The headmaster of my old London school, Kevin Hoare, is nobody’s fool but now
he’s turned political pundit. As a stern English and PE teacher at Finchley
Catholic high school, “Mr” Hoare watched me sink into the mud on
cross-country runs around Dollis Brook and put his head in his hands as I
failed to vault the horse. He always was an authority figure. Last week
Hoare was thrust into the media spotlight by the row over “cash for places”.
In three representative areas across England dozens of faith schools,
comprehensives all, have been “named and shamed” by Ed Balls, the schools
secretary, for breaking the admissions code. Six offenders in the borough of
Barnet were singled out for demanding voluntary contributions as a condition
of entry. Five of these are Jewish schools which claim the money will pay
for extra security. “O tempora, o mores” as my Latin teacher didn’t say.
Finchley Catholic high school wasn’t guilty of asking for donations before
entry, although the school is expected to pay 10% of all capital costs for
building (43% of parents voluntarily contribute - or rather 57% don’t). So
the school was surprised to be singled out for publicity.
Does it fail to take its share of statemented children with learning
difficulties? No, actually. In the current year 7 there are 10 such boys,
out of whom four are autistic. Approximately 8% of the entire school roll
are on a statement list. No boy has been selected on the basis of family
connection for more than four years in line with departmental policy. Let’s
hope Whitehall got its facts right with the other schools held up for
opprobrium, otherwise Balls is riding for a fall.
He has had the misfortune to meet an opponent if anything more articulate than
him. Hoare has acquitted himself well on television and radio shows where he
has represented faith schools in Barnet. The headmaster believes “there is
an anti-faith school agenda at the moment”. He may be on to something. For
it is an old Westminster custom that when governments are in trouble
ambitious politicians start fighting not the next general election, a lost
cause, but the election after that - the contest to become party leader.
So, in the twilight of Tory rule before 1997, hitherto herbivorous europhiles
like Malcolm Rifkind and Stephen Dorrell roared like sceptical lions before
their increasingly right-wing party. Not to be outdone, Michael Portillo,
then defence secretary, and other Tory “bastards” outdid each other in
appealing to the right. Their pronouncements arguably tarnished the party
for a generation in the eyes of the public, but for them it was only the
electorate that would choose the next Conservative leader that mattered.
Gordon Brown’s cause is far from hopeless. Yes, the recent run of opinion
polls has been appalling but there are still two years to turn it around and
the prime minister wields a comfortable majority in the Commons. Discipline
does seem to be breaking down, however. A bad sign is that even ministers
are beginning to misbehave.
Ivan Lewis, the health minister told the News of the World that Labour was
“losing touch” and must appeal to the “mainstream majority who are. . .
feeling squeezed”. Then Gerry Sutcliffe, the ‘Licensing Minister’, attacked
the tax rises on booze in the budget. On Friday he recanted: “My comments do
not accurately reflect my views.” He “misspoke”, as Hillary Clinton said.
One rueful former minister shakes his head: “Alastair Campbell would have had
his balls off. What are they playing at in No 10?”
The parliamentary Labour party is in uproar over the abolition of the 10p tax
band which will hit low-paid overwhelmingly Labour voters. Brown’s defence
of his tax changes to the party on Monday was, unprecedently, challenged by
loyalist MPs. When he left for the Nato summit, Greg Pope, a former Foreign
Office minister and whip, tabled an early day motion condemning the cut. He
is no Blairite dissident and his motion attracted names way beyond the usual
suspects. He has now withdrawn it after having the policy “explained to
him”. It’s getting messy.
Geoff Hoon is proving to be an invaluable “explainer” as chief whip - see how
he got Alan Johnson out of trouble by inserting conscience clauses into the
health secretary’s kamikaze human fertilisation bill. But what with highly
unpopular closures of local post offices and economic gloom, there is only
so much “explaining” that a man can do. If Brown and his home secretary,
Jacqui Smith, persist in trying to railroad 42-day pretrial detention for
terrorist suspects through the Commons, a real disaster beckons.
The ambitious Balls, adviser to Brown at the Treasury and now raised to
cabinet eminence, will have been watching the mounting chaos. He will also
have observed his Blairite rivals flexing their muscles. David Miliband, the
foreign secretary, refuses to accept that his grandiose-sounding post is
political Siberia and has produced thoughtful speeches about the future of
Britain. James Purnell at work and pensions has tried a nip of the hard
stuff of welfare reform. Very brave, minister, as Sir Humphrey would say. In
the face of left-wing anarchy in the party he has already decided to dilute
it. Very wise, minister.
The schools secretary will also be perturbed by the confusion at No 10 where
old friends such as Brown’s PPS Ian Austin MP and other members of the old
guard have been expelled from offices and jobs by Stephen Carter, the new
technocratic chief of staff. In stuffier days The Times was the house
journal of governments. Under Brown that house journal is PR Week. In its
pages you can read of the new team’s successes and the old team’s
defenestration. Balls cannot be thrilled.
Other Labour folk have also been noticing Balls’s zeal to purge the faith
schools. Under Tony Blair no education secretary would have dared. The
Blessed Tony rejoiced in any variation from the bog standard comprehensive
norm. Under Brown, Carter signalled there would be no move to the left but
rather the embrace of Blairite reforms. Not everyone, it appears, has got
the message.
Conor Ryan, David Blunkett’s adviser in his years at education who helped to
mastermind the literacy hour, rightly points out “the problem with turning
[the admissions code] into a cause celebre is that it alienates many of the
good school leaders that this government needs if it is to tackle failing
schools.
“After all, the reason why we established the Office of Schools Adjudicator
was to take the heat out of admissions disputes”. Ryan concludes: “The
schools secretary and his ministers would be wise to let him . . . get on
with the job, and then to show the same zeal for improving the 638
low-attaining secondaries highlighted by Gordon Brown last year.”
Balls’s admissions purge panders to the Labour party’s worst levelling down
instincts; it's an irrelevance that will hurt the government. Yes, but it is
relevant to the future prospects of Balls. In the Labour party, the
constituencies and the unions, there are votes to be had for attacking faith
schools. The National Union of Teachers hates any school other than the
bog-standard, while more than one Guardianista columnist and Labour
think-tank regularly kick faith schools. If Brown loses the next election
this bitter rump of old Labour headbangers, whingers and malcontents may
have a big say in the election of the next leader.
Come off it Balls; handle with care. Faith schools, I agree, should not put up
invisible barriers to the working class and they do irritate parents who
can’t get their children in by hook and even crook. But witch-hunts are not
on. This concerns more than hundreds of thousands of disaffected parents in
middle England who, like me, look to these schools for the only decent state education
available to their children.
For I have an ally at court. Another Finchley old boy who would wear the
school tie proudly if he could only find it, is Damian McBride, the prime
minister’s chief spokesman. Our state school conspiracy is more than a match
for the Tory Old Etonian network – or even that of old boys of the
fee-paying Nottingham school, alma mater to the schools secretary. Tread
softly on our dreams, Ed.
