Tony Blair will no doubt find something comforting in the fact that his ‘respect’ crusade against anti-social behaviour – a central tenet of Labour’s third term in power – has raised the hackles of critics on both the left and right. For the prime minister, overcoming what he sees as the false choices presented by outdated, ideological arguments has long been a critical element of his conception of progressive politics.
It is certainly true that some of the objections – very often disingenuously cloaked in the language of civil liberties – have very little to commend them. Scratch the surface of conservative critiques of the government’s plans, for instance, and their underlying dogmatic hostility to any form of state action soon becomes apparent. On the one hand, right-wing newspapers serve up a daily diet of stories detailing the antics of noisy neighbours, feral youths and lager louts, while, on the other, railing against any ‘nanny state’ proposal – save for greater police numbers – which aims to combat the problem. Power without responsibility has, of course, long been the privilege of the fourth estate.
David Cameron’s skilful bit of repositioning on the eve of the launch of the government’s Respect Action Plan – suggesting that the prime minister had failed to launch ‘a systematic challenge to one-dimensional knee-jerk populism’ – underlines once again his PR skills, but does little to clarify his core beliefs. Indeed, his suggestion that ‘a real respect agenda would see government stepping back from direct intervention and trusting local people and organisations to do the job’ bears all the hallmarks of George Bush’s promise in 2000 that he would tackle poverty and inner-city deprivation in America by unleashing the good works of faith-based initiatives and the voluntary sector. In reality, government ‘stepping back’ meant charities struggling to provide safety-net services in its place.
The objections of some on the left are, however, rather more perplexing. Yes, the Respect Action Plan builds on the arsenal of tough-sounding measures – such as Asbos and curfew orders – already available to the police: the powers which allow them to shut ‘crack houses’ are to be extended to any residential or licensed premise which is the scene of significant, persistent and serious nuisance; fixed penalty notice fines for serious offences will be increased to £100; schools will be able to seek parenting orders for ‘serious misbehaviour’ by a child; and, perhaps most controversially, 50 ‘sin-bin’ schemes to tackle out-of-control families will be created, coupled with a compulsory ‘rehab’ package for those facing eviction or children being taken into care.
The fears of those who view such measures as a sign of the government’s increasing social authoritarianism were no doubt heightened by Tony Blair’s assault on the criminal justice system. ‘The real choice, the choice on the street,’ said the prime minister, ‘is not between a criminal law process that protects the accused and one that doesn’t; it is between a criminal law process that puts protection of the accused in all circumstances above and before that of protecting the public.’
The prime minister thus proposes to reverse the burden of proof in some cases; the extension of summary powers with the right of appeal, he suggests, has already been proved to work and needs to be extended.
The prime minister is correct. With the proviso of speedy and adequate opportunities to appeal, this is probably the only way to tackle low-level instances of anti-social behaviour. It is also incumbent upon those who object to such ‘draconian’ methods to offer an alternative of their own, which adequately addresses how the police can deal with the kinds of petty but disturbing behaviour which are only ever likely to attract a court fine.
But this development should be watched closely. Using such methods to tackle anti-social behaviour should not become the thin end of a wedge designed to fundamentally alter the most fundamental principle of the British criminal justice system: the presumption of innocence.
There are, however, two further reasons why the left should embrace much of the respect agenda. First, many of the measures the government announced were, in the words of one child welfare group, ‘a sheep in wolf’s clothing’: the creation of a National Parenting Academy to train social workers in parenting skills; parenting classes made more widely available with cash incentives for teenage mums and dads to attend; an expansion of mentoring projects; and the introduction of a national youth voluntary service scheme continue the government’s already impressive plans to invest more in children and young people.
Second, as Professor Richard Sennett, whose thinking on respect is cited by Tony Blair, argues, the government is addressing a problem which is critical to many of the poorest and most vulnerable in society. As Sennett suggests: ‘All Margaret Thatcher and John Major offered them was “Get rich and leave”. Anti-social behaviour is something that the police and social workers haven’t paid much attention to. For poor people [Tony Blair] has touched on something that really matters. It is a very important thing when the prime minister says: “I understand that you have a problem – that you are living in fear”.’
The notion, too, that the respect agenda is simply a litany of headline-grabbing populist proposals is also belied by its origins. Many of the measures – both the tender and the tough – contained in the Respect Action Plan have been tried and tested in small-scale inner-city programmes. There, they have brought a record of reduced domestic violence, improved school attendance and fewer Asbos.
But despite the progressive character of much of what the government is attempting to do, the suspicion that attaches itself to the respect agenda remains. Politically, there are a couple of possible solutions.
First, as the prime minister made clear in his speech at the launch of the plan, this agenda is not about rolling back the clock to some golden age of the 1950s. As he rightly noted, for ethnic minorities, women who wanted to work, or gay people, there was very little in the way of respect shown at this time. Beyond this, too, there is much evidence to suggest that immediate post-war Britain was hardly free of the kind of anti-social behaviour which the government is seeking to tackle today. It is important that these points are made with greater clarity, and that the respect agenda does not become confused with right-wing paeans to the 1950s and rants against ‘political correctness gone mad’.
Second, the government should demonstrate an understanding of the fact that encouraging respect goes beyond tackling anti-social behaviour. As an admirer of his work, Tony Blair will no doubt be aware that Professor Sennett’s argues that inequality represents a major cause of the absence of respect in contemporary societies. Similarly, Richard Wilkinson of Notting University has demonstrated that the psychological consequences of being at the bottom of the income and status hierarchy can be devastating – in terms of fostering alcoholism, drug abuse and violence – to both individuals and the communities in which they live.
A broad conception of respect – tackling as it must questions of inequality and alienation – could thus serve as an umbrella under which the government can examine ways to combat a range of critical but apparently unrelated questions. The importance of expanding opportunities for those young people who do not go into further or higher education, for instance, should be a priority. Making the link between inequality and respect more apparent could serve to broaden the appeal of an agenda which clearly deserves to succeed. We might also find out how serious David Cameron’s commitment to engendering greater respect really is.