The Church Army farm colonies and the Second World War

I found this advertisement in a local guidebook, published in early 1946. I find it interesting for a number of reasons,  not least that the Church Army clearly expected to encounter similar conditions after WW2 to those it faced in 1919, with large numbers of bored and rebellious servicemen (and in 1946 women) cooped up in camp under military discipline, while tens of thousands of veterans returned to unemployment, emigration and loneliness.

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In fact, however harsh the conditions experienced in austerity Britain, the economy absorbed most of the returning veterans, and the emerging welfare state replaced many of the functions previously performed by charities. The Church Army, which had staff and volunteers providing services in the armed forces and working in air raid shelters at home, found a new post-War role in youth work. I do wonder, though, whether  it was involved in providing accommodation during the desperate housing shortages of the late 1940s.

In particular, the Church Army lost its role in training emigrants. It had founded its first farm training colony in 1890, less than a decade after its birth. Its leader Wilson Carlile always intended the new colony, at Newdigate in Surrey, to expand its activities to training unemployed Londoners for emigration to the Dominions, but instead it turned its attention to providing a rudimentary farm training for inebriates.

In 1905 the Church Army sold Newdigate after acquiring a second, larger estate at Hempstead Hall in Essex, where it started a farm training colony, preparing unemployed men for emigration. By 1917, it was already focusing its attentions on discharged oldiers and sailors, and was still described as a Church Army training farm in Kelly’s Directory for 1937. I’m  not sure what happened to it during WW2, but by the late 1940s it was a remand home for boys, which in turn closed in 1950. These days it seems to be an upmarket bed and breakfast.

As ever, there’s far more about the labour colony movement in my book. Check it out if you want to know more.

 

Free ESOL classes – is voluntarism the answer to our ESOL crisis?

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I picked up this card in a cafe while visiting my daughter in York. I looked them upon the York St John University website, where the classes are listed under the international students heading, along with courses on English for academic purposes. In addition, the classes are clearly aimed at local (non-student) people as well.

As the website says, ‘These classes are open to everyone (with the exception of beginners) over the age of 18’. They are taught by trainee teachers, and are free to participants; presumably the teachers are unpaid, but they gain experience and can use the classes to build their CV.

I don’t know who the participants are, but it looks to me as though the classes are open to to migrants, refugees and other potential local ESOL learners – presumably alongside some of the university’s overseas students. Is this a good idea?

It certainly helps fill a gap. According to the Labour Party’s spokesperson for skills, government funding for ESOL in England fell from £203 million in 2010 to £90 million in 2016. Of course I’d prefer to see the funding restored to its 2010 levels, and teaching undertaken by experienced professionals, but at the moment that seems a remote possibility, at least in the short to medium term term.

So while I am concerned that we seem to be reverting to voluntarism, I take my hat off to York St John. And in the longer term, we need to keep restating the case for publicly funded adult ESOL learning as a great way of achieving a cohesive society.

Celebrating work camps as national treasures – the case of the Civilian Conservation Corps

Some Australian friends recently sent me some photographs they’d taken while vacationing in the USA. Among other places they visited Colorado, sending me photos of Mesa Verde, where the the Ancestral Pueblo peoples built their cliff dwellings and farms; and the Red Rocks Amphitheatre, where you can watch the moon rising over Denver as you listen to your favourite performer.

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Statue at Red Rocks

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Information panel at Mesa Verde

What both sites have in common was that during the 1930s, they housed work camps for unemployed young men. The Civilian Conservation Corps was a product of Roosevelt’s New Deal; it opened in 1933, placing over a quarter of a million single men in 1,300 camps, employing them on public works that were chosen partly for their public value. In contrast to Britain, the programme became so popular that politicians lobbied to have the CCC open camps in their electoral districts. I’ve met elderly American socialists who will brook no contradiction with their view that the CCC was a force for good.

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This enduring popularity might seem inexplicable, particularly as the camps were segregated, women were excluded, and the men wore uniforms and came under military control. But the USA had no welfare system, in contrast to the unemployment benefit available in Britain and elsewhere, and the CCC made it possible for the federal government to pay unemployed single men. It also benefited from its association with the wider New Deal programme.

