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Leslie T Wilkins
Research Professor, State University New York
Cambridge, U.K. 1999
The author has experience in both
the `hard' and `soft' sciences. He has spent about half of his research career
in England and half in the United States. He undertook sponsored research for
two President's Commissions in the U.S. and for the Royal Commission on
Taxation in the UK He has carried out research in the military, civil and
academic settings. Quite early in his career(s) he had an ethical disagreement
with an Air Chief Marshal about flying safety research. His R.A.F. commission
ended forthwith. Later a disagreement with a Home Secretary on proposed new
drugs laws led to his accepting a United Nations assignment in the Far East,
after which he was invited to a chair at the University of California at
Berkeley. This career also was somewhat turbulent and terminated when, as
acting head of a department, he refused to be an informer as demanded by the
Regents (Chaired at that time by Ronald Reagan). He was invited to the State
University of New York at Albany and on retirement was awarded the title of Research
Professor. He received early recognition with the award of the Francis Wood
Memorial Prize of the Royal Statistical Society for his epidemiological study
of deafness. Thereafter he received honours from several U.S. and international
organisations. He officially retired in 1982 at 65 years of age and has since
resided in Cambridge where he continues to do odd jobs in research.
To my family and especially to my
wife, Barbara,
whose half-century of support
extended even to the endorsement
of my several protest resignations,
though the cost to her was greater
than to me.
Printed
posthumously by Leslie's widow and family
and
rededicated to his students everywhere.
May
2001
Acknowledgements
The
author and publishers thank the following for permission to reproduce copyright
material.
Sheffield
Telegraph fro Figure 3.
Royal
Statistical Society for Figure 4.
Times
Newspapers Ltd for Figure 6.
San
Francisco Chronicle for Figure 8.
Permission
was sought from the Evening Standard for Figure 2 and the New York Times for
Figure 10 and no adverse reply was forthcoming.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR *
DEDICATION *
TABLE OF CONTENTS *
PREAMBLE *
INTRODUCTION: OUTLINE AND RESERVATIONS *
CHAPTER
ONE: EARLY YEARS.
Education, into employment; pre-war village life; to Folland Aircraft; R.A.F.; marriage; accident research at Air Ministry; founding of Operational Research Club. *
CHAPTER
TWO: ENGINEER BECOMES SOCIAL SCIENTIST
Wartime Social Survey; research management; demand for medals estimated *
CHAPTER
THREE: POST-WAR SOCIAL SURVEY
Interviewer reliability; demand forecasting; deafness study; Royal Statistical Society connection; notes on the history of British Criminology; Sir George Benson and the Borstal project *
CHAPTER
FOUR: HOME OFFICE DAYS
First invitation to US; the Carlisle Scheme; the Cambridge Institute; Eel Pie Island and Arthur Chisnell; victim studies and Stephen Schafer; second visit to US; founding of British Criminology Society; drugs and leaks *
CHAPTER
FIVE: THE SCOTTISH EXPERIENCE:
First venture into university life. *
CHAPTER
SIX: THE JAPANESE -- UNITED NATIONS EXPERIENCE
Impressions of Tokyo culture; the importance of role; tolerance of ambiguity; obligation etc *
CHAPTER
SEVEN: THE BERKELEY EXPERIENCE
Campus conditions and local culture; university structure and administration; I become Acting Dean; academic life and its disturbances, tear gassing, the Vietnam war, the People's Park etc *
CHAPTER
EIGHT: UPSTATE NEW YORK
Research
money and management difficulties; the Albany Research Centre is conceived;
introduction of computers; the Parole Board and George Reed; collaborative
decision research, bonding sessions and information overload; disparity and
reassessment; choice of model; the decision approach emerges, a learning
system; the idea of Guidelines for sentencing; sabbaticals in Australia and
British Columbia.
CHAPTER
NINE: POST RETIREMENT.
Reorientation; UN conference on Situational Crime *
CHAPTER
TEN: TAIL PIECE
Thoughts on ethics, stucture and error, amongst other things *
APPENDIX 1: Libel is Ignored. *
APPENDIX 2: Bibliography *
This book is best read as two books
intertwined. The time-line runs from the 1933 depression until the present and
tells of significant episodes of policy advice alongside aspects of personal
history. Many stories may be seen either as analogies deployed in applied
research models or simply as anecdotes.
Governments,
major industries and even charitable organisations have recourse to policy
advisers: persons that the popular press refer to as the "faceless
ones". The activities of these persons have an impact on all of us, yet to
the average citizen they remain a somewhat mysterious army. They claim all
kinds of expertise and experience yet their opinions are seldom made directly
public. The press reports, not the advice given, but the decisions made by the
managers, politicians or administrators. Indeed it is seldom that the
information upon which policy decisions are based is itself made public.
Much
policy research tends to be associated with methods termed "think
tanks", "focus groups" and the dissemination of the outcome by
"spin doctors". The popular press comment usually gives the public a
poor impression of these techniques. This viewpoint may occasionally be both
substantially and dramatically justified. However, justified or not, it applies
only to a small proportion of the available techniques, mainly those which,
superficially, do not appear to require complex analysis. The main
misunderstandings arise with those research techniques which are ‘person
orientated’ rather than ‘machine orientated’.
Of
course, the fact that the public are misinformed or uninformed about almost the
whole field of policy research is not particularly important: the public are
misinformed on many other things of more significance -- but it does matter to
the recruitment of staff. If graduates in the appropriate disciplines are
misinformed, both parties and the public they serve will be disadvantaged.
In
this book I will attempt to provide the would-be recruit to policy research
with a different perspective than the background which might be obtained by
studying the available research reports. In addition to shedding some light on
the background of an adviser’s job in Whitehall and Washington, my purpose is
to provide an unorthodox picture of the kind of lifestyle which may be expected
by graduates or others who choose to work in policy research; though this is no
occupational guide.
A Historical Note: Policy Research Types?
A frequently quoted, useful and simple
classification of professions proposes three major categories, namely those
that are concerned mainly with people, with things or with ideas. This
classification is expanded by combinations and different degrees of emphasis
upon the three major features. I do not regard a highly focussed motivation
towards helping people to be appropriate for those who would carry out social
research or provide scientific advice: such persons should undertake social
work or similar outlets. Interest should be in finding out what is happening
and perhaps how, and there should be less concern with why. But how is
the necessary degree of detachment to be achieved? I can present no simple
formula. I cannot theorise about my own activities, I can tell only about them
and do my best to avoid any excursions into self-discovery. I may say, right
away, that I take the view that a research perspective develops out of
experiences which have a large random element.
While I accept the autobiographical
basis for this presentation it seems to me to be absurd for anyone to suggest
that my research style, or patterning is significant of my particular
personality and that this in turn derives from my early life experiences.
It was in the pursuit of
interesting (now designated policy-relevant) questions that my work took me
from a career in aircraft engineering, through economic forecasting to end my
days in the field of criminology. Administratively these employments represent
three different careers and involved both academic and government service. It
was, indeed, only after retirement that I began to realise that there was a
philosophical continuity in the ways in which I had come to state problems and
the methods I had used in the solutions. It would, however, be dull and
probably pointless to discuss this trend abstractly, while it may be
interesting (and sometimes amusing) if I tell the stories as an off-the-record
historical and personal account.
If, today, I were present in a
public meeting and someone asked, "Is there a criminologist in the
house?", all who knew me would expect me to respond. It is a
classification I cannot avoid. Yet when questioned by the press or lay persons,
I know that if I say that I am (or was) a criminologist, a totally inaccurate
picture of my activities and background of knowledge would be assumed. I would
be expected to know a lot about criminals and certainly able to comment upon
whatever sensational case was currently in the headlines. I would merely
mystify folks if I tried to explain that, even while I was functioning as ‘a
criminologist’ (which was only a part of my policy research work) I did not
deal with criminals, but with crime and punishment.
To avoid embarrassment in
spontaneous conversations such as those which arise on long flights, I would often
respond to inquiries by saying that I am "a has-been statistician".
If the "statistician" bit did not ensure termination of the
conversation, the "has been" seemed to do so.
The classification of occupations
noted above may be misleading for students who aspire to enter policy research.
For example, I regret that students often opt for a degree course in one or
other of the social sciences because they hope thereby to avoid mathematics.
They ought to be wrong about that! I certainly found it essential to use
mathematical models to provide the information needed by governments, in the
Royal Air Force, and in the Wartime Social Survey and later as a criminologist.
Nonetheless, I think it may be interesting (and perhaps helpful) to would-be
students if I avoid mathematical detail. I will try.
The history of political change may
be well documented from the political and administrative viewpoint, but few
records describe the background to the advice or the experiences of the
advisers. None of the research reports of projects which I have directed
revealed the chance meetings which changed a project's direction, the politics
of its funding, the mistaken specifications of problems later resolved, the
false trails taken, nor did they reveal the ethical challenges involved in my
role as director, author or co-author. In my research reports it would have
been quite inappropriate for me to discuss any of the personal problems which
were coped with during the projects. Though there certainly was drama in the
research activity this could not be reported in the official write-up.
Nonetheless the dramatic situations which occur in research work are as
powerful and as plentiful as any elsewhere. Perhaps some of these true life
dramas should be told?
The Style of Presentation to be Adopted.
The dramatic incidents in which I
was involved seldom derived from personal concerns, but related more or less
directly to research. However, being bombed by local police with tear-gas
canisters on one’s way to give a lecture at one of the major universities of
the US might be thought to have some dramatic content with personal overtones.
There were other events which were somewhat unusual. I am persuaded to include
a sample of these though I remain doubtful of their relevance to my central
theme, namely, telling what a role in social research is like at the
operational level when advising on governmental policy.
I believe that social research is a
worthwhile activity and that if sound methods are deployed, the results should
be taken seriously. It is a career I would recommend. It is both challenging
and demanding. Research is not an activity one can locate firmly in the
workplace and leave it there during evenings and weekends. Research involves
the whole person, and those around can hardly escape being drawn in.
In so far as I shall be writing
about myself, it is to employ this self as an instrument to convey more
significant information than a mere historical account. In my previous
writings, especially those which reported officially sponsored research, I had
available much more information than I was able (or allowed) to put into the
reports. Some of this information I remember and since I am now 'out-of-school'
I can tell a few tales. Some of the politicians and military men may,
incidentally receive rough assessment.
Obviously I can discuss only those
events which have concerned me in some way and where I have direct knowledge
(that is my only 'data base'). But I will try not to get trapped into
explaining myself. Attempts at self-discovery seem to me to border on the
absurd, and I will quote only minimally from work which I have published
elsewhere.
In the telling of those research
projects which were regarded as successful I cannot restrict myself only to those
projects which were acted upon by the authorities. In some instances there will
inevitably be a tone of "I told you so!". Or, perhaps (remembering my
civil service training) I should say, "the current deplorable situation
demonstrates that research findings should not have been ignored". When I
was presenting research results it was always necessary to be tactful: after
all the work had been sponsored by the authorities, and perhaps they deserved
some credit for merely asking. Maybe they were hoping for endorsements of the
policies they wanted to follow, and in many cases went ahead without the
support of research. At times, inconvenient findings were suppressed.
INTRODUCTION:
OUTLINE AND RESERVATIONS
Historical analysis can identify
patterns which were invisible at the time the events were recorded. Indeed such
patterns are not directly observed and their superimposition on events may or
may not be helpful. Regularities may be seen and conspiracies imagined where
there was nothing more than inelegant muddle. I have expressed from time to
time my opinion that too little attention is paid to the highly significant
function of muddle: whether obvious muddle or well hidden as administrative
practice.
Though the popular image of
scientific work suggests orderliness, the work of scientists is not immune to
the intrusive muddle. While most people ‘do’ some science in the course of
their general education, few receive much instruction on the design of
experiments and research procedures. Those theories demonstrated by the use of
methods that rely on obvious gadgets or impressive apparatus are easier to
envisage and dominate the popular view. In particular, the paper work sciences
attract the attention of few playwrights or novelists. I know of no fictional
stories where the hero is a statistician. Yet statistics is central to all
forms of research design.
An analogy for the structure of my
writing here might be that of erecting a brick building; using a large quantity
of mortar! The research projects are the 'bricks' and the social and domestic
environments are the mortar. The mortar is as essential as the bricks. This
thought adds a rationale for the inclusion of some items that I would otherwise
have omitted.
Social Research v. Political
Expediency?
Employment, necessary for financial
support, entails certain conformity even for research scientists. This in turn
can involve conflict. In retrospect I can isolate four key incidents which seem
rather like nodes in my life's network of research projects. These events were
the result of my adopting what I believed to be an ethical position. I think I
should give a brief indication of these events now in order to provide a
concise background for the reader. The events will feature in more detail in
their correct sequence later.
The major dramatic situations that
characterised my policy research careers illustrate difficulties at the
interface of management or administration and research perspectives. The first
may seem trivial. As a young clerical officer in a Ministry of Labour Local
office I was said to be insubordinate when I objected to an order from my
manager to substitute some "representative cases" for a random sample
drawn in accord with detailed instructions from Head Office. This precipitated
my first change of career from the civil service to industry. Management cannot
understand the operations that are essential to obtain sound samples. The
methods are not intuitive.
My Royal Air Force commission
terminated when an Air Chief Marshal found a questionnaire asking about near
accidents in a crew room. He ordered the research to cease forthwith because he
would "not have junior officers criticising their equipment".
The conflict of flying safety
research methods and the requirements of military "good order and
discipline" do not, apparently, converge I was most fortunate that another
source of income quickly found me!
Later I found myself at the
beginning of in-house research at the Home Office. This appointment terminated
when I took the view that a revised official policy on ‘prohibited substances'
(drugs) was likely both to increase their distribution and the damage they
could do. Subsequent events have proved that I was, unfortunately, right. An accusation of 'leaking' was not true, but I resigned. because I
did not wish to be identified with the basis of the 1964 Drugs Bill.
Unfortunately there was little doubt about the good intentions of the Minister.
Having by that time established
some credibility in criminological research, I had little choice but to accept
an offer from the University of California. This post terminated when as the
head (Acting Dean) of the School of Criminology and Criminalistics I refused to
inform on my staff as required by the Regents.
By drawing attention to these
quasi-ethical stands I do not wish to suggest that others placed in similar
positions would have acted differently. The significance of these events and
the resulting career changes was that they led to the evolution of my research
strategy -- the latent theme of this work. While conflict situations provide a
dramatic interest, they had little impact upon the development of my research
style, except that of a catalyst that changed my career and the field of
application of the research techniques. It is, of course, the projects
described and the developing methodology that provide the "meat". For
good measure I include a description of my experience of a sophisticated
administrative technique known as "polishing the skids".
Validity of the data
To the lay reader it is probably my
work of forecasting both economic and criminal behaviour which will be the main
interest. This is because of the outcomes, rather than the method or style of
the research. It is true that my 'predictive' (forecasting) work was
particularly successful in that the prognostications which were tested by
subsequent events proved to be embarrassingly correct.
Some of my best friends are
psychologists! This chapter is prepared in an attempt to give serious
consideration to the clinical viewpoint within that discipline, though I do not
find its explanations at all persuasive. I am not convinced that my flying
safety, economic or social policy research was dependent in any way upon either
my early education or childhood experiences. Nonetheless, in all fairness I
think I should make an attempt to record certain events, though I remain
doubtful as to their significance.
Educational Background.
Education is a continuing process.
I find it unsatisfactory to assume that formal, structured education is the
main educational experience in life. It may be that some educational
institutions provide a social setting and a network of personal contacts that
relate, often quite powerfully with future careers. For purposes of abstract
analysis I would distinguish the educational from the socialising features of
the school institution, though obviously both are indistinguishable in
practical situations. It would be interesting to ask a sample of the general population
how many of their pre-teenage school associates they are still contacting, such
as by at least an exchange of seasonal greeting cards. It is a reasonable
assumption that we would observe a strong correlation with the status of the
educational institution attended.
My formal education, apart from
providing me with the three-R basic skills, was in my view almost entirely
irrelevant. If it was a socialising experience, it was not an experience I can
recall. My fundamentalist parents maintained a strong control over all my
school associates. Indeed for a number of years I had to participate in
religious practices, including singing solos while stood up on church pews. I
did not rebel, and for some time I received religious training with a view to
the ministry. This was under the tutelage of a Dr. Dalling in Southampton.
Perhaps my residual knowledge of New Testament Greek and Higher Criticism had
some lasting value? However, if I give any credit to my early educational
experiences I have no hesitation in noting the influence of my science master
at my Eastleigh school. He gave me zero marks for a piece of work because the
answer I provided was "too accurate". I was not entitled to any
credit for deriving the answer by simple maths and some deductions ! I had not
made the measurements. This early lesson in the calculus of observations was
probably the most significant learning experience of all my school years. I am
sure that I did not appreciate the justice of this assessment at the time.
Indeed its significance may only now have been realised when searching for
interesting school days memories. This master, whose name avoids me, was the
one who did not discriminate against me (as I saw it) for my lack of sports and
such abilities. I had an unrecognised vision defect -- a total lack of depth
vision. I also recall that teacher was an atheist and made no secret of this in
the class.
My father died when I was 15. That
was in 1930. This was the time of the great depression celebrated in the song,
"Brother can you spare a dime". Which reminds me! I had two brothers,
but they were much older and neither had kept in touch. My widowed mother and I
managed unaided on our own, partly on the income from the shop which had been
my father's boot and shoe store at Eastleigh. I was accepted for a social work
course at Southampton University for training as a probation officer. Financial
problems made it impossible for me to take up full-time study.
The Eastleigh retail business
needed my late father's skills and practice as a chiropodist, and whatever help
I could give was not producing adequate income. Soon the business failed
completely. I had to get a full-time job. I went to see the Ministry of Labour
at the Wesleyan Church Hall and was immediately recruited to their temporary
staff. The only prospering business at that time was unemployment! I was at the
Eastleigh office for a few months and then was moved to a small rural office in
Bishops Waltham some 12 miles distant. I was 18. We were able to let the shop
property and to purchase a small home in Swanmore (a few miles from my office).
My salary and the rental from the Eastleigh property provided my mother and I
with a very modest living. I wanted to continue my education but now part-time
evening tuition was the only available means. I could not continue my probation
officer training on a part-time evening basis, so I substituted evening classes
in a variety of subjects, including statistics. My health must have been good
because I cycled 12 miles each way to Southampton University for these evening
classes on several days of the week and in addition took part in weekend
activities in the village.
I can accept that an embryonic
scientist was probably emerging in my first employment and was demonstrated by
my first altercation with management! This was at Bishops Waltham Ministry of
Labour. It seems that at this period in my life events were beginning to take
place which may have contributed to my personal development and my scientific
orientation, though my focal theme of methodology cannot be traced until much
later. I will, therefore, begin my personal background story at around that
time and continue from there in chronological order in so far as this is
possible.
A Note on two aspects of Pre-war Life.
It is fashionable among preachers
and politicians to bemoan the impact of the ‘permissive’ ‘60s and to claim that
the reduced level of moral standards of contemporary society can be traced to
the culture of that time. Certainly the mid-1960s, particularly on the west
coast of the U.S.A. with anti-Viet Nam war protests, drop outs and hippie mores
had wide impact. I was at the University of California at Berkeley during some
of these years and I will discuss the events in the time sequence. I note this
fact now because I think I must emphasise how different was the pre-war
(1939/45) environment of my own youth from any time since. I must present at
least a few vignettes of life in some of the areas which were my ‘teen age and
young environment.
The fact that my first employment
was in a government department was certainly a very important factor in my
personal development. My posting to a village office was most significant in
moulding my social adaptation at a critical time. Perhaps village life in my youth
was little different from that of a century before and very different from
anything which can be experienced in England today.
The depression was an added feature
impinging on the life of all. It would be misleading if readers interpreted
roles and operations in contemporary terms. If my experiences are to be
interpreted usefully, this early environment must be related to my social
development -- the processes of learning. There was the further factor that my
father’s death forced me to take responsibilities not commonly required of
individuals of my age. I will take a few paragraphs to sketch the cultural
settings of my early employment and leisure.
Readers familiar with village life
may be aware of the difficulties ‘incomers’ have in being accepted by the long
time residents. It may seem surprising that my transfer from Eastleigh to the
Bishops Waltham office of the Ministry of Labour resulted in no such isolation.
It was not that Bishops Waltham was an untypical Hampshire village. Status
concerns and a clear hierarchical social structure dominated the village life. "The
rich man in his castle -- The poor man at his gate" did not seem an
unreasonable way to order things. Occupations represented social class rather
more than the mere possession of wealth, and ‘old money’ counted more than ‘new
money’. I suggest that my lack of difficulty was due to two factors, one
theoretical and general and the other more specific to my particular situation.
The failure of villages to
accommodate and integrate incomers is, I suggest, due to the dissemination of
information and the ways in which information is processed within a small
community. This was of more impact before television and the more general
ownership of motor vehicles consequent upon the development of easy credit.
In the village a person cannot
remain anonymous and mysterious as they can in a city -- they must be fitted
into the structure, and the social structure of village life is an information
rich environment. Less sociologically put; one cannot get lost in a village. As
the incomer becomes ‘known’, a fitting location in the local information matrix
is possible and people then know ‘how to behave’ and what behaviour to expect.
I was in a position where I quickly became known. Since well over 20% of the
work force was unemployed and employers or their agents were in frequent
contact with the office, I quickly got to know a wide sample of the locals.
But of more significance was the status factor: I was a civil servant: indeed
an official! Today this may seem surprising. Civil servants are not now highly
regarded. I must clarify.
The contemporary public image of
civil servants has been influenced by humorous drama and the concept that
Whitehall is populated at the higher levels with Oxbridge graduates who have
their own agenda for the nation. True, there may still be a dominance of
classicists and law graduates and even those from other backgrounds may
occasionally provide support for the public’s images -- on the one hand of
bumbledom and on the other beneficiaries of a caste system. The civil service
structure is, indeed, still reminiscent of a caste, though termed
"classes" or "grades" there are industrial, clerical,
executive and (top of the form) the ‘admin’ class. These castes are mirrored in
their trades’ unions, with the exception of the ‘admin’ who are represented by
the First Division Association (not a ‘union’ !). Out on a limb is the
scientific civil service with a similarly graded structure except that it is so
designed that the specialist is always ranked somewhat below the administrative
parallel. Until a few decades ago the service was the preferred job choice of
graduates, and the Civil Service Commissioners were able to recruit to the
Administrative classes a high proportion of ‘firsts’, and indeed a ‘lower
second’ was an almost certain bar to entry into that class. Preferences have
changed, and the ‘culture of the office’ doubtless has changed also.
My job in the Ministry of Labour
though almost at the bottom of the civil service pecking order -- a clerical
officer grade - was, nonetheless, of some substance in village life in pre-war
times. My accommodation to village life and culture was doubtless further
facilitated by my ability to play an organ when called upon to do so, not to
mention my ownership of a car.
My car ownership certainly led to
some degree of popularity with my age group most of whom were not so
privileged. It was certainly a significant feature of my life style. The result
was that I was diverted from both my earlier study and my career orientation.
Though the dominance of religion continued to diminish, there was still a
considerable residual. It was about this time that I became a church organist
in a nearby parish though it was by then the organ not the denomination which
was of interest.
Some events in my experiences in
the village were, for me, rather good fun as I gained a mental freedom from my
strict upbringing. Indeed some of the events at that time still have a pleasant
flavour. Pre-war adolescent village culture provided many experiences which
today may be of some historical interest.
Squires, dances and Conservatives.
Bishops Waltham in the pre-war
(WW2) years still retained a number of features surviving from feudal times.
Tithes were still expected. There were still a number of relics of the past in
active operation. There was a "midnight baker" who did actually bake around
midnight and deliver the new bread with each dawn. He also used a faggot oven.
This had only one chamber where the fire was set with bundles of brushwood from
local coppicing. After reaching temperature the fire was raked out and when the
chamber was still hot the dough replaced the brushwood. There was a local bank
owned by the 'squire'. This was Gunner's Bank, and the Gunners lived in the
'big house'. Tenant farmers were distinguished from the superior owner farmers.
The unemployed were a new phenomenon and, for the most part, were casual farm
labourers or building trades workers who were on and off the 'dole' depending
upon conditions. Some signed-on when it froze, or rained! A significant
percentage were seafaring men who 'signed on' between voyages of the great
liners. Calculation of benefit entitlement was complex. Interviewing was
challenging and I found it interesting to obtain the necessary information with
good humour. I had 'good relations' with the unemployed and seekers for work.
At first I was the junior of a staff of three, but after a few months we were
two: the manager and myself.
The manager was usually referred to
as Captain Wright; a WW1 rank in the Royal Engineers. This was stretching the
honours somewhat because civilian use of military ranks (courtesy titles)
conventionally applied only for major and above and its equivalents in other
services. But he was a pillar of the Swanmore establishment. He was an
interesting chap, though he would now be regarded as somewhat exploitative in
his allocation of duties to me while he went golfing. But the job paid a fair
salary and as a civil servant (albeit temporary) my status in the village was
such that I could associate with the sons (and daughters) of the squire,
farmers and bankers.
As an occasional Church organist I
was 'qualified' to associate on (almost) equal social terms with the main
Bishops Waltham Parish organist who was also the conductor of the local Motet
and Madrigal Society. I have often wondered since who he really was, and what
happened to him. He went up to Oxford after a few months. He was an extremely
fine organist and conductor. He introduced me to the Dolmetsch group in
Guildford, so he seems to have been well-connected His name was Heath. But I
forget his first name. Perhaps it was "Ted"? I would find it too
embarrassing to try to find out!
Of course there was no television
and most of the 'life' of the village had to be achieved within the village or
the complex of villages and hamlets of which Bishops Waltham was the centre. It
had a local railway station -- a terminus on a sideline from Botley. Trains
were not frequent. A 'bus service to Winchester ran every two hours but ceased
in the early evening, and there was an occasional service to both Eastleigh and
Southampton. A cinema opened twice weekly. If we were going to have any fun we
had to devise it for ourselves. We did. But there were social constraints of
class that even the younger generation could not (or would not) breach. We had
dances arranged by the Junior Imperial League (now known as the Young
Conservatives). These were 'democratic' in that they were open to all at a
reasonable entry price, however, only those who presented themselves in proper
evening dress or dinner jackets were admitted.
Some dances were held at the 'big
house' and a select few of the young folk were invited. A requirement for a
male for an invitation seems to have been the possession of a car. I had one
invitation, but I think I was too well behaved to be invited again. Say,
perhaps that I was shocked at the way the top people enjoyed themselves. I will
recount just one incident because it provides a background to life pre-war in
village upper class society.
On the occasion of my invitation
things went with a swing and were in no particular manner remarkable, until
around midnight. Drinks were available and 'finger foods'. At about midnight
lots were drawn for partners. One male and car, and one female; selected at
random. Then a second hat was produced and sealed papers drawn by the partners.
These contained instructions as to a 'bit of fun' which was to take place
forthwith at the address noted. The ‘fun’ entailed breaking in and stealing
some item from the household and returning with it to the Hall. If readers
question the legality of such ‘housebreaking’ activities I might point out that
though there was a village constable he had been informed to expect some
high-jinx on these occasions. Clearly there was no intent 'permanently to
deprive' the owner of the goods, and trespass without damage would not make a
case. So a carefully engineered entry was all that was required. My partner and
I had an easy target in a local hotel.
On the evening in question, by
13.00 or so all but one pair had returned to base and only one of the returnees
had been seen and reported to the police (that little matter was soon dealt
with). But the pair who had the most distant assignment -- some 10 miles --
still had not returned. We waited: tension mounted. Then they entered the Hall
together carrying something with great care, swaddled in the car rug. A small
white hand was protruding!
Now kidnapping was not on the menu.
As we watched somewhat aghast they began to unwrap the body in the centre of
the ballroom floor. It was, of course, a stone statuette, and though obviously
mature she was just the right baby size. It belonged in a garden. The group
decided that a nude was rather out-of-place in the 'house' and we proceeded to
apply cosmetics and clothing. Later, in the early hours, it was returned to its
plinth with a note attached to the effect that the 'league for garden modesty'
had taken matters in hand. A mouse trap stolen from the Matron of the Red Cross
was painted with red crosses and returned with sugar mouse in place. I do not
remember any other details: and if I did I would not tell.
Despite such occasions in village
life everyone's behaviour was reasonably predictable, including that of the
village idiot who made a show of 'controlling' the local traffic. He had little
difficulty except on market days. (As a technical aside I might say that there
was no information overload and simple ‘coping strategy' proved adequate. I
later managed to integrate these observations into my theory of 'social
deviance'.).
I could have had much more fun if I
had freed myself totally from my fundamentalist inhibitions.
It was, with few exceptions an
uneventful life with the usual village scandals! I enjoyed discussions about
current affairs and music with the previously mentioned Chairman of the Junior
Imperial League. I was the secretary of the League. The League members were, on
the whole, not much concerned with politics. One’s political party views were
never questioned. They were assumed to be self-evident from one’s ‘station’.
Though political content of the
proceedings of the Junior Imperial League were almost zero, for some perverse
reason my association with that group brought me into contact with the thinking
of the opposition. Teaching at the local monastery (The White Fathers) was a
young radical activist. He was interested in local footpath preservation.
Hiking as a leisure pursuit was not of interest to the Imperial League members
who as sons and daughters of the landed gentry, were horse riders. I could not
ride but I cycled and walked. I think it was a chance meeting on one of my
hikes in the area that I met my left-of-centre discussant. Our common interest
in walking meant that we often took hikes together, during which we discussed
political, economic and social matters. Religion was barred as a topic.
Perhaps arising from the stimulus
of these discussions I began to take an interest in personnel management and
industrial welfare. I had some contact with trades union issues in my work with
the Ministry of Labour. At that time there was an Industrial Welfare Society
(later I believe to become the Institute of Personnel Management) which
published a journal and held annual conferences to propagate the developing
ideas of personnel management as a subject of study. I was able to join this
Society and it afforded me the opportunity to attend my first 'learned society'
conference held at the University of Reading. This was a great experience.
Then WW2 was declared. This was
September 1939. A few days before I had been on vacation in Germany. With many
others we had been 'rounded up' by the Consulate staff and rushed back to
England. The coach trip from Koln via Aachen, across Belgium was through a
thick fog. The coach was packed solid with a multinational, motley group of
passengers, including some nuns who stood continuously telling their beads,
obviously scared to hell! I am sure I remember this correctly though the drama
may have led to some enhancement or distortion at a later date. But back to
work.
As a Ministry of Labour officer
with some years experience I was not, despite my age, due for conscription to
the forces. The work was termed "reserved employment", though this
category was continuously eroded as the war proceeded and I could not rely upon
remaining a civilian. My office was charged with registration for service or
conscientious objection. I tried to protect the objectors from the attention of
the 'Captain' who took a poor view of their moral position.
Among my official duties was the
preparation of several statistical returns. It may have been that work which
prompted me to take up evening classes in statistics. In any event by the time
war began I had gained a good basic knowledge of applied statistics and
sampling theory. Perhaps this interest had been stimulated by the early lesson
in the calculus of observations at school (when my 'right' answer was marked
'wrong'). There was also a philosophical attraction because statistics with its
concept of uncertainty provided a good antidote to my earlier emphasis on
'faith'. This knowledge was about to prove very significant and to result in a
change of career.
First Case of ‘Insubordination’.
My limited statistical theory was
sufficient to become the basis of a serious argument with the 'Captain'. We had
instructions from H.Q. to take a sample -- clearly a 'probability proportional'
design (as I recognised from the detailed instructions for extraction from the
case files -- current and 'dead'). I was working up this material when the
'Captain' asked to look at the cases I had 'pulled'. He was unhappy with the
image afforded by this group. He demanded that I select 'some more typical
cases'. I objected and was overruled. I saw this as a serious matter of
intentionally presenting misleading data: almost an ethical issue. Thereafter
my relationship with the boss deteriorated.
The sampling incident and my
'insubordination' made it desirable to seek another post. I applied for
transfer to the Fareham office. No post was available. So why should I stay in
the civil service? I wanted to stay with my mother for as long as possible
because, to me, she seemed to be vulnerable. She had never fitted into the
local community life. Except for her Methodist Church attendance she was
isolated. So I wanted to continue in some form of exempted employment.
The war effort (as various
manufacturing processes were known) needed staff of all kinds. Many were
exempted from conscription. All vacancies had to be notified to the Labour
Exchange. This meant that all vacancies within the catchment area of the
Bishops Waltham office were notified to me and there was also a 'trawl' of
other vacancies for special appointments. So, when tension began to build
subsequent to the 'random sampling' incident, I was in possession of much
useful data.
Change of role: Folland Aircraft.
Among the notifications was one for
a 'planner' for materials control at Folland Aircraft at Hamble on Southampton
Water and hence within easy commute by car. Petrol was rationed but there were
added coupons for those needing to use their cars to get to 'essential
employment'. I would qualify, and I reckoned that I could drive economically
and increase my available leisure mileage. Materials control involved
calculating stock usage rates, devising relative charts and providing the
information for 'progress chasers'. I was appointed. Memos which I submitted to
the management of my department provided the material for my first two
publications, both of which appeared as short articles in the Factory Manager.
(See bibliography, Appendix ii). I think I gained a taste for writing and
publishing from this time.
I owe much to the unknown co-worker
who must have suggested to me that I submit my papers to the journal with a
view to publication. Needless say both articles concerned statistics.
At Follands the pay was good.
Though my work did not require any night shifts, it was a social expectation
among the workers that all would take their stints 'on nights'. I decided to
take my turn from time to time, and in any event night pay rates were higher.
But night shifts were subject to heavy bombing and, initially, we spent much
time in the shelters. After some months it was decided that to take shelter
during alarms was not necessary and we were advised to duck under the bench
when we heard a whistle. The factory had among its staff many persons whose
avocations were considerably different from their function at the time. Among
these was the night foreman of the pickling plant (metallurgical treatments)
and the paint shop. He was an artist! Honest! We had many interesting
conversations about metallurgical processes, and one night shift he drew my
portrait on a piece of paper toilet towel, see Figure 1.
Figure 1. A pencil sketch
of the author by John Wilson, 1941
The Secret Bomber-- It's one of ours!
It is a trivial story, but I cannot
resist telling of a case where the British predilection for secrecy was
exercised to its full, or even ridiculous level. When German aircraft were
bombing the daylights out of everything around, then there were said to be
"unidentified aircraft in the area"!. This peculiar bit of
officialese led to some misunderstandings. There was an occasion on day shift
when we were confined to the shelters for an unusually long period of time
because 'unidentified aircraft' remained in the immediate vicinity. The truth
was embarrassing to the wardens. Follands repaired military aircraft, but these
were cleared of all secret equipment before consignment to our workshops. The
IFF (Identification Friend/Foe) box was one of the items we 'got to know' was
taken out and could be fitted only by special service personnel. This box, of
course, employed radar technology: still top secret. When the aircraft were
ready they were taken to an airfield adjoining, fitted up and flown away by
Transport Command. But we had our own test pilots who normally would do taxi
and run-up tests only or fly within visible range of the local air defence
emplacements. However, one aircraft was taken up for flight test. Without its
IFF it was identified by antiaircraft units as 'unidentified' in the overcast
conditions. Of course when it landed it remained 'in the vicinity', and
consequently the 'alert' was not cancelled. It was more than two hours before
the error was sorted out. During this time we had been sheltering from one of
our own test pilots. Probably a sound risk-aversive strategy.
But it was not all light-hearted
stuff. There was the occasion when I drove past a land-mine swinging in the
wind on a tree beside the road. There was another occasion when the 'all-clear'
had sounded and we watched a low-flying 'plane just over our house at Swanmore.
I could see the aircrew clearly and waved to them but was somewhat suspicious
and called for my mother to drop down. I too adopted, somewhat rapidly, an
appropriate lowly posture when I saw the swastika markings and shortly after a
complete 'stick' of bombs was released. These fell on the local brickworks and
completely demolished it. However, it had not functioned for a year or more and
was almost derelict before the job was completed by our enemy.
