An event occurs which has opinion column writers scurrying off to put pen to paper and opine on behalf of the nation. Such was the response to the dark and disconcerting events in a former pit village outside Doncaster. Two young boys, placed with foster parents in the village only a few weeks previously, had humiliated, abused and terrorised two other young boys and left them for dead. For some, this re-awoke memories of the tragic murder of James Bulger, or allowed for a reheating of the Shannon Matthews’ non-kidnap. For others, it was yet another invite to have a kick at social workers and their perceived inadequacies. For another group, it was a chance to have a pop at the straw man of ‘Broken Britain’ – a much maligned theme.
The events in Doncaster should not have occurred. With that valuable benefit of hindsight, it is probably clear that the elderly couple, however well-meaning, were not best-placed to cope with the specific traumas and needs of these two brothers. Had they not gone off the rails in Edlington, though, they would probably have gone off the rails somewhere else before too long.
That society has failed these children would appear axiomatic – and indeed society has also failed their victims, since they should not be overlooked amidst all this hand-wringing. But it then becomes a very easy step for politicians to take to start making references to Broken Britain and the Broken Society. For those who struggle to cope with the notion that the Conservative Party could have a social conscience, these phrases are like red rags to a bull.
Yet it is easily overlooked, even by Conservative spokesmen, that the notion of a ‘broken society8 0 is quite specific. It is not a damning of individuals. It is a reflection on how Conservatives believe we should perceive the world around us. Margaret Thatcher famously said there was no such thing as society, and her defenders such as me almost as famously go on to point out that she completed by saying that there were only families and individuals. And there is an important truth in there. A functioning society is made up of individuals who agglomerate in smaller social units – families and communities – which when they in turn are agglomerated become what Polly Toynbee likes to think of as ‘society’.
However, society is ‘broken’ (or almost non-existent) if those basal units no longer function or are weakened. If family breakdown weakens the smallest unit of our human relationships, it also weakens those community units based around a single street, a local pub or a village. “Widespread social change, greater social mobility and the decline of the extended family have all put much greater pressure on the nuclear family and the local community” as Liam Fox has said in the past.
There is a golden thread that needs to run through our human relationships. That thread is civility and a recognition of our common humanity.
To accept this premise fully may seem to require a belief that society did once ‘work’. This is dangerous territory. Politicians are not historians. They like to paint portraits of golden ages to which we could return if only we elected them – John Major famously described the Thatcher years as a ‘golden age that never was’ in what was a counter-intuitive strike for accuracy over hagiography. Historians know the past is never so simple. Maybe society has always been broken but in very different ways. The extended family may have been stronger 50 years ago, but that is also because much of what is now in the public domain was concealed within families – domestic violence is perhaps no more common, now, just more openly-acknowledged (though with a long-way to go).
What I believe has changed has been a chiselling away of societal norms. Fifty years ago, there was an ‘acceptance’ of how society should be ‘ordered’ – what was ‘done’ and ‘not done’. To diverge from that was common, but it was done in ‘private’ so to speak, with an outward observance of societal norms. I don’t suggest for a minute we should return to an era when we all suffered in silence. But one consequence of greater personal liberty – indubitably a good thing – is that we have the freedom to defy societal norms, and those norms become less normative.
But I believe our ‘broken-ness’ is more pervasive than that even. It is the almost imperceptible element in all our lives that suggests something is lacking. In a world of increasing connectivity and 24-hours new channels, we have retreated into our smaller social circles. We have little time for the wider community activities we once did. We now spend our time worrying about the unknown round the corner. Emile Durkheim, the great French founder of sociology, called it ‘anomie’.
Building up our communities, building up the links between ourselves, between families, friends and neighbours is more important than ever, The state cannot solve a ‘broken society’ – only the emergency of new societal norms can do that. But to see such norms re-emerge is aspirational at best. It is a commonplace to speak of our ever-changing world – but ‘change’ and how we respond to it lies at the heart of how humankind governs itself. For some are afraid of change, yet others embrace it. And that is the real divide in politics – and the challenge for politicians of all parties is how to ensure that as social and economic change impacts on daily life, government does not seek to diminish the remaining bonds of community, but rather seeks to build them up.