through appointing local women onto various committees involved in the promotion of WIIs. The practice of including non-councillors on committees, referred to as co-options, was permitted in Scotland under the terms of the Local Government (Scotland) Act of 1973. Co-option was not confined to Scotland either, although there was and is considerable variation in the size of the committees established to operate WIs throughout Britain the majority co-opted members of the local community onto committees (Edwards, 1988:43). This was often an effective way of integrating local women into the policy process but it was also limited by several factors, including the rights of co-optees, the selection procedure and the number on committees compared to elected members. Edwards’s study (1988) of Women’s committees throughout Britain used data from a survey conducted by the National Association of Local Government Women’s Committees (NALGWC) which revealed that there was a wide range of co-option practices amongst the thirty committees which responded, with twenty-one committees having co-optees, though only twelve permitted them full voting rights. In Scotland, although co-optees sat on a variety of committees including the WIs for both Eastern and Western regions none held voting rights. Since 1989 co-optees have been legally prevented from holding voting positions (under the Local Government and Housing Act) which may have restricted the influence of local women on committees but as one Equal Opportunities Officer put it ‘the importance of voting rights is negated in Women’s Committees as they tend to reach consensus decisions’ (EO Officer, DC2).

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Nonetheless, the existence of certain committee members holding less ability to determine policy than the elected members must have had a marginalising effect. This power imbalance was further exacerbated by the numbers game whereby, in the majority of cases, councillors far outnumbered co-optees. The one exception was Scotland’s smallest council which had a committee of six co-optees and one councillor (the only woman councillor in that local authority). What really influences the effectiveness of cooptions in representing the interests of ordinary women is the selection procedure. As shown in Chapter 5, where it was asserted that this is an act of nondecision-making, it is possible to select members of a group to represent particular interests. The same can occur with co-options both deliberately and unconsciously but both of which constitute instances of nondecision-making. Both Western and Eastern regions provide excellent examples of how co-options can be used to ensure the inclusion of certain viewpoints. In Eastern, co-options were deliberately sought from particular organisations to ensure the representations of certain views (Eastern’s CE Officer). These groups were local trade unions, local employers, voluntary organisations and single parents. Western’s co-options hardly extended beyond the confines of the council with one each from the Social Work and Chief Executive’s departments. Two others came from the trade union movement (STUC) and local Health Board with only one from a women’s organisation, Women’s Aid (from an in-house leaflet on the Advisory Group, undated). Both these cases may be viewed as examples of deliberate nondecision-making in that they exclude ordinary women constituents. Western Region ameliorated this situation somewhat by hosting alternative meetings of the Advisory Groups as open meetings in local areas. However, any representations made at such meetings carried no more weight than advice and requests. Eastern Region, subsequently adapted their co-option scheme to include representatives from the Elderly Forum, Working Group in Disability and the Working Group on Racial Equality, all of which were community based (Eastern’s CE Officer). These selection methods are not without merit for they do manage to include certain sectors of society which would perhaps have few other opportunities to contribute to policy-making. As Edwards argues: The main aim behind co-optee schemes is not only to increase women’s representation generally, but specifically to ensure the representation of women from minority groups such as black/ethnic minority women; disabled women; older women; younger women; lesbian women. (Edwards, 1988:43) In this sense co-option programmes counter the double marginalisation faced by the groups mentioned by Edwards and assist such women in overcoming some of the structural barriers within our society. However, it does appear that in this period in Scotland only some of these twice-marginalised women’s views were sought with others ignored, either deliberately or through ignorance. In fact, in at least one case it appears that co-optees were canvassed amongst local activists who shared the ideologies of the relevant councillor to ensure that a childcare policy would be equality-focused. Summing up the history and actions of WIs reveals that the majority of work done by them has been in two areas: policy for women and women’s rights as council employees

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(see Marchbank, 1993). In the first case many of these policies, or adaptations of implementation procedures of existing policies, reflect what is traditionally deemed to be women’s gender role in society and, it can therefore be argued, condone and support gender divisions. However, as I contended above, actions which assist women do not need to be revolutionary to be beneficial to women. The second case, that of ensuring equality for council employees, has been a major task for WIs, for some this has been the sole area of work, in one district council budget and staff limitations forced the Women’s Officer to focus solely on this area (Women’s Officer, DC3). Nonetheless, even this single area of work also had an awareness-raising role within councils, often due to officers being required to educate other employees or simply through the educative powers of discussion around equality issues in employment presenting a different view of women’s role and abilities. Yet both these areas still involve the majority of women only as passive targets of policies and not as policy-makers. Co-option schemes have been shown to have amended this slightly but these too have been restricted. Where WIs have perhaps most involved women in policy-making has been in the attempts within local Labour Parties to convince the party to make manifesto commitments on WIs. Here women have effected and affected policy but, as was discussed above, often had to leave the implementation of such policies to the men in power. Nonetheless, WIs changed the face of local government and policy-making for women, and are viewed as being: a really important development of the Women’s Movement. They are an extension of our area of influence and we are penetrating and changing the structures which determine how we live. However, local government women’s committees are precisely that. They are not the Women’s Movement, and we mustn’t conflate the two. They are a form of municipalised feminism that is extending our sphere of power. (Kane, 1990:24) So it would appear that the work of Women’s Initiatives did manage to do more than simply rearrange the deckchairs, and actually challenged the form which the deckchairs assumed, as Edwards (1995) points out, what is distinctive about local government WIs: is that they provide a working model (albeit an imperfect one) of a genuinely ‘bottom-up’ public policy-making which empowers (emphasis in the original) women to articulate their own policy needs and which employs the resources and authority of local government to enable them to realise new kinds of public service. (Edwards, 1995:86) As such, the existence of WIs is not futile: not only have policy decisions on gender equality been made but feminists active within local councils have also challenged the nature of the policy process, albeit in a limited fashion. However, this strategy relies heavily upon an acceptance amongst feminists within local government of the boundaries of political expediency. As Eisenstein posits, this is not the best scenario as it is hardly the feminist utopia originally sought by activists. Although it answers her question as to

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the acceptability and feasibility of the model of feminists working within state systems and bureaucracies, there are still severe limitations, institutional biases and bureaucratic barriers.

Bureaucratic barriers and marginalisation Stone (1988), in her research for the Equal Opportunities Commission, found several examples of strains between WIs and their parent bodies, in particular where WIs were attempting to operate on a collective, non-hierarchical basis. Such strains and tensions developed due to the incompatibility of their working practices with those of the rest of the council. She has not been the only person to recognise such situations. Parkin, a former Women’s Officer wrote: Islands of collectivism were only marginalized and ignored by hierarchical white male bureaucratic power. As in political groups, the absence of formal leadership only led to the informal power of the ‘Tyranny of Structurelessness’. (Parkin, 1990 cited in Parkin, 1992) No matter how hard Women’s Initiatives may attempt to operate as feminist islands within local government, through such events as International Women’s Day celebrations or by separate and different practices and procedures, it is the case that, as the tide has turned away from support of such actions, ‘islands of feminist practice in the local state will no longer be nourished’ (Parkin, 1990:30). As Parkin predicted, feminist practice must be ferried to the mainland, yet without supporters and alterations to the political bureaucracies it is not likely that such a shift in emphasis alone will be sufficient to guarantee the full integration of WII into policy-making within local, or national, government. This can be read as an argument for mainstreaming, the process of putting women at the heart of government which aims to ensure ‘that the interests and concerns of both women and men are taken into account in the design and implementation of policies at all levels and in all areas’ (Ruddock, 1998). However, there are dangers inherent within this, it is not enough to move women into the mainstream if the rest of the political structure is not modified and it is clear what authority Women’s Officers have in other policy areas and the nature of the relationships between different departments. Swiebel’s (1988) study of emancipatory policies in the Netherlands discusses this need for the integration of policy for women into all relevant policy fields. She shows, from her personal experience, what happens within a bureaucracy when policy for women is being formulated, delineating the factors which hinder the development of WIIs whilst highlighting the ‘off-shore’ status of these interests within the Dutch national bureaucracy. The first difficulty in creating co-ordinated policy for women perceived by Swiebel is due to the politics of problem definition. That is the failure (or refusal) to see women’s social position as integral to society and that a policy which may be in the general good (i.e. men’s) may not suit women. Policy-makers may be quite happy to provide a specific service for women from a part of their budget but are less likely to understand and accept

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arguments that the whole thrust of certain policies may be creating inequalities. Providing adult education classes without crèches and building underpasses and planting bushes on walkways (thereby making walkways into muggers’ alleys) are just some examples of how the lives of women can be restricted by seemingly genderless policies. Proof that Swiebel’s practical problems with defining issues also existed in Scotland is shown by the recognition by several Scottish councils of the detrimental effect upon women of traditional policy implementation practices, that is by the fact that these practices were challenged. In Western Region, for example, a system was established to devise Action Plans and to monitor delivery of all services to women (Western’s Women’s Officer) and other councils also made moves here, tackling leisure provision for women in two district councils and in one region advocating increased street lighting and public transport as safety issues, all crossing sacrosanct departmental boundaries and policy fields to attempt integrated policy-making. It does seem that such gender-blinkered practices as once existed have been challenged fairly successfully by feminists and femocrats with Scottish WIs. However, the same cannot be said for Swiebel’s second hurdle, insufficient political support, as it is still the case that WIIs are not fully politicised as the demands are still treated as vague. As Outshoorn (1986) has noted, demands which can be easily quantified have a better chance of making it to the political agenda. Furthermore, many Women’s Issues face a further hurdle as they do not fit neatly into established patterns of political conflict or philosophies; Edwards (1995) cites examples of WIs’ demands for childcare, generated from working groups of local women, being rejected by the parent authority for not fitting into the established form for a policy demand. The third barrier outlined by Swiebel is the fragmentation of administrative organisation. Often the person with responsibility for policies for women has no influence over the policies of other departments. In Scottish local government such a problem tended to be the norm rather than the rule and, as such, several WI officers in Scotland experienced similar frustrations due to a lack of support of fellow officers on issues such as equality of opportunity within recruitment among other issues.5 Fragmentation is not only evident in administrative organisation. Frequently feminist demands do not come in neat little bundles applicable to only one policy sector. The bureaucratic structures so denigrated by Ferguson are rightly critiqued for their inability to address issues which do not present themselves in traditional formats. Stedward explains this situation by arguing that: Faced with an already overcrowded agenda and policy process, it is not surprising that government [has] not permanently taken on board the octopus of feminist interest groups. (Stedward, 1988:79) An understanding of the importance of organisation is evident in the positioning of WIs in the centre of the bureaucracy (usually within Chief Executives’ departments or equivalent). This perhaps reflects the fact that the areas of responsibility for the council committee which they service straddle several different council departments and, as such, there is often a degree of confusion over the actual duties of both the committee and the officer. However, despite being placed at the centre of the bureaucratic process there is