But to return to business. When I
had set up the materials control as a visual information system using a team of
clerks and a gallery of charts (like the corridors of an art exhibition) I
turned to 'real' planning and was given responsibility for the oversight of
modifications to the tailplane and ailerons of the Bristol 152 and 156. The
former involved the first development of a dihedral tailplane to enhance
lateral stability. Considerable slide-rule calculations characterised my
average day. But it was not particularly challenging; only the location of the
work was exciting. I still retain that slide-rule.
Then I heard of a vacancy with Tata
of Bombay which involved the realisation of the Horsa glider. This was a
challenging task, and I thought I could do it. I applied. I was accepted and
started work at the office of Tata in Piccadilly. When I had been there for
between two and three weeks I received a shock. My conscription exemption was
no longer valid! I was exempted for the specific appointment at Folland, not on
similar work for Tatas. So began my Royal Air Force service as an Aircraftsman
Second Class under training -- square-bashing and jumping from towers and other
silly stuff on the beach at Skegness.
On completion of training (passing
out!) we were invited to indicate the posting we would prefer. Having my mother
in mind I asked for a South of England location. I was, in fact, posted to
Lossiemouth, which even then was in the northern part of Scotland. Here I was,
at least, away from the bombing and, probably it was this posting that ensured
my survival.
As an Aircraftsman Second Class I
found few of my associates to have much interest in anything other than, say,
drinking and gambling. There was, however, one other AC2 in the mess who was
interested in cartoon drawing. He signed himself as "Jonny Morris" in
my autograph book. He had been at Lossiemouth for some time and had made
friends with some of the residents in the nearby town of Elgin. He introduced
me to the Master of the local Freemasons' Lodge who was also the governor of
the Elgin workhouse (a Poor Law Institution for the homeless). The governor was
a well-educated man and we had common interests in serious music and in the work
of the probation service in which I had contemplated seeking a career. I used
to visit with him and his family on much of my local leave time. He persuaded
me to become a Mason. Ritual was not really 'my thing', but without doubt it
was 'the only game in town' which was worth playing. I was to qualify as a
Master and Mark Mason. This was a transition of some significance. My early
religion had now all but vanished in a vague ritual.
My stay at Lossiemouth was not to
be a long one; I think about 4/5 months because I had been noted as a POM
(Potential Officer Material). After the minimum of 6 months in the 'other
ranks' I became an officer cadet at Morpeth. An official photograph of the
passing out survives. I was now an officer on "administrative and special
duties".
On completion of training and with
the rank of Pilot Officer I was posted as Adjutant to 10 MU (Maintenance Unit)
located on the Empire Central Training School at Hullavington in
Gloucestershire. (This Officers' Mess is now a 'conserved' building.) I recall
my arrival. On looking into the Mess and seeing that there was no-one visible
with a rank below Wing Commander I sought out the Mess Secretary's office and
asked to be directed to the 'junior officers' mess. Of course, there was none;
only one mess, and I was in it!
The quarters were good. Life was
quiet and routine, though occasionally the test pilots needed considerable
tact. One or two certainly lived quite colourful lives. The Adjutant post
enabled me to enjoy quite an amount of time off the base to attend concerts in
Bath and visit the Tea Rooms, to play the organ in the nearby small town of
Malmesbury and rehearse and then perform the baritone solos such as in the Bach
St Matthew at St Pauls Chippenham.
10 MU was mainly operated by
civilians. Security patrols, however, were uniformed operations and were
performed by a small squad of dog-handlers who paraded around the wired
perimeter. One of my tasks was arranging the timing of the patrols so that they
had no predictable regularity. I used a table of random numbers. I think there
was a force of about 20 dog-handlers under a sergeant and two corporals. I did
not have to deal with any ceremonies or formal parades except for an occasional
dog-handlers' inspection. The handlers also gave demonstrations from time to
time and these were the pride of the Wing Commander who had charge of the MU.
There were occasional visits by
Royalty to the Empire Training School, but they did not visit the MU. The test
pilots and I together with some of the personnel of the School, merely had to
wear our ‘number one’ uniforms and stay out of the way on those high days. Any
one without a 'full dress' (not all conscripts were required to purchase this
outfit) was usually given a day pass to stay off base. Those of us who were
'properly dressed' could stay on base and, of course, watch the flypast and
join in some of the other activities in the Mess.
I was told that of all the royal
visitors, Philip, the young man later to become Prince Philip, was always
likely to ask to see somewhere which was not on the officially planned (and
prepared) route. One occasion seems to have concerned the MU and the ECFS. The
O/C had refused to give day passes to the un-uniformed, and they were assigned
to a hut away on dispersal where they were to stay until 'the coast was clear'.
Philip, while being escorted around the perimeter track, noticed a hut on
'dispersal' and asked what went on in it. The evasive answer he must have
received led to his insistence on going inside. On entry he found a group of
junior officers in working uniform playing poker. "What goes on in
here?" he asked, "Frankly" came the reply, "this is where
we hide from you".
It was generally known among the
officers on the base that members of the royal household had been evacuated to
Westonburt. The 10MU dog patrol kennels were on the boundary of the airfield at
the Westonburt end. I did not notice any evidence of the 'presence', except
that this involved for me a considerable coincidental advantage, in that trains
for London stopped at the little local station. This facility was, of course,
provided for the entourage of the resident royals. It was possible to use this
service and to visit Swanmore from time to time.
On the base at that time there was
little evidence that a war was going on, though nearby towns were frequently
bombed. Concerts continued to be held in public buildings in Bath, and I was
able to go to quite a number. Performances ceased early in the evening or even
late afternoon because bombings were more probable after dark. So it was not
unusual for an evening to be extended on a person-to-person basis, or for small
groups to continue partying until a more reasonable hour.
So, there was nothing unusual when
after a concert in Bath I was invited to evening coffee with a 'few friends'.
The party was in a private house. Music was played and discussed. The young
lady of the house, I think she must have been of about my own age, was quite
attractive. Trains back to my base were not frequent. The last one would have
been around 10.30. I would need to leave the house with ten minutes in hand. At
ten the other guests departed. My hostess suggested that I stay a little
longer. She then disappeared only to come back into the room where she had left
me alone. This time she was dressed in 'something more comfortable'. I could
see her figure. She protested that, being a Saturday, I need not catch the last
train because there were no duties on Sunday. I did not listen, I just simply
bolted. I was scared. This was a new experience. I had to keep distance or I
might 'get drawn in'. Fortunately the door was not locked! Whew: what I missed!
Temptation had been resisted. But I had no sense of winning any victory over
the 'flesh' or the 'devil'. My motivation for getting out of there was that I
was not going to be trapped by fatherhood into supporting any women. Clearly a
young R.A.F. officer was not at the bottom of the pack. I was taking no
chances. I knew that 'this sort of thing' happened from time to time in the
villages of the Bishops Waltham area. My strategy was clearly 'extreme
risk-aversive'. In any case it was all too sudden.
Marriage and setting up house.
Not long after this, one of my
(church) organ activities at the Methodist church at Malmesbury led to my
meeting with a most charming young woman who was to become (and remain) my
wife. Barbara was working at a local children's' home and the staff, it seems,
were more-or-less, expected to attend services. I was playing for the evening
service one Sunday night in July 1944. My C of E organ playing had conditioned
me to play the Old Hundredth in the chant form, which clearly was not approved
by nonconformists. Nonetheless I was invited to visit the Home and to play for
a sing-along hymn session (probably with coffee).
I think I was introduced to Barbara
by Edna Tutt. My rendering of the chant-form had caused some discussion and
Barbara agreed that mine was the correct interpretation. I think it possible
that she also endorsed this by quoting her father (Felix Swinstead) as an
authority. I knew of his arrangements if not also some of his compositions. It
appeared also that she was related to the Swinstead family of Southwick who
occasionally visited the Bishops Waltham Methodists, and presumably it was her
uncle who used to preach on these occasions. She was clearly intelligent and
extremely good looking. It was, perhaps, for these reasons that I began to feel
secure, or shall I say, not threatened by this beautiful young woman. Here was
someone I would not have to run away from! I think from the start I was
thinking of, well, let's say, not averse to marriage to her. I know that I was
not afraid of the idea and it soon became my most desired outcome.
From then on all was fast 'down
hill' to the Kingsway Hall, where Donald (subsequently Lord) Soper tied the
knot. I say it was 'downhill' but this is only metaphorical! A few days after
we first met I learned that Barbara was going to have a seaside vacation with
her father and mother at Charmouth. I decided to take leave and meet her there.
A long push of our cycles up the very long hill from the beach facilitated a
long conversation as we walked to the cottage where they were staying. I do not
now know how it came about, but by some means the landlady found a room for me
in the same cottage. This was now serious. We did not become engaged; there was
no time. This was August and we married on the second of January 1945. We spent
our honeymoon at Elgin and district, staying at least one day in the Poor Law
Institution with my governor friend from Lossiemouth days. We can claim to have
started our married life in a "workhouse".
As I write, that was 55 years ago.
Our marriage has withstood many shocks, particularly associated with my
research career; but it was never in any danger.
Marriage enabled us to set up our
own dwelling and I ceased to live in the Mess. Finding accommodation was a
problem. Space was at a premium, and the many U.S. Forces in the area were
better able to pay the premiums! However, we did find a pad in an old (very
old) farm house with great cracks between the floor boards; these were useful
for disposal of dust when sweeping up. The house was some 6 miles from
Hullavington and I had to cycle to the office -- occasionally in 'full dress'
and ready to carry out the occasional inspection of the dog-handlers. The last
quarter mile from the road was down the farm track, elevated above the level of
the fields by some four or five feet. Staying on the track given only the
illumination permitted in the blackout was important, but not easy. Barbara
usually would cycle with me but stop at her workplace in Malmesbury.
An Unfunny Thing happened on the way
In snow, one dark morning when I
had a dog-handlers' inspection to carry out, I was cycling with my new wife in
my full dress uniform (long greatcoat and all) when I disappeared over the edge
into the field, which, remember was at least four feet below. My cycle, not
designed for such descents, divided itself into two equal parts on impact. When
Barbara saw me emerging from the dark depths with a disintegrated pedal cycle
(perhaps my appearance was also rather un-officer-like) she burst into
uncontrolled laughter. For me, the situation lacked any element justifying this
hilarity. I think this was the only time I have ever thought about divorce! I
do not remember how the situation was resolved but my Officer Commanding was a
very relaxed ‘technical type’, a Wing Commander who may well have been
sympathetic. The airmen, naturally, did not mind missing the inspection so they
did not ask for an explanation of my absence.
The Officer Commanding H.Q. Wing.
The domestic situation at the farm
house had to terminate when my posting from Hullavington so determined. I had
been at Hullavington for around two years and was due for promotion from Flight
Lieutenant to (Acting) Squadron Leader. This meant ceasing to be an Adjutant.
The war in Europe was ending and Control Commissions were being established. I
was appointed as Officer Commanding the Wing (880 Wing?) which was to be
stationed in Oslo.. It was now the Spring of 1945
By the end of my four weeks
training course for the work of the Control Commission, the German forces had
surrendered to the Norwegian underground. This was a mere one or two days
before we were due to move in. We did not know whether all hostilities had
ceased or whether some 'pockets' of resistance might be expected. The flight
into Oslo was by Dakota transport. Fortunately I was flying with a Norwegian
pilot who knew the conditions at the airfield. As we came in to the approach we
saw that the runway was occupied by German forces who seemed to be digging
holes in it. Our pilot assessed that he had no choice but to put down because,
once committed to the landing pattern, the Dakota did not have enough power to
go round-again and avoid the mountain at the back of the city. We, and most of
the squadron put down, but a few decided to go round again, and did not make
it. I did not have to officiate at any funerals because the victims were flown
home.
Unsuccessful at Administrative Duties
My duties as an "Officer
Commanding" were mainly managerial and judicial. I had to conduct 'Orderly
Room' every workday and hear applications or allocate punishment to airmen who
had become drunk and (too) disorderly, including one who decided to take a swim
in the Palace ornamental lake! This meant that I gained experience in
application of Kings Regulations -- a sort of statutory law for the R.A.F.
including the setting up of Courts Martial and Courts of Inquiry. Things were
going reasonable well until the King of Norway's return. This called for a
parade with my Squadron taking the tail end -- the air services being the
'youngest service' yielded status to the Navy and Army on such occasions. The
University had resumed a few days before this parade and the students were
enjoying themselves on all possible occasions, and in all possible ways..
The ceremonial parade to welcome
His Majesty was a problem for me. I had spent all my time since basic training
on civilian units and had carried out no formal duties beyond inspecting
line-ups of ten or a dozen dog-handlers, and even that had not always gone
smoothly. Now I had to march at the head of the Squadron, in public. I did not
do this well. My excuse was that the students crowded out the last contingent
-- mine! I know that when I called a halt at the Cathedral and did my
about-turn to face the troops, there were none present. It was put about that I
had given the order 'right wheel' and then wheeled left; the troops naturally
obeying my order. And I did not even say 'goodbye'. Naturally this incident,
among my family, is the only significant event of my wartime career.
Downgraded from Administrative to Research.
Within a few days I was posted to
the Air Ministry and back to Flight Lieutenant. This demotion was just great. I
was to work on flying accident prevention. I could live with my wife. But I was
required to wear uniform when in public places, probably because hostilities
were still continuing in the Far East. This uniform business was to result in
further embarrassment for me and much amusement for Barbara. The occasion was
when together we went to collect from a U.S. air-base a used pram for our
on-the-way first child, Arnold. I was in my officer uniform. Nonetheless, I was
pushing this very rickety second-hand U.S-produced pram. When we walked past
Windsor Castle gates the sentries immediately sprang to attention and,
presented arms. Returning the salute (as required!) proved rather difficult.
Irks (R.A.F. 'other ranks') seemed only to give salutes when it could be
difficult to make the required return. The R.A.F. was not renowned for its
respect for such matters of 'discipline'. The 'number one' hat, for example,
always had its wire removed and was sat upon several times before being worn.
Domestic life was difficult by
reason of the wartime rationing of fuel but I am sure observers would say that
Barbara and I were devoted to each other. I seem, in retrospect, to have lived
in two worlds -- one at home and one away. At home I did not think about work
but cobbled things together to provide a few of the necessities such as lamps
and bookcases. Things became somewhat different when I became involved with
research. Research activities and home duties interacted. Barbara’s degree in
English enabled me to present better reports than I could put together unaided.
There was another interesting interaction between my work experience and home
life. Barbara, who was used to her father's substantial woodworking was always
doubtful that any item I made would be there next week. In her theory it should
have crumbled under its own weight because it lacked any structural strength.
But I pointed out that even eggshells are strong and my 'stressed skin'
carpentry withstood the test of time: my carpentry owed more to my experience
of aircraft design than woodworking. Stresses were resolved by counter-forces
rather than by constructive strength. (An analogy perhaps with my later
research designs?)
Air Ministry: accident research.
It seems, on reflection, that I did
not choose research as my career and that it was the posting to the Air
Ministry which set me on that track. If this had not happened I might, on
discharge, have tried to take up a social work vocation, such as probation
officer for which I had partly trained before the war. But the challenge of
saving lives through the use of my statistical approaches proved quickly to
become a dominant drive.
From now on research with
statistical foundations was to be the focus of my working activities. It was
also to be an intellectually stormy one. My difference with the 'Captain' in
the Ministry of Labour as to sampling procedures would pale into
insignificance. Whenever I saw actions which seemed to me to be breaches of
scientific ethics, I was stirred to a fervour of religious proportions. My
reasoning was not related in any way to religious doctrines which have nothing
to say about ethics of scientific inquiry. My thinking is simple -- I am
responsible for me! I could not pass off (onward or upward) responsibility for
any decision by claiming that I was (merely) following orders.
Not all work at the ‘Airworks’
My posting back to England and to
Adastral House in Kingsway meant that Barbara and I could live in part of the
top floor of her family house in Swiss Cottage and I could commute to Kingsway
by 'bus. While, as I noted, the war in Europe had ceased, South East Asia
Command was still a dangerous area. But that part of the war was remote and was
mainly seen as within the American sector. There were extreme shortages of all
foods, domestic goods and clothing, but the streets were again lit and cars
headlights were in use again. It seemed that the whole war was over.
Life for me, in almost all respects
at this time was most productive. I was able to write up research in one or
other of the two journals which were concerned with safety. The one, a serious
and restricted category booklet published irregularly. The other, a monthly
'popular' coloured magazine format intended for crew-rooms to advise pilots of
safety precautions such as warnings of low flying, failing to make preliminary checks,
avoiding certain cloud formations. The tone of the latter was in part humorous
and stressed that deeds of daring were not desirable. A leading cartoon
character in this journal was a "Pilot Officer Prune". He 'lived' on
the floor below the Accident Prevention Branch -- we were just below the roof.
Prune's definition of a good landing, for example, was any landing that he
could walk away from.
The research group consisted of
five or six officers under a Wing Commander. The unit was known as PA2b and was
a sector within Training Command. The personnel, with the exception of myself,
were ex-operational air crew. A Squadron Leader Chandler was the team leader
(we were to meet again much later). The data in respect of each accident was
extracted on to punched cards which could be sorted into categories using
needles. There were no computers and machine-sorting mechanisms for punched
cards, though available, were reserved for code breaking and such high level
technical operations. The use of machines in ordinary data-processing was to
develop later.
A secondary use for the cards was
in the making of model aeroplanes which could be flown from the roof of
Adastral House. If any model succeeded in crossing Kingsway and landing on the
roof of the Stoll Theatre which was then opposite, it earned the constructor a
lunch time pint. There were few successes, and none were scored by me. I just
helped in paying for the beer.
The data base we used was
restricted to non-operational instances because it was to provide continuity
with peacetime aviation research. I enjoyed more freedom of inquiry here than
in any other non-academic post, until my wings were clipped (right off!).
The conceptual base of our work in
PA2b did not strike me at the time as unusually significant, but much later it
became a central idea in much of my research designs. There were strong
parallels with issues in criminology, indeed in 1997 I presented a paper at an
international meeting in Sicily drawing analogies with PA2b model and the
developing strategies of crime prevention. This paper later appeared as a
chapter in a book published in 1997. Much credit must be given to Wing
Commander Lester who, I think, persuaded the authorities to set up the unit in
the first place and to take a non-causal and non-blame orientated theoretical
base for the operational research techniques we were to deploy.
In the study of flying accidents
there was plenty of scope for all kinds of application of statistical methods.
I was in my element. My first and probably a fundamental contribution to this
field was to stress the need for sound measures of 'exposure to risk': a theme
which has underpinned most of my work since. The official publication, Flying
Accident Digest. presented me with an opportunity to put forward my case and to
show the impact of the two kinds of risk assessment. The questioning of a
‘productivity-based’ measure of flying hours on this ground of its limited
value as a risk measure led me to further examination of this accepted
yardstick. For example, total flying hours (summed experience) proved not to be
a sound measure for assessing a pilot’s likelihood of making errors. Flying
hours as a measure of pilot experience needed to be qualified by 'hours on
type'. Though somewhat technical and specialist, I should, perhaps say a bit
more about this categorising of flying experience in relation to risk
assessment because there may be unrecognised analogous cases of which I am
unaware.
It had been conventional to assume
that pilot experience was well assessed by the total flying hours, or flying
hours on aircraft of a particular function: such as 4-engined transport,
single-engined or twin-engined trainers. An experienced pilot would undergo
'conversion' training for a new type. Surprisingly I found that pilots with a
large number of total flying hours and relatively few on type were more likely
to make errors resulting in accidents than pilots with very much less total
flying experience but rather more on the particular type. It seemed that in a
stressful situation when quick action was needed, the response would tend to
that of the dominant habit pattern rather than the more recently learned
response. There was a problem of extinction, and not merely of memory and learning.
This is now generally recognised. However, the important point in this story is
that it illustrates a useful strategy in research, namely, assumptions as to
the homogeneity of measurements (let alone their linearity!) should not be
assumed. Indeed, challenges to such assumptions (when identified) can be
powerful tools of investigation.
Another general strategy in my
research designs was also beginning to emerge at this time. This was a concern
for patterns. Could any be identified and measured where they were expected or
did any patterns appear where none were to be anticipated?
One immediate use for my
measurements of risk (e.g.: hours and/or sorties) was to look for these
patterns. How did the hours-based measures relate to sortie-based measures? Did
these seem reasonable? Did injuries and causes of death of air crew show
patterns? One study within this category of research strategy was the
examination of patterns of injuries in serious accidents. It was triggered by
air crew opinion regarding the reason why tail gunners seemed more often to
survive while other crew members died. There were various beliefs about moments
of inertia. However we made a careful study of the positions that crew were
advised to take up if a crash landing seemed probable. The risk of death was
greatest for crew at the front of the craft while the mid-upper gunner was a
somewhat safer position with the tail gunner showing the lowest risk. The
specified crash position for the tail gunner was to sit with his back to the line
of flight, while no position was specified for the mid-upper.
I do not know who sorted out the
issue, but the reason was simply that the tail-gunner's crash position (sitting
backwards) had its effect because the human body can withstand far greater negative
'g' forces this way than if sitting facing forwards. The mid-upper gunner with
no laid down position was likely to be facing in either direction. The accident
data fitted the physiological facts. I spent considerable effort in lobbying
for the adoption of backward-facing seats in passenger planes. I recall having
a long audience with Lord Longford/Packenham who was then Minister for
Aviation, and getting nowhere!
It is not relevant to the
development of my research strategy so I will record only two features of the
dramatic home situation at this time. Our son, then just under a year of age
was near death for some days and to add to the difficulties, there was a total
collapse of the public utilities services. This fact, together with a plumbing
fault resulted in our having to cope with a coating of ice almost an inch think
on the kitchen floor. This persisted for several days.
In addition to soldiering on with
my research, as I thought, quite inoffensively, I had teaching commitments at
the City of London College and Regent Street Polytechnic. The additional funds
were useful if not essential. I leave the drama of this state of affairs to the
reader's imagination. While all this was going on at home, my career in
research was heading for disaster in the form of difficulties with an Air Chief
Marshal but there was no indication that this was in the offing. When the
crunch came it was as unexpected as it was shattering.
Inter-service and interdisciplinary
research.
Flying safety was not, of course,
the concern only of a small research team in Adastral House. The Royal Navy
flew from carriers and there were implications for design and training. This
meant that there were meetings with staff in the mainly civilian scientific
teams known as 'operational research units'. Nigel Balchin's novel "Small
Back Room" gives a good indication of the culture of these units. So I met
like minds and since we were all 'service personnel' we could discuss findings
which would have the label of 'top secret' slapped on them. I was, for example,
able to read the first publications of Abraham Wald's work on Sequential
Sampling and other statistical materials from department S.R. 17 of the
Ministry of Supply. More particularly I met kindred minds in the other branches
of research in other services. Among these were many who remained friends
until, with international movement, we lost touch. Among the latter was
Stafford Beer, who was to become director of research at British Steel and
later the founder of Sigma, an industrial consultant company with which I was
to have a brief association -- including the publication of a monograph titled
"Human Factors Research".
The Air Ministry position also gave
me opportunities to contact scientists in the academic world. It was
challenging and fun to discuss with those concerned at the Medical Research
Council Applied Psychology Unit at Cambridge who were working on the "Cambridge
Cockpit". From them I learned the importance and utility of simulation and
modelling. Then there was the ergonomics research group at Cranfield, an
example of whose work provided a useful quotation in a 1997 publication. I was
also pleased to have the privilege of taking tea with the ageing, distinguished
social statistician Caradog Jones at Gonville and Cauis Cambridge. These and
many other visits and discussions made a great impression on me and my
scientific orientation.
All operational research scientists
were working in a strange environment of secrecy. Discussion of ideas and
testing of arguments were officially permissible only within departments. This
was not adequate as an exchange of information to meet the requirements of the
scientific process. It did not occur to me that I should have been more
secretive about my research at least within the scientific community. Saving
lives did not seem to call for security classifications..
The Founding of the Operational Research
Club.
A number of selected operational
research scientists in the different Ministries and arms of the Services
arranged secretly to meet weekly for 'tea' at the Royal Society's building. It
was a distinguished company including at least one FRS and one Knight. My
statistical background enabled me to communicate across the ‘hard sciences’,
and it was part of the foundation belief of O.R. scientists that
cross-disciplinary discussions could be productive of innovative solutions. One
was not, therefore, discouraged because one might have come from a ‘soft’
discipline; we even had at least one psychologist as a member!
The fact that we were discussing
matters which were 'secret' did not seem unethical and certainly it was not
unscientific. I hate to think what might have happened had the place been
raided! After hostilities ceased, this group developed into an open Operational
Research Club and later into the Operational Research Society with its own
learned journal. As the declassification of documents progressed, many papers
were read to, and published by sections of the Royal Statistical Society and
the British Psychological Society.
My life and especially my research
activity was about to receive a major shock. Let me review where I stood up to
that point. When I left the Ministry of Labour for Folland Aircraft I realised
that though I had some knowledge of statistics, I knew nothing of aircraft
engineering. While I was concerned with provisioning and working with progress
chasers this was not a major problem. But I became interested in aircraft and
engineering and began to study for the examinations of the Institute of
Aeronautical Engineers. While I had nothing to show for my studies, the
knowledge proved useful when I was called up to the R.A.F.. Moreover. this
knowledge was also taken into account, together with my statistical know-how as
a major factor in my appointment in the research at the Air Ministry. It may be
because I had no paper investment in the special field of aeronautics, that I
began to think that flying accidents might be considered in the light of more
general principles, such as pattern analysis. When I was appointed the dominant
thinking was that aircraft safety could be improved mainly by engineering and
training. My early exposure to the available data led me to conclude that
accidents were not too often a matter of aircraft design or training of air
crew, but rather the interface between the human operator and the machine. I
saw that I needed to get informed in the fields of industrial, occupational and
even social psychology. I began reading and attending meetings with this in
view.
The fact that PA2b was within
Training Command facilitated my making contacts with psychological research
work both within the services and in academic institutions. Among those
contacted was Bernard Ungerson. His special field was the devising of tests to
facilitate selection decisions. Various tests had been constructed to test
potential abilities. Volumes have been written on this aspect of the war effort,
particularly in the U.S. Of particular note are the series of official reports
contained in the several volumes of The American Soldier.
I was particularly interested in
the statistical basis of "G" and test construction problems in
general. I became closely associated with the British Psychological Society as
a frequent guest of sundry members. In particular my work was appreciated in
Industrial Psychology and Professor Alex Roger of Birkbeck College and I became
good friends. I was fortunate in that my early, though brief, training for the
probation service had steered me in the direction of some useful material in
psychology,.
I began to enjoy attending the
meeting of `learned societies' and applied to become a Fellow of the Royal
Statistical Society. This was, I believe, the most critical step I could, and
should, have taken. I was duly elected a Fellow on the 28th February 1946 at
the age of 30. Life had begun
At this time my research was so
much concerned with the linkage between man and machine that I came to have
close associations with the university departments carrying out research in
this area. I had many discussions with the psychologists in the operational
research sector, including Cyril Burt (London University), and staff at the
National Institute of Industrial Psychology (NIIP). My officer rank gave me a
useful introduction, and my research was beginning to be known outside the
services. Cyril Burt (later Knighted) was editor of the journal Statistical
Psychology. Later when I became a member of the editorial group of Applied
Statistics we kept in touch so as to ensure that overlap of the topics covered
by our respective journals was minimised. My main association, however, was
with his assistant Charlotte Banks. She was later to join the Home Office
Research Unit (after I had left for the U.S.) My publications reveal my close
links with some aspects of psychological research over these and a few
following years so I will not comment further.
Research leads to conflict of values.
It was with that background and
what I considered collegial support or at least academic credibility that I put
into effect the critical research project that was to terminate not only my
R.A.F. career, but any association with flying. While I cannot say that I enjoyed
service life, in fact few aspects of life in the "officer class"
appealed to me, my research into flying safety was a most enjoyable experience
perhaps because I was able to feel reasonably effective. By then, though, the
collapse of this world had already been put in train by me!
The method that caused this outcome
concerned a new approach to data for safety research, it was similar to
accepted methods in other fields of application. It was not the research design
which caused any problem. The difficulty was fitting the project into a service
setting. The same project might well have run into similar conflict if it had
been attempted in any hierarchical organisation. Perhaps of more interest than
the story of the termination of the work is the story of how it began.
Links with the past can always be
found and research is not immune from prior influences. No project is
self-contained. During my time with Folland Aircraft I was interested in
quality control. It was learned quite early on in quality control that to
maintain a quality we should not wait until, say, a lathe was turning out
rejects. We had to devise measurements which correlated highly with the
machine's drift or tool wear so that we could reset it or repair it before it
produced wasted items. In other words, we sought data which would anticipate
failure.
I began to think that in quality
control there might be an analogue useful in flying safety research. Could we
obtain data which might anticipate trouble with any aspect of new aircraft? This
idea was particularly significant at the time because we were just beginning to
fly jets -- Meteors and Vampires. There were very few of these aircraft and
hence very few data concerning accidents. But accident data were beginning to
build up. It seemed reasonable to expect that more pilots would have
experienced near accidents than had suffered actual ones. Some of the latter,
unfortunately were not able to tell about what happened. Why should we not see
whether we could get data which related to the experiences of those pilots who
had avoided an accident which they could describe? I had to have a base of
comparison and since almost all Meteor pilots had flown Spitfires I could ask
for comparative assessments in order to provide a general base. The Air
Commodore in charge of Training Command who had the oversight of PA2b approved
the scheme and I published a chapter in the "Restricted" publication,
"Flying Accident Digest" saying what I had in mind and asking for the
co-operation of pilots.
The first few reports to come in
looked very promising. However, there was an inspection on a base (I know not
which) that was carried out by an Air Marshal. His name is unimportant, but it
was Bennett (I have not checked spelling). He happened to see one of my questionnaires
and began to study it. I was told that he became 'livid' -- certainly the
consequences support that assessment! He issued orders that the project must
cease forthwith because (and I quote) "I will not have junior officers
criticising their equipment". My superior officer who had approved the
project was posted to South East Asia (I met him some 35 years later when he
chaired my talk at his Rotary Club and though he still blamed me for his
undesirable posting he also saw the whole matter as more tragic than funny).
For my part I could not accept the
A.M.s' requirement of 'good order and discipline' as a superior requirement to
the potential for saving lives which my method afforded. It was already clear
to me from the few questionnaires which had been returned that we could
anticipate, and then offset some possible dangers. The method looked as though
it would yield results as effective as the quality control system had been in
the anticipation of 'rejects. I was using data on 'almost disasters'.
I remember one specific case. It
was the instance for which we had accumulated some data before the AM's
inspection. It was a problem with the low pressure cut out differences between
the Meteor Mk1 and Mk2 due to a modification of the oxygen system.
Figure 2. Cutting
from the Evening Standard Monday June 10th, 1946, giving details of the 'safety
quiz'. The project was stopped as soon as it came to the notice of the Air
Chief because juniors were not supposed to criticise their superiors. Air
Commodore Sharp, I am sure, wished he had taken less credit for this research
(of which he approved). He was relieved of his Air Ministry job and posted to
South East Asia.
I protested the suspension of this
research and stated that I was not prepared to continue with my commission if I
was not permitted to carry out research to save life. The Air Chief did not
back down! Rather than accept a posting outside research I decided to resign my
commission, which fortunately I could then do ( my ‘demob’ number having been
declared). We will never know how many pilots may have been injured or killed
unnecessarily in the interests of preserving 'good order and discipline' Some
military men may think this is a principle the preservation of which is worth a
few deaths! Perhaps it was with the same principle in mind, in the previous
war, that deserters were often shot.
There had been a number of
significant events between the promising beginnings and rather more dramatic
end of my Air Ministry days. Many more years later I was to learn how a really
trivial event during the Air Ministry work was to have a major impact on all of
the family and many others. I refer to my activities which led to my first
invitation to California to assist in setting up a research section in the
Department of Corrections and the Youth Authority. Of course this visit led on
to all my other work in the United States. Other events, trivial at the time,
remain perceived as trivial -- but who knows -- later? If this happens I will
write a sequel. Don't hold your breath.
The trivial event which provided
the 'trigger' for the major consequences which commenced with my first
invitation to the United States, derived from my add-on activities. It happened
thus. I was invited to give occasional lectures in research design at
Birmingham University. This meant travel by infrequent trains. Considerable
time was spent in the Common Room while awaiting the time to begin talking. In
the course of these waiting periods, and also on the train to and from London I
met Lee Cronbach who was then Cultural Attaché at the United States Embassy. We
were both interested in decision theory and statistical estimation; this was,
of course, Lee Cronbach's special field. I found Lee a most interesting person
and we enjoyed each others' company.
It was some twenty years later that
I learned that these meetings were the reason for my invitation to Sacramento.
When the State of California was required (at short notice) to establish a
research and evaluation component in the Department of Corrections and the
Youth Authority, Douglas Grant was charged with staffing. Doug was a
psychologist but was aware of the importance of sound experimental design. He
contacted the President of the American Psychological Association for
recommendations. The President at that time was Lee Cronbach. I received a
letter, completely 'out of the blue' at the Home Office inviting me to
Sacramento. But that was in 1955 -- ten years later than our discussions en
route to and from Birmingham. It was another ten years before I learned of the
involvement of Lee in the Californian connection.
More about California anon in its
proper time sequence.
CHAPTER
TWO: ENGINEER BECOMES SOCIAL SCIENTIST
The
situations reported in this chapter continue to relate to my theme of research
design, but in respect of quite different features from those noted earlier. My
focus so far has been on methodology and particularly the use of analogy or
models drawn from superficially disparate or even irrelevant fields. I shall
give further examples of projects that illustrate this idea, but here I would
draw attention to the environment of research. The armed services may require
managerial skills such as those possessed by the Air Chief, and perhaps he was
correct in that the R.A.F. was not the place to carry out the research I wanted
to do. It may be no more than merely unfortunate that the skills of managing a
Command in the Royal Air Force did not, and perhaps could not, fit with unrestrained
research operations. At this distance in time I can think that it is possible
that Air Chief Marshal Bennet was a good commanding officer.
My experiences in my next career
impressed upon me the view that the ways in which a manager should manage a
research team differ significantly from the ways in which he should manage any
other task force, office or production process A good production line or sales
force manager does not automatically qualify as a satisfactory research team
manager. In other words I would dispute the idea that there is a quality of
managerial ability or a general quality of leadership. Moreover it does not
follow that those who are expert at the tasks themselves can supervise others.
The management (motivation) of research personnel would seem to require a
specific skill worthy of study in its own right.
The end of my military service left
me without an income and without any clear purpose. I seem to have blocked out
memories proximate to that time, because the next thing I remember is that I
was employed by the Wartime Social Survey. I really do not remember how I got
there! I do not remember applying for the position, and I probably would not
have seen myself as qualified.
My resignation from the R.A.F.
meant that I could take 'terminal leave' -- a period intended to permit
ex-servicemen time to obtain employment. It was not until my terminal leave was
beginning to seem likely to turn into my first experience of unemployment that
I must have been offered a post by Louis Moss who was the director of a
population sampling organisation known as the Wartime Social Survey. By some
means or another, it seems that the fact that I had resigned had become known
to him. It may have been my knowledge of sampling and research using
questionnaires that made me seem a suitable recruit. Both of these techniques
were used by the Social Survey for collecting data for official reports on
public health and economic conditions. This research was to meet the requests
of government departments, but the Survey itself was an "agency" and,
at that time, independent. For whatever reason it seemed to Moss that I might
fit in with the team and perhaps contribute some expertise.
It was probably on Moss's advice
that I did not take leave and accept the ex-service assisted-place scheme to
continue the education which war had interrupted. If I had done so I would
probably have become a social worker (what a thought!) or perhaps a probation
officer. He noted that I had already established myself as an innovative research
worker and my Air Ministry publications were more significant and original than
most doctoral dissertations he had seen. His advice was "to publish, and
show what you can do" rather than waste time jumping through academic
hoops. I still think he was right. My lack of qualifications (sorry, I think I
might more appropriately say "credentials") has not been much of a
bar to academic recognition, except perhaps in England.
