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Don’t blame social workers. It’s the system that’s broken Don’t blame social workers. It’s the system that’s broken
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It is not surprising that practice is falling short of professional standards, given the pressure child protection teams faceIt is not surprising that practice is falling short of professional standards, given the pressure child protection teams face
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Wed 17 Jan 2018 18.52 GMTWed 17 Jan 2018 18.52 GMT
Last modified on Wed 17 Jan 2018 19.27 GMT Last modified on Wed 17 Jan 2018 22.00 GMT
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In the new Channel 4 drama Kiri, the social worker played by Sarah Lancashire is seen being hung out to dry for a decision she makes that leads to a child, who is about to be adopted, being abducted by her birth father. The little girl is later found dead, and Lancashire’s character, Miriam, knows instantly that every judgment she has ever made relating to the child’s contact with her birth family will be scrutinised and probably found wanting, especially as the prospective adopters are an articulate, white, middle-class family, and Kiri’s father is black and just out of prison. Has Miriam rushed or been sloppy in arranging an unsupervised visit for the young girl with her birth grandfather? Has she done the right paperwork? Can she cover her arse – and, more to the point from her bosses’ point of view, theirs?In the new Channel 4 drama Kiri, the social worker played by Sarah Lancashire is seen being hung out to dry for a decision she makes that leads to a child, who is about to be adopted, being abducted by her birth father. The little girl is later found dead, and Lancashire’s character, Miriam, knows instantly that every judgment she has ever made relating to the child’s contact with her birth family will be scrutinised and probably found wanting, especially as the prospective adopters are an articulate, white, middle-class family, and Kiri’s father is black and just out of prison. Has Miriam rushed or been sloppy in arranging an unsupervised visit for the young girl with her birth grandfather? Has she done the right paperwork? Can she cover her arse – and, more to the point from her bosses’ point of view, theirs?
The more critical question perhaps is whether she has acted with integrity and made a thorough evaluation of the risks. Has she allowed her personal biases to affect her judgment? Has her work been ethically sound, as well as ticking all the right bureaucratic boxes?The more critical question perhaps is whether she has acted with integrity and made a thorough evaluation of the risks. Has she allowed her personal biases to affect her judgment? Has her work been ethically sound, as well as ticking all the right bureaucratic boxes?
These are questions that should be at the forefront of the minds of all professionals whose daily decisions affect the lives of people at their most vulnerable. When I get ill, I want to feel confident that my doctor works to the highest ethical standards, even in challenging circumstances. Same thing goes for teachers entrusted with the education of my kids. Same if I ever need a lawyer: solicitors and barristers abide by a strict code of ethics. So it’s probably not surprising that when social workers recommend children be removed from their families and placed for adoption, their birth parents should want rigorous and thoughtful discussion of what is right and what is wrong before actions are taken that can wrench a child from their family, for ever.These are questions that should be at the forefront of the minds of all professionals whose daily decisions affect the lives of people at their most vulnerable. When I get ill, I want to feel confident that my doctor works to the highest ethical standards, even in challenging circumstances. Same thing goes for teachers entrusted with the education of my kids. Same if I ever need a lawyer: solicitors and barristers abide by a strict code of ethics. So it’s probably not surprising that when social workers recommend children be removed from their families and placed for adoption, their birth parents should want rigorous and thoughtful discussion of what is right and what is wrong before actions are taken that can wrench a child from their family, for ever.
The fact that the British Association of Social Workers (BASW) felt it necessary to set up a formal inquiry last year to interrogate the profession’s approach to ethics and human rights regarding adoption is both laudable and concerning. When the government cheerleads for the swift adoption of around 5,000 a year, often against the will of their parents – which our most senior family judge, Sir James Munby, describes as “amongst the most drastic” of interventions the state can make in citizens’ lives – you would hope that the daily practice of social work was scaffolded by a strong commitment to ethics and a deep understanding of human rights law.The fact that the British Association of Social Workers (BASW) felt it necessary to set up a formal inquiry last year to interrogate the profession’s approach to ethics and human rights regarding adoption is both laudable and concerning. When the government cheerleads for the swift adoption of around 5,000 a year, often against the will of their parents – which our most senior family judge, Sir James Munby, describes as “amongst the most drastic” of interventions the state can make in citizens’ lives – you would hope that the daily practice of social work was scaffolded by a strong commitment to ethics and a deep understanding of human rights law.
Yet one of the inquiry’s damning findings, to be published on Thursday, is that “social work’s professional ethics are not routinely and transparently used to inform adoption practice”. The result will be that families are sometimes being cruelly torn apart, even when adoption may not be in the long-term interest of the child.Yet one of the inquiry’s damning findings, to be published on Thursday, is that “social work’s professional ethics are not routinely and transparently used to inform adoption practice”. The result will be that families are sometimes being cruelly torn apart, even when adoption may not be in the long-term interest of the child.