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little possibility of changes occurring within bureaucratic procedures if, for example, like DC1, relevant committees and staff reviewing bodies such as Joint Consultative Committees met only once per year (Women’s Officer, DC1). Other WIs, although also within Chief Executive’s departments remained distanced from the centre. In DC3 the Women’s Initiative was part of the Personnel Services Unit, which was, in turn, a Unit of the Chief Executive’s office (with the committee being a sub-committee of the Personnel Services committee). Likewise in Western Region, an area covering half of Scotland’s population, there was no committee, instead an Advisory Group on Women’s Issues existed, serviced by a single Women’s Officer. The bureaucratic procedure within Western was that the Women’s Officer had contact with a network of officers across all departments entrusted to develop internal departmental Action Plans on personnel issues and service delivery matters. Thus, policy suggestions moved from Advisory Group (via the Women’s Officer) to an officer in each department, to that department’s parent committee with a summary eventually arriving with the Policy and Resources committee before a decision was taken on creating a new council policy. However, the Action Plans developed by this system were disappointing. This became a very limiting situation on what could be the best way of developing policy, through networking and contact with each department before policy was created. Thus, in Western Region a good procedure existed which should have put women’s issues at the heart of council policy-making, yet poor Action Plans, formulated within traditional departments, meant that the marginalisation of these issues could still occur. Policy for women needs to be integrated across all departments yet politicians, like all people, compartmentalise issues and policies. An officer is viewed as stepping out of line if she attempts to cross the rigid departmental boundaries separating one policy field from the other,6 despite incursions into corporate policy-making in recent years. The actions of the Pre-Fives Officer in Western to inject equality issues into the childcare policy were not viewed favourably, and as already noted, she was attacked on more than one occasion for having her ‘own agenda’. One explanation given for why she did not succeed was that she had attempted to take on the role of WIs within the council (she was appointed three years before this authority took any action on creating their Advisory Group on Women’s Issues), seen as a step out of line with established bureaucratic practices. Such a move met with tacit, and sometimes outright, opposition. In addition, departments guard their own policy fields quite tightly and the excellent idea of appointing a staff member of each department as a liaison with the WI (as in DC2) can meet with the suspicion that the Women’s Officer is out to create a band of fifth columnists (EO Officer, DC2) within departments and thus does nothing to facilitate integrated policy-making. By contrast, in Eastern, once the EOSC Chair had secured the passage of the commitment to develop an equality-based childcare policy, other departmental contacts became actively involved. In fact, although the EOSC’s policy was passed to Policy and Resources and from there to a Working Group chaired by Social Work, a considerable degree of integrated policy-making and cross-boundary work was achieved. Officers from both the Equal Opportunities Unit and the Social Work department made investigative visits to childcare facilities, developed policy suggestions and worked to the fulfilment of the council’s decisions. In fact in Eastern region the supporters of equalitybased childcare had achieved Eisenstein’s (1990) alliance of femocrats and bureaucrats.

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An opposite situation pertained in Western where, although the original Member/Officer group had managed to transcend departmental boundaries, this was not the case with the Officers once the policy was in the hands of the departments. In fact, the Pre-Fives Officer not only faced problems with amalgamating former Social Work staff into the Pre-Five Unit but other officers, of the Education department and others, were not sympathetic to her working methods and apparent lack of consideration for sacrosanct bureaucratic structures. Not only the structure but the culture of the bureaucracy can be inimical to the advancement of marginalised issues. As Swiebel (1988) observed in the Netherlands, as policy for women is not viewed as a professional activity it is often assigned to bureaucrats lacking specific knowledge. Frequently it is up to officers and civil servants to merely add ‘women’ to their other duties especially where there is no career to be made in this area, thus making policy for women is not recognised as a professional activity in its own right…[and]…the bureaucrats responsible for women have no stronghold of their own to defend and lack the weapons to impress their adversaries. (Swiebel, 1988:17) Scotland was not exempt from this bureaucratic culture, exemplified by an absence of any reward system. Despite the appointing of specific Women’s Officers, which is better than merely adding equality issues and Women’s Interest Issues (WIIs) onto an officer’s current workload, there existed an imbalance between the career structure of a WI Officer and her equivalent in any other department. Most WIs were grafted onto existing bureaucratic structures and operated as separate units with input into other departments. Further, there was no obvious step forward for WI Officers within the ‘parent’ hierarchy. Similarly, unlike other departments such as Housing or Education, WIs were not a statutory service and could be, and were, abolished with changes in political governorship. It would appear that most of the reward Women’s Officers received was neither financial nor related to status but rather a personal, psychological reward. Yet this is only enough to satisfy already dedicated feminists and is not sufficient to turn bureaucrats into femocrats let alone to feminise bureaucratic procedures, although it is arguable whether this was the aim of any of the Scottish WIs. So, given the existence of these barriers how can marginalised interests overcome them? It does not appear that a complete ‘feminisation’ of bureaucracies is feasible. However, developing and utilising counter-strategies has had some success.

Counter-strategies As illustrated above, pressure from communities, be they geographically or interest based, which challenge the status quo can face both political and bureaucratic barriers. Swiebel argues that these need not be simply accepted, rather that certain counterstrategies can be developed which can assist the promotion of such issues within the policy-making process. She has made several recommendations for improving policy-

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making for women. She advocates forcing change by ensuring the existence of a bureaucratic culture more sympathetic to working on WIIs by employing several counterstrategies. First, she advocates using the ‘myth’ of integrated policy-making to ‘encourage’ departments to change. To increase the legitimacy and add political authority to measures to promote policy for women, a statement supporting women is required (Swiebel, 1988:16). This may be done by the passing of a general policy document by the centre. Once the central authority is seen to be supportive of policy for women civil servants, officers and politicians are forced into taking WIIs into account which enables a learning process. Swiebel does acknowledge that there is a considerable risk that such a strategy may end up producing little more than a symbolic victory, but even this, she argues, is not totally in vain as symbolic victories can give WIIs a degree of official legitimisation. However, notwithstanding the occasional success, generally speaking the ‘myth of integration’ has been just that in some local authorities. Although several WIs resulted from local Labour Party manifesto promises this did not always mean that there was a groundswell of support within the party. The main example of this is the manifesto pledge which created DC5’s Women’s Committee. The local Labour Party did not expect to win the council elections and therefore there was no real debate on the issue, it was added to the manifesto list with no real expectation that they would ever be in a position to implement it. Thus, although political authority was seen to be given to the concept of WIs and WIIs the actual philosophy argument had not been won and, as such, the WIs could still have been lost at other stages. Comparing the actions, strategies and successes of WIs throughout Scotland to this counter-strategy it is obvious that there is still some distance to go to achieve Swiebel’s aim. Although several authorities certainly managed to create a myth of integration by first establishing a WI, and then providing degrees of political support, these have been limited. In the first instance the association of WIs with the urban left has constructed an ‘anti-myth’ of WIs being a product of the ‘loony left’. The branding of WIIs and WIs by such an ‘anti-myth’ has been an effective way of delegitimising an issue (see Marchbank, 1994). Swiebel’s next step is that new ideological points need to be made to replace the conventional model, and argued convincingly. In other words, Swiebel argues that, to succeed, advocates of WIIs need to create a new paradigm. Concomitant with this move is the requirement to present this discourse in the form of readily available and usable facts and figures to ease conventional bureaucrats and officers into working with WIIs; this is vital, for it is not possible to suddenly replace all personnel within a bureaucracy nor to re-educate immediately. Policies develop from a combination of ideology and information, thus both have to be provided in comprehensible and exploitable fashions. Comparing the development of the childcare policies within Eastern and Western illustrates how mutually dependent are these two matters. In both cases statistics were compiled which quantified the demand for services and the nature of services and policy options available to the council. However, the different response each received illustrates the importance of creating an appropriate paradigm. In Western the survey, although carried out by a senior officer and a local academic, met with a degree of officer and councillor opposition. Although this survey did succeed in highlighting the paucity of services for working women and its effects on mothers’ abilities to join the labour force it

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did not manage to create a more sympathetic atmosphere. In fact, as shown, some went as far as to accuse the officer of attempting to create her own agenda. In contrast, in Eastern (whose survey was conducted via the local media) ideological support already existed within the council due to the commitment of senior members and the survey results merely reinforced this new paradigm. The other essential elements of Swiebel’s prototype for successful WII policy-making are: the redefinition of bureaucratic roles and the creation of a reward scheme for officers involved with WIIs; the generation of political support both internally and in the community; and the existence of outside pressure from the community and other interested parties. Related to the strategy of creating a new standard is the fostering of support for particular and definite issues. Swiebel notes that one way a bureaucrat can ‘offset obstacles…is by actively generating political support for specific women’s demands’ (Swiebel, 1988:17). Referring back to the issue of childcare for working parents, one of the first steps in this direction in Eastern Region was to place the aforementioned survey on childcare needs with the local media which started the debate and provided a community input into the discussion at an early stage. Thus, even those previously uncommitted politicians were encouraged to support the findings of this community survey and political support for a specific demand was created, by the actions of WI officers and feminist politicians. This is not to claim that all councillors in Eastern prioritised childcare as highly as the EOSC Chair but simply that there was a wider departmental and political acceptance of her proposals than existed in Western Region. Swiebel’s fourth recommendation is that the fragmentation of bureaucracies can be countered by the redefining of roles. This requires WI officers taking the inaugural steps, rather than trying to alter policies created within other departments. As has been shown above regarding DC2 and Western Region, Scottish WIs have attempted this. Further, specific initiatives have been taken by Women’s Officers, most obviously with the campaign against domestic violence, entitled Zero Tolerance (Hart, 1997). Zero Tolerance is also a good example of the efficacy of networking recommended by Swiebel as it is a tactic which can ‘provide a powerful means of support enabling women to establish wider contacts with other women’ (Humm, 1995:187). This was facilitated across WIs in Britain via agencies such as NALGWC (which later became Women’s Local Authority Network) ensuring the sharing of ideas and experiences and support for establishing services, for example, Zero Tolerance has now spread across central Scotland and to many English authorities too. Swiebel argues that it is still not enough to have all the above factors if there is no political pressure from outside the bureaucracy. In other words, a key factor in the production of policy for women is the influence and pressure which can be exerted by the feminist movement. As has been shown, the community was not directly involved in the success stories in Scotland and Britain in general, and, as shown here, the majority of successful interventions by feminists has come about via pressure through the Labour Party or by femocrats within bureaucracies. In conclusion, it is clear that feminists and femocrats have made certain inroads into the local bureaucracies in Scotland and the findings here do indicate that Eisenstein’s contention that activity within policy-making bodies can be, to a certain extent, positive for women is supported. The Scottish experience indicates that certain achievements have occurred and that marginalised voices have been heard, though still muffled. Further, the

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application of Swiebel’s model (based on the Dutch experience) to another arena, both geographically and at a different level, is informative. Her findings are directly applicable to Scottish local government, examples of the use of what Swiebel lists as counterstrategies have been given showing that some have been successful and yet, what is also true is that other problems have also existed.