The sudden termination of my Royal
Air Force career proved also to be a major turning point in the style as well
as the content of my research. Even prior to the final project -- my attempt to
obtain data on 'near accidents' -- there had been some indication of a change
of focus in my work. In following the problems of safety in flying it was
becoming clear that engineering considerations were often minor. The resolution
of the 'human factor' merely to such categories as 'pilot error' was also, I
thought, unsatisfactory. I had begun to move towards research into man-machine
relationships in my study of the correlation between kinds of flying experience
and 'pilot error'. The attempt to get near accident data took me into the
sociological field in the need to construct questionnaires which would not seem
'threatening'.
Wartime Social Survey: Administration.
I think it was fortunate that at
the time I was appointed, the Social Survey was not a government department. If
it had been, I might well have experienced difficulty with obtaining
‘clearance’. I was not (yet) to become a civil servant. This probably suited my
book too, because I was not feeling well disposed towards "the
establishment"!
I commenced work with the Wartime
Social Survey (note that the title included the term "wartime" though
the war had ended) before my service leave had expired. Then, within three
months of my appointment, the new Attlee Administration placed the Survey on a
more permanent basis and changed its status from an agency to a division within
the Ministry of Information. As a result of this nationalisation the staff
(including myself) became temporary civil servants in the 'Information Officer'
class. I was back in the civil service! The designation of 'temporary' was
mainly because the position of 'research officer' was not recognised by the
Treasury. The Information class was given parity with the Executive Class. I
was ranked as equal to a Higher Executive Officer. While the rank of Higher
Executive Officer was reasonably prestigious and carried an acceptable salary,
it was well below the civilian equivalent of my R.A.F. rank, but nonetheless we
were all happier! I was, however, soon promoted to the equivalent of Senior
Executive Officer.
As an example of the status factor
as it applied at that time in England, I may note that Senior Executives were
entitled to first class travel on official business. As an officer in the
R.A.F. not only was I entitled to first class travel on official business, but
Barbara and I were entitled to first class travel when we took leave. These and
similar privileges such as separate dining facilities, continued in my new
appointment. I confess that this seemed natural enough at the time and I did
not notice it as a feature of my employment until my visit to the United
States. I had taken the 'class structure' for granted. But to return to my
theme.
The Director of the Survey, Louis
Moss, was a most talented manager of research staff. He understood that the
management of a team of mixed disciplines engaged in policy research, called
for quite different strategies from managing any other organisation. The
financial structure of the Survey was also interesting and quite unusual. The
projects undertaken by the Survey were at the request of the government
departments concerned. However, the Survey had its own budget directly under
Treasury control. The department wishing to have research carried out did not
have to pay for this work out of its own funds, but the Treasury had to approve
the project out of the Survey's allocation. The Treasury, naturally had to rely
heavily upon Moss for assessment of the likely value of the projects requested.
Thus, the Survey was able to maintain a considerable degree of independence
from the departments commissioning research.
The 'customer' departments would
specify the problem, but not the means whereby it was approached. The research
design, and even possibly a redefinition of the referred problem, was up to the
Research Officer of the Social Survey who was in charge of the study. A typical
sequence would be for an initial meeting to be called at the Ministry concerned.
Representing the Survey, Moss would attend and take with him the Research
Officer who would be given charge of the project. Moss would make it clear that
his role was confined to finance (sorting out the budget with Treasury) and
other administrative matters, but that all contacts regarding the project
should be with the Research Officer. The Ministry was asked to provide a
contact official for this.
I was with the (Government) Social
Survey from 1946 until 1955 during which time the unit, together with most
other research units was subject to differing political climates. In 1946 the
post-war euphoria had been expressed by the election of a Labour Government
with Attlee as Prime Minister and this continued until 1951. Survey research
was understood and appreciated by the Attlee administration and particularly by
Gateskill who had previously held academic appointments at the L.S.E. This
highly favourable climate changed with the change to Conservative government in
1951 and resulted in a diminished status for most forms of research and
particularly any which might impact upon the political sphere of influence.
Apart from one project my work was not prejudiced by the political pressures
which were mainly felt through the medium of reduced budgets or in the refusal
of Treasury to support applications from the departments. One effect of
'political climate' may be noted because it also reflects the skills of Louis
Moss.
The Conservative Party (or perhaps
it was only the Tory press) had always inveighed against civil servants and no
group was more pilloried than the "snoopers" (i.e. statisticians). So
the Survey was subject to staff cuts. There was also a call for an increase in
the 'controls' over personnel which conflicted with Moss's style of management.
For example, one rule which was introduced required research staff of all
grades to be at their desks at precisely 9.30 a.m. and not to depart therefrom
until 6 p.m. and no more than 45 minutes were to be taken for lunch.
Administrative staff (Principals and above) were exempted. And, by the way,
work was obligatory on Saturday mornings until 12.30 p.m. Moreover we were
expected to 'sign in' and to 'sign out' each day. For this purpose a book with
all names listed was placed centrally, together with a prominent clock. There
was a kind of mental strike among the research staff. Were 'they' interested in
the conformity of our bodies or the productivity of our minds? Both were
impossible because the two requirements were incompatible. Moss, naturally,
supported the research staff. But a 'signing in' system had to be adopted, so,
senior research staff were provided with their own books which they were
supposed to complete regularly. The expressed reason for this was that research
duties often took us, legitimately, away from our desks to meetings of learned
societies and we were responsible for briefing field staff around the country.
This was true.
Moss kept down the number of 'civil
servants' in the Survey by designating all field staff (except for a few
supervisors) part-time workers. No part-time workers were counted as civil
servants -- two halves showed as hole (zero) not a whole! (I do not think that
this still applies).
Moss's management was particularly
enlightened in that he permitted lunch times to be extended to quite
considerable duration. Small groups would walk around the Outer Circle of
Regents Park. It was during these informal (and for the civil service
'illegal') lengthy lunch time walks that many serious problems were resolved.
Moss took the view that he was running a group so as to maximise our mental
productivity and regimentation was counterproductive. His task was to
facilitate our work and to keep the routines of accountancy and administration
'out of our hair'. Moss also managed to achieve an interesting duality in that
research officers functioned as members of the Survey research team, while also
having complete control over their own projects. How this worked out is best
indicated by an example which I will come to later.
Internal Organisation of technical services.
The support and technical services
were, of course, organised quite differently from the research project
managers, though the heads of each major category ( field services, coding, and
computing ) were involved in each project as partners with the project manager.
They not only managed their own departments but were responsible for their
development. The Project Officer was expected to take note of suggestions made
by these three specialists, and it was wise to do so. Priority in the use of
specialist divisions was a joint responsibility under the Director.
Co-operation between the project staff and specialist staff was most important,
and perhaps it is strange that I know of no tensions which obtained because of
this division of labour. The heads of field services, coding and computing were
acknowledged to have gained much special knowledge because they applied their
skills to all projects carried out in the unit.
Each project director produced
between two and four major studies each year, but clearly it was not the
quantity which was important. So how did we ensure quality? For this Moss
relied on the collective intelligence and integrity of the research staff. We
were a responsible democratic unit. We did not see our 'duty' as defined in
terms of desk-hours, but in terms of the evaluation of our colleagues. I
suppose one might see this as a democracy of an elite -- a kind of Plato-type
Republic! In this setting one was a member of a group, with both group and
disciplinary loyalties rather than an employee of the state. Membership of this
group was challenging and demanding, and the criterion of acceptance was valid
and (if possible) imaginative research.
The briefing of field staff
resulted in my travel by (first class!) rail or air to all of the major cities
of the United Kingdom. A briefing tour would normally have to be accomplished
within a week or ten days by meetings in the regions to which were called all
field staff in the area. The field supervisors were present at these briefings
and were responsible for ensuring that the procedures required by the project
director could be carried out, and then to check upon the staff performance.
Similarly the coding and
computations required were arranged between the project director and the specialist
heads of these departments. The interpretation of the data, the write-up and
recommendations to the commissioning department were, in the last analysis, the
responsibility of the project director alone and he/she signed the publication.
There was one condition, the draft final report had to be circulated for all
the senior research staff for comment. There was, finally, an 'oral'
presentation meeting. This provided a form of collective responsibility upon
which rested the reputation of the Survey as a research organisation.
This collective responsibility was
also invoked when the Treasury pointed out that some commercial market research
organisations charged about half of our price per interview. (As though they
were buying peanuts). Our field interviewing costs were much higher because we
used only two-stage random sampling, requiring interviewers to visit named
individuals in their homes. Commercial organisations used 'quota sampling'
methods where the individuals to be interviewed were selected by the field
worker to fit certain broad social categories and interviewed in public places.
The representativeness of quota sampling is uncertain and there is no
satisfactory mathematical base for estimation of error. We considered that we
could not take risks with our sampling. Because we were advising on government
policy we needed to know the confidence limits of any estimates we derived.
However, many politicians and civil service administrators could not be shaken
in their belief that a sample of 4000 was twice as good as one of 2000. The
support of all research staff for our policy meant that even our social
anthropologist (!) had to be convinced and to recognise the mathematical basis
of our sampling policy.
Moss and others were able to
organise a discussion of the quota v. random sampling issue in the main body of
the Royal Statistical Society in which two nationally recognised academic
statisticians took part. Of course the findings of their independent inquiry
supported the Survey's position. This was a useful lesson for me. It showed me
that while one may be confident that a procedure is correct and in accord with
all respectable scientific opinion, it may be necessary to reinforce one's
position by invoking external authorities. I used this method to support a
position I wished to adopt in the Home Office in later years.
Moss's strategy of requiring
presentation of one's final report to a meeting of one's colleagues before
submission to the commissioning department was, of course, as I was later to
learn, similar to the viva defence of a doctoral dissertation.
I remarked in passing that the
officer in charge of the project signed the published report. This was unusual
for 'official' documents. But Moss maintained that anonymity might be seen to
confer a degree of authority which was unjustified in research activity.
Furthermore, he had no time for the supposed dignity of secrecy. Unless there
were very special reasons, all projects were written-up and published.
It was several years before I
noticed and learned to appreciate the significance of Moss's deployments of
resources of personnel and their unique suitability in the management of a
research team. In addition to the group responsibility for the quality of
research, another technique of his invention was most interesting and, I think,
one which might be copied elsewhere to advantage. This was designed to foster
the interchange of views and critical appreciation of different methodologies.
Office space generally was at a
premium as so many offices had been bombed out of existence and this was
reflected in the space available to individual staff. It was necessary, then
(because of accommodation constraints) for research officers to share offices.
Moss organised available space so that rather than share with a research
assistant(s) engaged on the same project, each senior research officer shared
the office with another senior research officer. This meant that each of two
room-associates were working on their own, and on different projects. Every six
months, or thereabouts, a rearrangement of accommodation would be 'necessary'.
The new arrangement still meant that two different project directors shared
office. The movement seemed unnecessary as an accommodation matter. However,
each change meant that one was sharing with a project officer whose basic
discipline was in contrast with one's own. My first sharing was with a social
anthropologist, next with an economist, then a psychometrician, and later with
a sociologist and occupational psychologist. There was a continuing mix both of
personalities and disciplines in the shared research managers' accommodation.
The benefits were considerable. Few people like eating ( or drinking ) alone.
So the office duo became the informal lunching duo, often supplemented by one
of the prior office duo. What did the duo discuss? Obviously their projects.
Thus the design of projects began with discussions among distinctly different
disciplines. The idea of organising, stimulating and utilising variety as an
aid to problem solving has considerable merit. It was this feature of Moss's
management which led to my successful work in several demand forecasting and
other studies.
While it is true that I had carried
out a few successful research projects prior to joining the Survey, my
productivity and originality owes much to its unique organisation and
management. It was indeed the moving around of research staff which provided
the necessary condition which determined the success rather than the failure of
one of my early projects. Though the burden of this chapter is the
administration of the Survey perhaps I can best illustrate the value of the
structures by presenting a specific example and considering the general features
afterwards.
Estimating the demand for Campaign Stars and
Medals
Shortly after the end of
hostilities the military turned their attention to the ceremonial features of
service life! Several million wartime service personnel were entitled to two or
three medals each. The manufacturing of these was a function of the Royal Mint.
This was no small task. In addition there was the logistical problem of
distribution. The government had laid responsibility on the Treasury for the
provision of funds to cover the costs of necessary operations and for arranging
the distribution of campaign stars and medals. The task was assigned to the
Treasury O & M Division (Organisation and Methods). At the same time this
Division was carrying out an inspection of the Wartime Social Survey with a
view to assessing whether it had any function in post-war government machinery.
In the course of the O and M inspection it so happened that the officer
concerned ( a Mr L. H. Bunker) was interviewing me. It came up to lunch time.
It seemed reasonable to invite him to lunch with me. The future of the Survey
seemed somewhat in doubt, and with some self-interest I put it to Bunker that
he had been asking me questions all the morning, perhaps he would not mind
telling me something about the work of Treasury O and M. ( I confess to
thinking that it might be a nice place to go if the Survey was to be closed
down! ). He then told me of the medals provisioning problem.
The Navy were demanding that the
Mint manufacture all the medals to which ex-servicemen were entitled. The Army
and Air Force were prepared to accept the Treasury view that there may be no
point in giving these 'gongs' to anyone who did not want them. The question
was, what percentage might not want which kinds of medals. If this exceeded a
certain number then a special office would have to be established in North
Wales to deal with the distribution. If the Navy's ( sorry, "Royal
Navy's" ) viewpoint was accepted this might result in unnecessary
staffing, not to mention a possible considerable waste of metal and Mint time.
I claimed that I could provide a good estimate of the likely demand.
I did not know when I had accepted
the project, settled the budget and began work on the design that my colleague
Patrick Slater, a psychometrician, with whom I was sharing office accommodation
(and a lunchtime associate) had previously undertaken a very similar study for
a different department (Home Office). It was probably the next lunchtime that
he told me on our walk of his unfortunate experience with his project in which
he had attempted to estimate the entitlement and demand for the Civil Defence
Medal, (known colloquially as "The Fire-watchers' Medal). It was regarded
as unsuccessful because the error boundaries of the estimation were greater than
the average. It seems that Bunker also was unaware of the earlier failure. He
did not mention it, and he had agreed that the Treasury would put up a small
sum to fund a project under my direction. The amount of money Bunker could
provide I interpreted as providing a sample of not much more than 1000
individuals. The error variance due to sampling (let alone any other factor)
would be around 5% at the 5% confidence level. Bunker agreed that this would
solve his major problem of whether to set up a special establishment in North
Wales to deal with the demand.
An answer had to be provided
quickly because the Mint were proceeding with the production. A contract was
settled and a date of completion agreed between Moss and O and M, and we were
off and running on a project which would make or break my career in the
forecasting business! What if the Navy (Royal) was right and I was wrong? I
thought that I was 'risk aversive', and perhaps I usually am, but on this
occasion I was unduly impressed with the expected power of the research design
I intended to apply, that is, until I learned of Pat's failure. But then it was
too late.
In my discussions with Bunker I had
at the back of my mind a new and powerful statistical method of attitude
scaling just published in the Journal of the American Society of Statistics by
Louis Guttman. It seemed ideally suited to the problem of deriving a scale and
estimating demand. Imagine my state of mind, when I learned that Patrick had
used the Guttman method! Clearly something different had to be done.
The project is written-up and
available in published documents and I will not deal with the statistical
theory here. I must, however, disclose that the results I derived proved
extremely accurate. The actual demand was less than 1% different from that
predicted. There was, obviously a lot of luck and a lot of counterbalancing
error leading to this result. But I was, eventually, given the credit. I, for
my part, would give credit to three things; firstly the fact that I was able to
build upon the failure of another, secondly because Moss's managerial style
meant that I got to hear of that failure, and thirdly that I was lucky to find
a good, powerful model.
The methods which I was stimulated
to develop in order to avoid the difficulties which Slater had experienced,
were also to be of considerable use in several other studies. These were a
series of projects in which we were estimating the demand for rationed
commodities when it seemed that the supply position indicated that they might be
released to market forces. The government wanted an estimate of the prices
which would be likely to effect a supply/demand balance. If 'too high'
(politically determined) a price rise was projected by the research,
de-rationing was held over. Only one rationed commodity was de-rationed without
consultation with the W.S.S., namely confectionery (the government bowed to
pressure from the trade). Rationing of confectionery had to be reinstated
because of shortages and a public outcry!
The demand forecasting studies were
a wonderful testing ground for new methodologies because subsequent events
proved (or disproved) their power. The particular project where my knowledge of
Slater's lack of success led to my developing different methods may sound
trivial, but it was the successful outcome of this project which had
considerable weight in the government's decision to continue the department
after the impact of wartime exigencies had all but ceased. The word
"Wartime" was dropped from the original title of "Wartime Social
Survey" and the unit continued to carry out policy research on behalf of
government departments. There is more to tell than is included in the official
report.
Some of the previously undisclosed
features which the official report of the medals demand forecast does not
contain may be of interest. In response to a scaled (Likkert) question, about
80% of my sample told me that they would 'definitely apply'. They were asked
this question at the beginning of a 30 minute interview, then told what they
would have to do to obtain their entitlement, and then asked again. This
reduced the stated level of demand only slightly. The difference in expressed
interest gave some indication of inertia. ("If it's going to be difficult
then I'll not bother"). Interviewers also pointed out the cost to the
country of supplying the medals, but no one seemed to bother about that --
there was no difference in the expression of intention to apply before or after
that information. (Entitlement was nothing to do with the national
economy!). I also asked whether they thought that the "conditions for
issue of the medals was fair"'. Replies to this question also failed to
correlate with intention to apply. If the informant could suggest occasions
when he might wear his medals, there was a much stronger correlation with
expressed intention. But verbal behaviour did not seem to be a good indicator
of performance.
I developed a mathematical model (based
on two assumed 'vectors') which took into account 'inertia' as well as 'intent'
and came up with a figure of an over-all average of about 35% likely to make
applications. This was vastly different from the 70-80% based upon informants'
statements of intent. Was I to trust my mathematical model or the verbal
assurances of the ex-serviceman and women who had been interviewed? Perhaps
there were interviewer effects? There were! Most interviewers were women and
most interviewees were men. Medals represented bravery in war. Would the men
tend to brag about their exploits (as betokened in their medal entitlement),
and did this explain the difference? Fortunately some interviewees were male,
and the females interviewers were between 22 and 65 years of age. The older
females far more often were told that the medals would be applied for. When
being interviewed by the younger females it seems that the majority of the men
were thinking of something else -- certainly medals were not foremost in their
minds. This interesting finding was useful as a modifier of the crude data, but
it was not adequate. A multidimensional model was, I thought, required. It was
this model which gave me the figure of 35%. The 12 item vector model clearly
had more power than a simple questioning could provide, and I could calculate a
range of error no greater than 5%.
It was, of course, necessary in
accord with Moss's managerial technique for me to present and defend my
estimate before my colleagues. This was not going to be easy because fewer than
half had the mathematical knowledge to appreciate the power of vector analysis.
I presented my findings to the whole research staff and proposed recommending
that the Treasury act upon the calculated median estimate of 35%. The team
divided down the middle. While the social scientists were prepared to accept
the amendments of the data-based interviewer bias they objected strongly to my
total rejection of the verbal scale and the consequent high figure of about
80%, while the mathematicians were prepared to take the 35% figure. The meeting
was, I believe, rather stormy with those of anthropological persuasions most
disturbed, seeming to assume that if I was correct, then anthropological
research methods were threatened! (Perhaps some should be, and not only for
this kind of reason, but I will not develop). The meeting closed with the issue
unresolved but with my promise to do further tests as to bias or coding error
and such.
Moss made it clear
that the Survey's democratic philosophy included the fact that I alone was
responsible -- it was my project and I could recommend as I thought best (and
take the consequence!). While I was undertaking the further analyses time was
running out. It ran out before I had found any possible explanation for the
difference. It was around lunch time (I suppose that is why I remember it so
clearly) when Bunker called on 'phone to tell me that the Mint had already made
about 40% -- reaching my median figure and at my high error limit. Without any
further thought, I said that in my view they should cease production forthwith.
Then as an afterthought, noted that some of my colleagues did not agree with my
figure.
Figure 3. From the Sheffield Telegraph, Friday
November 27th, 1953.
Bunker stressed that he wanted my
figure if I had any confidence in it. I had, and he accepted my estimate. The
Mint ceased production and the North Wales scheme was not proceeded with. I
said earlier my estimate was correct. It was, in fact, too correct. The general
demand was within half of a percent of my estimate and within a quarter of the
standard error of the sampling. The mathematical model (based on density of
probabilities) had proved itself. I did not remind myself of my first lesson in
the scientific method and reject the findings as being too correct!
Before moving to discuss more
significant pieces of Survey research I might give a gloss to the Medals
forecast of demand. It will be remembered that when I presented the results to
my colleagues before publication, they did not agree with my assessment and I
had promised to look further into the data. This added work was cut sort by the
Mint going ahead and my receiving a telephone call from Treasury. Without my
colleagues agreement the report on the research could not be published as a
Social Survey Report.
Action was taken on the basis of
the lunchtime telephone call and I produced a short report for the Treasury
supporting my analysis and conclusions. I had to take responsibility for my
advice without the full collective backing of the Survey. However, when a few
years later the results were known and had also been invoked to support the
practical utility of sampling techniques in the course of investigations by the
Public Accounts Committee, my colleagues were not only willing for the study to
be published but encouraged me to do so. I duly wrote up a report detailing the
subsequent tests of the data and giving details of the actual outcome. However,
I insisted that my first, personal and unsupported write-up, which I had sent
to the Treasury, should be reproduced in full in the final document -- with
dates! I did not go so far as to point out why the original report had not been
previously published. Most readers might assume that late publication was due
to there being no general interest in the work until the results justified the
unusual methodology.
The Medals study was an interesting
episode for me, and despite the fact that it addressed a very specific problem,
its consequences were to be very far-reaching. The success of this small
project, strange as it might seem, was to divert my career from statistics into
criminology and then from the civil service to an academic career, and, to the
United States! The changes were not of my choosing, but were driven along on a
series of coincidences and I accepted the outcomes. But there is quite a bit
more to tell of my time at the Social Survey before I deal with my
transmogrification from 'Research Officer' to 'Statistician' ( by official exam
and classification by Civil Service Board). It was only in retrospect that the
origin of the trend in events and the significance of the medals forecast
became obvious.
I must stress that by the use of
this project as an example and by noting its consequences for my personal
career I do not wish to give the impression that it was a major event in the
Social Surveys' operations. It was responsible for a very small budget and
proportion of my official time. However the same structure as was concerned in
this project was typical of several other projects. As for the medals survey
itself its importance to the organisation became obvious only when Parliament
challenged the utility of sample survey methods. As is so often the case with
scientific work, it is the most trivial which is seen by laymen as the most
relevant.
CHAPTER
THREE: POST-WAR SOCIAL SURVEY
At the time, the forecast of the
take-up of campaign stars and medals seemed no more than a small project,
interesting because of its methodology. It was not given much status because it
was obvious that there had been much good fortune in deriving the correct
answer and it lacked any element of contribution to the tot al of human
welfare.
The Survey was almost under
continuous attack for wasting taxpayers' money, particularly by the Daily
Express and the Evening Standard. From time to time members of Parliament would
also take up this theme and seek reductions in staff, or abolition. At one
particularly critical period Moss arranged to stimulate a Parliamentary
Question which ascertained the Treasury estimate of the saving directly due to
the medals forecast. This proved to be around a million pounds, and this figure
appeared in the official record (Hansard).
It was later to prove particularly
significant that, under the Conservative government, this information came to
the attention of Sir George Benson, Chairman of Public Accounts Committee.
There were other projects which were of much more social significance, but this
had a popularity beyond its merits. Nonetheless it was one of two projects
which I was fortunate to direct that had a determining impact on my career. The
second project was the Survey of Deafness which was an adjunct of a monthly
morbidity survey which I supervised for some months.
There were several other studies
which I completed during my period of service, indeed much, much more happened.
I was with the Survey from 1947 until 1956. This is no place to repeat the
story of the many and varied research projects. However there were a few which
deserve comment, particularly because the publications of the work itself did
not give the background nor relate the interfaces with other activities. The
study of the Prevalence and Incidence of Deafness included a forecast of the
likely demand for hearing aids under the proposed National Health Act and this
provided a serious test of the methods when the aids actually became available.
The fact that this forecast (also!) proved correct was most helpful. However I
do not value the work for its demand forecast but as an epidemiological survey
of hearing loss.
The Monthly Morbidity Sampling.
At he same time, but over a longer
period than the medals project, I was supervising the operation of a continuing
survey of Complaints of Sickness (morbidity). My supervision of the monthly
sampling for this project took place in parallel with other projects. The survey
involved a monthly sample of 2000 households which was analysed conjointly with
and published by the Registrar General's Office. This regular sample provided a
framework for a considerable number of methodological experiments and studies
of interviewer performance in addition to the work on hearing loss. As an aside
perhaps I might remark that I have come to think that while it was the medals
study which set me on the criminology track, it was the Sickness Survey which
provided me with an opportunity to establish academic credibility. Of course,
eventually these two features merged. But to continue the story.
The Survey of Complaints of
Sickness was the only continuing project of the unit, all other studies were
designed for specific and limited situations. It was the largest and probably
the most important project of the W.S.S. studies relating to civilian morale.
The interviewers asked informants about their visits to medical practitioners
and their general health. The sample was the classical two-stage random design
where the first stage was geographic districts (80% towns and cities) selected
with probability proportional to size. There was also a 20% rural component
sampled separately.
The population sampling frame was
derived from ration book records (ration books were needed to obtain food). We
had no reason to assume that any sector of the civilian population was excluded
from these records. This stratified random sample provided sound national
estimates of most common features of medical conditions as perceived by the
individuals concerned. The ailments reported were, obviously, not necessarily
those that would have been diagnosed by the medical profession. This was the
correct approach because we were interested in the potential 'demand' for services,
whether there was or was not an identified 'need'. The sample was large enough
to give estimates of regional differences on the major health conditions.
In addition to the time-series data
of the complaints of sickness, doctor's visits and such, the sample could be
asked a small number of questions which did not relate directly to morbidity.
The regularity of the sampling and the fact that the questions were put by
trained staff meant that the 'add-on' questions could be changed when the
number of replies was adjudged sufficient, thus we were able to collect a large
amount of collateral and useful data. This enabled us to carry out
methodological research and development techniques of survey design and
management.
Some methodological tests were a
regular feature, covering such matters as how well events were remembered and
questions of interviewer honesty, bias or interviewer/informant interaction.
The cost of asking and analysing these additional questions had to be justified
to the satisfaction of the director and senior research staff and were not
within the personal domain of the officer who had charge of the main project.
but, obviously he had more influence than the remainder of the research staff
in designing these questions. Though the project did not need the full-time
supervision of a research officer, it was necessary to ensure that it was kept
on the rails and that interviewer morale did not slip. New interviewers also
needed a considerable amount of training in order to ensure that the data were
both reliable and valid. Interviewer cheating was always a possibility and was
constantly under review.
During the year or so that I was in
charge of this health project, I wrote a handbook of instructions for the
training of field interviewers. I also carried out some research into
interviewer bias and potential fraud. For the latter I was able to devise a
statistical test which gave a warning of any doubtful completion of interview
schedules. I should stress that Survey staff were meticulous in distinguishing
between questionnaires and 'interview schedules'. The questions on an interview
schedule were there for the interviewer to verbalise and to record the
informant's responses, either categorically or verbatim as required by the
research director. Questionnaires are filled in by the informants with or
without the help of a third party. The importance of making a distinction
between the two types of form (often both loosely called 'questionnaires') is
perhaps not obvious. It is that with a questionnaire the informant will usually
glance over the whole form ("What's all this about?") before starting
to make replies. There is, hence, no effective order in the questioning by
"questionnaires" whereas with the interview schedule the order is
under control of the research design. Order may be important. It is possible
that the asking of one question may influence the reply to one asked later. A
danger with questionnaires when questions are put orally to informants, is that
there is little control over any tonal inflection which may change the
interpretation. A combination of the two methods was our usual approach with
interviewers presenting some printed questions to subjects.
In my research I knew which
questions were asked and in what order and the order might be experimentally
varied. In more than one study the order of asking was an extremely important
feature of the analysis and inference. Unlike laboratory experiments or field
trials in agricultural research, the interview cannot be replicated. Asking questions
not only requests information, it also provides information. If one asks
somebody what they think about many public issues the most honest reply might
well be, "Frankly until you asked me I had not given the matter a moments'
thought!"
With these points in mind it was
still useful to 'bank' samples of respondents to the Survey of Sickness, and
perhaps other projects, when these persons had certain qualities and to
re-interview them in much more detail on the specific features.
Memory, Interviewer cheating and such.
The basic research which I was able
to 'bootleg' on to the Survey of Sickness was published by the Social Survey in
a Methodological Monograph Series. It may be interesting in passing to note one
or two non-technical findings from the work of detecting fraudulent
interviewers.
Although the Monographs are
available in my files much of the content has ceased to be of interest over
time. There were a few results which it may be worth recording here because
they are of a more general and lasting interest -- not relating specifically
and only to the survey of sickness or other project with which the methodology
was associated.
Most lay persons, and indeed other
scientists tend to think that interviewers could easily imagine responses to
questions and fill in schedules as though they had actually visited households.
Some interviewers occasionally also thought that they could do that. But there
is a difference between imagining one or two cases of probable replies on a
particular topic and imagining between 20 and 30 (an average assignment for an
interview on each project or each month in the case of continuing surveys).
This proved an impossible task! The reason is that people in real life are far
more weird than even an ex-social worker could sit in a coffee shop and
imagine. In more precise terms, the variance of fraudulently completed
interview data was far less than the variance obtaining for actual interviews.
An even more powerful indicator of cheating interviewers was constructed by taking
advantage of the fact that in real life people are somewhat inconsistent and in
ways which it was impossible to imagine. For example, think what percentage of
regular readers of the Socialist Worker you would expect to vote Tory?
Stereotyped thinking would suggest that this was totally inconsistent and no
one would do both. I would not guarantee that! Or if asked to name one or two
members of the British Commonwealth from a list of countries, would anybody
include the Soviet Union?. Just over 1% did do so.
The survey data gave us an
opportunity to measure the frequency of a large number of relationships between
opinions and behaviour. We found many which did not accord with the expectation
logic would suggest. Human behaviour and opinion is partly, but only partly
predictable, so that the correlations between beliefs, and between beliefs and
actions are usually small, but certainly non-zero. Interviewers who might think
of making up interviews (after all novelists imagine people who seem real
enough) would have to decide which items go together and which do not, and to
get this proportion moderately correct for their sample of 20-30 cases. The
size of the sample which each interviewer completed was large enough to provide
useful data. Thus anyone who is cheating can be detected by their having
recorded more reasonable patterns of responses, but not by the individual
replies. These patterns can be detected only by statistical analysis.
The statistical tests identified
the suspects, if any, but were not treated as sufficient evidence to act
against the individual. Interviewers were not discharged only on the grounds
that they had they failed to pass the statistical tests, but were subject to
further supervision and 'call-backs'. Only when there was strong direct
evidence could interviewers be discharged. If interviewers were found to have
falsified schedules, these were to be destroyed and replaced with true
interviews carried out by the field supervisors.
Some commercial market research
companies use more direct methods. Interviewers are given some items of
information by briefings which cannot be obtained from interviewed subjects. If
any item from these data are fed back, the interviewer is suspect. This might
be seen as 'entrapment' and not desirable on ethical grounds. There are
probably other methods also which are unknown to me. Those with which I was
familiar I will not disclose because they are probably still being relied upon.
Most respectable sample surveying organisations take reasonable care to ensure
that the field staff do carry out interviews as required. A sub-sample is
usually followed up by telephone call from a supervisor.
Interview reliability was only one
element in the continuous search for more powerful methods of data collection.
We made comparative studies of 'panel' methods, paying/not paying informants
for giving us information and many other variants of data collection. If I were
to tell of all these operations I would end with a textbook of survey methods,
and that is not my intent. However one or two variations may have a general
interest. I divided one population sample into three equal and similar parts;
one was given questions in one order, for one other the order was reversed and
the third folded across the middle! I had interviewers ask the same question at
the beginning and end of the interview -- most informants did not notice.
Research was fun, especially when I did not have to do any of the ‘legwork’
myself, but just think up ideas and write up the results.
Demand Forecasting -- As a class of problem.
By this time the fact that demand
forecasting was possible within useful limits had become known to top civil
servants in various departments, if not to Ministers themselves. The Ministry
of Health was at this time gearing up for the implementation of the National
Health Act and it was necessary to estimate likely costs of various alternative
provisions. There would obviously be a large increase in public demand for
medical services, mainly in general practice. It was necessary to estimate
these demands and the likely financial consequences of the enactment.
Previously there had been a limited provision of health care for the working
classes, by what were termed, Panel Doctors. To some extent data from the
co-operation of the Panel could be used to derive some of the necessary
costings. For most ailments the pre-existing data for the limited covered
population could be projected to suggest the demands likely to be made upon the
health services when the coverage became universal.
There were interesting problems in
the interface between the idea of 'patient demand' and 'patient need' or the
'value' of medical provision. In some cases where treatment might have provided
some benefit, the public were reluctant to consult a medical practitioner. In
other cases expectation exceeded current remedies. The survey, originally
designed to deal with complaints as an indication of civilian morale took on
another facet of utility as background to the new National Health Service
planning.
Estimating the Demand for Hearing Aids
Of particular interest was the
question of non-life-threatening conditions such as deafness. The public seldom
sought advice, and little attention was given other than to wash out any wax
blockage. However prior to the time that the Health Service Act was under
preparation the Post Office Research Establishment had been working with the
development of the miniaturising of the thermionic valve. They had reduced an
effective tube to about the size and shape of a small acorn. They had deployed
this in amplification devices and could prepare a portable hearing aid. This
device became known as the Medresco Aid. Transistors (semiconductors) existed
in a crude form in laboratories at this time, but it was to be some years
before they came to be used in portable sound amplifiers. The possible
availability of the government-produced aid (the Post Office had not been
privatised) encouraged the Minister of Health to consider whether the new
National Health Service would be able to afford to make these devices available
'free-at-point-of-delivery' to all who might benefit.
The Medresco was equal to or
preferable to all instruments then commercially available. These were all both
cumbersome and costly. A very small proportion of the deaf had purchased the
commercially available hearing aids. These were beyond the range of disposable
income for most families. They were hardly transportable. They all relied upon
amplification by means of thermionic valves. Current consumption was
considerable and hence there was a need to have a separate, quite large and
heavy battery. I recall when in my role as Chairman of the Applied Section of
the Royal Statistical Society that one member would sit in the centre front row
with a black box battery pack and a microphone which he manipulated with some
success, but not without quite frequent emission of some extraneous high
frequencies -- somewhat similar (unfortunately) to 'wolf-whistles'. Lecturers
had to be advised to ignore these and to repeat, tactfully, any words or
phrases which may have been obliterated by the 'noises off'
The Medical Research Council had
been required by the government to estimate the potential demand for Medresco
aids, and to commission the necessary research to answer this question. This
was a many-problem problem! Little was known about the prevalence or incidence
of hearing loss. For most cases a cure was not considered possible and it was
likely that few sufferers had sought medical attention. Those who had received
medical advice could hardly be assumed to be a representative sample of
sufferers. No one knew how many persons were deaf nor indeed what levels of
hearing loss over what frequencies constituted deafness and some might have
other ear problems which would make the use of an aid impossible. ‘Deafness’ is
a simple social category which is correlated with hearing loss, but not defined
thereby.
Fortunately, since I was running
the Survey of Sickness at the time, I was appointed to discuss the design of
appropriate research with the Medical Research Council and was particularly
privileged to work with Terrance Cawthorne. He had originated surgery which
provided relief if not a cure for those forms of deafness which were due to
bone malformation, (a procedure known as 'fenestration'). Cawthorne drew my
attention to the literature in the field. I found a study by Beasley who had
proposed a 'social scale' of hearing defect. We could modify his categories and
use his diagnostic questions in the field -- it meant asking such questions as
to whether the subject could hear in specified social situations -- on the
telephone; in church; in face-to-face chatting with friends and so on. Beasley
had related these social categories to measured hearing loss in terms of
decibels and frequency ranges. I saw no reason why his correlations should not
apply to data which I could collect from our samples.