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And Roosevelt was not shy of mobilising public opinion. On the contrary, he was one of the first major democratic politicians to make use of new mass media (wireless in his case) to publicise his administration’s work, and the CCC was equally adept at promoting a positive image, helped by the nature of the work it undertook. While the British Government reached an agreement with the trade unions limiting the work to be done in its work camps, the CCC proudly presented itself as building the modern facilities needed for a nation of pioneers.

Hence my interest in Tony and Janet Brown’s photos. I find it fascinating to see how the memory of the CCC is kept alive and celebrated today, and while I love Rachel Whiteread’s Nissen Hut sculpture in North Yorkshire, it is understated and rather remote. If not exactly secret, most of the British work camps are largely forgotten, along with the unemployed young men who laid the basis for so many of our great forests.

Check out my book if you want to find out more about the British experience of labour camps..

 

 

Promoting civic engagement through learning accounts

I’ve been taking a keen interest in the French system of personal learning accounts. Like other similar systems elsewhere, it seems to me a model of how to incentivise learning – at least as an experience which could hold lessons for the rest of us. And it is also being used to promote active citizenship.

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The labour law of 8 August 2016 introduced a new system for incentivising civic engagement, the compte d’engagement citoyen (CEC), which enables the recognition of specified types of civic activity throughout the life course, accompanied by support for relevant education, with the applicant accessing funding through their compte personnel de formation (CPF).

The CEC covers eight types of volunteering:

  • National civic service (the alternative to military service, now suspended)
  • Military reserve service
  • Police reserve service
  • Health reserve service
  • Master apprentice service
  • Service of at least 200 hours a year to a registered association
  • Voluntary fire brigade service
  • Service in the national or regional civic reserve

The first I heard of the CEC was when I read this summer that the French legislature had criticised delays in the IT system supporting it. The MPs also called on the government to remedy inequalities of access, sort out anomalies such as the exclusion of first aid training, and extend the education provision to retired people who volunteer.

The introduction of the CEC runs parallel to another new scheme for young people, of national universal service. Reflecting one of President Macron’s campaign pledges, the scheme is currently being piloted, and if all goes well it will require all French youth to complete a month of civic action followed up with a further period of systematic voluntary civil or military activity. I’ll post a more detailed description of this scheme soon.

So this is an interesting approach to promoting active citizenship through adult learning, and I look forward to seeing some serious analysis of its effects. At this stage the system seems to me to be admirable in principle, if rather bureaucratic to access and restrictive in scope, but that is an early perspective from an outsider.

Meanwhile, if you want to know more about the French approach to learning accounts, you can find my earlier posts on the CPF here:

Adult learning and social mobility: the state of Britain

The Social Mobility Commission (SMC) has published its most recent ‘state of the nation report‘, in which it concludes that social mobility in England is stalled. It provides evidence to support this claim, and then goes on to consider a number of reasons for this stagnation, with recent changes in the education system being the largest.

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Their analysis encompasses adult learning, where the Commission has a number of criticisms of current policy as well as constructive suggestions for the future. Some of these come in discussions of other educational sectors; their discussion of early years education, for instance, looks at qualifications and career structures for the (overwhelmingly female) workforce, and at the importance of family learning in giving small children a strong start; the section on further education also looks at teacher recruitment issues.

When it comes to adult education and training, the Commission draws heavily on its own study of the adult skills gap, which it issued in January 2019. This showed that the least skilled are the least well placed to access opportunities for upskilling, at a time when the fourth industrial revolution is starting to impact most on the least skilled jobs.

The most highly educated, meanwhile, find it relatively easy to refresh their skills and qualifications. The report notes that this appears to be as true of open education programmes such as MOOCs as it is of more conventional opportunities. The consequences, if things are left as they are, will be that adult learning serves as a block to social mobility rather than an enabler.

And all of this following a period in which, as the Commission notes, ‘almost all forms of adult education are in decline’. They produce figures showing that the UK spends two-thirds of the EU average on adult training, well below that of such comparable economies as Germany and France. They show that regional imbalances increase problems of accessing training, and note that those who are most likely to move between regions are the most advantaged. While the new national retraining scheme for England may have potential, they note that it will need to be both large and highly targeted if it is to have the impact required.