8 Political mobilisation and childcare That women around the world constitute invisible political majorities in their homelands is clear; that women will organise and support each other’s efforts to make their majority status known is a revolutionary idea. (Baxter and Lansing, 1983:178)

The marginalisation of Women’s Interest Issues (WIIs) has been an area of investigation for some time in political science (see Chapter 2). However, to my mind it remains partly unexplained, hence my focus on nondecision-making. The empirical chapters show quite conclusively that nondecision-making practices were employed on WIIs in both case studies. In addition, the structure of bureaucracies and the policy process themselves have been shown to be, in the main, incompatible with WIIs. As stated previously, structures which exclude sectors of policy-making from the mainstream are viewed here to be incidences of nondecision-making. Therefore, it can be concluded that WIIs have been victims of nondecision-making yet certain questions remain. First, why is it that some WIIs, such as equality of pay and opportunity have achieved success, whilst others, such as childcare, have not? Second, and related to the first question, why is it that one counter-strategy advocated by Swiebel (1988), that of community pressure increasing an issue’s chances of success, has not been available to all WIIs equally? Before addressing both these questions it is necessary to define what is meant by the ‘success’ of certain WIIs. Ideally success would be taken to indicate that the issue under consideration had been fully vocalised, legislated upon, fully implemented and true equality for all women achieved in the specific area relating to the WIIs. However, perfect implementation is virtually impossible to achieve even with a well-designed and appropriate policy. Therefore, for the purposes here, ‘success’, of WIIs is used to describe those which have achieved national agenda status, national legislation and national implementation. Admittedly there are shortcomings to this definition of ‘success’: it is both pragmatic and limited, but it is the most honest and the one which is used in this investigation. The starting point in seeking out the answers to these new questions is to outline their interconnectedness. It may be that the reason some WIIs have prospered in comparison with others is the existence of a strong pressure movement working for its attainment. Referring back to the original Four Demands of the British Women’s Liberation Movement (the name of the contemporary women’s movement) we see that they were/are: Equal pay for equal work Equal education and equal opportunities

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Free contraception and abortion on demand Free 24-hour community-controlled childcare (Humm, 1995) It is obvious that the first two, and part of the third demand have been transferred into national British policy,1 and all three had achieved implementation by 1975. By contrast, the fourth has been far from achievement though Britain’s New Labour Government (elected in 1997) does recognise the importance of childcare and lists it as one of six main priorities for Ministers for Women (see Marchbank, 1998), though as noted in Chapter 4 this strategy is based on fiscal allowances for purchased childcare rather than the provision of actual services. Nonetheless these moves towards family-friendly employment policies and childcare provision reflect the influence of feminist ideas within the labour movement. Such ideas were affirmed with the election, in 1992, of the then leaders of the Labour Party (John Smith and Margaret Beckett) who supported feminist issues (Lovenduski and Randall, 1993:356) indicating a commitment to WIIs amongst Labour Party members and the trade unions. However, these issues could only be enacted at national level once a Labour election success had been achieved. In looking for commonalities amongst these issues (the original WLM demands) it is clear that there was strong feminist pressure placed upon government to legislate on the first three demands, with lesser pressure existing for the issue of childcare which has had to await the arrival of a government which includes feminist opinion regarding childcare.

Pressure for Women’s Interest Issues: equal pay, equal opportunity and abortion Comparing childcare as a feminist demand with other feminist issues indicates differences in the mobilisation of political pressure in their favour. Many feminist issues, such as abortion, the ‘continuum of violence’ (Kelly, 1988) and pornography have not just engendered theoretical explanations but also innovative campaigns utilising classic pressure politics of demonstrations and other direct actions based upon and contributing to the development of feminist theorising. However, one ‘cannot say the same about childcare’ (Randall, 1996:492). What this seems to imply is that the feminist issues which have ‘fired’ women into action have been those concerned more with sexuality, reproduction and socialisation rather than those of economics. Yet this ignores the fact that, in Britain, the first gains made regarding WIIs were the socialist and liberal aims of equality of pay and opportunity and it is to these issues that I now turn. Campaigning for equal pay has a long history, the first success being the formal approval of the concept of equal pay by the 1888 Trades Union Congress (Drake, 1984). The next 90 years were a period of procrastination with the TUC consistently refusing to assign resources to the campaign. Undeterred by the lack of official support from the formalised labour movement the Women’s TUC continued to apply pressure and this was especially strong throughout the 1950s and 1960s. By the 1960s the Labour Party was making manifesto promises on equal pay but they still failed to introduce legislation. However, women trade unionists were gaining strength of organisation throughout the 1960s (illustrated by the leading roles played by women in the 1968 Ford machinist strike

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for earnings regrading and the 1968 Vauxhall strike for equivalent wages to men, amongst many others) all of which aided the creation of a climate of public opinion that was gradually swaying towards support for equal pay. There was also an international dimension creating pressure for reform on equal pay. Although Britain’s application to join the European Economic Community (EEC) had been vetoed in the mid-1960s, this did not prevent a continued (and eventually) successful campaign for entry. Given that the Treaty of Rome, upon which the EEC is based, includes Article 119, the requirement for equal pay to be implemented in Member States, it is valid to argue that international influences softened the Labour Government towards the issue of equal pay, though several compromises had to be made to get the Act on the statute book by 1970. By the end of the 1960s feminist activism, in combination with the European factor, can be said to have resulted in the introduction of the Equal Pay Bill to Parliament sponsored by the then Secretary of State for Employment, Barbara Castle, being passed in 1970. The achievement of equality of pay was not the end of feminist activism and the focus moved to campaigns to end discrimination in recruitment, promotion and treatment of employees, resulting in the Sex Discrimination Act of 1975. This Act was not only a victory for the women inside the Labour Party who had campaigned for it, but also for the many external women’s organisations which had actively lobbied on the issue, not only professional women’s bodies but feminist groups from both ‘waves’ of twentiethcentury feminism. Many feminist theorists have focused on reproduction as an issue of women’s liberation. Rich (1976) argues that reproductive rights are a core concern for feminists and Firestone (1971, originally 1970) views reproduction as a vital aspect of women’s liberation, stating that biological motherhood is the cause of societal gender divisions and the root of patriarchy. It is hardly surprising then that the WLM sought access to services and information which would allow women to control our own fertility. However, pressure from women for information and services regarding contraception has almost as long a history as that of equal pay and predates the ‘second wave’ feminism of the 1960s and 1970s. Voluntary attempts to promote methods of birth control were prevalent from the 1920s. By 1930, in response to pressure from women’s organisations a government circular was issued to local authorities permitting them to provide information on contraception. The growth of the Family Planning Association, which by the 1950s was running over 500 clinics often in partnership with local authorities, indicated a public acceptance of birth control and government recognition if not funds. The conjunction of pressure from feminist groups and from those organisations concerned with population control resulted in contraceptive services being made available free on the National Health Service in the early 1970s (Randall, 1982). By 1967 abortion in Britain was decriminalised by the passage of David Steel’s Private Member’s Bill, which despite several attempts to reduce the, already limited, conditions in which abortion is available remains almost intact. This ‘success’ is in no small part due to the actions of feminist pressure groups. The struggle to retain abortion rights has mostly been fought out not in the legislature but in the vast terrain of public opinion. In response to the large-scale conservative and religious support for the repeal of abortion provision the WLM, primarily through the feminist National Abortion Campaign (and, in Scotland, the Scottish Abortion Campaign), mobilised a cross-interest

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campaign combining feminists, liberal and socialist views culminating in a mass lobby of Parliament (sponsored by the TUC) in 1979 around the slogan ‘A Woman’s Right to Choose’. Further attacks on abortion rights followed throughout the 1980s though the focus of feminist demands was broadened from a simple protection (and campaigns for the expansion) of abortion rights to campaigns for reproductive rights generally. It is clear that from the passage of the 1967 Act much feminist activism existed to promote, expand and protect women’s choices regarding reproduction (see Lovenduski and Randall, 1993, chapter 7 for a full account of such activism). Contrasting these three instances of campaigning successes with the history of the childcare demand demonstrates that a differentiating factor between the first three WLM demands and childcare is the aforementioned lack of a mass, feminist organisation applying pressure for feminist-defined childcare facilities. This view is supported by the findings in the two case study local authorities where, it has been shown, the initial step in establishing equality based initiatives, was from the ‘top’ rather than developing from community demands. Non-feminist sources of support In all three of the successful issues detailed in this chapter there is another common link other than feminist pressure, the fact that they were all supported by more than the feminist cause, either from the labour movement, from libertarian quarters or from population control agencies. As such, they drew strength and support from the fact that many men could relate to campaigning for women’s equality as women had campaigned alongside men on issues of class. Other factors assisted these ‘successful’ issues: the European dimension already mentioned and Walby’s (1987) assertion that the presence of a woman, Barbara Castle, as the relevant Minister of State was significant to the passage of the Equal Pay Act cannot be ignored. Castle claimed to support equal pay due to her belief that no one should be forced into sweated labour and not for feminist reasons: I didn’t work for equal pay as a feminist issue; it was one of sheer, simple justice. It was outrageous that we should have sweated labour by anyone. (cited in Phillips, 1980:160) However, she was also aware of male opposition to the issue, including socialists, stating as early as 1961 that she was angered by the ‘stale trick’ of appointing all-male committees to decide that women did not require equal pay (The Woman Teacher, 1961). Nonetheless, what is truly significant here is that Castle presented the bill in socialist, not feminist, arguments. Similarly, the Sex Discrimination Act and the Abortion Act have had their non-feminist sponsors and supporters. It is possible that these feminist demands were successful because of a combination of factors, only one of which was feminist pressure. It would appear that in comparable industrialised countries which have achieved a greater mobilisation around childcare there has been the influence of feminists in socialist/liberal organisations, within bureaucracies and in trade unions, which have aided the cause (Randall, 1996). This still leaves the question as to why childcare in Britain seems disadvantaged in terms of political mobilisation. The following sub-section

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addresses how the relationship a WII has with other organisations can affect its chances of success. Networking and organisational structure It may be the case that the method of organising adopted by the WLM on various WIIs has been beneficial to the issue being advanced. Promoting any issue in the context of a highly overcrowded political agenda is very difficult and can require large resources. The style of organising utilised by the WLM has always been through decentralised groups, based either on geography or particular interests. This is a very horizontal structure with little hierarchy and as such is able to contain within its fluid boundaries a number of different interests without straining the WLM. Networking, as this arrangement is usually described, has both advantages and disadvantages: networks do cause work to be repeated and therefore require greater numbers of people involved and they also can face difficulties in sustaining interest and activity throughout the whole structure as discipline and focused action is less readily available than in more rigid organisations. However, the great strength of networking is that a relatively small number of activists can mobilise a large amount of support through persuading other, more hierarchical, organisations to take certain issues into their programme. As has already been shown, equal pay was raised within the trade union movement at a very early stage and this pressure was maintained until, eventually, both the TUC and the Labour Party adopted equal pay into their policy programmes. Once this had been achieved it was a very small step, relatively, to achieve the passage of anti-discrimination legislation. The connection between the two WIIs of equal pay and equal opportunity and the trade union and labour movements is clear, both are concerned with the promotion of the employment rights of working people and this supports Randall’s (1996) assertion that greater success around childcare in other industrial liberal democratic states can be attributed partly to such connections. The definition and perception of these two WIIs held by the labour movement, as has been shown in the discussion of Castle’s presentation of the Equal Pay Act above, was not necessarily feminist but rather socialist. An extrapolation of this observation is to assume that only those WIIs which can be redefined away from the feminist agenda into a broader context have any chance of success. That is to say, that if WIIs can only be perceived in terms of women’s interests, primarily the private domain of our society, and not as issues in the public domain, then they have little chance of success. Such an extrapolation would resolve the question as to why childcare, an issue definitely viewed by many as within the private domain, has not flourished for childcare is the greatest challenge to gender roles. Yet Outshoorn (1986) warns against the redefinition of issues due to the danger of the issue being hijacked for other political purposes, therefore, to deliberately obscure the feminist nature of demands simply to get them passed is not only unethical but ill-advised. From the above it might be considered that private domain issues are not as likely to succeed as public domain issues such as employment. However, the issues which feminists seem to have been most active upon, for example, the mass mobilisations around issues of reproduction, sexuality and safety are also surely issues deemed to be in the private domain. It is perhaps due to the success of the feminist slogan ‘the personal is political’ and the ability of Radical feminism to make visible the invisible which has

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assisted the promotion of these causes. To answer why feminist activism has not managed to make the issue of childcare as visible requires a discussion of the political environment in which such an issue is articulated and an examination of the debates within feminism regarding childcare.