My strategy was to use the Survey
of Sickness's monthly sample to assemble a list of names and addresses of those
in the sampled households who reported any difficulties in hearing. We also had
the interviewers' assessments -- they had met the subjects in face-to-face situations
or had sought to do so.
The monthly sampled names and
addresses of persons identified as suffering from hearing loss having been
'banked', eventually, we had a sufficiently large enough number of persons who
were originally interviewed as to their general health. This sub-sample was as
representative of the deaf population as was the larger random (two-stage)
sample of the whole population.
Interviewers returned to this
sample and completed a much more detailed interview which asked another set of
questions which included the scale based on Beasley's categories, and inquired
as to whether the subject might be willing to have a medical examination.
Clearly the totally deaf could not be interviewed in the normal way. A special
schedule was completed in such cases. Interviewers were asked also to report on
whether the person was wearing an aid. This was easy because it was quite
impossible to hide even top-of-the-market equipment.
We could assume that the sample was
fully representative of the population because the refusal rate was less than
2%. However, not satisfied with even this high rate of response alone, we
required the interviewer to complete a 'non-contact schedule' in respect of all
cases of refusal or failure to make contact with the sampled name. The main
purpose of this requirement was to ensure that field staff could not ease their
task by reporting no contact with persons or addresses which were difficult to
reach. The non-contact report included data which might be observed, such as whether
the house had a garage. The rateable value of the dwelling was known from other
sources and correlated with features which we might expect to be observed even
on a cursory visit. Completion of non-contact schedules from the interviewer's
imagination was very likely to be found out.
Perhaps it is of interest to note
that interviewees who refuse to co-operate when approached often give as
reasons for their non-compliance information equally or more revealing than
they would have been asked to supply had they been co-operative.
About 1000 cases of 'hard of
hearing' were interviewed 'in depth'. This data base provided the information
we were to use in estimating potential beneficiaries and the probable demand.
In accord with our general strategy, we attempted to solve the problem by using
more than one model. In the event three different systems of estimation of
demand were used. Though each was based on a different logic and there were
differences between the crude figures given by the different methods, reasonable
adjustments led to a convergence which gave us confidence that the data were
reliable. In fact the differences between the unadjusted estimates related to
useful categories which could, in turn, be related to other administrative
procedures which might be required of applicants should the supply under the
new National Health Scheme go ahead.
It was part of the remit that aids
should be considered for "all persons who might benefit"; there was
no age constraint and no priorities were proposed. It was a moot point as to
whether those who might benefit would, or indeed should, be encouraged to
apply. We rather expected that some encouragement to apply would be stimulated,
if not officially, then by voluntary welfare agencies.
The older the deaf person, the less
likely was it that they would wish to have an aid, though from their hearing
loss they might well benefit. Aids remained very large and were to remain so
until the transistor replaced the thermionic valve and even the Medresco Aid
was not easy to operate effectively. It was clear that there would be
considerable waste unless the provision of the aid was accompanied by training.
The failure of those who qualified
for an aid to go through the necessary ropes to obtain one -- medical
examination for suitability and more accurate tests than our doorstep
techniques could provide -- was likely to be of considerable importance in
estimating the take-up and consequently the costs to the Exchequer. In addition
to the factors specific to the allocation mechanism, there were other social
and medical factors which might relate to the inertia of the potential
applicants. For example, at that time, among the lay public a social stigma was
attached to being 'deaf'. Cartoons of an elderly gaffer with an ear-trumpet
misunderstanding his companions was a common source of humour/ ridicule. The
aged expected to be deaf; it was ‘'just old age', and the young often wished to
hide the infirmity for as long as possible because it could impair their work
opportunities.
On the other hand there was the
opposing complicating factor that if aids became more plentiful, the social
stigma would diminish as had the earlier stigma attaching to the wearing of
spectacles. This would lead to demand increasing with time. The calculations we
made took these factors into account.
My report provided estimates of the
numbers of persons likely to apply under different procedures. It was also
noted that about a half of the hard-of-hearing had an ear problem which would
not allow of the use of any insert type aid. The work was very successful. Some
four years after the provision of the estimates the demand curve fitted
extremely closely. It remained a good fit until the transistor made the hearing
aid a quite different device to fit and operate.
In addition to the social features,
I was able to identify the extremely close fit of a simple exponential equation
to degree of prevalence of hearing loss against age and within the Beasley
categories. This finding was most reassuring.
The Francis Wood Memorial Prize
In addition to the provision of
estimates of the demand (and the relating of these estimates to the different
administrative circumstances which might condition them) some light was thrown
upon deafness itself. The study had incidentally been the first epidemiological
research into this condition. The interesting mathematical functions which were
identified provided a validity test. The condition then known as
"deaf-mute" was believed to relate to very early (or birth) hearing
loss. Extrapolation of the function from the appropriate equation gave an
estimate of the total population of "deaf mutes" which was
verifiable. The 'fit' was correct.
This project occupied rather more
time than was covered by my salary, but it was interesting. I was, in any case,
rewarded for this effort. On Moss's suggestion I wrote up the research in more
detail and published it as an epidemiological study of deafness. The report was
then submitted for consideration for the Francis Wood Memorial Prize (a money prize!)
of the Royal Statistical Society. Though it had not been awarded for a year or
so, it was revived and I was fortunate to get the award. The citation for this
award states that it is "for the best social research using statistical
methods". Such recognition was a good substitute for my lack of a
university degree. Though it was never made overt, it seems obvious that this
Prize led to my being twice elected as Chairman of the General Applications
Section of the Society and to my being appointed as a member of the Council.
I had been elected a member of the
Royal Statistical Society in February 1946 while at the Air Ministry. There is
no doubt that the Society and particularly the fringe members who used to seek
out my support from time to time on various projects, was of great significance
in my development. Nonetheless I think it unlikely that I would have been
elected to any office in the Society and certainly not to be a member of the
Council without the Deafness Study.
Not all surveys (even those which I
conducted!) were as successful as the ‘medals’ and the deafness projects. Many
were routine data collection tasks. Some came up with unacceptable results.
The "Don't tell me unless .."
syndrome.
The fact that the Survey undertook
research at the request of departments and also had to obtain the approval of
Treasury to spend its own budget, ensured that any kinds of inquiry which were
likely to prove 'embarrassing' were not started. However, there was one
occasion when we got under the wire. We were asked by the Building Research
Station if we thought it might be possible to estimate the car-parking demand
likely to be generated by buildings of different types and functions. I
undertook to design a pilot project to show that the problem was amenable to
analysis and to ascertain the potential utility of any formulae which might be
derived. A small study was funded. It was very successful. There was no doubt
that good estimation equations were possible. However, in the course of the
field work we noted that many industrial and commercial establishments were de
facto using the public highway as part of their production line! The saving
in costs which this utilisation afforded was, as it were, rewarding antisocial
behaviours. Some political action seemed called for.
The Building Research Station liked
the pilot study results and the fact that relatively simple equations and very
simple (mostly negative binomial) distributions could generate a good
simulation. They applied for funds to be allocated to us to continue and expand
the study. The file went 'upstairs' and was at the last stage seen by the
Treasury Minister who wrote on the minute sheet that this project was not to be
approved. His reason was, "Any information on this topic can only be an
embarrassment". The Minister was later given a Knighthood and still sits
in the House of Lords. Perhaps this was a very suitable reward for the honesty
of his assessment?
There was another occasion when I
was disturbed by political interpretation of research. For a while during my
time on the Survey of Sickness the Minister of Health was one who had become
previously known as the "Radio Doctor" for his salty health advice in
a BBC slot. When questioned in the House he doubled an estimate I had provided.
I have to assume that this was not dishonest but rather a change made to cover
the assumed uncertainties -- maybe on the advice of one of the administrative
classes.
The Royal Statistical Society Connection.
My activities with the Royal
Statistical Society increased with my Survey work and replaced the meetings of
the Operational Research Club. The Society was organised into four sections.
There was the general meeting (with its associated 'Series A' journal), a
Research Section (with its associated journal 'Series B'), and there were two
'applications' sections -- The Industrial Applications Section and the General
Applications (earlier "Study Section") with their associated journal
'Applied Statistics’.
I was associated with the
Study/General Applications Section for some time (on two occasions as Chairman)
when we ‘spawned’ two other learned societies. We began a Medical Statistics
Division which later became an autonomous organisation, and we also took an
important role in developing computing applications and this doubtless
facilitated the formation of a specific society. It is notable that Dr Richard
Doll (later Sir Richard) who became renowned for his anti-smoking campaigns and
his epidemiological work on cancer, presented a paper on this subject under my
chairmanship in 1953. It was an interesting meeting because the chief
statistician of British Tobacco and I think also a member of the staff of Wills
were also present. I do not recall anything other than calm debate with
alternative explanations and further hypotheses being put forward. It was
several years before the ill effects of smoking became accepted. Hans Eysenck
put forward the idea that the explanation might be that smoking and a higher
probability of cancer was a common feature of a personality type.
During my chairmanship of the
Study/General Applications Section (first or second time, I do not recall) the
Section conducted the first economic projection survey by sampling British
industrialists as to their investment plans for the forthcoming year. While the
project needed my support to be approved by the Section, this rather unpopular
project was possible only because of the enthusiasm of Eric Shankelman, a
member of the Section. I believe he was an economist employed by the
Electricity Authority, but Eric should have much credit for what amounted to an
important social invention. This is now a regular Treasury supported project.
The Applications Section also provided much of the necessary elements, personal
and theoretical, which led me later to work on the so-called
"prediction" methods in criminology.
I was chairman of the General
Applications when in collaboration with the Industrial Applications we launched
the ‘third journal’ titled "Applied Statistics". I was a co-editor
for the first few issues and an article I published in the first issue
attracted positive comment in the quality national press. A 'good thing' for
both the journal and I suppose, me too. However, this article fitted a rule I
was to deduce far too late in life to exploit it -- namely that the more
trivial a piece of work the more it will be appreciated. Of my books only the
'readers' produced any royalties, and I did little work on them.
It seems in retrospect that I may
have exploited my office to foster some of my own ideas, perhaps (at least for
one month) this may have been excessive. The card of notifications shows that I
presented three papers at different local meetings. I gave papers in London,
Merseyside and Birmingham, 2nd 3rd and 10th February 1954 and it was the shortest
month! But this was not a bid for personal aggrandisement -- there were
probably easier ways for this. I really was enthusiastic about statistical
methods.
Conflict and Co-operation in Scientific
Method
R.S.S. Presidents (who chaired
plenary sessions and Council meetings) were elected with an interesting
constraint. We alternated 'internal' and 'external' presidents. For a two- year
term a distinguished statistician, usually an academic, would be in post, then
followed a person whose distinction was related to another field, such as a
‘captain of industry’. Conflicting views were, during my term, also balanced in
that both Ronald A. Fisher and Egon Pearson (who had similar views to his
father Karl) each served a term as President.
The R.S.S. was to provide me with
many insights and challenges to my thinking -- more, to my thinking processes.
I still recall some actual words spoken at a meeting of the Council of which I
was a member. Some distinguished establishment authority had sub-
Figure 4. Council and Officers of the Royal
Statistical Society, 1953-4.
mitted a paper for publication in
the journal of the society. The paper was doubtless sound because of its
authorship. However publication in the Journal was refused on the grounds that
any paper before publication "must suffer the rigours of reading in
plenary session". The 'reading' was certainly a most significant part of
the tradition of testing. A paper would first be considered by two independent
referees, the referees would report to the Council, and the Council would
select papers which might qualify for presentation. At the same time a proposer
and seconder of a ‘vote of thanks’ would be nominated and voted. It was the
traditional duty of the proposer to point out any deficiencies in the paper. If
there was nothing actually wrong, it might still be possible to show that with
a little more skill, equations using half the number of terms could be found
which would provide an equally rigorous proof. If the proposer missed any
points, the seconder was expected to draw attention to them. Then the meeting
was opened to general discussion. Finally the speaker could reply. Usually the
reply was merely that the points raised would be considered. The whole
proceedings were published, including the comments from the floor.
Unlike many proceedings in the
Psychological Society, criticism was (usually) directed at the methodology used
and not at the person of the speaker. Speaker, proposer and seconder would dine
together after the proceedings. But there were one or two exceptions. When the
topic departed from a straightforward mathematical framework, particularly if a
matter of philosophical perspective was involved, discussion could get quite
wild. I remember one rare example of this point was the Fisher/Pearson
conflict. This concerned the logic of inference.
I was present at perhaps the only
meeting of the Society when the proceedings were anything other than most
orderly. Egon Pearson was speaking -- I think proposing a vote of thanks.
Fisher jumped up on to his seat a yelled "You don't know the difference
between inductive and deductive logic". Pearson took it quietly. The
meeting quickly settled down with a call to order from the President. Fisher
was said to fail any students who attended Pearson's lectures. It seems likely.
I leaned towards Fisher's views on
inference. Some mathematicians seem to reify numbers and elements of mysticism
get involved with the concept of significance, and this I cannot accept. So
when it came to their viewpoints in respect of statistics I would favour
Fisher's perspective. Furthermore I am much inclined to agree with Fisher's
arguments when these concern the interface between his biology and his ethical
philosophy, and in particular his theory of altruism. My term of office with
the Council was first under the presidency of Egon Pearson whom I found to be a
delightful person, always ready to explain with considerable patience. The next
internal President was Ronald Fisher. A quite different person. I was most
careful to stay within the territory I knew well.
In the local groups and sections,
as with the main society's meetings, the critical tradition applied though with
less formality. Papers were not screened prior to reading but the Committee had
to be satisfied with their quality and appropriateness. There was always a
discussion period following a vote of thanks. When I presented papers I
benefited from the recognition this afforded and if I could survive the
criticism I could feel reasonably assured that my approach was probably
correct, or the best available at the time.
These procedures, as I learned
later, are a basic feature of the scientific method. Practical examples of
scientific accountability through "peer review" are to be found in
many procedures such as PhD defence, learned journal refereeing, requirements
of grant application evaluation and in Moss’s idea for the ways in which his
staff should operate.
There is another feature of
scientific etiquette (prejudiced by commercial sponsorship) namely that if one
might chance upon a method which seemed generally useful but which had not been
published in the course of normal work, it should be released for the benefit
of others who might be able to make use of it. My article in the first issue of
Applied Statistics followed this rule. It was a simple application of
regression to data available to the Survey but for which we had no primary use.
In the course of our system of sampling (probability proportional to size) we
obtained a large quantity of data about households in towns and cities
throughout Britain. It was a very simple matter to relate this information from
our surveys to other data from such sources as the census. For example the
analysis showed that it was possible to estimate the percentage of higher
income earners resident in any town by a linear equation based upon data such
as infant mortality rates, telephones connected and local taxation figures.
This was not earth-shattering but it was of considerable use to marketing
interests. I dined out at some of the best restaurants on the strength of this
trivial piece of work, J. Walter Thompson or Market Research Services picking
up the bills. As a civil servant I could not accept money, but as chairman of a
section of the R.S.S. I saw no objection to enjoying the occasional meal, so
long as I did not talk shop until the coffee was served.
When the Survey's budget was cut
(with a government not too interested in social research) quite a number of the
staff, who were declared redundant were able to secure good appointments in
advertising or marketing companies. I could have moved too, but I was not
"disposable". Those who were "disposed of" did very well,
at least financially. One became a director of a world-wide advertising agency
and another (Denis Lamberth) who had headed the Coding Section went to Lyons
(which was then still a private family company). He became concerned with the
development of LEO (Lyons Electronic Office), perhaps the first commercial
applications of computer technology. LEO’s memory was, I recall, a package of
mercury vapour vacuum tubes acting as delay lines. I had been a friend as well
as a colleague of Denis and we worked together (for fun, not funds) on a
project to predict the demand for ice-cream which made use of LEO’s
equation-solving power.
In addition to my activities with
Royal Statistical Society business I was teaching market research and
statistics at evening classes. This part-time activity supplemented our income.
We needed it because by that time our family was increasing and I also had some
commitments to my mother and later to a cousin. Many other personal and even
dramatic events were taking place while the research and the thrills of a
developing and challenging career were unfolding.
A General Rule of Demand Forecasting
Designs.
There were other forecasting projects
each of which required different methods. Only one rule was always applied,
that no project would seek to obtain an estimate of demand by means only of one
model or method. If we got different results, then at least one was wrong! The
de-rationing of solid fuel provided a case in point. Three independent models
were thought up and developed. Data were collected on all three sets of
assumptions. In the event they gave quite different estimates of likely demand.
One was rejected because the model assumed that there was a meaningful
commodity of ‘space heating’. Demand could only be met if this fitted the
public perception and they were likely to substitute for non-solid fuel. The
public had not adjusted to the shortage of conventional fuels. On detailed examination
one of the remaining two estimates was also rejected because it gave an
unsatisfactory fit to any characteristic demand function. Unfortunately we did
not have an opportunity to test the models because even the lowest estimate was
so large that de-rationing was considered unwise at that time. Demand for
alternative fuels was due to added uses, not as a substitute for the one
central open fire which was characteristic of so many households at that time.
This may be seen as an interesting example of a frequently observed policy
problem in that procedures developed as substitutes or alternatives become
additions .
Colleagues carried out projects
concerning the de-rationing of clothing and household furnishings.
There were many influences on my
thinking at this time and these influences were certainly not linear nor did
they all pull in the same direction. There were several overlapping pressures
deriving from my roles in the Royal Statistical Society and the Survey. I
realise now (too late!) that my chairmanship of a section of that society was a
position of some power.
In addition to work associates and
contacts within the Society, many individuals sought me out for advice and, I
assume, some hoped for help with their projects. A few I could help, as with
one or two students at L.S.E. who were working on doctorates, and some have
remained in touch. I will tell of a few of these 'visitations', most of which
took place during my Social Survey days when I was carrying out various assignments.
Visits often related to these diverse projects, though most (with the exception
of those discussed, 'Medals', 'Coal' and 'Hearing Aids'), were fairly routine,
and do not merit attention here. A number of persons with ideas they wished to
see promulgated would approach me. These persons for the most part remind me of
the poet's imagery of "ships that pass in the night ...". They must
have enriched my own experience in ways now forgotten. Most were one-time
contacts and the issues quickly disposed of while others were more persistent,
or were those whom I did not discourage. I cannot give any rationale for the
selection of my memory or assessment.
The unacceptability of too strict a logic.
One contact sought me out at
intervals over some six or seven years to tell me about how his work had
developed. I appreciated the logic of his analyses and his attempts to
capitalise on it, and I tried to help. He could not accept the kind of help I
could give. He was a tragic genius whose logic was perfectly sound, but who did
not realise that logic was not sufficient of itself to bring about change, even
though these changes would be most beneficial and even, in the long term,
profitable. This was D.S. Blacklock. He was qualified as an accountant. I do
not know for how long he practised, but he began to take the view that the
profession was hidebound. (I tended to agree, and still do so). He tried to
find a publisher for a book in which he advocated a form of contingency
accounting. His views were not approved by the Chartered Institute, but his
book was published by The Glencoe Free Press who presumably had the manuscript
reviewed before acceptance. I do not think that the Press is a "Vanity
Publishing" house. On our first visit he presented me with a copy of this
work which I placed in the Society's Library.
Perhaps if he had been willing to
make a few amendments he might have been able to get acceptance of some of his
less radical ideas for revisions of accountancy practice. He was not willing to
accept half measures. He went on to develop still further ideas for fundamental
change in numerical work and in linguistics. He pointed out the illogical
feature of our currency, weights and measures in that it was in part decimal,
in part due-decimal and in part binary. Despite this the teaching of arithmetic
in schools did not generalise the idea of a base, and was restricted to the
logic of a base of ten, with 2, 4, 8, 16, 20 as exceptions for money and
weight. (2 pints = 1 quart; 14 lbs = 1 stone; 16 oz = 1lb... and so on) He
noted that an extremely large and increasing proportion of numbers were
recorded through the medium of a keyboard rather than writing with a pen or
pencil. This he rightly claimed was a trend unlikely to be reversed, and a
trend which should lead to dramatic development of new technologies. But he did
not take too seriously the likelihood of oral inputs to computers without the
keyboard being a dominant modem. He therefore turned his attention to the
design of an efficient keyboard.
Now he noted, correctly, that we
have ten fingers which we use for number and literal input on a
not-too-efficiently designed keyboard. But we need 'operators' as well as
'inputs'. It seemed natural that the two thumbs should be allocated the task of
'operators' while the remaining eight fingers should carry out the inputs.
Therefore eight was a natural base, and most usefully binary. A natural 'word'
was of eight 'bits'. If he had stopped there and pressed his case his work
would probably have been appreciated. But he could not stop; he was driven
inexorably with his own logic. The keyboard and number pads were not
efficiently designed. He had a design which was far superior. It probably was,
but the investment needed to replace existing technology was not a matter to which
he was willing to give consideration. Even that difficulty might have been
overcome, but Blacklock was pressed further -- and I would stress - by his
logic. Words needed to be related to numbers, and words should phonetically be
related both to meaning and pattern, and furthermore, both should be related to
sound. So he invented a language: Tunnish. I remember his great joy when he
solved the problem of meaning/symbol/sound and announced to me that he
"could now play Tunnish on the piano". He was not fazed by the fact
that Esperanto had not been sold successfully. He knew why -- it was
inefficient. Indeed it is! But that is not the reason it has not caught on. It
is difficult to persuade people to be logical, and perhaps we could not cope
with uncertainty if we were nothing but logical? If there was any fault in
Backlock's network of thinking it was not the internal logic of the system,
though there may have been a logic deficit at the various system interfaces.
For example, he did not appreciate, or did not wish to try to accommodate the
fact that a language needs redundancy in order to be effective for purposes of
communication, particularly in noisy channels.
I suppose it would be said that
Blacklock was not 'in touch with reality'. Pity about reality! I must say, with
much regret, that I do not know what happened to Blacklock. I learned much
later (when I was at the Home Office) that the security door staff had
discouraged him from coming up to see me, and we lost touch when I went to the
U.S.A.
Blacklock came to see me because of
his perception of my ability to understand the technology he deployed. But that
was not why 'Arthur' came. Perhaps Arthur Chisnell was my most interesting
extra-curricula contact. But he surfaced during my Home Office time, and I will
discuss his contribution when I get to that time.
I am writing now in 1999 and at an
age of 84 and with the 'mental set' of 1999. I know that I cannot hope to guess
precisely what was my viewpoint when I reacted to the situations I have
described or shall shortly describe, and I certainly cannot readopt that
viewpoint in their telling. I must, therefore, take 'time out' to reveal some
prejudices before I continue with the personal story of events. I can reflect my
viewpoints when these are represented in activities which can be substantiated.
So the reader may 'make allowances' for personal prejudices which I may reveal.
My experiences in the Social Survey
had led me to take the view that there was too close a coupling between the
research work of civil servants and party political interests. I had (and still
have) a strong belief that the direct impact of present methods of departmental
budgeting is not in the best interest of the country. This is because research
scientists employed in policy departments (such as the Home Office) are
answerable to the front bench rather than to Parliament. If research is
unbiased its results should not be hidden from the "Loyal
Opposition".
Policy research should not only be
independent but, like justice, be seen to be so. I am not arguing for
scientists to be allowed to do anything they would like and still be paid by
the taxpayer. Service to the country (or, preferably humanity) takes into
account the needs of other systems within society than those covered by the
currently governing party. To be specific, it would, I think, be far more
satisfactory if the scientific civil service were organised in the same kind of
way as is the Library of the House, namely that it should serve Parliament,
rather than the government. By Parliament I would include Her Majesty's Loyal
Opposition. I see no reason why this is not only desirable, but also possible.
I have been accused by some of
having a jaundiced view of the position of research within government. Perhaps
I had bad experiences and these were unusual? I have no reason to believe that
they were atypical. The position of research (particularly research which comes
up with the kinds of results that politicians think they can understand) is far
too vulnerable while it is answerable to the interested Minister. According to
all civil service doctrine, it is a cardinal sin to "embarrass the
Minister". It is also forbidden to express views in any public place or in
any form which is counter to departmental policy; it would in any case be an
embarrassment to do so.
But to return again to history and
a happier story in relation to technological and the scientific sector. I have
mentioned the "ships that passed". One who must receive a mention was
Gordon Pask. He was a considerable influence on my thinking at the same time as
I was concerned with the work of the R.S.S. and with Blacklock. Gordon was one
of the pioneers of cybernetics and communications. He had a small laboratory
over a laundry in Richmond. Here were cubicles where subjects sat and attempted
to communicate with other subjects in other cubicles via signals under varying
conditions of ' noise' and 'redundancy'. The main point I gained from his work
was that there could be a positive value in redundancy. Negative feedback (the
theory of control systems) was also a related research area. Pask was
developing the work of Shannon and Weaver. He worked closely with Brian Lewis
who later became a professor with the Open University (which was then only a
dream of Harold Wilson).
The Significance of the Savoy Tavern.
I did not realise at the time how
much of a power base my Chairmanship of the Applications Section gave me. It
was considerable. For example I could influence the choice of topics and
speakers who would lead discussions at the monthly meetings. Furthermore,
members of the section could invite guests to meetings which were held at the
prestigious address of 2 Savoy Hill. It should also be recorded that after the
meetings had closed a number of persons adjourned to the Savoy Tavern where
discussions continued. Guests also might often join the members in the Tavern.
I am sure that the large number of
persons I met by reason of my association with the R.S.S. have added much to my
intellectual and social development. These 'ships...' passed signals which
often I regret I failed to receive or decode. A number of these persons I could
still name, but I could not integrate their influence into my story.
Prior associations with the
Chairman of Public Accounts Committee in defending the work of the Survey with
the example of the moneysaving medals demand estimation gave me sufficient
excuse to invite him to the occasional meeting of the Section when topics of
possible interest were being discussed. More importantly, as it will emerge as
I continue, he would join with us in the Savoy Tavern!
At this point, though I did not
know it, my career was about to change its direction in a very significant way.
One of my ploys involving the Study Section developed its own momentum and took
off to places and situations I had not dreamed of. I was enjoying working on
the motley collection of research commissions that made up my Social Survey
day. I must, nonetheless confess that I was not entirely a passive recipient of
assignments! All kinds of topics were within the compass of my methodology and
the organisation of which I was a member. Of course, we were not permitted to
work on problems which were not specified by policy departments. However, I saw
no reason why I should not stimulate them to ask for projects which they
needed, (and which I would like to carry out!). The membership of the Section
included statisticians from several government departments and some had
commissioned projects with the Survey. My Chairmanship made it easy to maintain
good relations with many national, academic and commercial interests as well as
governmental departments.
Background and role definitions
I now have a serious problem in
telling my story in any narrative manner. The reader needs to know about the
kind of environment in which the events and my actions were to take place,
though I was almost completely ignorant of this myself at the time. So far in
my story, except for a short period in training to be a probation officer, the
subject of crime has scarcely been mentioned. But I was shortly to get myself
seriously involved with the study of aspects of "criminals’"
behaviour. However, as I pointed out in the introduction, it is no simple
matter to define "crime" and hence to say what was the area of study
within the province of "criminology".
The reader should know a few things
I did not know about the field and will then be in a position to observe the
impact of my naive activities! If I was going to do research in this area whose
territoriality was I invading? Who were "the criminologists"?. How
were qualifications to carry out research in "criminology" to be
established? Perhaps I had no claim to any of the necessary qualifications? I
was not asking these questions. To me, at that time, it seemed a simple matter
that data might be collected and analysed using sampling methods, and it was
the rigour of the analysis rather than the background of the research worker
that was the major criterion. Perhaps I had no claim to be able to design
research in an area I had no background knowledge of? In my thinking these
questions did not arise because it was the model which was important, and if a
model fitted a problem then it was possible to make progress. Decisions as to
the fit were usually conjoint decisions with administrators or other scientists
in the field. If the field was to be either ‘crime’ or ‘criminals’ or both, who
were ‘significant others’? In sorting out this issue I ran into some serious
difficulties.
Significant Actors and Interests in Crime
Research.
Many may call themselves
criminologists. For example, a well-known crime reporter has so designated
himself, detective police workers may have claims, and there are forensic
scientists who are often called "criminalists". Unfortunately I
cannot proceed further without some more precise definitions. But no agreed
external source of definitions exists, and I must rely upon my own authority
which was gained over the years following the events shortly to be reported. It
cannot be helped that this breaks the continuity of the narrative, but the
reader must be placed in a privileged position of knowing far more than I knew
of the consequences of my next moves.
But there is a contingent
difficulty. If I am to state definitions and provide background I will have to
give some indication of my qualifications for assuming such an authority.
Though some, even some friends see me as a criminologist, I am very reluctant
to admit being one, the label does not fit my self-image. But I have to accept
it because it was my official classification and the heading under which I have
been both paid and honoured. However, this does not prevent me from having
doubts about criminology as such. What then are my qualifications to provide
the reader with a picture of the environment with which I was shortly to become
closely involved, and why does it matter?
I will take the last part of the
question first. How are criminologists to be defined if they do not do the kind
of things the general public thinks they do, or should do? The answer is, of
course, criminologists are defined in the same way as other professional are
defined. It is not my claim to be or not to be a criminologist which makes this
so, but the opinions of ‘significant others’ expressed in formal and informal
ways. At this point in time I was, by the same token, defined as a
‘statistician’, both by reason of passing examinations and practising
statistical work as a paid job, and I accept that designation without question.
Why this is so may become clearer after I have established some credentials. I
know that this may seem immodest, but I fear it is essential to do so now. It
would, I think, be far more immodest for me to assume that my readers knew my
background. So I will make a few selections which mark me out now as a
"criminologist" and qualify me to describe this field of study.
My appointments included a Chair in
the School of Criminology at the University of California at Berkeley, where
for a time (on the vote of my colleagues) I was acting as Dean. I was later a
professor in the School of Criminal Justice at Albany and one-time Chairman of
the Faculty. Among the honours conferred I might note the award of a Fellowship
by the American Criminological Society, the Emile Durkheim Award of the
Internationale Societie de Criminologie, the Sutherland Award of the American
Society of Criminology, and awards by the Academy of Criminal Justice Sciences,
and the American Society for Public Administration Section on Criminology. I
could also quote in support of my correct designation as a
"criminologist" my membership of President's commissions and being
called as 'expert witness' to Senate Committees in the United States. A
complete list would be boring and I regret if any omission seems to diminish my
appreciation of the recognition afforded.
Though my research into
crime-related topics was begun in England, official recognition of my work
comes almost exclusively from the United States. Nonetheless my work in the
U.S.A. took place over no more than 15 years and my other overseas contacts
were of far less duration. The rest of my years carrying out research in
crime-related topics (begun in 1955) has been in England. My British academic
awards relate to my early research and statistics. So, perhaps, there is some
possibility that my style of criminology is a different brand from the
classical English form? In the mid-1950s criminology in England and the United
States of America were rather differently orientated disciplines. My work
fitted the latter better than the former.
British Criminology: some historical notes.
The British and US definitions of
criminology have converged over the decades but one has to recognise that the
study of crime or criminals (criminology) derived from different roots in the
two countries. The collection together of various academic areas under the
title "criminology" is of fairly recent origin in Britain. When I
made my first venture into this area of research there were many divisions and
organisations each with different names and somewhat different modes of
operation and concern. All involved in the study of crime related topics but
there was no co-ordinating society or journal. Relevant publications might be
found under all kinds of headings. Departments of philosophy, jurisprudence,
law, psychology and medicine, particularly psychiatry and even cultural
anthropology and perhaps more were involved in some way or another from time to
time with aspects of crime or criminal behaviour but not under the heading of
‘criminology’. As a few examples I may note the Howard League of Penal Reform
with the Howard Journal and Police Court Missions had developed into a very
significant probation service. There was an international "Penitentiary
Fund" and the United Nations had a section called Social Defence. There
was an Institute for the Study and Treatment of Delinquency (matching closely
the USA National Council on Crime and Delinquency). In addition there was a
scholarly interest in Jurisprudence at Oxford and, of course, there had been
notable works by philosophers, among whom the best known is probably Jeremy
Bentham at the University College London. A prison medical officer (Gorer) had
published some very important work which helped to refute some of the arguments
for a "criminal type" which were being put forward by Lombroso of
Italy.
Official British ‘criminology’ was
represented only by three academic appointments in the law departments of the
London School of Economics, Oxford and Cambridge. Criminology today, even in Britain,
would include many of the organisations not using that term a decade or so ago.
Indeed there were many who disputed the validity (and utility) of crime as a
defining characteristic of any discipline. I recall one cynical view which
asserted that when faced with public demand to do something about a social
evil, politicians who could do nothing could at least make it illegal.
Underlying this cynicism is a definition of criminal law as a part of the
machinery of government. This view is not universally agreed. Some take a
rather mystical or metaphysical view of the concept of law and particularly the
concept of "natural law". I prefer an operational definition namely
that the definition of an act as a ‘crime’ (misdemeanour, felony, hybrid, civil
or other) merely indicates the particular machinery of government which will be
concerned. The variety of available legal procedures is small indeed compared
with either the variety of acts which the public deem unacceptable and which,
in the common view are, or ought to be crimes. The variety spawned by offenders
is as great as the variety of any other category of human activity. Indictable
offences (crimes) is not a descriptive category which permits of comparisons
over jurisdictions nor, indeed within jurisdictions over periods of time. Much
statistical data published by the Home Office which refers to
"crimes" was based on "finger printable offences". The lack
of a valid measure of crime for purposes of comparative analysis presents a
major difficulty.
We have, at best, a measure which
describes the qualities of an act by the procedures which will be used to deal
with the actor if and when that actor is identified. But the description of the
act can be based only upon available evidence. At best we can say that the
counts of persons passing various staging posts in the procedures can be used
to provide a labelling which may have some vague resemblance to the layman’s
understanding of crime. That the categories are administratively useful is not,
many would claim, adequate justification for the designation of a field of
academic study. I have argued this at length elsewhere but briefly draw
attention to the issue here to indicate the historical perspective as I was
being swept into research in this field of activity.
In Britain the officially
recognised field of "criminology" was limited to the expertise of
three individuals who initially came to the country as refugees.. Thus
criminological thinking in Britain could not but be influenced by the
continental schools. When I first joined the Home Office, Sir Lionel Fox,
Chairman of the Prison Commission, used to refer to "the three great
British criminologists, Grűnhűt, Mannheim and Radzinowicz" indicating
clearly by accenting their names their European background. The concept of
criminology in England, as in Europe, was anchored firmly within the ambit of
legal studies whereas in the United States emphasis was upon behavioural
research involving both sociological and psychological research and theory and
practical applications to police work. Over time in England academic
criminology began to change, deviating slowly from its continental roots and
even more slowly becoming more broadly based. As some of the newer universities
took up the discipline, criminology began adopting more and more the
behavioural studies perspectives of the United States.
In the mid-1950s there was no
agreed framework for criminology in Britain and the three criminologists held
independent personal academic appointments. There was no learned society nor
journal, though "delinquency" was recognised in the title of the
Institute for the Study and Treatment of Delinquency. There was, indeed, much
discussion among the few committed individuals as to what precisely
‘criminology’ was. The United Nations employed the term "Social
Defence" which had support in France and some other continental countries.
Such word spinning is not of much interest except that it indicates the lack of
a structure which the Home Office might have been able to work with. The
British viewpoints all tended to focus upon individual offenders, whereas in
the U.S.A. the emphasis was upon crime as a social phenomenon. For the same
reason (the focus upon individuals) criminology in Britain sat easily with
psychiatry. The English attitude towards sociology was probably most succinctly
expressed later by a notable Oxford graduate who, it is reported, asserted that
sociology had nothing to study -- there was "no such thing as
'society'". British criminology has only relatively recently come to
realise that the problem of crime cannot be simplified to the problem of the
criminal.
It was not until 1960 that
criminological research in Britain began to broaden its scope and to prosper.
This owed much to the personal attributes of one or two powerful politicians,
in particular R.A. Butler during his term as Home Secretary and Sir George
Benson as Chairman of Public Accounts Committee. Sir George was also chairman
of the Howard League of Penal Reform. The foundation upon which official policy-orientated
crime research was based had its origin in the Statistical Department of the
Home Office, while the continental perspective on criminology fitted well into
the existing departments of law at the three major English universities. It is
important to keep in mind the different roots of criminology in the U.S.A and
the European and related UK schools. While this is important for the reader to
see the significance of the next few months in my career path, I knew nothing
of it and for most others the distinction was unrecognised! I certainly did not
recognise it until much later. While I knew that criminology was not the same
as police work, I had no idea of the variety of interests involved with crime
and criminals. Things were to be rather different from that which I had
anticipated.
