RIP Roy Bailey – not just a beautiful voice, a radical spirit in common cause and shared values

Thanks to roybailey.net

I first met Roy Bailey in person in the dim and freezing toilets of Shirebrook School in Derbyshire. He was having a pee in a cubicle unbeknown to me and I waxed lyrical to a fellow at my shoulder about both Roy’s mellifluous tone and his commitment to the cause. At which point Roy appeared, somewhat embarrassed, thanking me for my kind words. We parted a trifle awkwardly, he to get ready for his second set, me to rejoin Marilyn Taylor, Steve Waterhouse and young people from the Shirebrook Youth Centre, ‘getting off our knees’ to dance to the Housemartins, then riding high in the charts.

The occasion was a fund-raising event in support of the National Union of Mineworkers and the Great Strike of 1984/85.

Roy’s version of ‘Hard Times in Old England’, which he sang that night, echoes down the years.

However, I’d come across Roy a decade before in print upon discovering the book, ‘Radical Social Work’, which he edited with Mike Brake. At the time, a would-be radical youth worker I despaired at the conformity of the Wigan Youth Service, in whose employ I found myself. Looking for inspiration I found little solace in the individualist focus dominant within the youth work literature available. Bailey and Brake’s book, if not a godsend, was a present from Marx and Freire. Fundamentally its contributors argued that it was crucial to situate ourselves and the people, with whom we work, in the underpinning circumstances of our lives, in the limitations imposed, even if resisted, by the relations of class, gender, race and sexuality. In 1978 Colin Pritchard and Richard Taylor argued with one another in the insightful and challenging, ‘Social Work: Reform or Revolution? Whilst in 1980 Bailey and Brake edited a follow-up, ‘Radical Social Work and Practice’, which included chapters on feminist Social Work,  radical practice in Probation and Beyond Community Development.

It was only at this point, the turn of the decade, that youth work writing, responding to radical social work’s analysis and propelled in particular by women and black workers on the ground, began to take serious account of the structural. In 1981 Gus John produced ‘In the Service of Black Youth: A Study of the Political Culture of Youth and Community Work with Black People in English Cities’. By 1982 the first edition of Youth and Policy had appeared, featuring articles on social democracy, girls’ work and racism. By the mid-1980s Tony Jeffs and Smith had collaborated to edit, ‘Youth Work’, which included a rather pompous chapter by myself, ‘Youth workers as character builders: Constructing a socialist alternative’. My pretentious argument fell on stony soil! Bernard Davies broke new ground in his own writing with the publication of ‘Threatening Youth’ [1986], which interrogated social policy’s impact on young people’s lives across the board. In ‘Young People. Inequality and Youth Work’ [1990] Jean Spence explored Youth Work and Gender, Peter Kent-Baguley Youth Work and Sexuality, Don Blackburn Youth Work and Disability. Indeed it might well be argued that by this time critical thinking in youth work had caught up with that of social work.

In a fascinating contradiction as neoliberalism in its Thatcherite garb took a hold on the economy and culture as a whole, both youth work and social work full-time courses embraced a radical agenda. Indeed, during my close relationship with the Manchester Metropolitan University in the 1990s, which included lecturing there, the explicit collective commitment to an Anti-Oppressive and Anti-Discriminatory Practice brought youth work and social work students together in common cause. There was no sense of there being separate youth work or social work values.

Twenty years on I think this history needs to be remembered and respected. In the crisis faced by Youth Work over the last decade and more, youth workers have found themselves employed in other services and agencies, for example, social work and juvenile justice. There is no doubt that youth workers have much to offer in these settings. However, both leading youth organisations, such as the National Youth Agency, and increasingly youth workers themselves feel the need to argue that they take into these different workplaces a unique cluster of values, ‘youth work values’, unbeknown evidently to anyone except themselves.  By and large, they seem reluctant to clarify what exactly these values are.  I’ve dug out an old set of notes musing upon this topic further, which I might revive.

I am sometimes criticised for what is perceived as my pedantic and semantic, even obsessive hostility to the mantra of exclusive youth work values, skills and methodologies –  see Blurring the Boundaries. However, it is my contention that this presumptuous declaration of exceptionalism undermines building bridges with all manner of other professionals and volunteers within welfare and education. More than ever, at a time of social disintegration and rising authoritarianism, we need to revive our solidarity with one another, to be bound together by a shared commitment to the common good, to the struggle for social and political equality.

I’ll leave the last word to Roy, a song recorded only a year ago, ‘Refugee’ – a heartfelt humanitarian plea.

Roy Bailey, academic and folk singer, born 20 October 1935; died 20 November 2018

This Guardian obituary gives a sense of his rich contribution to the struggle.

The perils of privatising social care

I’m posting afresh this blog ‘The perils of privatising social care’ from Justin Wyllie, who has been very supportive of In Defence of Youth Work over the years.

care
Thanks to sott.net

The New Observer

This is a story in the Guardian about how children in care are treated as commodities in a market-system of placement.

The Guardian often does these kinds of stories quite well. However; they never draw the obvious conclusion. The system is not ever going to be fixed by a worried / outraged article in the press and some more regulation / money.

The problems described in this article are the inevitable result of bringing the profit system into the field of social care for looked after young people. Of course if you do this calculations are going to be made on the basis of profiteering and of course this will not result in the “best care” for young people.

There may be some fields where the profit-motive can produce results which socialised production cannot. An obvious example is the case of any field in which technological innovation can be stimulated…

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Lest we forget who died for what in the ‘Great’ War

With my father in mind, for whom Remembrance Sunday was essential to his identity, I was trying to write something about my deep misgivings about the tone and purpose of today’s commemoration of the end of World War One. In the end, I’ll settle for linking to Steve Arnott’s impassioned piece on the Facebook page of The Point, together with a poem by Wilfred Owen.

great war

Is it just us? Or does anyone else out there feel that the ongoing sanitisation and revision of the brutal historical reality of the First World War more than just a little disturbing?

A pointless mechanised slaughter of millions of working-class boys and men of various nationalities at the behest of their own capitalist classes and various Royal Houses should be remembered as precisely that; and not some ‘jolly’ thing to be commemorated in Brit nationalist terms, with just the right amount of due saccharine sentiment to make a good family night in.

Even the return of the term ‘Great War’ must be suspect. It was the common descriptor prior to World War II – but since then the normal way of referring to the conflict has historically been as World War One. Given that ‘great’ has more than one meaning, the creeping return to the use of the old term seems to us to be part of the sanitisation and revision of this organised mass murder in the cause of profit and Empire (on all sides); part of the none-too-subtle attempt to recast this war as somehow a ‘just’ war. In the way most people understand the word in modern times, the First World War was anything but ‘great’.

And where is the remembrance of the fact that in almost every nation participating ordinary working people, soldiers, sailors and the poor rose up against the war at the end, and against their own national ruling classes that had fomented and promoted the whole horrific, blood and mud-soaked, infernal farce?

No culturally appropriated poppy is needed to remember my great-grandfather, who lied about his age to join up and fought in the Somme at age 16, survived and went on to become a lifelong and unrepentant communist till his death in 1986. And the many like him who both lost their lives and who survived to live with the trauma for the rest of their adult lives.

The ultimate sacrifice? For what? Imperialism and the hubris of Empire?

The entire British ruling class should have been put on trial for this war crime that used their own people as machine gun fodder, like cattle to the slaughter.

– Steve Arnott. Editorial Co-ordinator, The Point online platform

Dulce et Decorum Est

BY WILFRED OWEN
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

 
The Latin phrase is from the Roman poet Horace: “It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.”

OF COURSE, WE MUST REMEMBER