Political environment As has been well detailed elsewhere (Lovenduski and Randall, 1993; Randall, 1996) there are distinct phases regarding childcare activism in Britain. The first was the development of a number of voluntary and independent community initiatives in childcare which were scattered geographically and relied upon volunteers to manage them, as such they frequently faced difficulties which in some cases led to their demise. Some have assigned some of the failure of childcare as an issue to a harmful political environment in the 1980s (Lovenduski and Randall, 1993; Randall, 1996). Randall (1996) has argued that the shape of the childcare demand has changed, from being a radical demand for a service which was community-controlled, free, and available for twenty-four hours a day, to one which focuses more on the needs of the economy or choice within a free market. The second phase was the increased co-ordination and number of nationally based campaigns, such as the Working Mothers’ Association, National Childcare Trust, the National Childcare Campaign, Workplace Nursery Campaign, the short-lived Childcare Now and a number of initiatives founded and managed by local authority Women’s Initiatives partially illustrates Randall’s point. None of these groups are completely feminist, though feminists are involved to differing degrees in each (Lovenduski and Randall, 1993:287–301), nor are they always completely autonomous. For example, the NCC is a mixed organisation which decided (and split over the decision) to accept government money offered to permit them to expand and provide consultancy, legal and administrative advice to childcare projects outside of London. In doing so, the NCC shifted its energies away from the campaigning role and concentrated on information and has left many of its feminist credentials and concerns behind. Throughout the 1980s there were moves away from childcare as a right and towards encouraging women to use childcare (privately funded) to enable their return to the job market, to allow women to compete in the free market. Such exhortations not only did little to promote a feminist-defined childcare policy but also did not manage to achieve agenda status until the demise of successive Conservative governments. Further, although childcare is now deemed a priority for Britain’s Ministers for Women, the policy proposals still seem to indicate the presentation of the issue in economic and welfare terms. As I outlined earlier, the place of equality of opportunity in the policy proposals of Labour (Coote, Harman and Hewitt, 1990) is limited. Such presentation and dilution of the demands for feminist-focused childcare may simply indicate a pragmatic recognition of what issues are acceptable within the British polity. Labour’s current childcare proposals are presented as part of a major reform of the British welfare state, yet do little to readdress the basic principles upon which the welfare state is predicated: primarily the principles of care and dependency (Sainsbury, 1996) which have situated women within the private domain with the responsibility for other

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family members (family defined as white, Christian and heterosexual) and economically dependent upon their male partners. However, there is a recognition of women as citizens, but that citizenship is only achievable via paid employment, mothers are encouraged to leave the home for work and to leave their children in the charge of a new ‘army’ of childcare workers (recruited through a ‘welfare to work’ scheme). Childcare is to become the domain, not of mothers who might wish to stay at home but of young adults trained through voluntary organisations as childcare assistants. The message that this sends out is that childcare is something that does not require a professional qualification, and can be left to the low paid and the marginalised within our workforce. As such, it indicates and reinforces the lowly status (and consequently the financial rewards) accorded to the care of children in our society. Thus, although the Labour Party instigated Britain’s first National Childcare Strategy there has not been an unqualified recognition of childcare as a parental, let alone women’s, right. Much of the rhetoric has been couched in terms of economic efficiency and returning people to work; this reflects the situation in the Netherlands where there has also been a tendency of reducing women’s interests to the issue of employment and the reduction of the numbers dependent on social welfare benefits (Swiebel and Outshoorn, 1997). Perhaps this is a pragmatic dilution of actual beliefs in order to have a policy accepted by an anti-feminist public agenda, however, even so it could be argued that any childcare gained on these terms remains a Pyrrhic victory. The suppression of specifically feminist voices in the creation of childcare policies does more than marginalise the validity of women’s demands on the polity it also diminishes the nature of that childcare. No matter how good state nursery education is, or new childcare assistants, this strategy does not meet these criteria. Further, as women witness their needs being ignored once more, or their arguments being sidelined in favour of the promotion of discourses promoting economic and fiscal benefits, another layer of suppression and marginalisation is created. From what has been said here it is clear that the political environment facing the issue of childcare has been far from encouraging, in fact has been, and in certain ways remains, harmful—not surprising given that political bureaucracies have remained hostile to the acceptance of issues raised by outsiders, such as feminists. However, this is not the whole story. Rather, it is the very absence of the constant political promotion provided for the issues of equal pay, equal opportunity and reproductive control which has hindered the advance of childcare as a WII. There have been, and still are, groups of women campaigning for childcare throughout Britain but these campaigns remain piecemeal, often focus on limited demands, and, as has been shown by their relative absence in the two case studies, virtually invisible. Public issues, private mothers The above title is obviously a play on the division of the social world into public and private domains, primarily a division between paid employment and the home environment. Feminist anthropologists (e.g. Rosaldo and Lamphere, 1974) have pointed out that all cultures associate public with the masculine gender role and the private to the feminine. Some feminists have argued that public/private is a false dichotomy and that personal experience cannot be separated from public institutions (e.g. Kelly-Gadol, 1979)

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and others have pointed out patterns in feminist issues depending on the formation of the state: While women’s movements have sought to politicize the private domain in some contexts, they have concentrated their efforts on the public domain in others. (Basu, 1995:11) The argument here being that in liberal democracies, where there appear to be obvious distinctions between public and private, the aim of women’s movements has been to make the hidden private world visible. However, in former communist states where the boundaries between these two domains have been less historically, there is now a reluctance amongst feminists to allow the state to impinge on private life. What this implies then is that in a liberal democracy, such as the UK, it may be expected that feminists will have focused upon private issues with the intention of making them public, such as abortion. However, there is one aspect of this that needs addressing and that is the determination of abortion as a private issue within polities, and especially as constructed within the British context. Returning to the list of original demands of the British WLM it appears that abortion is a successful private domain issue (whereas the other two successes, being related to employment, were public issues) and that this issue has certainly achieved the heights of national legislation. The explanation for this phenomenon is twofold: first, the way that the abortion campaign was organised and, second, the definition of the issue itself, which I contend is not a private issue at all but one conceived politically as a public concern. Success of a ‘private’ domain women’s interest issue: abortion The abortion issue utilised the remnants of the aforementioned trade union/WLM links throughout the 1970s and 1980s. Not only did the WLM and NAC have a number of contacts in the feminist women who had taken up trade union, and/or Labour Party posts but these women had a history of political experience behind them providing them with the skills and knowledge necessary for campaigning. Through regional pro-choice organisations taking resolutions to their local trade union branches the issue filtered towards success. Some trade union branches affiliated to NAC and a few even persuaded their national organisations to do so. With the abortion issue women ‘used a base in a non-hierarchical feminist organisation to capture positions in a male-dominated hierarchy’ (Lovenduski, 1986:63). Childcare does not seem to have been able to utilise this method as successfully (see Lovenduski and Randall, 1993) as abortion, though it can be said that both are the same type of issue in that both combine the private and the public sphere of society. Childcare appears to straddle the dimensions of both spheres (if two spheres can be said to exist) in that it can be, and has been, construed as the private responsibility of parents and of relating to the invisible aspect of most women’s lives and, as such, is a primary issue to be made visible (yet has not really been made so through feminist campaigns). On the other hand it is also an issue which relates directly to women’s ability to participate equitably with men in the labour market and other aspects of public life. As such then,

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why was it not a major concern for those concerned with equality in Britain in the 1970s and 1980s? Despite many trade unions, and the Labour Party, adopting resolutions in support of childcare in the workplace and beyond (Lovenduski and Randall, 1993:297) this was not translated into legislation, and remains even in 1998 still at the planning stage. It may simply be that a declining labour movement and the inability of the Labour Party to achieve national elective office until 1997 was not an effective conduit for WIIs, or it may be that the labour movement itself was retrenching and became less sympathetic to the crossover between the public and private domains. An examination of the 1967 Abortion Act reveals that abortion is available in Britain on medical and social grounds and not by request. The vital importance of this point has been made by Outshoorn (1986) in her account of the feminist campaign in the Netherlands to have abortion redefined from a medical issue to a ‘woman’s right to choose’. In Britain, with the current abortion legislation, it can be concluded that abortion was never perceived as an issue of the private domain. This is supported by the position taken by parties of the far-left on abortion who view abortion as a class issue rather than a woman’s issue.2 However, looking in more detail at the debates surrounding this issue during its passage in the House of Commons illustrates that it had originally included a clause permitting ‘social’ abortions which was withdrawn after the medical profession expressed concern (Lovenduski, 1986). As such, abortion was transferred from the private domain back into the control of the public world and could then proceed. Childcare does not seem to have been able to escape the classification of private. Despite recognition by the labour movement of its importance (in this case with regard to equality of opportunity to access paid employment) it remains classified as a women’s issue and parenting remains viewed as the private choice of individuals. This was reinforced by the nature of the aforementioned second phase of childcare campaigning which developed in the 1980s based on the principles of parental responsibility, consumer rights and employment benefits such as the Working Mothers’ Association3 and the Workplace Nurseries Campaign, neither of which actually challenged issues of gender role responsibility for childcare, nor the nature of what childcare should be available. One inference from this is that, as childcare remains perceived within the private domain, it is not viewed as qualified to receive public monies in its support. Advancing this point further our patriarchal society is not likely to prioritise resources in the service of issues which appear to benefit only one section of society, especially where those resources are viewed as coming from the public domain and being allocated to the private domain. The presentation of childcare tax allowances and public monies announced by the more pro-feminist, pro-women, pro-family-friendly employment New Labour government (Budget, 1998) do begin to readdress this designation of childcare as a private responsibility and reflect the role it has to play in equalising access to paid employment for parents. However, as already stated, this classification of state responsibility for childcare really only extends state childcare from the stigmatised social welfare role (which applies when the private domain is assessed as dysfunctional in some way) to one of public responsibility only if mothers are required to adopt a work role based upon the male gender.