Britain Begins to Recognise Criminology
During my term of office in the
Applications Section the Home Office began to consider the potential for an
in-house research commitment. The appointee to the newly created position of
"statistician" was, in fact, an actuary. While actuaries are
mathematically competent and a related discipline to that of statistics their
work does not include certain statistical techniques notably those of research
design. The emphasis is upon life expectancy and valuations of risks and
investment. It is true that social statistics was not a developed field in the
UK at this time, and the appointment of an actuary does not suggest that
research into crime was a major consideration in setting up the research
element. This will now seem very odd because the Home Office Research Unit has
gained international recognition in both crime prevention and criminology..
As will become clear,
criminological research was begun with considerable caution. The first listed
project of the published output of the Home Office Research Unit was a
commissioned external grant-aided project. It was carried out conjointly by the
Government Social Survey Unit and Dr. Hermann Mannheim of the London School of
Economics. The success of this first venture was followed by the development of
in-house research, beginning with one member of staff being named as a research
officer. Significantly, I think, this appointment was in the already existing
statistics department, but under the control of "C" (crime
policy/law) Division. This modest (I will not say trivial) start provided a
potential which, when the climate was propitious could serve as a seed, indeed
this was the inauspicious launch of the Home Office Research Unit. When Home
Secretary Butler wanted to put out a White Paper on Penal Reform this small research
interest was able to contribute to its drafting. The operational definition of
criminology was slowly changing.
Soon criminology was to be
officially recognised in Britain and the British Criminological Society was
founded -- but still within the European (individual offender-orientated)
tradition. Criminal law practice already had an uneasy association with
psychiatry (mens rea issues) and this is consistent in that
individual cases are the common subject of study. It was many years before
British criminology embraced with any enthusiasm sociology, politics, economics
and other disciplines.
My difficulty with describing
myself as a criminologist is multifaceted. Obviously, because of what has
happened to me I was and am now a proper criminologist as so defined in the
U.S.A., but in the UK perhaps not, or not unanimously. This is an
oversimplification, of course, but it may suffice (in view of what follows) to
explain why I still do not know whether, if I could choose, I would wish to be
identified as a criminologist. But I cannot choose. I accepted the honours (and
salaries) which went with that image and I just have to accept the label. It is
not surprising that the layman has difficulty in identifying what criminology
is; criminologists have the same problem. But under various labels some good
research is now being produced.
Towards an Involvement with Crime.
Leaving aside many events which
subsequently have seemed to be of less significance I will try to give the main
drift which not only had an impact upon me personally, but upon the direction
of British criminology (and, so I have been told, criminology in America). Of
course, I knew nothing of this at the time. But with that background let us put
the clock back to when I was a senior research officer at the Social Survey
undertaking various projects on behalf of sundry governmental departments. I
return now to the point in my narrative where I noted the filling of the new
post of an in-house "statistician". at the Home Office. For sundry
reasons which I do not think it necessary to seek to specify, I thought that it
might be a good idea to get acquainted with the Home Office
"statistician" and to introduce him to social statistics of a rather
different and broader coverage than aspects of insurance. The appointee was Tom
Lodge. I thought such an introduction might well be effected at a meeting of
the Section which we would supplement with our usual later deliberations in the
Savoy Tavern.
In the light of subsequent events I
cannot overemphasise the routine or even trivial nature of the actions which
began it all. I had no ambitions in criminology, The Home Office's wide range
of responsibilities represented a related wide range of possible interesting
research commissions, and I saw no reason why I should not assist the Survey to
get business as well as perhaps land some interesting work for myself. While as
I have noted, the new appointment did not indicate any emphasis upon research
into crime or criminals (academic criminology was not a numerical-based study)
research potential in the department was not restricted to matters concerning
crime or criminals and it seemed likely that criminological research might have
some political appeal. It might appeal particularly to Sir George. His interest
in liberal aspects of the treatment of offenders seemed worthy of
encouragement.
I do not know how I 'felt' at the
time, nor now assess my motivation. In addition to 'selling' the Survey's
research services, I might have been getting ambitious and mildly interested in
reassignment within the civil service to a policy-making department. It was
coming up to ten years since I had joined the Social Survey and getting to be
time for a promotion which was barred by budget. I saw myself as a statistician
and looked for promotion from the Research Class (with its parity with the
Executive Class) to the main Statistician Class with parity with the
Administrative Class and membership of the First Division Association.
The Home Office, sometimes also
called The Home Department was responsible for all categories of state business
which did not have their own department. It did not cover foreign affairs, the
military, education or health, nor matters within the ambit of the Board of
Trade or transport. It was in charge of the residual of home matters which were
left unallocated to specialist departments or ministries. It was, therefore,
organised into 'divisions' which covered such issues as Fire, Police, Crime
policy (including the drafting of new criminal legislation), Probation, Royal
Household, Licensing, Elections, Civil Defence, and the state-owned brewery,
distillery and the pubs in the Carlisle Scheme; it had close association with
the Prison Commissioners, who during the latter part of my term of office were
abolished and the responsibility taken by a Prisons' Division
I now return to the sequence of
events, the setting of which the reader is now familiar. It is 1953/4, I am
Chairman of the RSS Study Section; an actuary has been appointed to a statistician
post in the Home Office; the Survey is in the good books of the Chairman of
Public Accounts Committee. I think it must have seemed to me likely to be of
general interest to Section members to invite a speaker on crime statistics
from the academic world together with the new appointee and Sir George Benson.
There was a criminologist with a
Readership at Oxford (one of the three great British criminologists). He was
Max Grűnhűt who had published papers on crime data and seemed to me to have the
best grasp of criminal statistics. He was invited to present a paper to the
Applications Section, and agreed to do so. I invited the newly appointed Tom
Lodge and Sir George to the meeting and afterwards to the Savoy Tavern.
Grűnhűt mentioned the attempts to
'predict' likely criminal behaviour by Sheldon and Eleanor Glueck at Harvard
Law School. Unfortunately he had to leave before we got down to any serious
business at the hostelry. In the bar, Benson expressed an interest in this part
of the paper and asked about the methods as they related to the Medals
forecast. In particular he asked whether I thought that the 'prediction' work
of the Gluecks could be replicated in this country. We discussed the
possibility in general terms. I did not see the estimation of demand for medals
(or fuel, or hearing aids &c) as 'prediction'. I tried to explain but since
I was not familiar with the Gluecks work it was difficult to comment at the
time. I certainly did not consider myself to be in the 'prediction' field which
suggested lack of rigour. Sir George, however, saw much similarity. He had
received a review copy of "500 Criminal Careers" by Sheldon and
Eleanor Glueck and it was agreed that I would study this publication and report
back to Sir George in the Commons within a week or so.
I was not impressed with the
Gluecks' statistical methodology. While it seemed to work, it was certainly
lacking in rigour, and I could not verify some of their tests of significance
or Chi-square values. I did, however, extract some suspicious data and write to
them asking for an explanation. I was informed that the basic data were no
longer available. To indicate my views of their work without becoming too
technical I will reproduce a poem I wrote some years later when I was asked by
the editor of the Howard Journal to review a follow-on book by the Gluecks. I
at first refused because if I juxtaposed my assessment of their methods with
the acknowledgement that nonetheless they seemed to work, it might seem that I
was accusing them of dishonesty. So, my sense of humour seized me and I wrote a
review in limerick form in the expectation that the editor might enjoy it and
perhaps pass it around the office for amusement only. I was surprised when the
Howard Journal published what must be a rare example of doggerel published in a
refereed journal. Here it is: -
Please
sing to (and in) tune of "That was a cute little rhyme"
Prediction
of crime by the Gluecks,
Reported
in several buecks
Is
summarised here,
In
typography clear,
Are the
tables of use to the Cruecks?
CHORUS That was a cute little rhyme
Sing
us another one do.
Statistical
tables should tell,
Precisely,
and clearly as well,
What use
can be made
Of the
data arrayed,
If the
book is expected to sell
CHORUS
If
adding a five-factor score,
Correctly
assigns less, and not more,
To right
categories,
Without
any squeeze
Than one
of the five, why use more?
CHORUS
In
'jug', or as some say, 'the pen',
The
optimal number of men,
Is one
in a cell,
But what
can one tell
From the
size of some of their (n)?
CHORUS
They say
that their use by a court,
Would
indicate just how they ought,
To
dispose of a case,
To a
suitable place,
Least
likely again to get caught.
CHORUS
This
book is commended to those
Who have
studied prediction, in prose,
Who know
of the uses,
And all
the abuses
Of
columns as well as of rows.
CHORUS
(signed "ILKWY
HO") circa 1956
(I do not think that many who knew
me had difficulty in identifying the scrambled "Wilkie Home Office"
encoded in the signature!)
If this seems unkind, I think I may
say that later events justified whatever sting it had. In the late 1970s the
Gluecks 'found' the 'unavailable' data and made it available to John Laub and
others who commended their work highly! In the intervening years I found an
explanation of why their methods worked reasonably well, despite their
statistical naivety. It has to do with the quality of the data and matters of
noise and redundancy and error.
I was much more circumspect in my
report to Benson. I wrote a somewhat detailed report and despatched it to the
Commons. I had criticised the Glueck methods of scaling potential risk (by
adding percentages!) and suggested that it would be better to use the
discriminant function which had been demonstrated to be extremely powerful in
sorting archaeological finds and similar problems.
We duly met for tea. Sir George was
forthright. "If I understand your report correctly you think it is
possible to predict potential recidivism and what's more you know a better way
than they did?" Tea ended with him saying, in effect, that he believed
that I could carry out a study which would be similar in effect to the work of
'prediction' -- the Gluecks' term for estimation of prior probabilities.
However he was concerned that because I was neither a lawyer nor a
criminologist, my work would not 'sell' to the audience he had in mind. He
asked whether I would be prepared to work with a criminologist. I had no
problems, and Sir George said that he would approach Hermann Mannheim of L.S.E.
(one of the three 'great British criminologists'). Mannheim agreed. We met to
discuss in his office in the School. As we entered the elevator Maurice
Kendall, who held the chair in statistics also came in. Before we reached the
5th floor it was clear that these two academics did not know each other -- I
introduced them there and then. (This must be a comment on something either
about academia or the disciplines concerned!).
Benson was able to get provisional
approval for the expenditure of about a thousand pounds which would be used in
the work which I would carry out at the Social Survey. But before I felt
qualified to start this project I needed to become much more informed about the
field. The necessary time had to come from my own leisure because no money
could be released until work had begun. (A catch predating the famous
Catch-22). I took intensive lessons from Mannheim. Mannheim knew his
literature, particularly that from the Continent, but he also was well-informed
on work in the United States. While he knew what the authors had said, he was
never willing to make an evaluative statement, at least, not within my hearing.
"A says that ... while B says ..." was as far as he would go. But he was
a walking encyclopedia! He gave me many useful references to 'prediction' in
criminology and wrote the first two chapters in the publication of the final
work. Statistically the field was primitive. I was, however, able to deduce the
objectives and gain some knowledge of possible constraints.
Most, if not all work on the topic
of ‘criminological prediction’ had been in the United States in relation to the
granting of parole. Estimates of the likelihood of recidivism were, apparently,
generally acceptable as valid considerations in decisions by Parole Boards
before releasing an offender to spend the remainder of his term in the
community. There was, of course, an underpinning of 'treatment theory' in this
view in that if the risk was high, the individual needed more time in the
prison where he was not only secure but able to 'get help'. I was not too
convinced of this line of reasoning, but I did not then consider it within my
range of expertise. I could deal with the estimation of probabilities which were
independent of any use to which they might be put.
There was no parole system in
Britain and only "good conduct remission" was permitted. however, an
exception was made with youthful offenders who could be sent for 'Borstal
Training'. When sentenced to Borstal a period of detention was not specified
but could be as short as 9 months or as long as 3 years depending upon
decisions made during the time being served. Detention was in two kinds of
young offenders' institutions, one 'open' and the other 'closed'. Over-all the
institutions 50% were usually reconvicted within three years of release. There
was a similarity with the U.S. parole systems in that the 'unexpired period' on
release from the institution was spent on 'aftercare'. Aftercare was usually provided
by probation officers. The 50% pass/fail cut was, of course, most useful in
that it provided the greatest statistical discriminant power.
It seemed that in addition to my
own necessary familiarisation I should do some public relations work; making a
few moves to gain acceptance among criminologists and those concerned with the
justice system. It would, I thought, be useful if I spent some time actually in
a Borstal and meeting both staff and inmates in their habitat. So I spent some
days in Pollington, Latchmere House, and Oxford. While I could not think that
these experiences would improve the quality of my research, it seemed essential
to its marketing. When I was working in Folland Aircraft and concerned with
modifications I found it most useful to crawl around inside the fuselage and
see how the two-d drawings looked in 3-d metal. I avoided quite a few mistakes
by this strategy and I also gained some popularity with foremen and
charge-hands. Similarly I made it a rule to do at least one day's field
interviewing on every survey I directed. This had one clear utility; if
supervisors said that a particular question could not be asked, I could say
that it could because I had done it. Or put another way, I thought that it was
unfair to expect field staff to do anything I was not prepared to do myself.
There was an attendant benefit in
my decision to spend time in penal establishments. I was still a Research Grade
in the Social Survey -- not a member at this time of the Home Office establishment
and hence had not been subject to full security clearance. Before I could enter
a prison or Borstal I had to be approved by the Prison Commissioners (it was
not until later that the Commission was abolished and the activities
incorporated into the Home Office). There were certain advantages in still
being something of an outsider at this stage of the project. I was independent
of the internal hierarchy. I got to know the Chairman of the Commission, Sir
Lionel Fox, on a personal basis. He was seen by prison staff as dour and seemed
to inspire awe in all ranks up to and including governors, nonetheless he was
greatly respected. He did not waste words. He was one of a very few living
V.C.s and he was entitled to many other honours which appeared on official
documents appended to his name. He invited me to discuss the proposed research
at his home. He had a penthouse in a fashionable part of London. Other
residents on lower floors had their name plates in full: "Admiral Sir ...
(but no VC!) ..." and so on. The top floor apartment was occupied by
"Fox". Once in his home he was, in fact, as easy to relate to as a
very human single syllable -- 'Fox'. I liked this change of image coincident
with the change from work to non-work. I liked the way he left the trappings of
office at Whitehall and I tried to emulate this principle of separation of
roles.
In addition to my contacts with the
Prison Commissioners, I gained a remote association with the Howard League
through the Chairman, the same Sir George Benson. This, in turn, was
instrumental in my being privileged to meet the renowned philanthropist,
Marjorie Fry, in hospital shortly before she died. She was pleased to hear of
the Home Office's recent commitment to research and the Borstal project. Before
I departed she asked me to think about the possibility of compensation to
victims of crimes of violence. And that is another story which I must tell
later (see p. 103).
But to get on with the Borstal
story. Only one humorous situation comes to mind in relation to this project.
But humour and research are close cousins, so I will tell it. Mannheim was a
pleasant personality, but he was almost the stereotypical German. He spoke
English with a heavy accent, and was extremely widely read in several
languages. In Germany, before he became a refugee, he had been a judge. This
fact also spoke to his being somewhat 'sober'. I tried explaining the
statistical (not actuarial!) methods I proposed to work with in my approach to
'prediction', a word which I still resisted using, insisting that we were
estimating probabilities or basic risk, not predicting anybody's behaviour. He
seemed to have some idea of the 'Philosophy of As If' which, in any event, was
due to the German philosopher Vaighinger.
I tried to point out that it was
the model which was the important thing. The subject matter was not of
overriding importance -- once one had 'got into' the model. In order to
illustrate this point I told him that the Borstal problem could be modelled in
a way similar to that which I had modelled a problem of the quality and
acceptability of kippers. Put simply it is that the final criteria in both
Borstal training and kippering is the acceptability of the product by the
public. In both cases we have as our sample individuals who exhibit large
biological variation; (no two herring/Borstal lads are exactly alike). The
processing is largely uncontrolled and 'traditional' rather than technological
and hence we might expect variation due to a number of factors which we must
try to identify. With kippers these included the age of the herring, how long
after being landed before it was frozen, how long it was in the smoke kiln,
features of the kiln, and so on and finally, how it came about that it was then
a 'kipper' rather than a herring. But 'aftercare' (how stored and cooked) was
also important in determining the quality of the product. A more superficial
similarity was irreverently suggested to me: both have been caught and become
browned off, two-faced, gutless, specimens... Mannheim approved of neither
analogy!
To obtain the data base for the
appropriate matrices we (i.e. the Social Survey) employed selected members of
the field interviewers. They were given one day’s intensive training and then
had the task of "interviewing" the files. I need not go into any more
detail about this study because it is published by H.M.S.O. Titled
"Prediction Methods in Relation to Borstal Training".
The publication in 1955 was
extremely well received on both sides of the Atlantic. Baroness (Barbara) Wootton
was good enough to reveal, with appropriate subtlety, that Hermann had provided
the historical and legal background in the first two chapters, and that the
remainder was clearly the work of the 'second author'. I had been able to make
use of the discriminant function and it had worked remarkably well.
Though the Home Office continues to
list the Borstal research as the first project of its Research Unit, it was, in
fact, completed while I was still at the Social Survey. True the Home Office
put up some of the money and approved of the Survey's participation. In fact I
completed one further project before moving to the Home Office. I had no time
to complete the write-up which was passed to Chris Scott. This was a study of
the information-search strategies of scientists in the larger research
establishments. I remember that scientists not only read more scientific
publications, but also more non-science and art subjects (particularly music)
than did managerial staff of the same status! But that was not what the inquiry
was set up to find!
Collateral events with the Survey years
The spotlight of my story has been
focussed on my work and work related environments. The impact of the work
situation upon the home life is not my theme. If it were it would demand skills
of insight which I do not possess. However, there are somewhat special reasons
for noting some aspects of the background to the work. With some occupations it
may be easy to 'stop work'. but when the work demands concentrated thinking, it
is difficult. Thus, when if I say something about the off-duty hours, this
represents no clean break. Physically one may be off-work but if there is an
interesting problem, it will occupy thought even while one is feeding a
recalcitrant infant. I cannot, however, recall anything in my home life which
impeded my scientific activity, whether in teaching, learned societies, or
work. Obviously I had great support and understanding in all these matters.
Many of my friends used to complain that their wives did not 'understand' them
-- I was well understood and helped. My manuscripts were much improved by the
critical reading Barbara gave them whenever she had time to do so.
Some possible effects of residence location.
My first commute was from Hampstead
to Adastral House in Kingsway, a matter of two short 'bus trips. Next we moved
to Harrow and the commute from Harrow to Baker Street (Social Survey) took
about 40 minutes each way. The move to Croxley extended this time to about an
hour (10 - 12 minutes for the walk to the station). Then my transfer to the
Home Office in Whitehall involved the commute from Croxley to Trafalgar Square
station and took 85 minutes at best and could be as much as 2 hours if a
connection was missed. A concomitant factor was that travel at off-peak times
was slow and the trains infrequent making evening visits inconvenient and my
evening meetings at various societies became a problem and I had to be quite
selective.
The interaction of home
accommodation and education of the children probably had some impact on my
work. But at this time interval it is not possible to fit the two 'worlds'
together. They were both accommodated. Without doubt the long leaves and the
fact that I could largely determine when I was on or off duty facilitated the
interface. But to return to the work story.
CHAPTER
FOUR: HOME OFFICE DAYS
At this point I would like to
suggest that the main features of my research career as of this time (end
Survey; begin Home Office) had been strongly influenced by two projects
(hearing aids, and medals) and their results. In addition to these two, there
was an earlier piece of work in the Royal Air Force days which concerned the
measurement of exposure to risk. Of lesser importance, though not altogether
routine were two other Surveys, namely the demand for solid fuel and adolescent
behaviours. The fuel rationing project was procedurally interesting but did not
involve the addition of new methods to those I had used previously in
forecasting studies. Other projects were mainly routine and are not worth
special note; they are listed in my bibliography. My study of Borstal was
partly Survey and partly Home Office and had its own history. This certainly
changed the topic to which I applied my methodology, but in terms of innovative
research design, as I see it, it was not as significant as the three prior
projects, though its impact was certainly greater.
In common with the Medals study,
Borstal was also a very low budget project. In each case the 'vote' was around
one thousand pounds. Valuable research is not necessarily expensive!.
The main interest was the challenge
to develop new methods and formulate research problems with respect to
political concerns.. I did not want to devote my time to a particular kind of
subject matter. It was the nature of the structure of the research problem
which was attractive. Apart from the use of the discriminant function for mixed
types of data the degree of originality which characterised the Borstal project
was not in its basic design but derived from the orientation towards decision
theory. The former is somewhat technical and I leave that aside, but I would
emphasise now the philosophical aspects of this work. I decided that we had to
focus upon the judge's decision in committing the offender to Borstal and the
information I would use would have to be constrained to be that available at
the time of sentencing. I could not evaluate Borstal training independently of
the judicial decision to award that disposal. The criterion was then the
outcome as defined by further proven crimes at set times after release -- when
the lad was free to commit further offences. Whether he was or was not on
aftercare at the time was irrelevant. The objective was to provide judges with
an indication of the likely successful outcome should they decide to send a
particular client to Borstal, where this decision was based on information they
would be able to elicit at the time of sentence, and, then by making the most
effective use of that information.
My design was rejected by many social
workers because I accepted 'the opinion of the judge' as the condition for
inclusion in my sample. It was represented that some lads might fail because
they were not suited to the treatment, and that it was unfair to be critical of
Borstal Training on the basis of these kinds of data. My views on the at risk
requirement was also questioned. It was argued that the full treatment was for
three years and included the period which was spent on aftercare, so a
reconviction while on aftercare in the community was not a failure of the
treatment, because it had not been completed. If I was to evaluate Borstal, I
should base my evaluation only on those cases who had completed the whole
package. It was difficult to persuade many that I was not concerned to evaluate
'treatment' but I was interested in the outcome of a decision. The sentence was
the most important feature (ask the accused!) and it made no difference to the
offender if his social worker thought he was not suited -- it was the judge's
decision that was the correct determinant of the sampling frame. Later
decisions might be made and these might be separately considered. In fact on
sentence the offenders went first to a Classification Centre (Latchmere House)
where they underwent various tests and were allocated to a selected Borstal.
With these considerations the project was becoming rather more than the routine
assignment I had at first envisaged!
Criminology begins to become
of interest.
The writing up of the project
became more than a normal survey reporting task. Unfortunately the contract had
been agreed in the terms in which I first assessed the amount of work. So a
fair number of out-of-office hours were required to produce something worth
while. The Home Office decided that the report was of sufficient standing to
have it published as a book by HMSO. Sir George was very pleased with the study
and the attention it received in the professional journals. He encouraged me to
think about joining the Home Office statistical division. I was willing to consider
this and applied for re-certification as a member of the statistician class.
This was a promotion, statisticians having parity with the administrative class
while research officers had parity with the executive class. I had to pass the
appropriate examination of the Civil Service Selection Board. My pass
certificate was signed by Lord Beveridge and Professor Allen. Reclassification
was followed by appointment to the Home Office as statistician with special
responsibility for research. I did not foresee that this change of location
would result in much change in my kind of activity. The remit of the Home
Office was wide enough. The promotion and change did, however, mean that I had
added an hour's travel each day to my commute time.
The new appointment entailed moving
to an office on the top floor of the Home Office H.Q. building in Whitehall,
facing and looking down on to the Cenotaph. If I had been interested in Royal
and other parades, this would have been a great bonus. My office was in the
Victorian architectural style. The floor had probably been divided because my
lighting came from a fanlight and a half moon (well last quarter) window at
floor level. Heating was by means of an open fire tended by 'messengers'.
Because it was possible that I would be away from the office on business or
leave for unspecified periods, this was not lit for me. It was laid with paper,
wood and coke and I had to provide the matches and light it. This, of course,
did not raise the temperature for at least an hour, and encouraged resort to
the canteen for morning coffee while things got going.
As I came to see it later (after my
visit to California) the building was, in parts, ridiculously opulent (the
Minister's office and the immediate area around it), while the remainder was
reminiscent of the typical 'servants quarters' of its period. Little had been
done to modernise. Only the exterior of the building now exists, so I will give
a little more flavour of the setting. The entrance was pomposity petrified in
marble and stone, adorned by a uniformed 'messenger', a police officer and a
Manx cat. The cat had been a ceremonial gift to a Minister of State (Home
Secretary) some unspecified time in the past. It gave the entrance a more
welcoming dimension and provided a diversion for those left waiting there for
an audience 'upstairs'. Privileged news reporters could get as far as this
entrance and the cat became notorious. (Perhaps I should say 'newsworthy'
rather than 'notorious', but I don't like cats). Contact with reporters was, of
course, banned for all Home Office personnel except those in the Public
Relations office. Rarely were reporters permitted into the building. I did not
find any of this secrecy at all odd at the time.
History was enacted daily when the
despatches to the Palace were collected by a sort of Hansom Cab, drawn by two
horses. It was some years later that I realised that I had not only accepted
this ritual and other status-conferring symbols (even the size of my office
carpet!), but had 'internalised' them. This state of mind was to prove to be
some embarrassment when I was being 'received' at a White House meeting with
Bob Kennedy on being attached to the Crime Commission, and even then it was the
American openness which seemed out of place. But the White House story will be
discussed in its chronological place.
Having mentioned carpets, it may
not be known that each rank in the civil service has an entitlement to
specified square feet of space, and various furniture, including a carpet which
at the top of the scale is wall-to-wall, and at the lower end a foot mat under
the desk. I was not bothered about the carpet and certainly the absence of a
hat rack did not get me worried. However, in the unit we had a Senior Executive
Officer who had been posted to us from Royal Household division. He was Stanley
Klein. He insisted that I should have my entitlements.
One afternoon, returning somewhat
earlier than usual from lunch, I found Stanley standing on his head on the
carpet he had engineered for me. When I expressed some surprise because he was
no lightweight his comment was typical "Why do you think I organised a
full-size carpet for you?" Stan and I enjoyed each other's approach to
pomposity! He taught me a number of useful things. One of these experiences was
a meeting with an expert safecracker who claimed to be reformed . Stan made
arrangements but would not be seen with this person himself. I took my contact
to a Soho pub. He was very upset when three young characters entered and he
insisted that we immediately find another place. He knew them. They had,
apparently just been discharged. He would not be seen with them. "Why
not?" I asked. "That's the London airport lot; they got rough".
To him, crime needed only skill and roughness (violence or threats) revealed
lack of finesse. It may be that this status is now taken over by computer
fraudsters.
The Home Office was given authority
to spend funds "in the conduct of research into the causes of delinquency
and the treatment of offenders, and matters connected therewith" in the
Criminal Justice Act of 1948 (Sec: 77 (1)(b). Limited support had been given to
a few projects prior to the establishment of a research position, but if there
had been any in-house research prior to 1955 none appear in the public record.
When I first took up my post the Research Unit had not yet been started. I had
one shared research assistant. It was not until R.A. Butler became Home
Secretary that research had a favourable climate for growth. The first two
added staff included a statistician and a psychologist -- the former
transferred from the War Office and the latter from the Ministry of Health.
From then on the Unit continued to grow. Now (1999) there are more than forty
research staff involved and the unit has subdivided.
The First Invitation to the United States.
I had been at the Home Office for
just over a year when a letter arrived 'out of the blue'. It was an invitation
to take an appointment with the Department of Corrections and the Youth
Authority of California to set up and manage a research department in
association with their statistical services department. It was very attractive
and also very mysterious. Why should I be made such an offer? Who could
possibly know of my work well enough to give an open contract of this kind? It
was many years before I found out how this happened.
I was reluctant to leave the
country and the Home Office research unit was at a critical stage of
development. It would also have been very disrupting for the family and
particularly disturbing to the children's education if they were to come with
me and later return to try to pick up their studies. Any major interruption,
particularly of Arnold's educational plan at Watford Grammar would have serious
consequences at this time. When he had his "O"-levels there would be
greater room for manoeuvre. It was also unreasonable for me to consider
committing myself to a permanent change of country until I knew more about the
situation there. Some academics who had visited, advised me against considering
a long time commitment. I approached the Establishment Division with a request
for sabbatical leave and at the same time inquired of Sacramento whether an
initial period of three months would be helpful during which I could pass on my
experience with the British in-house research unit and 'prediction'
methodology.. The Home Office were not particularly helpful, but we negotiated
unpaid leave for three months. California agreed.
So I went on my own. I was met in
New York by Doug Grant who waited patiently for two hours while I underwent a
special search. Customs' scanners had picked up 'something nasty' in either my
luggage or other bags on the trolley as it passed through their check point. It
proved to be the radioactivity of a 'marching compass' -- a wartime surplus I
had packed.
Simple when you know! Doug Grant
took me via sundry visits to Sacramento, meeting among others on the way, Tim
Leary at Harvard who was still highly respected though experimenting with
simulating schizophrenia with LSD. Thence to Michigan and a meeting with Hans
Toch (remember that name, he will appear in an important role later).
In Sacramento I was introduced to
the staff of the embryonic research team, including Don Gottfredson and Jack
Bond. Don was a numerate psychologist and he was selected to work with me and
develop prediction methods for the California system. Don agreed with me that
the term 'prediction' which had been attached to the estimation of
probabilities of reconviction was not really appropriate and proposed
"Base Expectancy Tables". This term was adopted and gained popular
acceptance.
Don was to feature very much in my
life in later years. But it was some years before we met again. This visit had
a clear link with the circumstances which led directly to my eventually making
the United States my 'academic home'. Let us say a temporary goodbye to Don.
But before I leave my story of the first visit to the U.S. and Sacramento there
is an interesting experience to tell with Jack Bond. Jack was 'into' sports
cars and very proud of his Porche. He offered to take me up to Yosemite for a
weekend visit. The roads to the mountains were not then (1956) as developed as
now and I thought that the experience would be scaring. He certainly drove
fast. After about 2 hours driving, he remarked, "That was sloppy. Let's
stop for a coffee break". I asked what he meant. His reply, "I
clipped a center line on that bend". Driving was not, in California, seen
as something one learns after leaving school, but is packaged with school
learning. It is taught as a skill not a sport. It is not fun to get away with a
risky manoeuvre. I found that attitude towards driving most commendable.
I was impressed also with much of
the criminological research going on in California at that time. When I
returned to the Home Office I wrote a lengthy report on this. It did not make
any impression; well, not a 'good impression'. Crime research had not got much
of a head-of-steam at that time, and it was not going to be imported from
America !
Scope of research at Home Office
While it was the study of Borstal
training which was responsible for my move to the Home Office, the remit of the
research statistician was not restricted to crime, prisons or even related
issues. The Home Department it will be remembered, dealt with all government
business which was not specifically assigned to other departments, among which
was the "Carlisle Scheme". When I included this within my earlier
list of Home Office responsibilities I did not explain what it was. It might
have been somewhat irrelevant at that time; but since it does not now exist and
was the sector where my first project in the Home Office was directed I should,
perhaps explain.
The Carlisle Scheme defined a
geographic area where the alcoholic beverages trade was under direct state
control and administered by the Home Office. There are two different stories
which claim to explain why the "drink industry" (pubs, hotels,
breweries and distilleries) were nationalised in the north-western border
country centring around Carlisle in England and Gretna Green in Scotland. One
version is that it was a concession to the total abstinence movement which was
particularly strong in nonconformist churches. This lacks credibility because
it was in Wales that this movement was strongest. But here local option schemes
were implemented, meaning that local authorities could ban the sale of
alcoholic drinks at their discretion.
The other view is that the
nationalisation was much more utilitarian. It was put into effect in 1914, that
is at the start of the first World War. The Carlisle/Gretna Green area was one
of the main locations for the production of arms, and the factories were
largely staffed with Irish labourers who it is asserted, are heavy drinkers.
This was not necessarily bad so long as it did not effect production of war
goods. But it is asserted that drunken habits persisted and production was not
secure. (I was told, but did not believe, that the bullets were being put into
the shells backwards!). Total prohibition (as in the United States) was not
approved and the control afforded by government ownership and management was
the option chosen. Perhaps there was also some thought that it was a profitable
trade? If this were a history treatise I would find out which, if either, story
is supported by documentation. From my point of view the reason for the origin
was irrelevant and remains so.
My concern is only that in 1956 no
one had got around to denationalising this local industry. Whether the scheme
had a different name in Scotland I did not find out; it was probably unnamed.
Some Civil-servant Publicans "Live it
up".
An early, if not the first in-house
research project commissioned by executive departments of the Home Office was a
study of the operations of this nationalised complex. Shortly before I arrived
on duty in Whitehall, there had been complaints from residents in Carlisle that
the civil-servant pub managers had life styles which could not be sustained on
their salaries. A new Jaguar each year, was one feature noted for one manager.
Serving drinks in bars is an
opportunity for all kinds of dishonesty which are difficult to identify. For
example, drinkers of beer prefer to see some froth on top (known in the trade
as 'the collar'). Glasses were designed to hold exactly half or full pints, and
froth was not as dense as liquid, thus the customer did not get a full pint in
the pint glass. Furthermore beer barrels, being then wooden, tended to shrink
with age. When they had shrunk such that they could not hold their full
complement, they had to be discarded. Thus, the barrels as received by the
publican held more than the nominal amount of beer delivered. (The sizes of
glasses and barrels are determined and controlled by the Weights and Measures
authority). There was, then, a margin (known as the 'natural surplus') which
was due to tolerance in the barrels and the size of the collar. Managers were
not entitled to pocket the proceeds arising from either their delivery of short
measure nor the delivery to them of surplus due to 'tolerances'. They were
classified as industrial grade civil servants and paid the negotiated salaries.
The problem was to find out whether
any managers were siphoning off for their personal use any major part of the
profit derived from the 'surplus'.
This seemed to me to be a good
opportunity to use 'prediction methods' in a very different field. If we could
derive an equation which fitted the profit figure to sales patterns or other
features of the various outlets we could look closely at those individuals who
were 'outliers'. The research design was almost identical with that used to
pick out interviewers who were suspected of failing to interview all of their
assignment correctly. If we could identify the 'outliers' from our equations (a
sort of quality control) the Home Office could make further inquiries and
perhaps reprimand those who seemed to be filtering off the surplus, but on
grounds of 'inefficiency' rather than dishonesty. (Note: the equations did not
separate loss due to spillage and 'surplus'; inefficiency and sloppineess had
the same characteristics as dishonesty.
The standard accounting system
could not be used to convict of fraud or theft or any other criminal offence
because the managers were careful enough to return cash to meet the nominal
contents of barrels delivered and the sales made. Probability would not stand
up to 'beyond reasonable doubt' as a court might decide.
Obtaining data for the model was
fun. Obviously I had to visit the scenes of these possible 'crimes'. We had to
'pull' pints (well half-pints) to see what the average 'head' or collar
accounted for in fluid measure. We had to estimate legitimate spillage in
pouring under busy and relaxed condition. We obtained a good fit to an
equation. As a technical aside I might add that it included a term which was
identified as a 'suppresser' (a negative sign was required to be given to the
sales of spirits). This did not seem reasonable to anyone unfamiliar with
regression analysis. How could profit increase while the amount of spirits
decreased, and conversely? Accountants and lawyers could not appreciate the
mathematical basis for this. It was, of course, due to the different 'patterns
of trade' in the different outlets. Pubs in areas where beer sales were more
popular than spirits sales were more likely to have a 'working class' trade,
whereas the hostelries in the fishing and hunting areas sold less beer
proportionally to wines and spirits. The equations took this into account.
Explaining precisely how this was arranged to persons whose knowledge of
mathematics was limited to adding and subtracting and perhaps the percentages
of a balance sheet was almost impossible. I will not try again now!