While the SMC has no remit to improve social mobility in Wales and Scotland, it notes that while challenges remain, neither has seen the same stagnation as is evident recently for England. They note that the Scottish Government has reponded to a steep decline in on-the-job training with a £10m in-work training programme, while the Welsh Government’s employment policies include proposals for skills and training.

So far as England is concerned, the SMC’s main recommendation for adult learning is that the Government should follow the action plan set out in the SMC’s report in January 2019, and in particular that it should ‘equalise adult education funding with EU statistical averages and reduce the underspend of its adult education budget through more flexible funding structures’. The new regional combined authorities have powers to achieve greater flexibility, but it will be for national overnment to release additional spending.

Clearly, then, the report offer much to encourage those of us interested in adult learning. Of course it focuses largely on adult learning for or in work, but that is for the obvious reason that our occupations tend to shape our life chances. More seriously, the current obsession with Brexit among politicians of all colours probably means that the SMC’s report will have a marginal influence on policy in the immediate term.

But with several committees of inquiry beavering away currently on lifelong learning policy, the SMC has provided further evidence of the wider benefits and policy importance of adult learning. It also provides fresh food for lobbying and advocacy at local and regional level.

Commercial adult learning: floristry

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I took this photo while I was in Kent visiting my mum. A florist was starting up in one of the small row of shops, and even before opening they were advertising Saturday morning workshops at £30 a person.

So this is another example of adult education as a spin-off from a small independent business. If financially successful, the workshops would produce a small additional income for the business at next to no cost, and also help build customer loyalty. For the learners, they offered a chance to pursue an interest with a group of like-minded people.

Back in the 1980s, politicians sometimes used flower-arranging as the epitome of frivolity and waste in public adult education, although they had no notion whether the learners subsequently put their new skills to use at work or in the community.

Now, with public adult learning narrowing down into vocational and ‘essential’ skills, politicians minded to sneer at adult learner are more likely to jeer at basic computing as learning ‘how to work a mouse and how to organise your calendar at Christmas’.

Bourdieu goes to Dublin: Class and Capital in Sally Rooney’s “Normal People”

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I loved Normal People, which I received as a Christmas gift and read last weekend. It centres on the relationship between Marianne and Connell, two young people from a small town near Sligo whose continuing friendship and intermittent love affair carries on from their final year at school to their time as scholarship holders at Trinity College, Dublin.

At the start their relationship is defined by class –  Connell’s mother cleans for Marianne’s family – and by cultural fit – Marianne is a despised outsider, Connell is the popular footballer. Neither, Connell in particular, is willing to acknowledge their friendship publicly, and that does not change when they move to Dublin. What does change is their cultural fit, as Marianne swims in her new environment as smoothly as a fish in water, while Connell is unable to adjust to college life while simultaneously losing his ability to relate to his old life.

Rooney is an avowedly political writer, so it comes as no surprise that her novels map the remarkable recent journey of capitalism in Ireland. One particularly unappealing and entitled character is described as son of one of the people who caused the financial crisis (‘not figuratively, one of the actual people involved’). His friends wear plum chinos and waxed jackets, build their social capital through the debating society, and take their future for granted – all in utter contrast to Connell’s dispositions.

I was struck by the extent to which Normal People is a Bourdieusian project, examining the ways in which people’s habitus promotes or constrains their access to cultural and social capital. For working class Connell, fumbling his way through unfamiliar social and culrural terrain, higher education is an unsettling experience, even as he succeeds academically. And for Marianne as much as for Connell, the dissonance between one’s own values and intimate desires and those one must perform can lead to anxiety, even severe depression. What, indeed, are ‘normal people’?

The book is also a love story, though one whose sexual politics I found disturbing, and which centres around misunderstandings and missed opportunities. And it is a kind of morality tale for millienials, in which people demonstrate over Gaza together, and use emails and texts to maintain or end their social bonds, even on occasion when they are in the same house. I’m not taking my copy to Oxfam, which is where most of our books end up after we’ve read them, because I want to read it again.