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Lack of pressure for childcare Despite the recognition by the early WLM of the importance of childcare in liberating women it appears that campaigning on this issue has had a different focus from that adopted for the other issues already noted. The reason for this may simply be that there is only so much that any one movement can actually achieve and perhaps by the time other battles had been fought there was little energy left to fight for childcare for, despite it’s success stories the WLM, like all political and social movements is a minority pastime (Offe, 1990). Another factor to be considered must be the salience each issue has had for the women campaigning for it. It is true that in the early days of the WLM, despite the acknowledgement of women’s childcare needs, not all of the most active women actually had children, in fact, Attar (1992) claims that most were not mothers. She describes this situation clearly from her perspective of being an activist at the height of the WLM: Strip away the anecdotal detail and this is the picture—feminists have failed to campaign for childcare because mothers, who need it, don’t have enough of it to find the time for campaigning, and others, who don’t think they need it, don’t have the motivation—some are even hostile. (Attar, 1992:27) However, this recollection, although completely valid as a personal memory, requires contrasting with the observation that one of the main encouragements of women into the WLM was the experience of being a mother of small children and being required to care for them in an environment where this was not completely possible (Rowbotham, 1990). In addition, it cannot be claimed that feminists only act upon issues which feed their selfinterests; not all of the activists against violence for example would claim to have survived such incidents but to view such matters as vital to the situation of women in general. Despite this, and Rowbotham’s observations, a hostility did seem to exist amongst some of the early members of the WLM towards motherhood which was not helpful in the creation of childcare policies. Some feminist writings from this period highlight a predominant view of motherhood as negative, as the very root of women’s oppression. Firestone (1971, originally, 1970) did not argue for 24-hour nurseries (which she said, ‘Buy women off’) but for a much more revolutionary concept, the cybernetic reproduction of the species. Others wrote of the betrayal of the feminist cause by those women who chose to become mothers and raise children before the feminist revolution had transformed society into a safe place to do so. Given this situation it is hardly surprising that for some feminists there has been a certain ambivalence in their commitment to this demand. Counteracting this view was the development of theories and writings which seem to celebrate the experience of motherhood (Rich, 1976; Chodorow, 1978) and those which argued that it is not motherhood which is problematic but how it is constructed within society (Mead,1962, orginally 1949). Rich (1976) differentiates between the institution and the experience of motherhood, delineating the differences; the former having great potential for women to express themselves and the latter being a patriarchal method of controlling women. No matter what side of the

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motherhood debate one sympathises with it has to be accepted that women’s life cycles force women into identifying with different issues at different times: childcare when children are small, trade union movement when working, professional organisations, etc. at the same time. Attar points out how becoming a mother herself drained her energies for feminist campaigning: I was active in all sorts of groups and campaigns—consciousness-raising, women’s centres, women’s aid, free pregnancy testing, reclaim the night, rape crisis…but then I had children and started cracking up and stopped going to lots of meetings and being in several groups at once. (Attar, 1992:26) A combination of life-cycle priorities, ambivalence and dissenting discourses amongst feminists regarding the validity and role of motherhood all seem to have combined to militate against effective and sustained feminist mobilisation on childcare. Some women remember being drained by the experience of motherhood, others celebratory of the delights of mothering (and thus hardly going to advocate leaving their child with another adult just to allow them to enter the world of work) with others condemnatory of the institution of motherhood as the cause of women’s oppression, that which set women apart, ‘other’ than men (de Beauvoir, 1953). In addition to these differences of experience and opinion another barrier to mobilisation to demand state childcare existed, that of a feminist suspicion of the state, opposition to the paternalism and welfarism of the welfare state (Wilson, 1977), and ‘left’ opinion which could not see the logic of arguing for women to have childcare simply to enable them to be further exploited by the needs of capitalism. A further concern for many feminists has been the notion that state provision of services merely replaces private patriarchy with public patriarchy (Hernes, 1987, 1988; Walby, 1990) and a fear that childcare controlled and provided by the state, rather than by the community, would only reinforce sexist (and other undesired) values. These views seem to have held more sway in the 1970s than in the 1980s (when a more liberal approach seemed to gain strength—Randall, 1996:494) yet given the time frame within which the other issues achieved implementation in Britain (all by 1975) it could be argued that such concerns discouraged unity of purpose and cause and prevented a mass feminist mobilisation around childcare. Although childcare campaigns did gain strength in the 1980s, aided by the presence of many feminists within trade unions, local councils and other structures, time was not on the side of feminism, for by then the political atmosphere was less conducive.

Insider mobilisation on childcare It would be erroneous to argue that there has been no feminist activity around the issue of childcare, for to do so would not only negate the evidence detailed in the empirical chapters of this study but would also be a misrepresentation. Childcare may well be the one of the last battles feminists have to fight, both internally and externally, and it is being fought on a daily basis. Both the case studies revealed that women within Scottish local authorities were pursuing the case for childcare and detailed their relative successes,

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barriers and enemies. However, both the case studies also revealed a considerable absence of local community pressure in vocal support of the actions of the main feminist protagonists. Both Eastern’s EOSC Chair and Western’s Pre-Five Officer have a long history of involvement with the feminist cause and the childcare issue (detailed already in this study). Perhaps the Pre-Five Officer in Western has the better curriculum vitae in this area, yet the EOSC Chair in Eastern was more successful. This may have been due to their different positions, one as an elected councillor and one as an appointed officer. However, neither were overwhelmingly successful in engendering community support for their childcare policies. This is relevant, as even when an issue has achieved agenda status at the level of political agenda, its career can still be affected by activities on the public agenda as was shown by the case study of Western Region. As Swiebel and Outshoorn (1997) remind us, once a WI acquires agenda status it is only tolerated as long as it is not detrimental to, or can be linked in with, other policies. In Western it is clear that the policies being pursued to integrate Pre-Five services and to provide childcare for working parents were viewed as acting at the expense of the interests of nursery education and, as shown, were challenged both openly and covertly. Although both feminist protagonists employed the local and national (Scottish) media in the promotion of their aims in their respective regions, it has been shown that the efforts of Eastern’s EOSC Chair bore greater fruit whereas the forays of Western’s Pre-Fives Officer into publicity seemed to encourage hostility rather than support. This can be assigned to the fact that Eastern’s EOSC Chair had a larger personal network of contacts and support available to her project than her counterpart in Western. Eastern’s EOSC Chair utilised her trade union links to gain support from other unionists and, through her involvement with Childcare Now Scotland, did appear to have some level of community backing, albeit not necessarily at grassroots level. In fact, it can be concluded that what grassroots support she did achieve had been created by her. By contrast, in Western, the Pre-Fives Officer seems to have alienated those local women who were most active on the issue of childcare, the Playgroup Association volunteers (SPPA Officer) and nursery educationalists (EIS Officer). In the case of Western, women were pitted against women, dividing the community into two camps and creating a situation in which opponents to the Pre-Fives plans could challenge the legitimacy of the Pre-Fives Officer. Although there was not a groundswell of local activism bolstering Eastern’s childcare initiative neither was there any challenge to the EOSC Chair’s legitimacy to act in the name of local women. In relation to the history of policy for women in the Netherlands Swiebel and Outshoorn (1997) argue that the driving force of policy change and development always came from the women’s movement and key civil servants. In some ways it can be argued that the insider mobilisation in the two case studies exactly represented these two forces, in Eastern a feminist politician and in Western, a femocrat, and yet, as previously argued, a wider basis of support is required in pursuit of a WII, for if it is to succeed backing needs to come from beyond the relatively narrow sphere of feminist activists. Generating favourable discussion within all levels of the community, i.e. at the level of public agenda, can both benefit the policy promoters and be initiated by them. An example within Scottish local government is the case of domestic violence, policy on which was developed by two different authorities, one regional, and one district in the early 1990s.

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The district campaign, Zero Tolerance (Hart, 1997) has been so successful that it has been adopted across Scottish local government and in some areas of England. The fundamental point to be noted with regard to campaigns developing around women’s safety is the utilisation, and in fact the creation of, community opinion. The region focused on developing a bottom up policy, formulating policy demands from issues raised and discussed at two large conferences on Women and Safety and through a network of local committees containing a number of co-opted community activists. Despite this approach, and the publication of conference reports, this initiative remained virtually unknown within the wider community. By contrast, the Zero Tolerance campaign adopted massive, extensive publicity taking the issue out of the ‘closed’ arena of feminist activity into the wider community. This was achieved by the publication and display of huge posters in the most public sites available, utilising the findings of feminist research on violence, to dispel the myths around male violence towards women and children (Hart, 1997). In doing so, Zero Tolerance achieved its aim of raising awareness amongst women and men that domestic violence is unacceptable (Kitzinger and Hunt, 1994; Hart, 1997) and the level of awareness within the community generally can only have encouraged local politicians to support initiatives and assign resources. Further, Zero Tolerance socialised those suffering violence to believe that they would be listened to. The conclusion drawn from this particular area is that women pursuing feminist initiatives within local political bodies cannot afford to completely ignore the local community. That is, widespread apathy on the issue within the local community is preferable to localised pockets of resistance, but the most successful scenario is that of community awareness of an issue and its value to that community.

Conclusions In consideration of the dynamics of political mobilisation for childcare, the very nature of the demand for childcare must be addressed. Childcare strikes at the very core of individuals’ personal beliefs and the recognition of the needs of ‘maternally (sic) deprived’ children have passed into our psyche in ways which exaggerate the primacy of motherhood over parenting. In addition, the way in which our society socialises women as the primary nurturers runs counter to feminist demands for the communal care of children. Many mothers, both feminist and otherwise have been, and are, reluctant to sacrifice the pleasures of motherhood for the right to work alone. Subtleties, such as the fact that communal childcare does not have to mean sacrificing one’s child to a stranger, but merely the choice being available to parents to be relieved of the direct care of their child for a few hours, do not always enter the equation. Having critiqued the ways in which successive political bureaucracies have structured work around the masculine gender role it may appear that real choice would be childcare and work structured around the female gender role. In many ways this was part of the 1997 Labour government’s policy regarding childcare for working mothers; however, in addition to this recognition of need, Ministers for Women like Harman and Ruddock also prioritised the promotion of family-friendly employment policies hoping they would lead to adaptations not just in women’s work patterns but also in those of men. Thus, real choice regarding childcare is variety and flexibility of provision, structured around the employment and leisure needs

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of parents and children, not simply designed to enable women to ‘work like men’. Therefore, perhaps women do not agitate for childcare as actively as for other issues as it means, at present, totally subsuming ourselves to masculine structures of work. Second, the socialisation processes which teach women to be less demanding of their public services and politicians than men can create a reluctance within women to demand assistance with childcare. Socialisation is a process which affects a woman’s political role (Sapiro, 1984), it is an ongoing process that begins at birth with the gender stereotyping of children, continues throughout childhood (Easton and Dennis, 1967) and schooling (Devine, 1980; Stanworth, 1983) and is affected by both the experience of work (MacDonagh, 1982) and motherhood (Flora and Lynn, 1974; Sapiro, 1984). The usual result of the influence.of these socialisation factors is that by adolescence girls are less confident than their male counterparts (Easton and Dennis, 1967), which is built upon by the girls’ later life experiences. Motherhood and the privatisation of women in the home affects not only women’s perceptions of their own political efficacy (Flora and Lynn, 1974) but also affects where a woman’s political interests lie (Sapiro, 1984). Further if one accepts the acquiescence theories of Gaventa (1980), it can also be argued that socialisation teaches women that it is not worthwhile to devote energy in campaigning for WIIs as they will not be successful. Many women have overcome these psychological barriers with respect to equal rights and opportunities and male violence. However, when it comes to the one role which is very heavily socialised (though not necessarily enacted) in every female, motherhood, women appear reluctant to demand rights as readily as we do equal wages or safe streets. This is not surprising given that women have been presented with the view that the source and seat of our power, as women, lies within parenting and the family: [why do feminists want to] transfer power away from women as mothers to the state…[when]…the working class woman is queen of her throne, the empress of her kinfolk. (Kenny, 1986 cited in Campbell, 1987:170) Related to women’s political socialisation is the heterogeneity of women as an interest group which must partially explain the relative absence of support for childcare. That is women, like other groups, do not always act as a cohesive whole, as shown in the instance of community division within Western Region and the divisions amongst feminist theorists and activists regarding the whole matter of mothering. To assume a false universalism (Lorde, 1984) of experience and demands would act to silence the voices of many; further it is rare that the majority of women feel that their first psychological connection to any group is on the basis of their gender (Miller, Hildreth and Simmons, 1988). Thus, to answer the question set at the outset of this chapter, it could be that a combination of feminist ambivalence towards the issue of childcare, life-cycle changes in priorities of individual women, the influences of socialisation and a deficiency in gendergroup consciousness have created a situation in which this WII has not always received cohesive and constant political promotion from women in the community. Such a situation allows politicians, at local and national levels, to sidestep WIIs when other, seemingly more important or pertinent issues, arise.