Never mind! We merely identified
the most likely managers to be siphoning off profits by not putting the
'surplus' in the cash register and the Metropolitan Police were able to do the rest
by collecting the kind of evidence needed. As one might expect, the worst case
was too greedy and was not content with diverting the 'natural surplus' money,
he also employed a fictitious barmaid! The Trades' Union defended the accused
and once again the story of my research was reflected in Hansard by 'questions
in the House'. Some of the Members had some fun by calling the write-up
"The Froth Report".
Another project concerning fire
cover underlined the fact that, at this time, the Home Office Research Unit had
a remit with respect to all of the functions of the department (not merely
crime and punishment issues). Turntable ladders were designed to operate with a
five-person crew. However the drill could accommodate a situation with one
person short, but this equipment would be inoperable if two persons were
missing. This was statistically an interesting point. The probability of 'no
show' (sickness &c) was, of course, a continuous variable, but the
resulting availability of the equipment was discrete. From the administrative
viewpoint the interest derived from the fact that the case involved the Fire
Brigades' Union under the control of a recognised communist named Horner.
Suffice it to say that I was present at some interesting meetings during
negotiations with Sir Charles Newsome (head of the Home Office) in the chair.
Horner's speechmaking was more developed for public performances than technical
detailed roundtable negotiating: he was far happier on his feet than seated.
This point had, apparently, not escaped the notice of Newsome who very politely
insisted that Horner, as everybody else, should address the negotiating
sessions from a seated position. Sitting down to speak was for Horner like
boxing with one hand tied behind his back. Top civil servants may have
difficulties with the philosophy of probability, but otherwise they are smart.
Policy (or is it politics?) and Research
Conflict.
It takes some time before reviews
appear in the learned journals. While the initial reception of the Borstal
study had been positive, it was the later reviewers in the serious journals and
particularly in the 'learned journals' in the field in the United States which
made the major impact. The next project to come my way was also one which was
undertaken because it was requested by the policy department. The department
correctly saw the Senior Approved Schools as a somewhat similar 'correctional
facility' to the Borstal system. Senior Approved Schools were residential penal
establishments very similar to Borstals but were used for the detention of
slightly younger age groups. While Borstal training was carried out in two
distinct types of institutions -- open and closed -- the Senior Approved
Schools were all 'open'.
The results of the Borstal study
did not indicate any specific action. It provided decision makers with a risk
assessment, but no more. One finding could be read to mean that open treatment
was better than closed for the better risks, and the fact that risk could be
expressed numerically could (in my view!) have been helpful to Allocation
Centre procedures. It was true that the allocation procedures resulted in more
of the relatively good risks going to open institutions than would occur from a
random allocation, but 'risk' as measured by my equations, did not explain much
of the differential. Whether the relatively good risks allocated to closed
institutions had other characteristics which explained the decisions was not
explored. The 'numbers' (probability/risk measures) were not trusted! The
research results, provisional as they were, might have had more meaning if they
had been taken in relation to replications of the methods and analyses at a
later date. It could then be assessed as to whether the input had similar,
higher or lower risk features and any unstable factors could have been replaced
or eliminated from the equations. Unfortunately the publication, resulting
reviews, and the impact on the future collection and recording of information
in case papers was not investigated. Replications were deemed to be
unnecessary. However, a study by Roger Hood (now at Oxford) showed how
necessary replication was, but his work was never integrated into Home Office
policy. (The weights did indeed need updating).
Many years later there was a
considerable drop in the success rate for Borstal Training and political moves
were made to close down the system because it was failing. A few persons raised
the possibility that the better risks might have been diverted or that, for
other reasons, the individuals being sent to Borstal were less suitable.. Put
in more rigorous terms, the expected failure rate, given the prior
probabilities, might not have deteriorated at all. Indeed the reduction in the
success rate for Borstal might have been a consequence of applications of the
risk factors identified in the initial research because it identified those
whose prior probability of success was good and they may have been seen as '"not
requiring Borstal Treatment". But I was then in the United States and I
doubt that the sums were done, in any event, Borstal was abolished in favour of
Young Offenders Prisons. It seems that even social research has possible
undesirable side-effects.
Rather than agree to further
research into Borstal, the administration suggested that the same methods might
be applied to Senior Approved Schools. This was done but the results were so
unpopular that no publication has ever been released. I objected to the
censorship but I did not have sufficiently strong ground. I will not suggest
sabotage, but merely report the facts. Immediately prior to the arrival of my
research assistants to extract data from files at one sampled institution there
had been a fire which had destroyed (if nothing else) the sample of case papers
from this place. I could not, therefore, claim that the sample was
representative! I do not think that the absence of this small subset of cases
prejudiced the findings in any way, and the prediction equations were as
powerful as for Borstal. There was, however, one very inconvenient finding,
which probably was irrelevant, but certainly interesting. It was that it seemed
to be adequately demonstrated (by use of these equations) that if relatively
good boys are sent to Approved Schools, they ended up worse than 'expected'.
The 'expectation' was the calculated risk of recidivism. My theory, and I still
think this is true, was that there is contagion in penal institutions.
Obviously this finding was politically embarrassing. I remain convinced that
was the sole reason for withholding consent to publish the findings. Of course,
it was pointed out to me that if I presented the data I would have to report
the fire and that too would be an embarrassment to the School staff who had
been 'so co-operative'. (Note: Approved Schools were often run by religious
establishments -- no further comment). So I was persuaded' not to force the
issue of publication. There was, of course, nothing else I could do and remain
in office. I still hold to my opinion that the fire had no serious impact on
the sample's representativeness, at least not at the level of inference based
on proven powerful equations. Political reasons there may have been, but there
were no scientific reasons for not publishing the work.
At about this time I was asked by
the editor of the weekly magazine NEW SOCIETY (now ceased publication) to
prepare an article -- the topic I forget. What I have retained for the
information of posterity is the response I received when I recall the
objections raised by policy divisions to the draft I submitted, criticising my
suggestions that the concept of criminality was continuous from trivial to
serious. The official viewpoint was that theft was theft no matter how trivial
the item stolen. In fact it was suggested that if I had used paper clips for my
own personal use I was in danger of being discharged from the Civil Service. I
had to be careful, therefore, in suggesting any gradation of criminality in my
article. These comments, together with the suppression of the Approved School
research findings adds weight to my argument made earlier that research
personnel should not be directly under the control of the government of the
day.
Fixing Establishments for Police Stations.
Off the soapbox! A very different
but administration-requested project involved the setting of 'establishments'
for the Metropolitan Police -- the one police authority which comes directly
under the Home Secretary. A considerable time had been spent by a team of
experts in visiting police stations (divisions) to work out how many
individuals of what ranks and experience were 'needed' for the unit under
study. This was setting a figure for the 'establishment' or as they say in
universities, 'lines' or staffing entitlements. Some 20 units out of a total of
more than a hundred had been completed at considerable cost. I suggested that
it should be possible to set up a data matrix and to derive an equation which
would fit (map) the determinations subjectively obtained by the experts. That
if we could identify such an equation on the basis of the 20 cases so assessed,
this equation could be fitted to the remaining units. The system worked well.
The equation explained 89% of the variance. Presumably the team of assessors
had been reasonably consistent! The 'prediction' of decisions was again to be
used much later in the United States Parole Commission Projects and in
Sentencing Guidelines. I suppose that these projects were early examples of
what are now known as 'expert systems'?
Forecasting the Demand for Punishment!
There were occasions, though rare,
when administrative departments requested specific research. One such occasion
was quite early in the days of the Unit when we were asked to provide an estimate
of the need for Approved School places for the purposes of determining a
building programme. This was assigned to me. The data matrices which it had
been possible to derive in previous forecasting studies were not possible in
this case. Much might depend upon how punitive the climate became in the
future. It had to be assumed that the probability of incarceration of
youngsters in Approved Schools would not be influenced by political change and
that judicial sentencing practice would remain as variable as it was at the
time.
The only method I could think of
was a time-series. I knew that this was not a reliable method even when one had
extremely long series which were based on a constant definition. Only one rule
from my past experience appeared useful, namely, spread the load and hope that
errors will be uncorrelated. Accordingly rather than simple (or complex) curve
fitting I devised a macro cohort analysis. This meant that I took the crime
rate for each birth year for as long a series as I could muster. The results
were interesting. Three wave peaks and troughs were found where the excess of
delinquency in later years was coincident with the individual passing through
their third year during disturbed periods of history, namely World War 1, the
great depression or the 2nd World War. There was no indication of any abnormal
rates of crime associated with birth dates or first year (babyhood) within
these periods. This was not expected because it had been common practice to
generalise Bowlby's "maternal deprivation" theory to mean that family
difficulties in very early life were a cause of juvenile delinquency. Clearly
if there was anything in my data it indicated that 'maternal' deprivation was
not involved. My data could only relate to fathers' absence or correlates of
that absence..
I was persuaded to publish the
findings. I pointed out that a hypothesis which is derived from a data analysis
gains no further support from that data. However, it was the hypothesis which
interested people, including some of the 'higher ups' in the Home Office. The
original purpose of the analysis was forgotten and the data were utilised to
make statements about social impacts in childhood.
Certainly inferences from Bowlby's
theory were not supported and the main interest turned on the age involved:
namely around three years of age. The publication by the Stationery Office
under the title "Delinquent Generations" attracted considerable
attention and the study was replicated with similar results in Denmark, Poland,
New Zealand and perhaps elsewhere where usable data were available. However,
some very distinguished statisticians suggested that the results could have
been due to a statistical artefact. This is still taken up from time to time. I
would be willing to say that the negative point was reasonably demonstrated,
that is, Bowlby was not correct. Beyond that I would say only that I find very
attractive the idea that early socialisation is more critical than babyhood
nurturing. I do not regard it as proven. Nor am I convinced that this issue is
worth the cost of research based upon a more satisfactory design.
It is unfortunate that this was one
of the most popular and publicised of my projects because in my view it was
least rigorous. Press comment on publication was interesting and varied. The
Daily Express remarked in its editorial that "government scientists spend
hundreds of pounds and many months pouring over masses of data and emerge with
a conclusion which is obvious to any layman" (Or words to that effect), Another
press editorial comment which I remember more precisely, said, "Clever
people" (I liked that bit!) "often spend much effort to arrive at
conclusions which simpler minds arrive at directly" The Independent,
however, recognised the scientific nature of the analysis, but doubted that the
results derived were correct. Thus, for some the findings were accepted without
any concern for the evidence and for others, despite the evidence, the findings
were suspect. (It was ever so).
While I recall that I had two
personal 'missions' for which I awaited an opportunity to set the necessary
research in motion, I do not know where the ideas originated. The first was a
scheme whereby victims of crimes of violence might receive compensation from
the state. The second was the decriminalising of attempted suicide for which
(as will become clear later) I had more than the immediately obvious reason.
The first opportunity I had related to suicide. The opportunity to begin work
on the compensation project came later. I think my previously mentioned visit
to Marjorie Fry may have been my source also for the latter idea. I was, in any
event, familiar with Durkheim’s classical research as well as Sainbury’s study
of suicide.
I began by examining the
statistics. This was in line with my general approach to research and was, of
course, a continuation of my style of thinking in the flying safety research. I
wanted to establish measures of 'exposure to risk' and find systems for
calculating 'rates' which were useful. My prior work on sortie-based accident
rates had some parallels. Certainly at this time the Unit (Lodge and myself and
perhaps one other) were concerned also about the use of the 'clear-up rate' as
a measure of police efficiency; I was later to get into trouble for pointing
out the deficiencies of this index. Attempted suicide rates and clear-up
figures varied between police forces in ways which we could not explain and
clearly represented an unsatisfactory state of affairs. We were also not
satisfied with comparative data on crimes of violence. I will have to hold over
telling of the development of the compensation case until later, but this was a
much more complex matter than the suicide issue.
So, how is it that attempted
suicide ceased to be a crime? There was probably much more background than I
can now remember. It is probable that my thinking was in line with a
contemporary climate of liberal opinion. The Samaritans were already
functioning and were concerned to provide help to persons who were likely to do
themselves harm. A number of psychiatrists, as I have subsequently learned,
were interested in the Samaritans' work. The legal position of this society
(and that of any psychiatrists who worked with them) was not at all
satisfactory while the 'attempt' (about which they might well be informed) was
a criminal act. I may have been aware of this organisation. I have subsequently
learned that this Society had an arrangement with the City of London Police and
instances of attempted suicide were normally not prosecuted but referred to
this Society. Conditions elsewhere were, however, very different. I am not
aware of any lobbying on this matter and it was certainly not raised by the
'establishment'. If I was 'lobbied' I do not recall any contacts, and, in any
event, such contacts would have rendered me liable to disciplinary action! So I
feel some justification in claiming to have been a significant player in the
drama by putting into train the operations which led to attempted suicide
ceasing to be a police concern.
I was interested in attempted
suicide for other reasons than those which may be obvious. Of major
significance was the fact that while attempted suicide remained classified as a
legal matter (crime, misdemeanour or whatever) it would not be fully accepted
as a medical matter. The decriminalisation was concordant with my view on the
general philosophy of state intervention in cases of self-inflicted harms or
'morality’ such as abortion and euthanasia. It was my view that Britain
overreacted punitively, in general, to disapproved behaviour. There were limits
to what could be achieved by making rules. The law and punishment, in my view,
gave the wrong image to many behaviours of which attempted suicide, whether it
was committed as a 'cry for help' or with firm intent to die was one example.
My pursuit of this philosophy was
to get me into serious trouble when I pressed this analysis in relation to the
use of a number of 'substances' (mind altering drugs). Some were also already
illegal and others were being added to the list of 'prohibited substances'. The
grounds for this action was asserted to be the welfare of the customer. The
attempt to use legal procedures in the medical sphere of expertise seemed to me
to be unsatisfactory. While there was little doubt that most of the 'prohibited
substances' were harmful, and we might even assume them to be so harmful that
the taking of them was tantamount to slow suicide, the law did not seem to be
an appropriate medium for remedial action. It might well be a medical
(psychological or mental health) matter, but not one which could be effectively
addressed by the courts. Doing good for individuals was not a police matter. It
could be an excuse for erosion of civil liberties. The decriminalising of
attempted suicide would be one step towards making the situation somewhat
tidier -- logically if not also administratively.
The drug issue is, of course, a
much more complex matter of use and supply and, in particular, the medical
model does not adequately incorporate the economic issues. The suicide analogy
is simplistic, but not irrelevant. I will return to this subject later because
it eventually reached a climax which led to my departure not only from the Home
Office but also from England! But I must now finish off the story of attempted
suicide.
I think I mentioned that as a
statistician I had parity with the administrative classes and could originate
policy issues. Attempted suicide was a policy issue. I instructed Precedent
Office to extract all files which had established precedent in the matter of
attempted suicide. At the same time we examined the statistics of police action
to ascertain how cases were dealt with in practice. Many laws just fall into
disuse rather than being repealed. (There is one in Georgia which prohibits
eating peanuts in church and in D.C, one which requires all taxi drivers to
have a shovel and broom in their vehicle -- guess why). Perhaps the attempted
suicide law was interpreted in a reasonable way and there was no need for
change? What I found was extreme variation in the action taken in different
police districts from strict legalistic interpretation to reference to other
authorities (case 'otherwise dealt with'). The lack of consistent
interpretation gave me a chance to prepare materials for submission 'upstairs'.
But that would not be adequate to get 'attempts' decriminalised. (There was
little practical point in getting successful attempts considered). I would have
to argue against precedent. Precedent may not be changed without sound cause.
Shortly a huge pile of files
arrived on my desk, laid out in historical sequence. About halfway down the
pile was a note by Winston Churchill when he was Home Secretary. He saw no
reason to depart from established precedent and accepted the argument
supporting the illegality of the act. To take or attempt to take one's own life
was to rob or seek to rob His/Her Majesty of the life of one of His/Her
subjects. While it is true that the British are 'subjects', not citizens, this
was not an acceptable 20th-century lemma. This precedent had to be set aside.
It did not prove too difficult.
My argument was that the earlier
doctrinal basis for punishment was then under challenge and that the extreme
variation in police practice was a bad thing. I argued that it was a simple
matter to remove the crime of attempted suicide from Statute and that there
were other agencies than the police who could act in such cases where action
additional to medical attention was called for. In due course attempted suicide
was deleted from the criminal code. I can claim to have been instrumental in
this, though perhaps I was saying only that which had become accepted opinion.
But most certainly the current drift of opinion on attempted suicide did not
include slow suicide where 'drugs' were concerned! My viewpoint is still
rejected!
Liaison with External Research Organisations
Meanwhile under the Ministerial
direction of Home Secretary Butler, the research unit was becoming almost
solely concerned with criminal justice matters. Other divisions of the Home
Office did not request research assistance, and there was more than enough
pressure to take up criminological issues. Butler was particularly interested
in these. A White Paper was published associated with his name to which the
Home Office Research Unit (now somewhat larger than the three originals) had
considerable input.
Associations with the Universities.
It will be recalled that interests
in crime/delinquency/prisons (and "matters connected therewith"!)
were distributed over many organisations each with a slightly different remit.
While the Home Office could rule out some of these organisations on grounds of
their party political involvements, there were still many who had claims on the
funds covered by the 1948 Act. Among the several organisations which were
provided with funds for research to be carried out by individuals associated
were two major studies of prison (Bristol by Fred Emery in association with the
Tavistock Institute, and Pentonville by Terrance Morris of LSE). Roger Hood who
at that time was associated with Mannheim at the LSE carried out a follow-up
study of Borstal, and Leon Radzinowicz at Cambridge was supported in respect of
a number of studies, including one on sex offenders. Richard Hauser was funded for
a study of homosexuality. From this sample list it will be evident that the
Home Office had a problem in allocating money to the diverse interests and
being able to argue good reasons for its selection.
The situation was made more
difficult than necessary for both the administration and ourselves by reason of
the attitudes and perhaps personalities of the "three great British
criminologists". To say that they would not cooperate was an understatement!
Even the published literature makes clear their lack of respect for each
other's work. Refugees from central Europe seem, in general, to be highly
competitive and for this to be expressed most pointedly when other refugees are
involved! A later refugee from Hungary (Stephen Schafer) was not able to gain
any assistance from members of his discipline. We had to tread most carefully
if we were to remain on reasonable terms with "the criminologists".
My later experiences in academic life made it clear that our three (or four?)
criminologists were not unduly atypical. At Oxford, Grűnhűt, probably because
of his health and poor vision remained outside this turmoil. The Home Office
did provide him with an assistant for a short time but until his somewhat
premature death he beavered away mainly on his own in his upper room at the
Bodleian.
Another task which fell largely to
me was the overview of research which had been contracted out.. One incident
which arose in connection with one such project involving prisons throws light
on the culture of that time. In minuting files (making confidential notes on
the specific page) one would always address the individual by their last name
only. Thus, I would minute a file to Lodge, or Cubbon, however informal notes
not for the record might be passed addressed to "Mr". I was told that
this was a tradition which derived from the fact that most high level civil
servants were ex-public school boys and that it was the custom in such schools
to use last names, (with suffix "junior" if two members of the same
family were to be distinguished). One day I received a serious complaint
against a research worker (an LSE doctoral student who was interviewing in
prisons in connection with a sponsored project). He was insulting the prison
officers ("guards"!). He was not calling them "Mr"! To them
the "Mr" was a necessary symbol of respect, for the assistant
governor it would have been incorrect and probably resented. Assistant
governors were akin to the 'officer class' in the military. How the distinction
between cases where it was or was not appropriate to use "Mr" was
established I do not know. It is most likely that this is no longer practised.
I think the "old guard" would find it difficult to sort out a
"Ms, Miss and Mrs" protocol!
Perhaps the question of the merits
of organising research "in house" as against contracting or making
grants in aid was given adequate consideration at higher levels. If so, the
details of any such debate did not filter down to my level. I think that the
current balance emerged as things developed in the typical "British"
fashion. I have no criticism of the ways it worked out in the end.
The diversity of approach to
funding did not seem to raise any major problems, and the quality of the
"in house" work has been recognised world-wide. However around 1958
there developed the idea that a body with a crime mission was required to which
the Home Office might look for training and certification. It was recognised
that quality teaching at the level envisaged would require a research base. The
Home Secretary gave this his personal support and the idea was also warmly
received by the Chairman of Public Accounts (Sir George Benson). The question
of location was limited, namely, in alphabetical order, Cambridge, London, and
Oxford. I opined that a British Institute of Criminology should be located in
London. This was not an academic point but it seemed reasonable to have the
policy-related discipline with strong Home Office associations at the centre of
government. (I think Radzinowicz must have known this and came to regard me as,
well, unhelpful). Though Mannheim did not have many years of service before he
was due to retire, an approach was made to London University to ascertain
whether they would house such an institute. The idea was rejected as a decision
in principle against "institutes", or more institutes of any kind. It
seems safe to infer that the view taken by London University was that the
setting up of "institutes" was eroding academic quality . I do not
think that the subject of criminology was necessarily unattractive.
While the Home Office continued to
fund specific projects to a variety of bodies, the idea of establishing an
"Institute of Criminology" persisted. The fact that London University
could or would not provide house room did not reduce official interest to
proceed. At this point, Cambridge took up the cause. Discussions took place at
the highest level, and Leon Radzinowicz was appointed and an Institute
established. I was not party to these discussions in any detail. I saw no
academic objection to the siting at Cambridge though I would have liked to have
seen a more behavioural science orientation. The dominance of law-based
criminology was, it seems, being reinforced by locating the Institute in such a
prestigious law faculty.
Home Office policy at the
administrative (political?) level was never clear to me. Why funds were
disbursed in the way they were between the main competing university
departments was not determined by the research staff, though we reviewed any
proposed research designs and commented on the budget. Official histories of
the establishment of the Institute have been published. All official histories
are official! I will leave this matter at that point.
As it happened, both the in-house
and the grant funded research increased beyond all anticipation. However, the
in house element increased far more rapidly and reached a much greater
proportion than any one external organisation. Of course, the Research Unit did
not undertake training, but the environment made it possible to employ
graduates from a variety of disciplines and to develop team work. Official
research staff had no teaching commitments and promotion did not depend upon
demonstrated individual scholarship and publication.
In-house research has its own kinds
of problems and external organisations undertaking research for official bodies
are dependent upon the nature of the contract or grant. High level
administrators have no experience of ‘the culture of research’ and tend to
treat the research output as subject to the same rules or precedents that apply
to other departmental business. It was, probably, conflict with these
traditions which led to some early difficulties with the publishing of my own
research findings.
Eel Pie and Arthur. Inoculation against evil
influences?
While my work at the Survey
attracted various persons to contact me on a variety of issues, these were
mainly statistical. The Home Office brought a different set of persons who
wished to make contact for their own reasons. Many were routine concerns. One,
however, was far from routine. This was 'Arthur' whose name I dropped earlier.
Unlike Blacklock, Arthur was driven by intuition rather than logic. Nonetheless
he was more realistic and much more concerned with real life and equally as
innovative. His focus of concern was the disapproved behaviour and problems of
some young people. His last name was Chisnell, but Arthur to all. I do not know
why he should have sought me out. The connection was through Gordon Pask. who
probably became involved with Arthur by reason of living in Richmond.
Arthur would have been accepted
today as an imaginative ‘outworker’ and probably also accepted by legitimate
social work authorities. He was ahead of his time, outworkers had not been
invented, or perhaps they were his invention. His formula for helping youth who
were probably going the wrong way was not that of 'street worker'. Arthur did
not go out to find his problem kids, he wanted to attract them to him. His
clientele would identify themselves if he provided the appropriate kind of
'bait'. This had to be such as that it would be taken only or mainly by the
kinds of youth who needed help which he was able to organise. First he had to
create (rather than find) an environment which could be given an image
attractive to his target clients. To this end he set up Eel Pie Island Jazz
Club. He provided a stage where bands which were popular with the 'youth
culture' could play, and the current popular dance styles could be expressed,
or indeed, developed. He also had to provide alcoholic drinks, but limited this
to beers. Some bands which later achieved international recognition were
provided with early support by Arthur on Eel Pie Island. Arthur (he might not
agree) went out of his way to give Eel Pie Island a bad name with the
‘establishment’, though he had some associations with the Establishment' night
club. He wanted it to be the kind of place where a teenage girl who had just
had a row with Mum would think of going for a bit of real sin. But the ‘fly
trap’ for potentially wayward youth was not quite what (he hoped) it seemed to
those who attended.
Arthur had developed his own youth
culture; kids who were prepared to 'go so far' and no further. He also had a
back-up of 'contacts'. The lone girl arriving would have to join the club and
give a name and address. As she was passed into the dance hall, Arthur would
signal unobtrusively to one of his selected young folks. The person so signalled
was to keep an eye on the new entrant and ensure that no real harm came to her,
but certainly to stay out of the way unless occasion to act should occur. These
helpers were not obviously trying to be helpful but rather to act as guardians
of extreme boundaries of harm. Most were young men or women who had first come
to Eel Pie Island for quite different reasons.
It was Arthur's strategy (for which
he had developed a theory as well as practice) to try to introduce those who
had similarities. Most of his team were probably 'students' (with a heavy
preponderance of ‘art’ students) who could mix well and who enjoyed the with-it
environment of the Island. He would often introduce persons with a phrase such
as, "I think you will find ... fun to be with.. He/she is, like you,
interested in ... " However the introductions would involve one of his
'workers'.
Contacts were Arthur's
stock-in-trade. In addition to mixing and matching the participants in the Club
he made a point of getting to know people in authority who could help the young
people who showed up at the Island. He persuaded as many as he could to visit
the Island and meet some of those who used to hang around the 'membership
desk'. When the situation was right he would introduce the facilitating contact
to the individual. He contacted me at the Home Office. So far as I know I was
able to help at least one young man, who had left home and was in difficulties
with an academic father; it transpired that he wrote well. He was interested in
journalism so I was able to facilitate his obtaining a scholarship to Chicago.
He is now a broadcaster. He may not wish the disclosure of his background, so
he had better remain anonymous.
Arthur knew many members of
Parliament and took a strong emotional interest in the Home Office Research
Unit and the difficulties it sometimes had with politicians. For example he
knew of my experiences with the car-parking generation study and the approved
school project. But he also took a poor view of my attraction to the U.S.A. and
my desire to find somewhere where research was less shackled than in the HORU.
He feared that I might emigrate. Eventually, of course, he proved correct, but
that was many years later and after my stint in Japan. He exploited my 'sore
point' and managed to extract a promise from me that I would not consider
leaving the Home Office if the conditions of service could be changed so that
the scientific civil service was more removed from political interests.
It was expected that a Labour
government would be elected. Arthur arranged for me to meet several MPs. Austin
Albu I recall was one. But it was the meeting he arranged with Peter Shore
which was to determine the outcome. I recall our discussion in a taxi near
Downing Street. Shore was at least honest. He pointed out, somewhat lacking in
originality, that information was power. When they were in office, they had
their hands on that power and it was too bad that, when they were not in
office, they had to make do as best they could. So politics is a power game no
matter who plays it. I left on my second leave-without-pay sabbatical in the
United States soon after this disappointing outcome of my top-level lobbying. I
suppose that even this discussion would have been out-of-order. If I had stayed
around and it came to the notice of 'establishments' I would have been
reprimanded. I lost touch with Arthur when I took up my overseas appointment.
It seems that he 'vanished' fairly soon after the enforced closure of the Eel
Pie Island club.
I have told of one of the first
criminological projects -- the study of Approved Schools. It may have been in
response to my report on my visit to the U.S. when it was made clear to me that
my being in a policy-making department conferred status but it also meant that
I had different responsibilities from those in research institutions or
academics. It was absolutely unheard of for a civil servant to cause his
Minister any embarrassment (in public). Somehow or another this principle was
interpreted to mean that all publications had to be approved by the
representatives of the 'front office'.
This ruling had a far more powerful
effect than the persuasion not to publish my Approved School report -- the
study which suggested the idea of 'contamination' in penal establishments. It
was never suggested specifically that anyone would find this an embarrassing
finding. While I reluctantly accepted the suppression of the specific findings
of this one study, I was less prepared to accept the need for a general censorship
of research.
Unfortunately I could not get the
support of the actuary who headed the statistics division. He was always
anxious, too anxious, to go along with the establishment. While he professed to
be in favour of publication of research as a general policy, the views of
policy divisions had to be considered. His acceptance of the prohibition on the
publication of ‘embarrassing’ reports (where the definition of embarrassment
was made by ‘front office’) seemed to me to be getting too close to political considerations.
The surveillance of publications by non-research departments and the rationale
for this began to seem more onerous: shots across my bows. It was particularly
disturbing to have this ruling expressed with such enthusiasm by an individual
who had claims to statistical sophistication and a research ethic. I had
expected support for an open policy for publication similar to that of Moss and
the Social Survey, and as my report had indicated, in the United States.
So I began to think of building some
protection, in addition to that afforded by my status with the Royal
Statistical Society. It seemed useful to try to set up some means whereby I
might avoid the Official Secrets Act, or at least that others might be able to
release information which should be published. I represented that the
department should consider offering 'fellowships' to American academics whose
work in criminology had achieved international distinction. This ploy worked:
for a while.
Under the research visitor scheme
(which, of course, cost the department nothing) we had with us Professor Don
Garrity (later President of San Francisco State) and Bob Smith (who developed
the probation subsidy scheme in California). We provided facilities for these
visitors to collect data from prisons and probation services for their
research. I also found it possible to enlist the advice of Don Garrity in the
interviewing procedure for new recruits. He was able to throw some light on the
way in which 'security forces' operate between countries. Perhaps the person
concerned should not be identified because the events might still be 'used
against her'. In our interview a Ms XX was considered to be a very good
prospect. She was placed at the top of the list of candidates we wished to
employ. However, before she began work we had an order from 'security' to say
that she was not acceptable. No reasons were given: reasons are never given --
it's part of the British way of life! Garrity thought that was
'unconstitutional', one should have a right to know the 'charge' and to face
one's accusers. He also recalled that at Berkeley, XX had been rounded up
together with several hundred students by the local police when a 'free speech'
demonstration had taken place. It was not claimed that she had taken part, but
merely she was in the vicinity with many other students. She had not been
detained nor questioned, but she had her name and address 'taken down'. This
mass roundup of students was much criticised in the press and California Senate.
It was an overreaction of the police which was not repeated.
The rest is conjecture! However, it
seems that this information was passed to the security services (MI6) in this
country and was not amended. The fact that Garrity was able to provide this
information enabled me to make representations to the effect that the failure
to grant 'security clearance' was not justified. Of course, no admission was
forthcoming to confirm our beliefs, but a limited clearance was granted. She
was not to be admitted to any sector of the Home Office where civil defence
matters were dealt with. None of us in the Research Unit knew where these
places were and certainly had no desire to roam there ourselves, cleared or
uncleared. Ms XX did work in the Unit for a short time, but then secured a
university appointment.
While on the subject of officious
activity I had some troubles myself. During my first visit to the U.S.A. I had
given a lecture in Los Angeles, at U.S.C. or U.C.L.A. I reported on my work on
the attempt to obtain statistically useful data, and had apparently drawn
attention to the fact that 'crimes known' and 'clear up' rates were not
particularly satisfactory indicators. Victim surveys were not to be 'invented'
until many years later. I stated that 'crimes known' was not particularly apt,
since crimes could not be known unless they were reported. But many crimes
reported were considered to be 'unfounded' and were not included in the counts.
The ‘clear-up’ rate was also capable of being interpreted in various ways. For
amusement I illustrated my points by showing how, without actually being
dishonest, a police chief could vary the ‘clear-up' rate by several percentage
points either up or down, merely by use of valid interpretations of law. In
particular the rate did not discriminate between crimes which were easy to
clear up and those which were difficult. I may even have suggested that it
would be unsatisfactory from the public viewpoint if the police were to seek to
maximise their ‘clear-up’ rate -- they could merely maximise the 'easy
pinches'. This was not exciting stuff -- indeed it was trivial, and obviously I
went on to discuss problems of 'risk measurement' and other statistical matters
of slightly more significance.
It seems that in the audience that
evening was a certain chief constable (from somewhere in England!) He wrote to
the Home Secretary (fortunately R.A.B. Butler) complaining that a civil servant
had been releasing official information and making defamatory statements about
the British police (which everybody knew were the best and least corruptible of
any in the world). More seriously his accusation amounted to a charge that I
had breached the Official Secrets Act and that 'action should be taken'. I was
required to appear in the 'front office'. I was asked several questions as to
precisely what I had said. I had my notes. The P.U.S.S. merely remarked that
what I had said was so far as he knew completely true and what did I want him
to do about the accusation. Would I be willing to forget the whole thing if he
tore up the letter forthwith? I saw no reason to pursue the matter further,
though, for a chief who received much public acclaim it did seem that I was
behaving with more 'charity' than he.
I doubt that I would have survived
this challenge if there had been a different Home Secretary or if the issue had
not reached that level. Butler was sufficiently intelligent to know that what I
had said was correct and he was not about to defend the sensitivities of a
pompous policeman.
I am reasonably certain that it was
from Marjorie Fry that I picked up the idea of the state paying compensation to
victims of crimes of violence. The official viewpoint was that the criminal
courts would look after the criminal aspects of any violent crimes and the
victim had resort to the civil courts for damages. For almost all cases it
would, of course, be futile for the victim to go to the civil courts because
the offender would be unable to make any payments. The precise logic which held
that the state should, therefore, compensate the victim was not clear, though
some expressed the view that the state had assumed the role of protector of
loyal subjects by removal of approval for private revenge or duelling. I
awaited an opportunity to move into this area. The precise sequence of events
within and without the office are not remembered.
My concern with statistics led me
to note that the trends for the categories of crimes of violence against the
person had a very peculiar time trend. The total number of recorded crimes
against the person (Grievous Bodily harm and Actual Bodily Harm (GBH and ABH)
had increased, while at the same time lesser categories of assault had
decreased. The legal definitions of these categories had not changed. It was, I
thought, unreasonable to suppose that if (A) hit (B) in more recent years he
had hit (B) harder or with a weapon, because weapon use was separately covered
in the law. It seemed more likely that public (and judicial) attitudes towards
violence against the person had become less tolerant and lesser harms were
progressively being seen to be more appropriately classified in the more
serious categories. The figures for 'violence against the person' were quoted
in the press and the 'increase' in serious crime was assumed. This seemed to me
to be statistically unsound. We needed measures which were less liable to
subjective assessment between categories and which might be used for
comparisons over time. A major difficulty with the definition of crime is the
legal concept of 'intent'. Intent is not a statistical datum!
It was with some difficulty that I
was able to persuade my superiors that it was worth my effort to design a
project and request police time in investigating violent crime from the
perspective of its consequences for the victim.
Eventually I was able to obtain a
representative sample of all violent crimes (both indictable and
non-indictable) and misdemeanours. For these the police were to provide a
description of the physical harm inflicted; such as whether the victim was
'treated and discharged' or detained in hospital or lost time from work.
Whether injuries are inflicted intentionally (criminal) or accidentally, cannot
be identified from the actual details of the victim's condition. Even a person
injured by gunshot might have been attempting suicide. We could remove from the
individual records of injuries all indications of the fact that the injury had
been due to a criminal act. We then arranged to pass the sample to the
Industrial Injuries Compensation Board for assessment as to the amount of money
they would award in the event of an injury at work having the impact noted.
This money sum estimate was primarily intended to provide a better measure of
seriousness than the classification in law. Measures of this kind could be
compared both over time and location, and adjustments could be made for the
changing value of money. There was also a base for useful comparisons in the
compensation assessed in cases not due to crime.
It was possible to gross up the
estimates of compensation which victims of crime would have received if
compensated according to that scale. It transpired that the total sum of
compensation which would match the crime figures at the time was remarkably
small. This was, of course, due mainly to the scale at that time which the
Board had determined. The civil courts would award, on average, much higher
sums for the same suffering.
The results of this research were
reported to the Attorney General of New Zealand (Dr. Robson) by an intern from
that country (Frances Baker) who was working in the Research Unit at that time.
It seems that in the light of our data, Attorney General Robson drafted a Bill
to provide compensation to victims of crimes of violence in New Zealand. This
Bill was passed by the legislature and New Zealand was the first country to
make provision of this kind.
The idea was not so readily
accepted in Britain. Here the legal establishment put forward many objections.