Why am I not surprised by this? The risk of making poor decisions seems to me to be an entirely realistic and predictable one for child protection professionals, which they face every day. How can ethically robust decisions be made for a child’s future when the child has seven social workers in the two years running up to the court hearing for adoption? How can any social worker, let alone one with less than 18 months’ experience, do the right thing for vulnerable children when she has a caseload of 30? And how does it feel to be challenged in court by a barrister demanding to know what help a child’s birth family was given, when there is no early support because it has all been cut?Why am I not surprised by this? The risk of making poor decisions seems to me to be an entirely realistic and predictable one for child protection professionals, which they face every day. How can ethically robust decisions be made for a child’s future when the child has seven social workers in the two years running up to the court hearing for adoption? How can any social worker, let alone one with less than 18 months’ experience, do the right thing for vulnerable children when she has a caseload of 30? And how does it feel to be challenged in court by a barrister demanding to know what help a child’s birth family was given, when there is no early support because it has all been cut?
Case law states clearly that children should not be placed for adoption where support would allow them to stay safely in their birth families. But huge cuts  to local authority budgets mean parenting classes or treatment for drug or alcohol addiction are no longer available, so social workers may find they now have to act unethically. Given councils’ overwhelmingly overstretched and under-resourced child protection teams, how can social workers achieve consistently high ethical standards?Case law states clearly that children should not be placed for adoption where support would allow them to stay safely in their birth families. But huge cuts  to local authority budgets mean parenting classes or treatment for drug or alcohol addiction are no longer available, so social workers may find they now have to act unethically. Given councils’ overwhelmingly overstretched and under-resourced child protection teams, how can social workers achieve consistently high ethical standards?
At the launch of BASW’s report on adoption ethics in social work, a mother whose babies were taken from her at birth will tell a story I’ve heard time and again: she was given precious little early support, and despite the repeated trauma of losing child after child was offered no specialist therapy to help her attempt to heal the grief of those devastating losses. Specialist adoption social workers will tell the audience the adoption process isn’t working well even for adoptive families, because there is not enough post-adoption support. BASW will demand that the government publishes figures on adoption breakdown so it is clear how many children end up back in the care system.At the launch of BASW’s report on adoption ethics in social work, a mother whose babies were taken from her at birth will tell a story I’ve heard time and again: she was given precious little early support, and despite the repeated trauma of losing child after child was offered no specialist therapy to help her attempt to heal the grief of those devastating losses. Specialist adoption social workers will tell the audience the adoption process isn’t working well even for adoptive families, because there is not enough post-adoption support. BASW will demand that the government publishes figures on adoption breakdown so it is clear how many children end up back in the care system.
Vast sums are now spent on removing children from their families at crisis point, leaving less for early, preventive support that would mean fewer children at risk. And so the cycle implodes: council leaders must be looking on in horror as their fast-depleting child protection budget eats itself and still craves more.Vast sums are now spent on removing children from their families at crisis point, leaving less for early, preventive support that would mean fewer children at risk. And so the cycle implodes: council leaders must be looking on in horror as their fast-depleting child protection budget eats itself and still craves more.
Directors of children’s services have lobbied government in compelling terms to plug a £2bn funding gap for children’s social care. Since the chancellor ignored their pleas in his autumn statement, and then again in the local government settlement last month, they are privately in despair.Directors of children’s services have lobbied government in compelling terms to plug a £2bn funding gap for children’s social care. Since the chancellor ignored their pleas in his autumn statement, and then again in the local government settlement last month, they are privately in despair.
After Theresa May’s reshuffle, the role of children’s minister has been downgraded to parliamentary under-secretary of state. This is painfully indicative of the low priority given to the poorest and most disadvantaged children and their families. In the end, it is not the ethics of social work professionals, like Lancashire’s character, that need scrutiny, but the ethics of our government.After Theresa May’s reshuffle, the role of children’s minister has been downgraded to parliamentary under-secretary of state. This is painfully indicative of the low priority given to the poorest and most disadvantaged children and their families. In the end, it is not the ethics of social work professionals, like Lancashire’s character, that need scrutiny, but the ethics of our government.
• Louise Tickle is a freelance journalist who writes for the Guardian on education, social affairs and family law• Louise Tickle is a freelance journalist who writes for the Guardian on education, social affairs and family law
Child protectionChild protection
OpinionOpinion
AdoptionAdoption
ChildrenChildren
Social careSocial care
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