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In both Eastern and Western regions there is no doubt that nondecision-making affected childcare policy, especially in Western. However, given the above discussion of women’s views of childcare it would appear that one reason for the lack of mobilisation of childcare as a WII, both in the two regions studied and within the WLM, remains dissension amongst women and feminists, and society generally, regarding the whole area. Perhaps, as Randall (1996) points out, the existence of a strain in the thinking of the WLM (which did seem to diminish in the 1980s) between practical concerns of women’s lives, such as childcare, and more invigorating, inspiring actions to build a new world explains the lack of mobilisation on childcare, and that for ‘socialist and radical feminists the demand for publicly provided child daycare could not occupy the same logical space’ (Randall, 1996:503). It may then be true that women and feminists have in some ways been ‘guilty of contributory negligence’ (Stedward, 1988:187); however, the other factors discussed in this chapter cannot be ignored. It appears, therefore, that the causes of a lesser feminist mobilisation around childcare than around other WIIs are several. First, the issue could not make as effective use of the same networks as the other ‘original demands’, due to a combination of a lesser saliency amongst women, changes in the political environment and the different childcare discourses within feminism. Second, however, it is also possible to argue that the other ‘original demands’ which have enjoyed a perception as issues within the public domain, have only pushed at the ‘margins of gender roles’ (Marchbank, 1996a) and not required a full re-evaluation of the gendered experiences of work, the welfare state and parenting. Until such a fundamental evaluation is accepted as necessary, not just by feminists but by society, and until the responsibility for providing services for children and their parents is accepted as a societal role, it would appear that childcare will remain a poor cousin in the policy stakes. This is not to say that the failure to achieve this is the fault of feminists or childcare activists—the fact that this task still lies with women is the greatest nondecision of all as it highlights the unwillingness of society generally to address this concern.

Reflections My intentions when starting this book where threefold: first, to refresh and update the nondecision-making model; second to illustrate via this model just how nondecisionmaking occurs in political bodies; and third, to try and offer some answers as to why childcare remains a marginalised issue. On reflection I think it is clear that nondecisionmaking is alive and well and is a complex phenomenon, clearly involving not just actions and inactions but the whole social system, the very structural setting both within and outwith the decision-making body. Untangling and exposing all the factors and structures which covertly oppose WIIs and which lead to marginalisation and exclusion was the fundamental aim of this work and this was achieved through historical investigations of British policy and of the two case study local authorities. It is hoped that others will find the illustrations here useful in future attempts to avoid nondecision-making occurring to non-mainstream issues, be they feminist or otherwise. As such, my aims have been more than academic, I also wished to show how marginalised voices are kept so and how outsiders can overcome the barriers of policy-making. Much has been written about pressure group politics yet such studies have not been able to fully explain the marginalisation of childcare and I would conclude from the evidence here that the answer lies not just in a lack of political mobilisation on this issue but in the ways in which bias is mobilised against issues which challenge the status quo. As I state in the text, without data it is difficult to make one’s case. Also, without knowledge of how WIIs are actually treated it is impossible to know how to counter their marginalisation. I hope through this book to have provided some data and knowledge with which policy analysts and students, policy-makers and political campaigners can more fully understand the covert processes, the hostile bureaucracies and the structural settings in which nontraditional policy demands are situated. Though, of course, I may also have provided guidance to potential nondecision-makers on just how to go about it all!

Notes 1 Skirting the issue 1 Though Bachrach and Baratz argue that authority, although being power circumscribed by law or custom, is not usefully regarded as a form of power as a person of authority by nature of rank may, in actuality, have no real power to effect actions. 2 Socialisation is a term originating from the 1930s and is used to describe the acquisition of culturally appropriate norms, behaviour patterns and values. Socialisation occurs through social learning, reinforcement of appropriate behaviour and punishment of inappropriate actions and through observation of other individuals. See Sapiro (1984), Iglitzin (1974), Chapman (1987), Githens and Prestage (1977) for explanations of women’s political socialisation. 3 False consciousness exists when individuals believe in and pursue ends which are against their own interests. 4 In their 1971 study Cobb and Elder examine bias in the institutional agenda (formal political agenda in Dahlerup’s terminology) but do not make reference to bias in the systemic (public) agenda.

2 Motherhood, gender and nondecision-making 1 Women are still unable to vote in Kuwait and Saudi Arabia and the first women legislators in any Gulf state took up their posts in Oman in 1994 (see Pettman, 1996). 2 It must be noted, however, that de Beauvoir fully recognised that the experience of motherhood held contraditions for women, acknowledging that motherhood will also, on the whole, enhance and enrich a woman’s life. 3 The employer gains the surplus value by selling the product at a greater price than he paid for the labour and raw materials. 4 To comprehend the connection requires an understanding of the effects a reserve army of labour can have upon the bargaining power of male workers. Women’s role in society and in the family provides a reserve labour force which can be called upon in times of labour shortages by capitalists to assist with increased demand. Thus, the capitalist does not fall onto the mercy of the permanent labour force. Therefore, women in the home cause a downward pressure upon male earnings as full employment periods can be covered without raising wages. 5 We have to rely on Government projections for the collation of these figures as the specific category, married women in the workforce, has ceased to be published in CSO publications.

3

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Modern mothers’ inheritance (1) 1 Due to the Second World War there was no census taken in 1941. 2 Due to the war the statistical work of the Education department was curtailed so it is not possible to compile an historical series of data for the war years, thus 1938 is used as a base reference. 3 If 173,609 nursery education places equalled provision for 10.5 per cent of the 2–4 population in 1938 then 58,716 places in Wartime Nurseries in 1943 cannot have covered more than 5 per cent of the pre-fives. 4 This would appear to be a fair adjudication given that the Trades Union Congress was informed in 1946 that the fall of one million in the work force of development areas was due mainly to married women leaving industry (The Times, 18 November 1946). 5 Jimmy Robertson produced such films as A Two Year Old Goes to Hospital to promote the theories of Bowlby on the effects of maternal deprivation upon infants. 6 Professor Rudolph Schaffer was an associate of Bowlby’s from 1951. 7 Sainsbury (1996) outlines Sweden’s pronatalist polices which encouraged both an increasing birth rate but also recognised the economic requirements of women’s work and so Sweden developed policies which assisted women to combine motherhood with economic activity.

4 Modern mothers’ inheritance (2) 1 School begins at 5 years in Britain (sometimes 4), but across Europe schooling can begin as late as 6 or 7 years. Source: ECN (1990), Childcare in the European Community, 1985– 1990, a ‘Women of Europe Supplement’, No 31, Commission of the European Communities. 2 Report of the Central Advisory Council for Education (1967), Children and their Primary Schools, HMSO. 3 The reunification of East and West Germany has allowed for a considerable increase in German provision, this increase is due in the main part to the continuation of services in the East. 4 Care is required when discussing rates of increase of provision. First, as Belgian provision is considerably higher than British the same rate of growth would translate into quite different actual numbers. Second, some countries with increasing birthrates may have increased the number of places without increasing, or even decreasing, percentage provision figures. 5 For example, a late 1980s advertising campaign in Britain with the headline ‘Return to teaching for the same reason you left—children’. 6 Of those countries which were members in 1988. 7 An employer who provided a childcare facility to recruit or retain skilled staff could set all costs of such a facility against corporation tax. Employees who used this facility and who earned in excess of £8,500 p.a. were required to pay tax on the value of the benefit in kind. 8 Child Support Act 1991 9 Emma Nicolson, Vice Chairman of Party Organisation had been charged with promoting women’s organisation and hosted special events to encourage certain women into the Party including ‘High Flyers’ conferences in 1986, and one each specifically for Asian women and Black women. She has subsequently joined the Liberal Democrats. 10 The rhetoric used in the Budget Speech (March 1998) was one which combined the notion of women’s rights as individuals to work, the need for mothers to come off benefit and the basis for citizenship being achieved via paid employment not care. The presentation of childcare and family-friendly policies by the Ministers for Women was more pro-woman and feminist.

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5 Positive partnerships and sexist societies 1 A full-time equivalent is the description used to explain how many children could be facilitated if each were to attend each day for a full day. 2 A socialist concept which views the provision of services to ensure the welfare of citizens by elected representatives as the way to tackle issues of inequality in society. 3 By this term I mean to tackle the root of problems by challenging assumptions regarding the foundations of social and political issues. 4 The draft Charter for Children included the need to involve the Regional Council, Health Boards and voluntary organisations, for this Charter for Children was concerned with more than just day care. This indicates that although the EOSC viewed childcare as a necessary aspect of equality provision the Sub-Committee was still aware of the needs of children and not just parents. 5 In 1992 the Labour Party held 25 of the 34 seats in the council. 6 The District Labour Party being the body of the Labour Party members residing in the district and not the Labour Group of the District Council.

6 Discourses, demands and denials 1 Member/Officer Groups were first set up by the Social Work department in 1977, one of the original four was in childcare. From 1977 Member/Officer Groups became a commonplace process in Western. 2 These two categories are not mutually exclusive for many voluntary organisations are the professionals in this field as well as in other areas. 3 In 1983 on a visit to a nursery school and a day nursery which shared the same building but had wholly separate facilities the Council Leader discovered he had paint on his suit from the maintenance work going on to the outside of the building and so requested some assistance and materials to remove it. The reply which he received was an argument between the two facilities as to whether it was Social Work or Education paint as neither would assist with the removal of the other’s paint! This experience convinced him that if the two sectors could not even co-operate to clean a suit then there was no chance that co-operation would succeed as a pre-school policy. 4 With some constituencies establishing Women’s Sections just after the end of the First World War, e.g. Larkhall. Communication, Larkhall Labour Party Women’s Section, May 1991. 5 Most notably the 1915 Glasgow Rent Strike led by Helen Crawfurd. Other examples include the issues raised by LPWS throughout the 1980s—State benefits, housing, health, Community Charge. 6 I have been told that certain Education Department staff were not adverse to using such scaremongering tactics to create a parental pressure against the development of a generic, community-responsive, pre-five service. 7 The analysis of the survey concluded that more than one in three mothers worked or was actively seeking work. Further, the vast majority of non-working mothers interviewed claimed that they would prefer to work than remain at home and a lack of suitable childcare was given as the reason why most mothers did not work. As the analysis stated ‘less than one in five mothers would choose to be at home if adequate childcare was available’. See Penn and Scott (1989).

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7 Getting beyond the barriers 1 This has been seen by some as a reversion to the marginalisation of gender politics with a preference for issues of social class. 2 In the context of the 1980s the new left referred to the section of the Labour Party which sought radical change on class issues e.g. Militant. This is in contrast to the New Urban Left who sought radical change on a range of issues including ‘race’, gender and sexuality. 3 Both these men indicated in their interviews that they were aware of the work that Ken Livingstone was doing with the Greater London Council with regard to a more ‘radical’ approach to equality matters. 4 To him it meant removing barriers by creating special structures, Interview, November 1990. 5 This has been observed by the author both formally and informally in conversations and communications with current and former WI Officers across Britain. 6 See Marchbank (1993) for details of attempts within Western to introduce equality issues via the departments of Education and Social Work and the opposition met there.