I probably remember the least reasonable! People could throw themselves in
front a bus and get injured, or engage in fights and not take sufficient
concern as to the chance of injury. These were put forward as serious
objections. In sum, it would be the undeserving poor who might benefit. Poverty
was acceptable, but being undeserving was not.
Chance and a foreign revolution intervene.
By some means, not now recalled,
the idea of compensation by the state came to be packaged with the idea of
requiring the offender to make restitution to the victim. There seems to have
been a lot of that not uncommon commodity, plain and simple muddle around! I
think that the two concepts must have been somewhat confused. It was, in any
event, clear that if the idea of compensation/restitution was to be acceptable
in this country the legal niceties had to be addressed. While I was not
impressed by the objections to the idea of compensation, I was not a lawyer and
had no credibility in that sector. It was by chance (and the revolution in
Hungary) that just at this point a refugee came to the office begging for work
which was in accord with his background in his home country. The revolution had
caused considerable suffering to academics, particularly in the departments of
law. There was precedent for refugees from Europe to gain appointments in
criminology in Britain! Perhaps being a good lawyer, Schafer was aware of these
precedents. If all three distinguished British criminologists were ex-refugees
from Europe -- why not a fourth!
I took the opportunity of trying to
interest Stephen Schafer in the compensation/restitution idea. What was needed
to satisfy our establishment was a distinguished legal authority to provide an
apologia. Schafer was willing -- he would have done almost anything: he was on
'the bread line'. He was willing to write up a research application to
investigate the historical and legal background to victim compensation. We
worked on his draft. Barbara had a challenging time sorting out his tortuous
florid European style and putting the case in English. I added some
civil-service jargon, put it all on a file, appended minutes noting my support,
and sent the file 'upstairs'.
Lodge (Director of the Unit)
initially supported the idea, not because he was keen on the concept of
compensation but because he wished to help a refugee from Hungary. He passed
the file upwards and a meeting was set up (I was not present) to discuss the
plan. When it was not well received, Lodge seems to have not taken up a defence
of the project but merely reported back to me the fact that the meeting had
been unwilling to proceed. He asked whether I could suggest any other ideas
which might involve Schafer. I did not favour dropping the matter without a
fight., so finding something else for Schafer to do was not my priority! Lodge
did not put his views on the file, but sent me a loose note . It seemed
courteous to replied in similar form, though this seemed slightly `irregular'.
I retained my response after it was returned to me with a further note appended.
I should now disclose that when I departed from the Home Office I took with me
some of the personal notes which Lodge and I exchanged on this matter. It had
been his choice not to place these on the record. However, perhaps because the
"record was not informed" by official file annotation, various
versions of the origin of the Victim Compensation Board have appeared. It seems
not unreasonable to reveal the actual history. For this reason I copy the
contents of my initial note. Rather than reproduce this by photocopy I
transcribe below.: it will be easier to read. -
Content of initial note in exchange
regarding Victim Compensation.
"Mr
Lodge;
I cannot
agree with Mr Cubbon's view of Dr Schafer's project. The aspects of
compensation and restitution which might be involved in Schafer's sample would
not be viewed only from the point of view of continental law (is there such a
thing?) but from the point of view of a criminologist and legal philosopher
having no strong ties with any legal system. I fail to see why Schafer's "
...(?)... with legal problem" should be useless. Schafer has experienced
major changes in legal systems within Hungary and presumably the implementation
of the S of S views on restitution would require changes, both in the law and
in legal philosophy. A person who has experienced at first hand the
difficulties of putting into effect a changed legal philosophy should be able
to express useful views about likely problems and ways of meeting them.
Mr
Cubbon in his penultimate paragraph seems to discount "public
airing". I should think that an informed "public airing" based
on a sample of cases and an unbiased judgement as seems likely to be provided
by Dr Schaffer had much to commend it. Without public opinion to support the
concept of restitution there us little chance of making headway . Even more
important is the fact that until such a study is made we have no means of
guessing what are the essential concomitants of such a policy.
Is it
worth working out a more detailed plan in the present climate of opinion?
L.T.W.
29/1/58"
Lodge's handwriting is rather more
clear, and I reproduce his note in Figure 5.
Figure 5. A note from Tom Lodge 29/1/52.
The project had almost foundered
when Tom Lodge sent me a further note asking me whether I wanted to push the
case and leaving it to me to take up the matter with "C" Division.
I took up the challenge and managed
to convince Brian Cubbon that the project was worth the money and would not
bring the Office into disrepute. In the end Schafer wrote up his work as a
research report and Barbara assisted him to put it into shape for submission to
publishers. It was later published as a book and Schafer was established as a "Victimologist".
On this reputation (and perhaps his background in Hungary too) he obtained a
chair in criminology and migrated to the United States.
Eventually a British compensation
scheme was set up, but it was hedged with all kinds of legal constraints. The
cost of administration probably exceeded the money paid out! But that fact gave
no concern because the authorities were sure that no one who was not entitled
received anything!
A very different project also seems
to have had far-reaching effects. This project which had probably derived from
my prior interest in valid measures of risk was of more general significance. I
refer to the work which I began in the R.A.F. with the sortie-based flying
accident rate. I was not satisfied that the base for crime rates for all and
any crime category was the population. For example, while the risk of a crime
against the person might reasonably be related to the number of persons who
could become victims, this base was less logical for crimes such as theft of or
from motor vehicles. The analysis of motor vehicle theft when considered
against the number of licensed vehicles had remained almost constant while the
official crime rate of motor vehicle theft had increased rapidly. This finding
is, of course, related to the recently developed theory of 'crime as
opportunity'. However, as a statistician my interest was limited at that time
to providing better measures of risk.
I was at the Home Office from 1955
until 1964 and during these years, in addition to the Borstal study, I
published a number of papers and one book. It is not of interest to the general
reader to go over these contributions nor to discuss the many administrative
duties which were also involved, such as drafting replies to Parliamentary
Questions. I have noted the research which was of some interest but
unpublished, such as the Carlisle work, fire engines and police establishment
studies. One other research of some non-technical interest was a
time-and-motion study of the work of probation officers. It was not
unreasonable to say that it showed that some case workers needed their cases
more than their cases needed them.
In 1962 I received another
invitation to the United States. This was to work for a year with the
President's Commission on Youth -- the President being Kennedy. This time it
was possible to take my family with me. The Ford Foundation provided adequate
financial support and travel was also covered. I made a number of inquiries as
to the education available in areas within commute distance of my main base,
which was to be at the Department of Health and Welfare on the Mall in
Washington D.C.
Bethesda Chevy Chase was voted best
area by both British diplomatic types and by American research workers who had
been on the Social Survey staff or visited the Department. So we managed to
arrange to rent a house in Underwood Street, just off Connecticut Avenue. A good
'bus service enabled me to commute to H.E.W. when this was required and this
combined with the express intercity train service to Philadelphia enabled me to
give seminars at Temple University in the Department of Sociology.
This visit was noteworthy for an
incident which encapsulated the major differences between Whitehall and
Washington governmental public relations policy. Soon after my arrival I was to
be 'received' at the White House and to be formally introduced to the
Commission top personnel, including Robert Kennedy. I duly attended the
function which was 'low key'. The room was on the major corridor of
Presidential offices and when we broke up from the reception I was asked if I
was willing to talk to the press. I was a guest and I saw no reason not to
agree. I assumed that since an official had made this request all necessary
precautions had been taken. In the Home Office I would not have had direct
access to reporters but the department would have prepared handouts from my
briefings.
I was escorted two doors down from
the reception room and taken to a room where there were several persons with
communications equipment of various kinds. One, apparently important person
came up to me and introduced himself by his name. He began asking questions and
I became somewhat apprehensive. I thought I should clear up the security issue.
So I paused and enquired whether I was correct in assuming that he was a member
of the White House public relations staff. He seemed rather annoyed and with
some dignity and force informed me that he was "Reuters". I was so
shocked that I lost my composure, and exclaimed, "Christ! What, in
here?". The press presence inside the White House and on the corridors of
power was unbelievable. This and other experiences served to give me more
insight into the Watergate scandals and to be somewhat dismayed that in the UK.
any similar misbehaviours by the powerful could not have been pursued by the
press. In Britain there was no tradition of investigative reporting which went
much beyond the level of gossip columnists. (The present situation is better in
that the television media have adopted investigative journalism techniques and
Parliament is beginning to open up government information. But we still do not
have the freedom of information which characterises the U.S. system)
This visit from the Home office
viewpoint was sabbatical leave, without pay. I could interpret this as a
temporary release from the strictures of the civil service and the need to have
all public pronouncements 'cleared' before publication. If nothing more, this
was a time consuming device which often was adequate to prevent any release of
the information. It could always be claimed that by the time it was published,
the situation had changed (been corrected!). I had twelve months in which to
write and publish a work I had long had in mind -- a largely theoretical piece
which I realised in the book, Social Deviance.
Authorship under difficult conditions
I took the opportunity afforded by
freedom from supervision to assemble some thoughts on crime and the criminal
law and to prepare a script for rapid publication. With the use of an electric
typewriter in my bedroom and plenty of erasable bond paper (paper which enabled
corrections to errors with an ordinary eraser) I managed to complete the work
and submit to a publisher and receive agreement to publish before I was again
subject to the Home Office administrative constrictions. Social Deviance was
published by Tavistock in Britain and by Prentice-Hall in the United States simultaneously.
So, if the Office had tried to interfere they might have been able to bar
Tavistock, but they could not control Prentice-Hall. This was one which I won!
However, I am sure that my popularity with the administration was diminished
thereby!
The writing conditions were by no
means ideal. A family of four children in a foreign environment made extremely
heavy demands on Barbara. Ferrying kids, ours and their friends, took up much
of her time. So this book shows evidence of some haste, not in formulating the
ideas which had been simmering for some time, but in the style of presentation.
A point reviewers noted. But they also noted the 'scholarship' with strong
approval, particularly the concept of 'deviance amplification'. This idea 'took
off' as a widely accepted theory. The work also expressed some theoretical
positions on the use of 'prohibited substances'. As will emerge later this was
the feature which would have ensured censorship if it had been possible. My
haste was justified, and despite this, I think I can say that some bits are
well written.
I remarked quite early in this work
that research work was not something one could keep separate from home and
leisure, while I have tried to avoid boring the reader with family details
which might illustrate the impact of the two worlds. It will be self-evident
that spending a year on sabbatical leave overseas is an event with wide-ranging
consequences. My year based on Washington was no exception. It is tempting to
say something about this, but to do so would breach my criteria, I can trace no
direct association with research thought or activity. The impact was greatest
on the children’s education and we found ourselves committed to considerable
commuting across the Atlantic; a pattern that was to persist for the duration
of their education, a period of ten years. We were fortunately able to make use
of sundry "affinity groups" and their trans-Atlantic cheap flights.
There were some interesting experiences such as when we joined a rugby club --
a game no one in our family understood.
But to return to the official
aspects of my visit and membership of the President's Commission. Travel within
the United States and Canada was part of the sabbatical package and the work of
the Commission involved sundry states. My visits to California and Alabama were
memorable. Taking the last first. There had been racial problems in Birmingham
Alabama, and somebody had the idea that a foreigner might be acceptable to both
sides of the conflict. I was briefed (very briefly) and off I went. I thought
that I could always ask questions of whoever met me.
For starters, it seemed (to me!)
that a resolution would be more likely if we could get the action out of the
hands of politicians. So I thought that the Chamber of Commerce might be a
useful first contact. There was at that time a boycott by the black community
(and some sympathetic whites had joined in too), and this was surely hurting
profits. I doubt that my visit had much to do with the result, but in the event
the situation was defused and the strike and boycott of black consumers was
resolved. However, I remember being met at the airport with an off-putting
greeting -- "thank goodness they have sent an Englishman; you'll
understand our problems with these Negroes!". I almost began to see myself
as a diplomat!. But others did not, it seems, share my view. I was not sent on
any other missions.
I was able to visit the University
of California at Berkeley where Joe Lohman, a member of the Commission was Dean
of the School of Criminology. The family travelled cross-country with me in an
old Ford Wagon which had belonged to a house decorator and still showed signs
of this. However, it was so inefficient that it was fantastically reliable;
there was nothing to go wrong! We took several weeks going overland; mainly
camping in National Parks, but with the occasional motel. On the final leg of
the journey we camped in Yosemite State Park. We had a vague idea that there
were bears. But our eldest decided that it was too hot to sleep in the tent or
car and curled up on the ground. We were somewhat disturbed to observe a bear
sniffing around him while he continued to sleep soundly. We knew that bears
were vegetarian and Arnold was not in a 'vegetative state'; just sleeping, so
it was safest for us to do absolutely nothing, which is precisely what the bear
also did. Arnold still takes a rather poor view of the incident of which, of
course, being asleep, he has no direct knowledge!
During this visit I was to become
officially a member of the staff of the School of Criminology at Berkeley for
purposes of teaching in the short summer semester. We managed to secure rental
of a furnished house on Le Roy Avenue on the northern boundary of the campus
and within easy walking distance of Haviland Hall. I gave sundry lectures
including one seminar which was attended by Professor Blumer, distinguished
Head of the Department of Sociology, Dean Lohman of Criminology, Calib Foote of
the Law School and others. It was a great meeting. I did not realise at the
time that this was more than a mere guest seminar to enable me to visit old
friends from my Sacramento days. It was also much more than just a fun trip
arranged by Lohman who had come to know me as a co-member of certain committees
within the Commission. It was, in fact, part of a 'head-hunting' strategy. I
was, obviously, after my performance, marked down as a potential member of the
faculty should occasion arise. Later, it did. Butler would shortly cease to be
Home Secretary and my Home Office period would terminate 'in smoke'. But before
I come to that there are a few more features of my Home Office work which might
be of interest.
During our stay on Le Roy, we had
many pleasant meetings with Bob Smith (of Probation Subsidy fame) who had
previously been attached to the Home Office Research Unit. Some days we would
mysteriously find boxes of strawberries on the front door step: Bob had dropped
these off after a trip to the Central Valley.
On my return from the U.S I tried
to accommodate to the old perspectives I had left behind, but this endeavour
was not recognised. I presented a report on my experiences on this my second
visit as I had the first. (I did not mention the White House incident). I noted
my visits to Synanon and other drug related projects. I do not think that this
report was any more appreciated than my first. The UK -- almost by definition
-- could not learn anything from the U.S! As for California, everybody knew
that the U.S. had a slight tilt to the West and everything loose rolled there!
The Home Office did not relish my comment on the research funding policy and
publication policy of the National Institute of Mental Health and the National
Science Foundation.
Criminological Society Founded
I did not realise how much the year
in the U.S. had changed my views. The situation in the unit was much as I had
left it. In addition to actual research there were concerns with the
administration of criminological research and training. The official policy was
to encourage development of social work methods. I expressed my views which
were not universally popular.
It was around this time that my
prior association with Mannheim led to my becoming involved in the setting up
of the British Criminological Society. The movement to set up such a society
derived from the Institute for the Study and Treatment of Delinquency (ISTD)
which was related to the Portman Clinic, a psychiatric treatment unit which
worked with delinquents. Mannheim became involved with two psychiatrists who
were advocating such a society. I acquiesced in this largely because of a
measure of loyalty to the department and respect for Mannheim. The first
meetings were held in the Portman Clinic building. There was little
participation or interest shown in this new body by academic law departments.
The 'treatment' philosophy and casework methods were mainly of interest to
professionals, particularly probation officers who were the main participants.
I was not enthusiastic.
Of the early meetings I recall
clearly the reception which my presentation of the Borstal study received. I
doubt that a single person present had a clue! Estimation and management of
risk was seen as quite immoral if it was seen at all. The view which received
most support was that my approach did not help in 'understanding' the
delinquent. I was, I think, somewhat sarcastic about the concept of
'understanding' as a criterion of scientific quality. Whose understanding was
to provide the yardstick? How could the subjective satisfaction of the
scientist be regarded as a measure of the quality of the work? The essence of
the debate is published in a special number of the British Journal of
Criminology.
I recall also an occasion when a
paper was being presented on something to do with homosexuality. This attracted
the attention of a pompous Assistant Secretary. His branch had some
responsibility for Approved Schools and hence of delinquency. He had attended
meetings of the new society with fair regularity, often contributing to the
discussion. He was a classicist, and everyone had to know that! At any
departmental meeting when he was in the chair he would introduce the topic with
some quotation in Latin or Greek, and then, in a patronising manner, 'spy
scientists' and translate for the benefit of the ignorant.
Most of the members of the Crim Soc
did not appreciate either his style or his particular brand of learning. He
would all too often join in the discussion and again quote from some ancient
text. However, it just so happened that I knew a magistrate whose full-time job
was as a master in a well-known public school. He also was a classicist and an
authority on textual criticism. The talk on homosexuality (it must have been
around the time of the Woffenden Report) gave me a good opportunity to invite
my magistrate friend. True to form our H.O. classical scholar decided to hold
forth, quoting his Greek. It seemed, however, that the text from which he
quoted was a totally discredited authority on the subject: I do not know why,
or how -- this was what my magistrate whispered to me. I persuaded him to point
this out to the meeting. Which he did. My friends all saw to it that he was
rewarded at the local hostelry after the meeting. We had few lessons in Greek
thereafter -- indeed our pompous member seemed to think that his future
presence at meetings was unnecessary!.
The Crim Soc, had broad Home Office
support. As I noted, it was based in London and had its roots in the Portman
Clinic and The Institute for the Study and Treatment of Delinquency which gave
a psychoanalytic bent modified somewhat by the link with LSE (in the person of
Mannheim). The Society's links with academic criminology, jurisprudence or law
were very limited. Grűnhűt was by this time ailing and he had considerable
problems with his vision. He was located at Oxford and did not, so far as I
know, have any influence on the Society's development. Radzinowicz kept at a
distance -- at Cambridge. If he had any influence it was through the medium of
officialdom and the Home Office. He seemed to wish to avoid any co-operation
with Mannheim. Perhaps a kind of respect for 'turf'? I do not think that he had
any objection in principle to the formation of such a society. Lawyer refugees
seemed either to avoid or to be somewhat antagonistic towards each other. The
animosity expressed by Lopez Rey (who was associated with the Cambridge
Institute) for Mannheim and even made explicit in his publications was beyond
my comprehension.
As to the value of a society
concerned with "criminology" I must admit to having some doubts. As I
intimated previously, my doubts derived from my view that criminology is not
itself a well-defined field of study; it was study of behaviours of which
society did not approve. In my view research into topics regarded as relating
to 'criminology' should be undertaken by qualified persons in terms of some
parent discipline which defined a specific field of expertise. If, say, they
were psychologists, then their field might be, say, cognition. I could accept
that there were fields of interest but I thought that methods of study were
more important. Team research had obvious merits.
Where a method of study of a form
of behaviour was defined, it was possible that some of the behaviours could be
disapproved and possibly legislatively defined as crimes. I was a statistician
who, from time to time, might study data relating to judicial decisions; but
that would be deploying decision theory, not 'criminology'. It was a long time
before I was prepared to accept the label of 'criminologist' and I remain
reluctant to wear this badge.
A Home Secretary tries to 'do good'
I discussed earlier my study of
attempted suicide and its removal from the statute book. My view on attempted
suicide derived from a general principle. It was my firm belief that the
machinery of government should be concerned with managerial, not 'moral' matters
and any social problem should be considered in this light. Criminal justice did
not seem to offer any appropriate procedures for relieving in any way the
problem of suicide. The same logic, I thought, should apply to persons who
sought relief in the taking of mind-altering drugs -- which many saw as slow
suicide. Up until early in 1964 this was more or less the accepted official
view. People who did not like their minds as they were and tried to alter them
were engaging in a form of self-medication which might be dangerous. But was it
more dangerous than other forms of self-medication or folk remedies? What
justification could there be for defining the former as criminal? Surely if
punishing the former was assumed to reduce the problem, then the latter should
similarly be punished? Thus, presumably, for example, Christian Science
remedies would be illegal and herbalists would have a difficult time with the
law.
Unfortunately Butler (under whose
Secretaryship research had prospered) had moved on and we had a Minister who
wanted to do good. I think he was genuine in this respect. To this end he was
favourable to the increase in police powers, and seemed particularly disturbed
by the 'youth culture'. My position became less congenial. I certainly had little
sympathy with the new Minister. He was Henry Brooke, the (Conservative) member
for Hampstead. He was a Methodist lay preacher and doubtless a pleasant person.
Many in the Prison Service who knew him liked him and approved of his policies.
However, as I saw things, his intent to do good was not tempered by concern for
civil liberties nor did he see any need of scientific evidence. One of his
early attempts to do good was to propose strong action against mind altering
substances.
"Purple Hearts". Moral Panic ...
or Something Else?
While there was some use of 'hard
drugs', such as cocaine and heroine mainly by the medical and related
professionals, the use of amphetamines was beginning to become apparent,
particularly in the Soho community. The colour and shape coding of
pharmaceutical products had, by some major mischance (I hope!) resulted in the
design of these substances as heart shaped and coloured purple. What better
image could any advertising agency have thought up to make these attractive
(for non-medical reasons!)? Press panic on the use of these pills seems to have
been the reason for the Home Secretary deciding to ‘do something’. No matter
how intractable a problem, Home Secretaries can always do something about it,
they can declare it to be illegal. This is what was proposed together with
added powers of search for the police. As I have told, I had informants close
to this Soho set. From these contacts I learned that the price prior to the
reports of the proposed legislation was 8 to the pound Sterling. The day the
announcement was made the price increased 500%! It was, of course, to go even
higher. The peddlers of purple hearts were then not only selling the pills, but
profiting by the risk created by the law.
Civil liberties were threatened because
Henry Brooke's Bill gave the police considerably extended powers of search. As
though that were not enough, persons who wished to escape from the drug habit
(or addiction) would be less likely to resort to medical help. While I saved a
copy of my note --- a piece of about 5-600 words of objections to the proposed
new legislation -- it has faded such that it is not possible to copy here. I
quote a phrase which indicates that it was a piece of advice which it is most
unfortunate was disregarded.
"
The `purple hearts' problem is only the first of many problems of control of
sensory expansion substances which will become available in future."
For the rest, the Times story
follows very closely the remainder of my comment. In relation to what happened
later it is important to note the third paragraph which states that the Bill
"...did not have the full backing of his permanent officials." This
was true, if
Figure 6. Cutting from the London Times, Monday
April 20, 1964.The article includes the paragraph which was used to accuse me
of liasing with the Times sub-editor: "It is understood that the Bill was
initiated by the Home Secretary and did not have the full backing of his permanent
officials".
an understatement of my position.
Since I was the only one objecting, it appeared that I `had leaked'. But first,
let the Times give its story. Figure 6 reproduces part of the political news
page.
I confess that the Times position
was strikingly similar, though perhaps slightly milder, than my faded minutes
now seem to indicate. Perhaps it was unfortunate that the Times story included
the words "...the Home Secretary did not have the full backing of his
permanent officials". Of course, the writer intended by the inclusion of
this line in the article to provide a clue to my friends that I was not merely
saying "Yes! Minister". I was also glad that this preserved my
integrity without my shouting about it myself!
For those unfamiliar with the powers
and duties of civil servants of Principal rank and above, I should point out
that I was not out-of-order in objecting to the Minister's proposals and in
letting this be known in writing, provided these objections were noted on
'minute sheets' on files and passed upwards. At that time it was not held that
one owed any duty to the government in power, but rather was accountable to
"the public interest". In some departments this orientation was
further indicated in their titles, such as "Her Majesty's Inspectorate of
...". We served 'Her Majesty' not the 'front bench'. This situation was
changed drastically by the decision of the courts in the case of Ponting when
it was ruled that "the public interest" was to be defined as
"the interest of the government". This case related to Ponting's
objection to Thatcher's ordering the sinking of the Argentinian ship, the
Belgrano during the Falklands War.
In my case I was in breach of no
regulations because I had not made public ("leaked") my disagreement
with the policy. I was, however, accused of inspiring the criticism of the
Minister and departmental policy on the strength of the second paragraph of the
Times article. I remember the morning of the 20th April 1964. I arrived at the
office slightly late and on my desk was a message that I was wanted 'in the
front office'. No indication of the reason for this was given. However, as I
started on my way I met our First Division representative and indicated that I
was 'sent for'. She asked me if I had seen the Times, because that was probably
the reason and I had better read the piece first. I pointed out that (only!)
"top people" read the Times, whereas '"lively minds read the
Guardian!" I looked at her copy. I was not prepared to apologise. I went downstairs.
I had not contacted the Times.
The True Origin of the Times Editorial
I have not previously disclosed the
background to the Times editorial and WHO advised them of the position. In fact
it was a senior member of WHO (World Health Organisation), namely Charles Winnick.
He had been on a visit to Geneva and called me for further details of the new
drug legislation proposals. He told me that he was dismayed. He assumed that I
was doing all I could to resist this development. (He knew my views from my
visits to the U.S. and the Presidential Commissions evidence). He could divert
to London on his way back to New York if he could help in any way. I agreed
that he might, because I thought I could arrange for him to see some people in
'C' Division. He came, having only one day available. A few of the technical
staff talked with him, but "front office" refused to talk: pointing
out that his visit was unofficial!
Charles and I were both
disappointed at the results within the office. He came to see me before
departing. He had a couple of hours before his flight. It so happened that I
knew a sub-editor of the Times (Francois LeFete) and on calling him he
expressed interest to talk with Charles. The next thing I knew was when the
Times’ article was drawn to my attention. (I have not told Charles the outcome
of his assistance with our hopeless cause: there seemed to be no need to do
so).
The Accusation and a change of job
Of course I was asked to give an
account of my behaviour and to explain the Times article. It was obvious that I
was suspected of 'leaking to the press' -- a serious breach of civil service
rules. I had not (on this occasion) provided the press (any press) with my
views, though they might have been inferred from my book, Social Deviance which
had just been published.
The Permanent Under Secretary
suggested that I should be posted to some other department -- I do not remember
whether this was to follow an official reprimand or any other action. I opted
to resign.
CHAPTER
FIVE: THE SCOTTISH EXPERIENCE: (First venture into university life.)
I include the details of my first
and very short term of experience of university life, not because it reveals
any development of my research skills, but because it provides another insight
into the conflicts between the research viewpoint (i.e. mine) and those
concerned with ‘good order and discipline’. The problem on this occasion was
not so much a matter of ‘style’ as of ‘territory’. The experience contributed
much to my learning, and, eventually even perhaps an increased degree of
tolerance of non-research perspectives.
There is a managerial technique
termed "polishing the skids". It has been known to be used both in
research departments and in all kinds of organisation where employees are
subject to agreed contracts. Few readers may experience it, and it is to be
hoped that fewer will find it necessary to put it into effect. It is a way of
getting rid of unwanted staff when one has no authority to actually effect
their discharge nor to directly ask them to resign. My experiences at the
receiving end of the techniques took place as I sought a post following my
difficulties in the Home Office. I made a detailed record of the critical
events which I think add up to a colourful example of both the skids method and
the different styles of thought which may characterise academic and
administrative roles within university governance. The story may also provide
an example of my incorrect inference from observations with which I was too
closely involved. In other words, another warning about the unreliability of
introspection.
Escape from the Home Office
depended upon my securing "approved employment". Enlightened readers
may be unfamiliar with this feudal concept, so, I will give a short
explanation. As an "established civil servant" (statistician class) I
had both tenure and a non-contributary pension. Tenure provided considerable
security though it was possible to be discharged 'for cause'. The pension was a
valuable feature and though technically we did not contribute, the value of
this 'perk' was clearly taken into account in salary negotiations. The value
was such that an individual who had been in the employment from the age of 20
until 60 received 50% of the final salary. But more importantly the sums
payable were sheltered from inflation. However, the technical non-contributory
nature meant that whether a pension was paid on retirement was a matter of
'discretion' and not a matter of a 'right' of the retiree. In particular, the
clause which was of concern to me was that if I were to resign to take up other
employment without that employment being 'approved', my pension would be
forfeited. Approved employment was limited to non-political appointments in the
United Nations and British universities.
I applied to the United Nations but
the quota system meant that my chances under normal conditions of obtaining a
post were practically zero. So I set about getting a position in a university.
It was apparently a good time to look around because two or three 'senior
institutes of technology and research' ("Sisters)" were being set up.
A post as Reader in social research methods was being established at the new
University of Strathclyde in Glasgow. The job specification fitted my
qualifications very closely and I applied, was appointed, and duly resigned my
Home Office post and my civil service grade. The 'approved employment' clause
would safeguard my pension. I did not realise how much power this was placing
in the hands of my new employer. The rest of the Scottish experience is best
forgotten, but in the cause of honest reporting I will briefly repeat here the
notes I made at the time in my appointments book -- I did not keep diaries.
Sequence of events at
Strathclyde -- from contemporary record
May 1963
--- Interview successful. Appointed Reader in Social Science Research with
links with Sociology (Prof. Jahoda) and Politics (Prof. Potter).
It may be noted that I had
requested details of both my duties and facilities. It was hoped that I would
spend most of my time on research with assistance of graduate (postgraduate)
students. I asked about housing my library. I was shown an office which was
then a store but was a very reasonable size to accommodate my books and
equipment. I was told that it would be prepared for me and ready when I took up
post in mid June. In the interim I had secured a house in the new town of
Cumbernauld which would not only provide my residence but be a kind of social
laboratory as the town was being developed around me.
The local development agency knew
of my interest and we had discussed the plans and problems.
The next detailed entry records the
beginning of the end of the Scottish experience!
19th
June Office not set up, though construction work seems to be completed. cannot
find anybody in authority. Hang around university all day making myself
available to students
20th
June Decide to spend time at university and fixing House in Cumbernauld. Talk
with Jahoda
21st
June Deposited crates of books and requested that they be accommodated until an
office was ready for my occupation. Promised that this would be completed when
I returned from the U.S. on the 13th July. In the mean time what I had been
told was to be my office continued to be used as a store. I had no desk, and no
chair! Had to accommodate myself in the Common Room.
13-17
July Returned from U.S. on 13th July. Situation as I had left it. I had now
built up considerable arrears of work but there were no facilities at the
university. I was promised (17th) that the necessary work would be done and an
office ready for me when I returned from a Meeting of the Home Office Working
Party.
22nd
July Returned from Home Office. No change. Exactly as I had left it! I go to
see the chief of "Works" myself. He promises work will be carried out
by "next Monday".17th Aug.: Still no change. No location in which to
work, except that there is now provided a desk in a corner of the General
Common Room. No telephone or any other equipment. No point for my electric
typewriter. Visit "Works" again. Hang around for 2 days and then get
fed up and return home. At least I can type there!
7th
Sept: Return to Strathclyde. Still as I had left it. Visit Works office again
and get promise of work by Monday 14th.
14th
Sept: No trace of workman. I note that this seems to be more than just
inefficiency. Call on colleagues and ask for meeting to discuss my future
contributions and conditions. Meeting fixed for 3.30. The result of meeting
seemed promising. A location would, I was assured, be provided. It was not what
I had been promised or of the size &c that I had been led to expect. Still,
a place to sit and write. Begin to set up papers, and unpack library.
15th
Sept: To office. Overnight rain had flooded the room and my papers were badly
damaged including some books and valuable RSS journals. Was this why I was
allocated this office?. 10.30 am. The rain entry is now so bad that there seems
danger of electrical faults or even injury. Report this.
16th
Sept. To University and find that a Lecturer (lower grade than Reader) was in
the office which I had originally been shown and promised. It was well set up.
Noted that the occupant was Scottish!
17th
Sept. Builders have now taken down part of the ceiling of my 'location'. My
books are back in the cases -- more or less. I had now been appointed for
three months (and paid salary) but provided with no means of carrying out any
work.
The significance of a lecturer
being given priority for office space seemed to be saying something loud and
reasonably clear! These actions decoded as a good example of a technique known
as 'polishing the skids'. It seemed that I was expected to resign. I did so. I
should have realised that my problems were arranged by the authority with
charge of works and buildings, and were not supported by the academic side. The
academics were not well organised to sort out the goods and chattels people! I
suppose I could have just 'sat tight' and found ways of relaxing! I later came
to appreciate that there were pockets of intense Scottish nationalism. I had,
perhaps run into one! I ought to have been more prepared for this. I knew from
my experience with the Social Survey of the delicacy of negotiations to bring Scotland
into any 'British' survey for studies such as the prevalence of deafness. I had
had to visit the Scottish Office in Edinburgh and personally explain the
reasons for the desirability of a full countrywide sample and obtain separate
permission to proceed. It seems odd to have to note my problems with Scotland
now because I have four grandchildren who are all born and bred Scottish! All
is forgiven!
Not even my resignation resulted in
the satisfaction of the chief of Administration of Strathclyde. He wrote to the
Establishments Division of the Home Office rejecting the terms of 'approved
employment' because I had resigned. Looked at from my viewpoint this was a nice
attempt to save a few thousand pounds a year from my 60th birthday onwards! But
he was protecting his funds.
Fortunately news of my availability
for work was widely known. I was invited to join Stafford Beer in his
management consulting company, "Sigma". Stafford had been one of my
associates in Air Ministry days. There were problems in that this was not
'approved employment'. But I think a more serious consideration was that I
found the life of a business consultant did not fit in with either my own or
Barbara's style. The business car (a Mercedes) was OK! Travel, entertaining and
selling research to industrial big shots was not my thing. I was glad of the
money! I worked for Sigma for three or four weeks, during which time I wrote a
monograph which was published on behalf of the company explaining what human
resource research could do. It was a presentable publication.
We were pleased when a telephone
call was received out-of-the-blue; well it was actually from Geneva. Ed Galway
of the United Nations Technical Assistance Bureau thought I would be just the
right person to replace Norval Morris in the Asia and Far East Institute in
Tokyo. It was a special assignment with the Technical Assistance Bureau of the
UN. I was not clear at the time as to whether this type of post was 'approved',
but it did not seem to be of any concern.
In the outcome it seems that my
U.N. appointment was just in time (by reason of entitlement to leave) to save
my pension by giving 'continuity' of 'approved employment'. However, I was
careful not to inquire as to my standing in this respect because I did not want
to draw attention to any possible problems. It was with some measure of
surprise that I learned, just before my 60th birthday that I was to receive my
full pension with continuing provision for Barbara.
Strathclyde -- A charitable explanation?
After my academic experiences in
other universities I can now imagine a probable and more reasonable explanation
of what happened to me at Strathclyde. My thoughts about Scottish nationalism
may have been quite incorrect or certainly exaggerated. Normally one could place
much blame on pure and simple muddle, but the shambles at the University of
Strathclyde could not really be put down to this most common cause. The
incidents were certainly carefully planned to get me out. But I do not now
think that the "state of war" in which I had become involved had
anything to do with nationalism nor was it of my causing, rather it was
territorial defence. After Berkeley I came to realise that continuing bitter
conflicts often exist in universities between accountants and administrators
and the academics. The Chief Administrator had not been present at my interview
and was probably not consulted about my appointment. Strathclyde was a new
university and he needed to establish his power base. It was too bad that I was
in the way of his objectives. I was told that he was shortly deposed. But I was
in Japan by then.
The U.N. appointment provided me
with a 'knight's move' into employment which was clearly not approved --- at
Berkeley! But it was much more than that.
CHAPTER
SIX: THE JAPANESE -- UNITED NATIONS EXPERIENCE
In addition to carrying out
research, academic life includes teaching and assisting others in research
work. This may involve overseas assignments and some policy research workers
may find themselves in similar positions to that of my experiences in Japan. I
had not planned anything like the United Nations mission into which I was now
about to be precipitated. Indeed I doubt that I would have thought myself able
to carry out any such mission. However, others thought that I would adapt to
the situation and contribute to the development of judicial policy in the
countries of Asia.
Just before Christmas 1964 I left
home for Tokyo via India and Thailand. 1964 had been a busy and eventful year.
Why was I in such a hurry to take up
my post with the U.N.? Could I not have left it until after Christmas? Well no!
I had resigned from Strathclyde after less than three months in the post. The
offer of a position with the U.N. had to be taken up immediately or I would be
deemed to have terminated my 'approved employment' and my pension would be
lost. In any event, the Institute in Fuchu needed someone there right away,
because the other non-Japanese staff were all departing before Christmas! So
the new boy had to go and stand in forthwith. I was quickly fitted out with a
United Nations Passport and various other documents, a number provided by the
Japanese Embassy.