8 Political mobilisation and childcare 1 Abortion Act, 1967; Equal Pay Act, 1970; Sex Discrimination Act, 1975. 2 For example see the policies of the Socialist Workers’ Party and Militant. 3 A nonfeminist organisation which focused on issues such as tax allowances for private childcare and did not concern itself with the possible exploitation of women as workers that private childcare arrangements can cause.

References Many of the references are from confidential interviews, these are notated in the text by the post held by the person interviewed. All interviews were conducted between 1990 and 1994.

Parliamentary papers The following are references for files held in the Public Record Office, Kew, London. PRO/LAB refers to the Ministry of Labour and National Service and PRO/MH to the Ministry of Health. PRO/LAB 26/57, Provision for the Care of Children of Married Women in Industry—Wartime Nurseries, General Policy, 1940 PRO/LAB 26/58, Provision for the Care of Children of Married Women in Industry—Wartime Nurseries, General Policy, 1940 PRO/MH 55/803, 1945 Deputation to the Ministers of Health and Education on Nursery Provisions PRO/MH 55/695, Arrangements for the Provisions for Wartime Day Nurseries, 1941–2 PRO/ZHC1 8858, Economic Survey for 1947, Cmd 7046 PP104, Select Committee on Physical Deterioration, 1904 Cmd 6937, Royal Commission on Equal Pay, 1948

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Index abortion 17–19, 159, 161, 166–8 Abortion Act (1967) 161, 162, 167 Afshar, H. 34 Alexander, S. 32 Amalgamated Engineering Union 44 Andersen, K. 22 Anthias, F. 22 Arnold, E. 35 Astor, Nancy 47 Attar, D. 168, 169 authority 13 Bacchi, C.L. 7, 19 Bachrach, P. 1, 8–17, 19, 110–11, 129, 133 Baratz, M.S. 1, 8–17, 19, 110–11, 129, 133 Basu, A. 5, 21, 22, 24, 122, 166 Baxter, S. 22–3, 158 Beckett, Margaret 159 Bentley, A. 7 Bernard, J. 34 Beveridge Report 58, 62 Bevin, Ernest 46 bias: organisation/mobilisation of 9–10, 13–16, 19, 28; and public agenda 16–17; socialisation 12, 23 birth control 160–61 Black, C. 41 Bochel, C. 147 Bochel, J.M. 145 Borchorst, A. 87 Bourque, S. 3 Bowlby, J. 59, 60–63 branding 133–4, 135 Braybon, G. 58–9 Brienes, W. 59–60 British Association of Early Childhood Education 117 British Association of Social Workers 123 Brown, G. 29, 77, 86 Bruegel, I. 36 bureaucracy: barriers 150–54;

Index

bureaucratic cultures 131–2, 154; feminist responses 140–41, 154–7; marginalisation 150–54; and nondecision making 131–2; redefinition of roles 156; and Women’s Initiatives 140–41, 150–54; and Women’s Interest Issues 137–41, 158–9 Burton, S. 4 Button, S. 9 Campbell, B. 75, 173 capitalism 33–6 Carroll, S. 22 Carter, A. 43, 62 Castle, Barbara 160, 162, 163 census data 41–2, 43, 63 Chapman, J. 5, 25, 30 Child Support legislation 85 Childcare Now 164 childcare provision: activism 163, 164–8; by childcare assistants 165; choice 85–7; community initiatives 164; Conservative government policies 84–5; context 40–66; costs 77; Eastern Region see Eastern Region; emergency 44–54; fathers’ involvement 37–9; female ambivalence 173–4; and female employment 2, 36–9, 73–89; and feminism 87–9; and gender roles 29–31, 37; government intervention 73–8; history, 40–66; informal arrangements 41, 52; insider mobilisation 170–72; international policies 67–9; issue definition 51–4; and labour force rhetoric 73–8; Labour government policy 87–9; for labour market purposes 164–5; lack of pressure for 168–70; nature of demand for 172–4; by neighbours 41; nondecision-making 39; Partnership policy 91, 94–111; payments 41; policy development 1–2, 48–51; political environment 164–8;

169

Index

170

pre-school 67–78; private provision 86, 166–8; publicly funded 77; Scotland see Scotland; single mothers 42, 86; vouchers 84; wartime 44–54; Western Region see Western Region; and Women’s Interest Issue 68; women’s rights to 2, 88–9 childminders 40–41, 52; Eastern Region 95; Western Region 119–20 children’s social development 59–62 Chodorow, N. 29, 30–31, 34–5, 169 Chorley Royal Ordinance Factory survey 46, 49 citizenship 164–5 Cobb, R.W. 10, 16 coercion 13 Cohen, B. 71 Cole, Margaret 56 collective actions 23 community campaigns 23, 25, 164 compliance 13 conflict 8, 14, 16–17 conscription 45–6 contraception 160–61 Control of Engagement Order (1942) 45 Cook, E. 22 Cooper, D. 112 Coote, A. 85, 88, 164 Crenson, M. 1, 9, 16 Crowther Report on Education (1959) 62 cult of domesticity 54, 59–60 culture: bureaucratic 131–2, 154 (see also bureaucracies); cultural feminism 3; and mothering 30; and socialisation 25 Curtis Committee (Care of Children Committee; 1946) 62 Dahl, R.A. 7 Dahlerup, D. 1, 13, 15–17, 19, 21, 22, 26–7, 46, 66, 94, 109 Dale, A. 31 Davies, E. 47 Davin, A. 32 Davis, A. 22 day nurseries; closure 53, 54; Eastern Region 95;

Index

171

post-war antipathy 62–3; post-war provision 54–8; Scotland 91–3; wartime provision 44–58 de Beauvoir, S. 30–31, 169 decision making: barriers to 10, 17; Eastern Region 108–9; and power 7, 13; theories 6–7; Western Region 124–5; see also policy making delegitimisation 133–4, 135 Delphy, C. 34 democracy 6–7 Dennis, J. 173 Denver, D.T. 145 Devine, R. 173 domestic violence 159, 171–2 Drake, B. 160 Eastern Region: childcare provision prior to Partnership policy 95–6; childminding 95; decision making 108–9; demographic profile 95–6; Equal Opportunities Sub-Committee (EOSC) 95–111, 139, 142, 145, 153, 170–71; gender socialisation 106–7; incrementalist approach 98, 99, 139, 147; nondecision-making model 106–9; Partnership Project 94–111; Partnership Working Group 102–4; playgroups 95; public agenda 107–8; structure 94–8; Working Group on Childcare 107–8, 110 Easton, D. 173 Edholm, F. 28 Education Act (1944) 43, 57 Edwards, J. 142, 147–9, 150, 152 Egerton, J. 88 Eisenstein, H. 27, 140, 150, 153 Elder, C.D. 10,16 empiricism 3–4 employment: and childcare provision 2, 36–9, 73–89; European patterns 78–84; and families 36–9; full-time 37; married women 36–7, 40–66; and motherhood 31–6, 40–44;

Index

172

part-time 37, 41–2; single mothers 42, 86; twilight shifts 41, 55; women stealing men’s jobs 42; see also labour market; workplace nurseries Engels, F. 32 Engineering Employers’ National Federation 44 England, K. 72, 85 epistemiology 2–6 Equal Opportunities Committees 141–5 equal pay: campaigns 160; non-feminist support 162; Trades Union Congress 160, 163 Equal Pay Act (1970) 21, 71, 160, 162, 163 equality see gender equality Esping-Andersen, G. 67 European Commission Childcare Network (ECN) 68–9, 73 European Economic Community (EEC) 160 Fabianism 63, 64 Factory and Welfare Board 53 false consciousness 15 families: childminding 40–41; choice 85–6; Conservative government policies 75–6; and employment 36–9; forms 28–9; Labour government policy 88–9; nuclear 29, 34; privatisation 31–2, 84–7 Family Planning Association 161 Family Policy Group 75 Family Way, The 88 fathers see men feminism 1–6; and bureaucracy 140–41, 154–7; and childcare 87–9; cultural 3; and motherhood 169–70; and policy making 138–9; and pressure politics see pressure politics; standpoint theory 3–4 Ferguson, K.E. 27, 140, 152 Ferguson, M. 58 Ferguson, S. 45, 47, 50, 52 Fincher, R. 74, 77, 87, 89 Firestone, S. 30–31, 160, 169 Fitzgerald, H. 45, 47, 50, 52

Index

Flora, C. 173 Fonda, N. 37 force 13 Gaventa, J. 1, 12–14, 107, 173 Gelb, J. 22 gender equality 6–7; legislation 44; and nondecision-making theory 1–2 gender roles: and childcare 29–31, 37; and mothering 29–31, 37; and patriarchy 28, 35–6; public versus private 165–6; and public policy 28–36; and reproduction 29–31; traditional and Women’s Initiatives 146–50 gender socialisation see socialisation Gingerbread 97, 107, 117, 123 Ginn, J. 36 Githens, M. 5, 22, 25 Goot, M. 22 Gorman, T. 85 Grant, W. 138 Grieves, Mary 58 Grossholtz, J. 3 Group theorists 7, 137–8 Gunn, L.A. 7, 40 Gustafsson, S. 2, 74, 78 Hakim, C. 36, 42 Halford, S. 143 Hall, C. 32 Harding, S. 2, 4, 5–6 Harman, H. 85, 88, 164, 172 Hart, S. 156, 171, 172 Hartmann, H. 34 Hernes, H.M. 22, 27, 170 Hewitt, P. 85, 88, 164 Hildreth, A. 173 Hogwood, B. 7, 40 hooks, b 22 Hostettler, E. 32 housework 33–5 Humm, M. 157, 159 Hunt, A. 41 Hunt, K. 172 Iglitzin, L.B. 5, 15 Industrial Revolution 32 influence 13

173

Index

174

Institute for Public Policy Research 88 interview techniques 5 Isaacs, Susan 59 issues: acceptability for policy-makers 40; definition 20, 28, 51–4; modification 17–19; perversion 17–19, 128–9; suppression 127–8 Jackson, S. 5 Jenkin, Patrick 75 Joshi, H. 31 Kane, M. 147, 150 Kaplan, A. 8 Kelly, L. 4, 159 Kelly-Gadol, J. 166 Kiernan, K. 36 Kitzinger, J. 172 Klein, Melanie 59 knowledge 3 Kok, W.J.P. 17, 47 labour market: childcare and women’s participation 2, 36–9, 73–89; post-war 55; war work see war work; see also employment Labour Party Women’s Sections 107, 121–2, 130 Labour Women’s Advisory Councils 53 Ladner, J. 22 Lamphere, L. 165–6 Land, H. 29 Lansing, M. 22–3, 158 Lansley, S. 141, 142, 143 Lasswell, H.D. 8 legislation: gender equality 44; women-specific 21; workplace nurseries 84–5 Leibowitz, L. 31 Leira, A. 87 Letherby, G. 30, 34 Lewenhak, S. 32, 43, 44, 52 Lewis, J. 36, 78 Lieberman, S. 121, 135, 143, 144, 145 Lievesley, G. 22 Livingstone, Ken 145 Llewelyn Davis, M. 40 Lorde, A. 173

Index

175

Lovenduski, J. 1–2,16, 21, 22, 138, 159, 161, 164, 166, 167 Lukes, S. 10, 12–14, 17, 107 Lynn, N. 173 MacDonagh, E. 173 Mackie, L. 37, 61, 71 Maddock, S. 137, 141 mainstreaming 151 Major, J. 85 male breadwinner model 78, 86 manipulation 13–15 Marchbank, J.A. 27, 36, 121, 142, 144, 149, 155, 159, 174 Marriage Bar Act (1927) 21, 43 Married Couple Tax Allowance 29 married women 36–7, 40–66 Married Women (Employment) Act (1927) 43 Marxism, feminist 33–4 maternal deprivation 59–65 Maternity and Child Welfare Act (1918)48 Matynia, E. 24 Mead, M. 30, 31, 169 Melhuish, E. 73 men: involvement in childcare 37–9; knowledge 3; male breadwinner model 78, 86; mental health 34–5; parenting rights 87 Merritt, S. 22 methodology 2–6 Miller, A.H. 173 Millet, K. 3, 109 Ministers for Women 159, 164 Mitchell, J. 62 Morrison, B.L. 117 Moss, P. 37, 73 motherhood: absenteeism 74; and culture 30; feminist views 169–70; promotion of 59–60; rejection of 30; and work 31–6, 40–44 mothering: and capitalism 35–6; and culture 30; fostering patriarchy 28, 35–6; and gender roles 29–31, 37; and psychological dependency 34–5 Mothers’ Union 58 Mueller, C.M. 25

Index

176

National Abortion Campaign (NAC) 166 National Association for Mental Health 60 National Association of Local Government Women’s Committees (NALGWC; later Women’s Local Authority Network) 148, 157 National Childcare Campaign 164 National Childcare Strategy 77, 86, 89, 165 National Childcare Trust 164 National Childminders’ Association 123 National Council of Women of Great Britain 46 National Society of Day Nurseries 46 National Union of Women Teachers 43 networking 156–7, 162–3 nondecision making; branding 133–4, 135; bureaucratic culture 131–2; childcare 39; delegitimisation 133–4, 135; Eastern Region model 106–9; feminist model 13–19; and gender equality 1–2; issue perversion 17–19, 128–9; issue suppression 127–8; lack of sympathy 129–31; and patriarchy 1–2, and power 1–2, 13; postponement 127–8; techniques 127–34; theory 1–2, 6, 10, 13–15; Western Region 121–5, 127–34; and Women’s Interest Issues 1–2, 6, 13–17, 27–8, 158–9 Norris, P. 22 nurseries see day nurseries nursery education (pre-primary schooling) 69; international 70–73; post-war 56–7 Nye, A. 22 Offe, C. 168 oppression 15–17; and racism 22; and reproductive role 30; patriarchal see patriarchy Outshoorn, J. 1, 13, 17–19, 20, 22, 27, 28, 67, 127, 152, 163, 165, 167, 170–71 Palley, M.L. 22 parental leave 68–9, 87, 88 parenting: and gender division of labour 31–6; see also families; men

Index

177

Parkin, D. 143, 150–51 Partnership Projects 91, 94–111 patriarchy: excluding women 26–7; and gender roles 28, 35–6; and nondecision-making theory 1–2; and public policy 27; Victorian 27 Pattullo, P. 37, 61, 71 Penn, H. 115, 118, 126, 129, 131–6 periodical press 58–9 Pettman, J.J. 21, 25 Phillips, A. 6, 116, 162 playgroups 69; Eastern Region 95; Scotland 90–91 Plowden Report (1967) 71 Pluralists 7–8, 13–14, 137–8 policy making: barriers to 10; childcare provision 1–2, 48–51; counter-strategies 154–7; creating new paradigms 155–6; discourses/demands 112–36; feminist influences 138–9; issue acceptability 40; myth of integration 155; outside support 156; political support generation 156; redefinition of roles 156; theories 6–12, 137–8; Women’s/Equal Opportunities Committees 141–9; women-specific legislation 21; see also public agenda political science, feminist 1–6 politics: allocation of issues 24–5; of childcare provision 164–8; feminist 1–6; pressure see pressure politics; women’s activity 22–5; Women’s Interest Issues 21–2 population, post-war decline 63–5 pornography 159 postmodernism 4–5 postponement 127–8 post-war reconstruction 54–8 power: and decision making 7, 13; differentials 8–10; indirect use of 10; latent 8–9;

Index

178

and manipulation 13–15; methods of exercising 13; and nondecision-making 1–2, 13; Pluralist theory 7–8; radical analysis 12; two dimensional view 10 pressure politics 23; feminist analyses 138; feminist issues 159–61 Prestage, J. 5, 22, 25 Price, M. 3 pronatalism 59–65 Prosser, H. 113 public agenda: and bias 16–17; and conflict 8, 14, 16–17; Eastern Region 107–8; and gender roles 28–36; institutions 17; issue modification 17–19; and patriarchy 27; see also policy making quiescence 19 race: and oppression 22; and poverty 110–11 radical view 12, 14 Rai, S. 22 Randall, V. 1–2, 3, 21, 22, 23, 25, 27, 138, 159, 162, 163, 164, 167, 170, 174 Reagan, L. 4 Registration of Childminders Act (1948) 46 Registration for Employment Order (1941) 45 Reid, E. 22 reproduction: and division of labour 33; and gender 29–31; reproductive rights 160–61 research methodology 2–6 Restoration of Pre-War Practices Act (1919) 42 Rich, A. 2, 30–32, 160, 169 Riley, D. 45, 52, 53, 57, 62–3, 64, 65 Roberts, E. 41, 42 Robertson, Jimmy 59 Rosaldo, M.Z. 31–2, 165–6 Rose, D. 89 Ross, E. 41, 52 Rowbotham, S. 23, 122, 168–9 Royal Commission on the Poor Laws and the Relief of Distress 41 Royal Commission on Population (1949) 63

Index

179

Ruddock,J. 151, 172 Rumbold, Angela 76 Sainsbury, D. 21, 29, 67, 73, 86–7, 164 Sapiro, V. 5, 22, 173 Schaffer, R. 60, 62 Schattschneider, E.E. 9–10, 13, 16, 27, 54, 138 Scholzman, K.L. 14, 15 Scotland: childcare provision 90–93; Eastern Region see Eastern Region; Western Region see Western Region; Women’s Initiatives 144–7 Scottish Council for Single Parents (SCSP) 116, 123 Scottish Health Education Group 117 Scottish Pre-School Play Association (SPPA) 117, 171 Select Committee on Physical Deterioration (1904) 41 Sex Discrimination Act (1975) 71, 160, 162 Siltanen, J. 3 Simmons, G.L. 173 single mothers 42, 86 Smieton, Mary 52,65 Smith, John 159 social justice 1 socialisation (gender socialisation) 5, 12, 15–19; and acquiescence 173–4; and bias 12, 33; and culture 25; and domestic responsibilities 34; Eastern Region 106–7; political 173–4; post-war 66; wartime 46; Western Region 121–2; and women’s political behaviour 22–3, 25 sociology/social science 2–4 Solden, N.C. 43 Spender, D. 22 Stacey, Jackie 21 Stanbrook 85 Standing Joint Committee of Working Women’s Organisations (SJCWWO) 46, 54, 56, 65 standpoint theory 3–4 Stanley, L. 4 Stanworth, M. 3, 173 Stedward, G. 22, 27, 138, 139, 152, 174 Steel, David 161 Stone, I. 150 Strachey, R. 43 Straw, J. 85 Strimling, W. 22 Summerfield, P. 45, 50, 53, 58–9

Index

180

Summerskill, Edith 54 suppression, structural 16–17, 19, 46, 66 Swiebel, J. 22, 27, 140, 151–2, 154–7, 158, 165, 170, 171 Talcott Parson, ??? 34 teachers 43 Tebbit, N. 75 Thatcher, Margaret 28, 75, 84 Thomas, G. 42, 54 Titmuss, K. 63 Titmuss, R. 63 Townswomen’s Guild 103 trade unions 44 Trades Union Congress (TUC) 53, 58; Charter on Facilities for the Under-Fives 116; equal pay 160, 163 Truman, D.B. 7 twilight shift 41, 55 Two-dimensionalists, 8–10 Ungerson, C. 29, 65 Vallance, E. 22, 24, 27 van der Eijk, C. 17, 47 Verba, S. 14, 15 Wainwright, S. 43 Walby, S. 27, 32, 34, 43, 162, 170 war work 44–54, 55 Ward, C. 31 Watson, S. 22 Wedge, P. 113 welfare services, international 70–73 Welfare State, post-war development 64–5 Western Region 112–36; Action Plans 153; Advisory Group on Women’s Issues 147, 153; agenda setting 112–21; childminding 119–20; decision making 124–5; gender socialisation 121–2; history 113–18; Member/Officer Groups 113–21; nondecision making 121–5; nondecision making techniques 127–34; policy development 112–21; policy implementation 125–7; political agenda 123–4; pre-fives, definition 126; Pre-Fives Officer 127–36, 139, 142, 145, 153–4, 170–71;

Index

181

Pre-Fives Unit 124–5, 126–7, 130; public agenda 122–3; Room to Grow 114–15, 129, 135; under-fives group 113–21; Women into Politics 147; Women’s Officer 151–4 Whetstone, R. 76 White, C.L. 58 Wicks, M. 36 Wilson, E. 36, 62, 170 Windebank, J. 37–9, 81, 89 Winnicott, D.W. 59 Winship, 58 Wise, S. 4 Witz, A. 41, 44 Woman 58 Woman’s Own 58 Women’s Committees 141–5, 148; co-option 147–9 Women’s Co-operative Guild 40, 53 Women’s Industrial Council 41 Women’s Initiatives: administrative support 143; and bureaucracy 140–41, 150–54; community campaigns 164; counter-strategies 154–7; equality for council employees 149; historical overview 141–50; Leftism 143–4; and local government 149–50; male support for 145–6; Officers 154; Scotland 144–7; and traditional gender roles 146–50; and Women’s Liberation Movement 144, 145 Women’s Institute 21, 103 Women’s Interest Issues (WIIs): abortion 166–8; bias against 9–10; and bureaucracy 137–41, 158–9; childcare as 68; community pressures 158; defining 16, 20–26; equal pay campaigns 160; fragmentation of administrative organisation 152; insufficient political support 152; issue definition 28; Labour Party commitment to 159; marginalisation 158–9; networking 162–3; and nondecision-making 1–2, 6, 13–17, 27–8, 158–9; organisational structure 162–3;

Index

182

politics 21–2, 151; problem definition 151; successful 158–9 Women’s Liberation Movement (WLM) 21, 30, 138, 159, 161, 166, 174; organisational structure 162–3, 168–9; Women’s Initiatives 144, 145 Women’s Local Authority Network (formerly NALGWC) 148, 157 women’s magazines 58–9 Women’s Recovery Committees 55 Women’s Royal Voluntary Service 117, 123 Woodward, V. 144, 145 Working Mothers’ Association 164, 167 workplace nurseries 57–8, 74; legislation 84–5 Workplace Nurseries Campaign 85, 164, 167 Wright Mills, C. 7 Young, R. 114, 142 Yuval-Davis, N. 22 Zero Tolerance 157, 171–2 Zweig, F. 56