I was allowed a few days break en
route and Delhi was a possible stopover. I decided to opt for this location in
preference to any of the others -- the route via Moscow was not available and
the only alternatives were some of the airports in the Near East, or the
extremely long flight via Copenhagen and over the pole. Of course, the Near
East is nearer (somewhat) than is the Far East, and for some reason does not
seem to include India, which is, I suppose neither 'near' or 'far'. When
Stafford Beer learned that my travel plans included a free-time stopover in
Delhi, he introduced me to an Indian member of his staff who had contact with
Indira Ghandi. He had ideas for communications which he thought should be of
value to the development of rural communities in India. He hoped that I could
use my stopover to visit Mrs Ghandi, if this could be arranged. I liked Stafford's
idea which would now be seen as an application of "Intermediate
Technology". I thought I could explain the idea to Indian officials and
agreed to see what I could do during the short break.
The flight to India was uneventful,
until arrival. Despite my United Nations Passport, which entitled me to go to
the head of the queue, the red-tape was applied slowly and with quite
unnecessary thoroughness, and this included a complete count of all my cash and
its careful recording on duplicate (or more) documents. This record was to be
checked with my cash balance on departure. It was easy to assume that this was
something to do with the financial controls and unofficial rates of exchange.
How this purpose could be achieved by the procedures used was not so obvious.
It was more than two hours before I was cleared and on my way to meet the Sigma
staff member who was to sort out my residential requirements as well as
facilitate the discussion with Mrs Ghandi. She at that time was the Minister
for Information.
The journey from the airport to the
city was a devastating experience. It was freezing. The road was lined with
beggars who were camped out in all kinds of ramshackle bits and pieces which
provided scant shelter. It was the juxtaposition of the extremely rich and the
extremely poor which really 'hit' me. Wealth was displayed with ostentation and
arrogance.
However, I had already found it to
be essential to adopt some of the "Raj tactics" myself in order to
cope with a situation that could have been disastrous. As I was departing from
the customs area, my baggage was seized by a 'porter' who went off at great
speed. I was suspicious of the intent; it seemed like an attempted theft. As it
proved it clearly was! My intuition took over and mustering my R.A.F. parade-ground
style and voice, I barked out a command to put the bag down right now. It
worked. I did not like playing these kind of officer/other ranks games.
I duly met my contact and was
driven in an old Hillman to my hotel. It was OK. My contact arranged to show me
around Delhi in the morning. Seeing Delhi was reasonably safe with my guide who
protected me from beggars, bullocks and others, though a snake charmer was
rather aggressive -- or his snake wanted a gift before it would relax. My guide
was giving nothing away. Perhaps it was just as well. I was moved rather
quickly out of range while the various altercations ran their course.
The idea to be presented to Mrs
Ghandi concerned the dissemination of information through village groups and
the use of television; a sort of Open University for a developing country. I
had prepared notes and a short paper explaining. But I think my audience with
the lady should be measured in seconds rather than minutes! Mrs Ghandi was just
not interested. Furthermore she took the view that our suggestion was somewhat
insulting to her and her country. I understood the position she represented to
be that (a) India should not be assumed to be satisfied by lower grade
technologies than those elsewhere in the west. (b) India did not wish to be
told by any foreign technicians how to disseminate information to its own
citizens. (c) India has its own technicians. The last point was doubtless true,
but irrelevant; they were no more valued by the politicians than foreign ones.
I had no time to stay around and
left the matter with the Sigma representative. My money was counted, some sums
were done and I was eventually cleared for boarding a flight to Bangkok. My
next assignment was a week's briefing by United Nations Technical Assistance
H.Q. in that city.
Bangkok is hot and sticky at any
time of the year, even December. My hotel was probably the best available and
had good air conditioning and all mod-cons. However the view from the window
was of people grubbing in the hotel's garbage containers. Poverty, wealth and
religion were equally dominant features of the scene. Physically I think I had
a relaxed week there. It was clear from my briefings that Tokyo was not going
to be like I might have supposed. I had imagined it to be rather threatening
because of its 'Eastern Mystery'. I was going to be pleasantly surprised. The
contrasts between the old and the new and the apparent westernisation were
stressed. I was pleased to learn that there was a very much respected protocol
officer in Tokyo who would be able to advise me.
Here I had the opportunity of
playing an unfamiliar role. Well! Rather reminiscent of my R.A.F. days, though
I pulled this one off much better than the Oslo parade. I was to be an official
inspector of prisons. Looking at the press pictures taken at the time, it seems
that I did as well as most royalty!
Bangkok would not be a place in
which I would choose to live, nor even to make a holiday. True, there is the
splendour of the Temples, but squalor is juxtaposed to wealth. Souvenir silver
spoons and a Tai Angel cloth are tokens of this stopover. I managed not to be
sent to Bangkok again!
So to Tokyo. Here I was met with
considerable ceremony. I think there were at least two, perhaps even four cars
of officials to welcome me. I had not been advised to count! The portents were,
however, good. I was soon to learn that the welcoming procedure (and most if
not all other such actions) were determined by the role the person was playing
at the time, and not any personal attributes of the individual concerned. This
was going to be a very important factor in my work for the next two years. The
Japanese culture (and indeed language) does not allow one to generalise from
one situation to another. When I arrived I was arriving as a "Senior
Adviser" of the United Nations and carrying a diplomatic passport. The
ceremony was appropriate to my role at the time; it was not to apply to other
roles I would have to adopt later.
I was delivered at the United
Nations' Asia and Far East Institute (UNAFEI) known locally in brief as
"Azhaken" (as heard). My initial experiences of Fuchu were somewhat
traumatic. On the U.N. Institute Campus there were three houses for foreign
staff known as the "Adviser's House", the "Experts House"
and the "Director's House". I was, of course, allocated the
"Adviser's House". This was the bureaucratic arrangement. I had a
sort-of tied property which I could rent at a peppercorn rental so long as I
was a member of the U.N. staff located at the Institute. Staff were not
entitled to free food or accommodation.
After two or three days the
Institute closed for the vacation and the Management announced that I was on my
own. I had a two storey, two bedroomed house, a domestic help, who spoke no
English, but little or no furniture, no refrigerator and a bottled gas driven
'central' heating system which was either super hot, or not functioning at all.
It was months before I managed to get it tamed.
There were no supermarkets, so it
was not possible to drift along shelves and identify foods. I had to cope with
the small shops, jostling with Japanese housewives who shopped twice a day.
This was reasonable behaviour because refrigerators were not in general use in
Japanese households at that time. I had a grill and what passed as a small oven
which was powered from the external gas cylinders connected via flexible tubes
to an outside lean-to. This of course, was a provision for earthquakes. I had
been warned that vegetables (being somewhat 'organic') were not safe if merely
washed, so they were immersed in a solution of permanganate of potash before
cooking. (I had taken a supply with me on advice before departure). I survived
until the Institute mess reopened after the New Year.
I rapidly purchased a set of lounge
furniture and various lighting and other fittings. The lounge armchairs could
be totally dismantled by a few butterfly bolts and become a set of cubes. These
subsequently went with me around the United States and as of the time of
writing are still in use in our lounge at Cambridge, as is also a standard and
table lamp (with etchings!). They were very good buys. Various items of
decorative art were also acquired and are also still in evidence. I doubt that
I would have collected these interesting items had I not been forced to do so
by the living conditions. (It's an ill wind ...)
In the New Year the participants in
the courses started to arrive. The Institute began to function as an
educational establishment for adult students. Each participant had a
study-bedroom (western style). There were both eastern and western style
toilets. Above the western design were a set of cartoon-like pictograms
illustrating the approved manner of use of this model! There was no similar
instruction for the eastern style, and I never got around to asking which way
it was correct to face during use!
Food was provided by a self-service
system with a limited menu. Since the total complement was about 24
participants and a dozen or so staff, the meals lacked variety. Food
provisioning was a difficult exercise in political correctness. The
participants in the seminars came from all 'eastern' countries, extending from
Fiji across to and including Iran. Religions tend to go by geographic area, and
many of the religions had food taboos. When the mess menu was edited to delete
any items which gave offence to any of the twenty or thirty participants, the
diet was almost restricted to two forms of rice; sticky and not sticky. So I
learned to cook for myself in the house.
Nearby the U.N. Institute was Fuchu
Prison. A large establishment with a classification of high security. In any
other country it would have been classified as an 'open' prison. A rail track
ran through the centre and prisoners worked on production processes linked with
the local factory. It seemed that all the castings needed for the 'free'
factory were produced in the 'closed' prison and moved along the production
line. Inmates kept my garden area in good shape. The inmates and guards seemed
to be on very good terms and worked together -- certainly this was no
'chain-gang' style of incarceration. It seemed far more humanitarian than the
Californian State prisons. Prisoners knew the kind of behaviour which was
proper to their role and guards knew their place too. The format was, it
appeared to me, to be a natural derivative from the culture of the nation.
My duties at the Institute were not
unduly demanding. I organised the courses, gave some lectures, wrote a number
of articles, and was able to spend time in visits to Tokyo and the parks,
temples and other cities. Each course also was treated to several tours and
naturally I went along.
My first impression of Tokyo was
derived from the view I had from the diplomatic car windows. I was impressed by
the rail link connecting the city to the airport (not the current one). It was
a monorail. As we drive through the city it seemed 'westernised' and the neon
lights and advertisements in the downtown area were more like Times Square than
Piccadilly. However my briefing agent stressed that 'westernisation is a thin
surface'. It was more a matter of appearance than of attitude. But this was
1964. The Olympic Games had just closed, and certain features had been added to
most of the street furniture to make it possible for athletes from various
countries to cope: railway stations had the name in Latin script as well as the
two styles of Japanese hieroglyphics. But road direction signs were only in
Kanji.
Out in Fuchu -- on (what was then)
the extreme edge of Tokyo metropolitan area -- there was little western
influence to be noted. It was most fortunate that the Keo Line railway station
was only two blocks distant from the Institute. The station identification
boards were marked (in small type at the foot) with the station name in Latin
script. Fuchu had been the most distant point of the Olympic Games Marathon.
Some concessions to foreigners had been made then and not deleted, though I
think I was the only one to benefit! This was more than useful, it was for me
absolutely the essential key to going anywhere. Otherwise I would have been
restricted to movements within a range which I could walk and remember the way
back, without asking for directions!. Later I observed that the trains, which
were very frequent, ran to split second timing and that if one could get a
timetable translated it was possible to get on the right train by consulting
one's (electronic) watch.
Few, very few, Japanese people
spoke any English and the railway journey to and from Tokyo required one or two
changes of trains (also, indeed, of railway companies!). It was challenging.
I found a foreign food store in
Tokyo and was able to purchase foods which I understood. Alcohol was, of
course, provided as part of the diplomatic perks, tax free and at rock bottom
prices. There was a restricted allowance but even with all the entertaining I
did, I never reached anywhere near the ceiling. (Nor was I ever flat on the
floor!)
Journeys on the train were
interesting. The rolling stock and the track operations from Fuchu to Shinjuko
were identical with the Metropolitan line from Croxley to Baker Street. There
were parallel fast and slow (stopping) tracks. Shinjuko performed a similar
function to that of Baker Street in that it provided a considerable number of
connections to other parts of Tokyo, on other rail companies, including the
central city (Ginza) and the (then) airport. Seating on trains was limited to a
divided bench on each side with the large central area supplied with hanging
straps for standing passengers, of which there were many. Some seats were
reserved for the aged or disabled, and this allocation seemed always to be
respected, no matter how crowded the train. I found it interesting to take the
first coach of the train and observe the driver and the rails ahead. There was
a good view through the driver's cab.
I am not tall, being about
5'8", but I could see over the heads of almost all of the other standing
passengers. This would not now be the case; I have shrunk but by a lesser
amount than the Japanese are taller. I would doubt that the present distribution
of heights for the younger age groups differs between Japan and the Western
world.
I often went to Tokyo to eat. How
did I know what to order? It was simple. In the top class hotels, such as the
Imperial, English was spoken. It seemed that English was an affectation of the
upper class Japanese. Menus, rather than in French, were in English. The
Imperial Hotel even laid on English tea with cucumber sandwiches and cakes!
Some wealthy Japanese enjoyed the Western style and English was more popular
than American.
The Imperial Hotel was the work of
Frank Lloyd Wright and was the only major building in the city which survived
the 1984 (R = 8.4) earthquake. It was built of pumice stone, very light. (I
think it is a pity that it has now been torn down and replaced by a modern
building). Below there were catacombs developed as very large linear shopping
malls. These tunnels followed the rail tracks. One could walk to different
parts of central Tokyo and connect with trains above ground. A similar set-up
is to be found in Montreal.
Having mentioned earthquakes I must
intercept the serious record with a story of how I was instructed to take
precautions for such events. The advice was from a visiting expert from New
Zealand. It was 'Robby' (Attorney General Robson), the same as I spoke of
earlier in regard to the compensation for victims of crimes of violence. He
reminded me that his country too was prone to serious earthquakes. He pointed
out that "quake" was not necessarily the best description of what
happened. The earth behaved rather like the sea with a wave form which ran away
from the epicentre. He asked me which way around I had orientated my bed. Then
he advised me to turn it around through 90 degrees so that when an earthquake
happened I would not be rolled out -- the bed then being longways to the wave
effect instead of broadside on. I rather took the view that if an earthquake
were to occur I would want to get out of the house, and getting out of bed
might be the first step, so some assistance from nature might not come amiss. I
(almost) fell for that one! I can assure readers that the Imperial Hotel did
not survive because it was facing the right way round!
In the shopping arcades were many
eating houses. It was easy to decide here also what to order, not from any
menu, but because there were on display plastic replicas of the items available
-- very realistic. It was necessary only to remember the name or to point to
the item. Smoked eel (pronounced 'oonahghi') was one of my favourite items in
the smaller cafes, and with Sapporo beer this made a good meal. I also
patronised the Imperial Hotel quite often.
I soon learned that even for a
geigen (foreigner) diplomat, what determined expected (or actual!) behaviour
was the role at the time rather than any permanent characteristics of the
persons concerned. For so long as I was in my official capacity, I rated a
driver and car. Escorts into and out of the country were provided and three
cars were needed for the 'waving party'. But as soon as 'off-duty' status
applied, all associated facilities ceased. If I behaved as a tourist, then I
was to be treated as a tourist. If I was acting as a diplomat, technical
adviser or instructor, then it was that status at the time and for the duration
of the role only which determined what service I could expect. Any attempt to
extend facilities to other activities was seen as a form of dishonesty.
The Japanese language encodes this
separation of the individual into roles and the associated status. The language
does not have a first person singular pronoun -- no general "I". The
speaker uses a pronoun appropriate to the role or social standing at the time.
The role or status of the person addressed must also be considered,
particularly in greeting behaviour. Age demands respect and this has to be
accommodated in the means of address. Women speak a different 'language' from
men. I never understood the rules for bowing, and I was told that young
Japanese have great difficulty with this too. It was understood that Westerners
did not show respect in this way, so the best thing to do was to shake hands or
greet in as natural manner as possible.
It is the lack of a common
"I" which enables what appears to western perspectives to facilitate
denial as a means of avoiding embarrassment. I recall requesting the Senior
Administrative of the Institute to change the opening of the lecture room doors
for fire safety reasons. He agreed readily. Two weeks later, nothing had been
done. I had made the mistake of asking him to get this work done while he was a
guest in my house. I had not asked him in his role as Senior Administrative
Officer. When I went to see him and 'reminded' him of his promise to get the
work done, he drew his breath noisily through his teeth and disclaimed all
knowledge of the matter. I pointed out that I had asked about this while he was
in my house at a small party. His reply was, "I was not in your
house". The form of "I" he used was the "I" which
applied to his work role. The idea of self as an integrated individual is a
western view of personality. The drawing of breath is saying "I am
embarrassed and don't know what to do". It was very useful to learn this!
Perhaps I was impressed by the
significance of role, status and personal image? For some reason it seemed
important that I should be regarded by other 'foreigners' (particularly other
British) not according to nationality but by my function. I was an
international civil servant and was travelling on a U.N. passport. So that when
I got around to signing in at the British Embassy (which I was required to do)
I requested that my nationality be not recognised unless in emergency. I did
not wish to be seen as just another individual from Britain: nationality was
irrelevant. .
The United Nations had their own
protocol officer in Tokyo. He was bilingual and a most delightful person,
extremely well informed on Japanese culture and history which he also genuinely
appreciated. He was willing to take me around the area and introduce me to the
shrines and explain the ceremonial. He also had a high quality tape recorder
and a supply of tapes of 'classical' music. He recommended that I should invest
in an Akai reel-to-reel and some good speakers. He would then copy tapes which
he might have and I might like too. I was able to build up quite a large
collection not only from his copies but by recording concerts broadcast by NHK
in stereo.
Distinguished Visitors and Sundry
experiences.
Reflecting on Fuchu gives rise to
all sorts of memories, but few structured patterns. The turnover of
participants in courses emphasised the discontinuity of experiences. One has
now a rather hazy picture of the work, the participants and one's associates
and the difficulties of finding something good to eat. Many experiences were quite
surprising at the time though most have now dimmed into the background of
fuzziness. I was surprised to find that the Tokyo radio broadcast, in stereo,
most afternoons first class music (taped and recorded) played by the world's
best orchestras and some live broadcasts of local programmes. I suppose much of
this was with an eye to the export market. For whatever reason they were most
enjoyable. Western music, it seems, was becoming accepted, and among the
intellectual classes, much appreciated. It was possible for me to set up the
tape recorder to record the afternoon concerts and to listen to them in the
evenings. This was before stereo broadcasting was begun in England.
Soon after my arrival a young Dutch
lawyer (Antoine Peters) was appointed. With the agreement of the authorities, I
offered him accommodation in part of the house. He was glad to accept and we
shared the house until he married one of the Japanese interpreters. He did not
have the status to enjoy the services of the official car, so he purchased his
own. The Adviser's house had a garage. It was a good arrangement because we
could then pick up the duty free drinks from the Embassy stores (and of course
purchase food in the foreign food stores in Tokyo). We were able to entertain
staff or seminar participants, as well as 'externals' such as professors from
the universities. We made many good friends.
Among the guests we enjoyed the
company of Professor Nikiforov of the Moscow Academy. He spoke English with a
Scottish accent -- he had had a Scottish nanny! I was impressed by one feature
of Soviet law which Nickiforov described. In a case where an individual from
another part of the U.S.S.R. is arrested for a crime in, say, Moscow, which is
not an offence in the home area and residence in Moscow short, a claim to
"in bar of trial" could be made on grounds of his being unfamiliar
with the local law. I recall that Saint Paul was said to have claimed the
incompetence of the Jewish courts to try a Roman and requesting his trial to be
in Rome. Paul's claim did not challenge the idea that ignorance of the law is
not an excuse, whereas the Soviet concept certainly does involve the element of
"knowing". How this relates to our legal idea of "mens rea"
and "intent" is interesting. I will leave the thought there or this
will become a different kind of book from that which I "intended"!
Not that Nikiforov's visit was
characterised by a one-way traffic in ideas. Many years later I learned of the
impact these meetings had had on criminological theory in the (then) Soviet
Union. Some 20 years later at a U.N seminar a presentation by the Soviet
delegation reproduced my 'deviation amplification' theory. I asked the speaker
how he had come across this. He had been a student of Nikiforov! By this time
the transformation of the U.S.S.R. was well under way. Perhaps I should have
been less surprised than some that this took place. Nikiforov had views which
were "subversive" in the extreme prior to Gorbachov's accession to
power. He did not, of course, present his views to the seminars, but in private
discussions in my house he felt free to give his uninhibited views. We had
discussed my Social Deviance book and clearly he 'took it on board'. The Soviet
physical scientists were also well represented at the U.N. Earthquake Research
Centre in Japan and worked well with many other nationals without regard to
political conflicts.
The story of my times in Fuchu
could occupy several volumes (well, it could if I could re member them) but I
do not propose to attempt a detailed account. I will say only that my time
there, despite sundry hardships and in particular suffering the separation from
family, was a very positive experience.
Touring (a different role!) earthquake
aftermath
In addition to the work and its
related activities I was able to see as much of the country as most tourists,
including Hiroshima and Niigata. The former was included on some of the U.N.
trips, and of course, there were always prisons which could be visited and
these were located throughout the country. My visit to Niigata was different;
very different.
I had purchased a movie camera and
it had become a habit to send the films home as a record. I had been at the
Institute for some months when the Canadian "expert", who spoke some
Japanese suggested that we might visit Niigata on the west coast. This would
take us through the Japan Alps, a very beautiful mountain range in central
Honshu, and we would see how the city was recovering from a serious earthquake.
We had heard of how buildings were being lifted upright by hydraulics.
The train journey was, I suppose,
typical. No space was available for one additional passenger. People were being
posted into the carriages through the open windows and luggage racks were
accommodating whoever was small enough to fit. We decided that we could pay a
bit more and get some additional air if we were to take a meal. I don't
remember what we ate, and I do not recall any questions arising (nor anything
else!) at the time. We arrived at Niigata, I think, on time, though having a
Japanese speaker with me I was not so attentive to indications of time and
space and the relationship between these two dimensions! It was dark and we
took a taxi and were dropped off in the foyer of our hotel. It was a western
style hotel -- and I suspect the best in the city.
We went to our rooms right away.
After a while John called on the internal 'phone to ask whether I felt OK. He
was, he said, feeling quite dizzy or disorientated. I also had noticed an
unusual feeling, rather like having been spun around several times and then
stopped. We noted that we had had a meal on the train, decided that we might
'sleep it off'. I decided to take a bath first. There was a full-sized bath and
as I began to run the water, the cause of our malaise was made apparent. The
water all flowed to one end! The whole hotel, quite intact, had tilted several
degrees out of the perpendicular. All our visual orientation clues had been out
of kilter! Shots of the view from my hotel room window are on the home movie
and show the buildings opposite leaning against each other, and other buildings
with several degrees of tilt. Continuing to work in these buildings resulted in
a medically recognised ailment termed Niigata sickness, related I would suppose
to seasickness..
Some personal views on Japanese culture
Many books have been written on
Japanese culture and traditions and I cannot claim to be an authority on that
subject with only two years of residence, True, my role as an international
civil servant gave me an unusual perspective, and living 'native' in a suburban
area was an experience not gained by tourists or by visiting academics.
The early 1960s were times of rapid
transition in Japan. People were unhappy with their past and wanted to 'learn
democracy'. If I were to try to make sense of much more of my time in Fuchu and
of my impressions of my experiences there, a large percentage would probably be
inaccurate. While I will not interpret events I can say what happened in a few
cases which may have an interest. Some seemed trivial at the time and less
trivial later while others seemed to have considerable portent but later the
apparent significance evaporated. I will draw no conclusions.
The Times are changing, rapidly.
In the mid-1960's Japan was trying
to retain what was seen as 'good' in their older tradition. For example, the
relationship between employer and employee involved the concept of obligation.
Indeed 'obligation' was a dominant ethic. In practice this meant that once an
employer had engaged a worker, that worker had an expectation of working for
life with that organisation; there was mutual obligation. The worker owed a
loyalty to the employer in exchange for this security. Two examples of this may
be of interest.
There were superstores as elegant
as any in the West End or Fifth Avenue but features of tradition were retained.
Even in these stores the ethic of obligation of employer was evident. Work was
found which could be carried out satisfactorily by each employee. In the Ginza
superstores the handrails of the escalators were wiped continuously by girls
dressed in the elegant shop uniform which included white gloves. They stood at
the top of each floor and, bowing to each customer, bid them welcome. I pointed
out that this was an unnecessary activity. Handrails could be cleaned probably
more efficiently and more cheaply, and the welcome could be supplemented with
information or advertising. The reply was to the effect that the only thing the
girls had going for them was that they were good-looking and it was the duty of
the employer to provide work which engaged the employee's qualities,
qualifications or even the lack thereof.
The loyalty to the employer which
this system engendered was expressed covertly by professors who, when
introducing themselves would not give their name until they had told you of
their institution. This caused me some embarrassment when at an official
function a distinguished and somewhat aged professor introduced himself to me
by announcing that he was a member of the Tokyo Institute of Technology. He
stressed this by asking me if I was familiar with the MIT, I agreed that the
M.I.T. was a world renowned university. Proudly he pointed out that he was a
TIT! The first and last time I have spoken with a 'big tit' who was proud of
that fact!
The contrasts between east and west
in the workplace was also evidenced in social life. Adoption of western
patterns of public and private etiquette was not generalised. Home life styles
varied from fully 'western' to traditional Japanese, irrespective of status (at
least within the academic community). If there was a correlation between
preferred styles and any easily observed variables, it was with age. The
younger were more orientated towards western styles in cafes and places of
public entertainment.
It became clear to me that the
Japanese people are extremely tolerant of ambiguities, not only in respect of
religions and whatever it is that religious affiliation implies, but in all
aspects of living. According to my perspective there was tremendous contrast
between those individuals or families who retained the old patterns and those
who had adapted to the new. But this did not seem to be noted by the people
themselves. There was also a strong correlation between western life styles and
western religions, particularly in that those who claimed to be adherents to
any of the various denominations within Christianity tended to also adopt the
western patterns which went with that belief system. But religion seemed to be
held lightly, no matter what faith was assumed. A senior law professor (the
Deputy Director of the Institute) claimed to be a Shinto-Budhist-Christian.
Often a family would opt for a marriage ceremony in the Shinto tradition while
on other life occasions they might elect either Christian or Buddhist.
The Deputy Director was quite 'at
home' in western academic environments but his wife walked behind him! On no
occasion did he invite me to his home, but entertained in male society in
cafes, served by Geisha girls. At Buddhist or Shinto shrines he performed the
ritual. Many shrines combined in various ways both the Shinto and Buddhist
symbols. (Possibly also the rituals, though I was never sure whether the local
Buddhism had any specific 'ritual' of its own). Households did not seem to mix
traditions. If the home was westernised, then chairs and dining tables were
used, but if it was not, one sat cross-legged on the floor with a low table.
The western bed was not as functional as the traditional futon. Space was very
limited in Tokyo homes and there were seldom separate bedrooms. The futon was
set down at night in a general purpose room. Chopsticks were more generally
retained, and many of the staff and foreign guests at the Institute decided to
use them. Among these I include myself. In fact, if eating out in other than
the Imperial Hotel, or western style home there was no alternative.
Whether a home was or was not
westernised was, of course, somewhat related to income and status in that the
poor could not afford the western forms of furnishing and space use. But
neither occupation nor status gave any firm indication of what style of living
one should expect if one were to meet those involved on social occasions. Among
the academic community a number referred humorously to themselves as the 'Michigan
Mafia'. I knew well the two senior professors of law at Tokyo University. One
had adopted a fully western style and was proud of the years he had spent at
the University of Michigan. The other law professor whose behaviour in the
office was precisely the same as the Michigan trained -- using all western
equipment and dealing with his secretary in the same way -- nevertheless his
home life was completely Japanese traditional home life. His wife served drinks
and food to him and any guests from a kneeling posture in the study and was not
introduced! But it was most unusual for him (as for any traditional Japanese
men) to entertain at home. He probably did so on the occasion I remember
because he knew that his colleague had invited me to the house and he felt
'obligated' to do similarly. As an aside I might add that some 20 years later
when Barbara visited the Institute with me, the 'westernised' professor invited
us to his home and we had a great time singing madrigals and English folk
songs!
Poverty was often obvious,
particularly in the countryside, and contrasted with displays of wealth, though
by no means as flagrant as in India. Aged women, pulling barrows loaded with
produce would be seen crossing road bridges at the same time as a Mercedes.
Perhaps the preceding kind of word sketches indicate best something of what I
learned in Japan and why I remain grateful for the opportunity I had to be
there at such a critical time; before the disappearance of many of their
traditions and special perspectives. So I will tell one or two more stories.
After you! A sidelight on obligation.
The Fuchu streets were extremely
narrow. If everybody in the roadway moved into the shop doorways a car could
pass along. If one came in each direction it required negotiation by one
backing into another road or other inlet. Corners were blind. Cars were, at
that time, fairly rare. Cycles were used in their thousands. Among their use
was the delivery of workers' lunches, which seemed to consist mainly of soups
and raw fish. The meals were piled high on trays and these trays were held high
in the manner of good class western hotel waiters while the bicycles were
operated with the other hand. Soon after my arrival I was approaching a corner
and could see two such delivery cyclists with their trays approaching at right
angles and at similar speeds. It was clear to me that there was little chance
that they could avoid a collision on the corner. I was right. They collided.
Now imagine two London (or New York) taxi drivers in such a situation. But no
abuse was expressed, no blame allocated; the two cyclists picked themselves up,
bowed deeply to each other and began together to clear up the mess.
I was told that this behaviour was
because had one been the first to accuse the other, this would indicate that he
was to blame. So both apologised profusely. The situation called for
reconciliation.
An apology would often be all that
was necessary to resolve even what in western cultures would be deemed a crime.
This was particularly so if the individual offended against was willing to
forgive the offender. The emphasis was on negotiated settlement. The U.N.
protocol officer briefed me on the significance of 'obligation' and there is
little doubt that this powerful and wide-ranging tradition featured largely in
determining the behaviour of the cyclists and in many other interpersonal
situations. Apologies are very significant and have great weight, it seems,
both in the giving and receiving.
Estimation of formality -- a gradient?
I had often tried to project the
anticipated styles of behaviour I would encounter in forthcoming situations. A
good rule-of-thumb seemed to work out well. I knew the level of formality which
might attend a situation in the U.S.A. and similarly I knew what would apply in
England. Normally if I projected the 'line' I could expect the situation in
Japan to be somewhat 'further along the line'. This concept of a gradient in
degree of formality worked well generally and was particularly useful in such
cases as in the official welcoming of distinguished guest speakers at the
Institute. So, when I was invited to attend a trial in a Tokyo court I was
expecting the formula to work for the sort of ceremonial and formality I would
find there.
The case I was to hear concerned a
charge of attempted murder. The facts of the case suggested that in England the
charge might have been G.B.H. (grievous bodily harm) which could have been
reduced to A.B.H. (actual bodily harm) if the accused had a clever lawyer. A
prosecutor in the U.S. would have thrown the book and the charge would have
been the same. My expectation of formality was shattered. In fact the Tokyo
court was less formal then those of the U.S.A. with the UK being the most
formal -- the equation had not worked. The participants were seated at tables.
The accused when giving testimony or being examined was not put into the
witness box --- no box existed. Even more surprisingly, the prosecuting
attorney questioned the accused on the floor of the chamber by a table. In this
case he even handed the accused the knife exhibit and asked him to demonstrate
how he used it on the complainant. A rather risky approach, I thought!
The demonstration by the accused
was initially somewhat reserved, but he was pressed into greater realism.
The prosecution began the
proceedings by apologising to the judge for having to bring the case because he
had failed in his primary duty to bring about a resolution acceptable to the
victim. The victim was not prepared to accept a simple apology (not surprising
to western opinion!).
The importance of 'obligation' and
the power of apology are not understood in western society, nor is the fact
that each of these concepts is related to the ideas of negotiation and
reconciliation. In the end the accused was awarded two years prison, precisely
the same as he might have expected in England and considerably less than in
most U.S. states!
The underlying explanation for the
cyclist/waiters behaviour on (or off) their bicycles illustrated the same point
of the significance of the apology. Their behaviour was also typical of cycling
etiquette. Schoolchildren cycling in the narrow streets were most courteous to
pedestrians, often dismounting before passing if this seemed to assist the
walker.
So road users are courteous? Not at
all. The cycling courtesy of school children was not echoed in car driving
behaviour, which tended to be aggressive, particularly in the city where roads
were modernised. I discussed this anachronism with friends and the protocol
officer. The view was that because there were no precedents for an etiquette of
car driving, and the lack of any explicit rules, behaviour tended to be
chaotic. Furthermore a driver is on his/her own (or is in a separate
environment from) the pedestrian or cyclist. Thus there is no 'deferential'
behaviour to provide the underpinning for this activity. But I will return to
this matter a little later when we have looked into some other examples of
interpersonal ploys.
The impact of both Shinto and
Buddhism upon Japanese behaviour is especially apparent in the procedures of
the search for consensus in decision-making and in the emphasis upon
negotiation. In Christianity there is an underlying philosophy of dichotomies:
true v. false; right v. wrong; bad v. good; 'he who is not for me is against
me'; and so on. Shintoism has much association with animism. Animism is, among
other things, less dependent on tight categories. Hence, it seems, the division
between 'right' and 'wrong' is often open to negotiation. Christianity would
deny this, indeed the idea of negotiating 'truth' is itself to be deplored. I
have few problems with negotiating a 'moral' issue. I have an example..
When I had been at the Institute
for some eighteen months I had become well accepted in the Ministry of Justice.
It transpired that the Chief of Police of Tokyo was attending one of the
special short courses and we had several discussions on police strategy. We got
to talking about prohibition and gambling. Most gambling was illegal, but was,
nonetheless, prevalent. Normally the police took the view that since the public
wanted it and it was run without causing them any trouble, they could treat it
with a benign neglect. However, as in other countries, at intervals somebody
starts a moral panic and a demand builds up that the police 'do something'
about it. Such a demand had reached the point when the police would have to 'do
something'. What was to be done? It seemed obvious to the Chief that he should
discuss this with the chief 'gangster' who operated the Tokyo area. He was in
hospital at the time.
I was invited to go along to meet
the gangster who was surrounded in hospital with his keepers. Agreement was
apparently reached as to who was to be picked up, and there would be no
trouble, because all who were concerned would be notified in advance that it
was 'their turn' to do the penance. The police 'did something'. The fact that
this was the result of negotiation was probably unknown to those who were
involved in the moral panic. This strategy would not be acceptable where right
v. wrong was seen in terms of a two-value logic.
This explanation seemed to be true,
and was supported by another incident in which I was involved. A friend from my
statistical days (a Dr. Duckworth) had achieved a senior managerial level in
his company which had branches in Japan and a Headquarters in Tokyo. He was
making a sort of 'state visit' to the Tokyo unit and was being treated by the
Japanese managers as a distinguished guest. He contacted me to know whether I
would care to take a day off to accompany him on one of his entertaining
jaunts. I was able to do that, and agreed. We were chauffeur driven to some of
the major attractions within reach of Tokyo, had a good lunch and were on our
way to the next location when it began to rain. And when it rains, it can pour.
It did.
Then something clearly had gone
awry. It was obvious that our driver was not going to go any further. We were
able to deduce that the next point of call on our schedule could not be
reached. We found shelter while the driver went to see what could be done .
Everything had gone like the proverbial clockwork up to this point when
everything went to pieces. The driver obviously under extreme stress was
behaving as though he was suffering from a catatonic fit (well, nearly). He
tried to telephone H.Q. for instructions. He could not make contact. He
therefore, left us sheltering under an inadequate awning and did absolutely
nothing. My manager friend's temper was beginning to fray. Clearly our driver
had lost his steering mechanism! Time was going by and nothing was going on and
nothing seemed likely to. Eventually I realised that the problem was that our
chauffeur was not authorised to amend the schedule or route and he could not
get authority to do so. Remembering my briefing I pointed out to Duckworth that
if anything was to happen he had to countermand the orders under which our
driver was operating, because he was unable to carry them out and that his
embarrassment at this situation was totally disabling for him.
We decided to order the driver to
take us back to Tokyo. He complied, but was extremely uneasy about this,
revealing all the signs of great mental stress. We were sorry for him, but we
had to have action. The difficulties experienced by our driver in the absence
of a framework of rules or a structure appropriate to his role, were
exacerbated by the fact that he could not assume an authority he did not have
because this would have been assuming a different role or 'personality'. This
need for external direction would not apply to persons whose role included
decision-making. Nonetheless I should note that most decisions within
organisations tended to be made by discussion. This applies even with the
decisions of very senior staff, and much time is spent in meetings sorting out
a line of action which then binds those involved.
Good manners or merely risk avoidance?
Initially some explanations of
etiquette seemed contradictory as with the road users behaviour in case of
accident. The rules and precedents were certainly complex. A few different
examples may be briefly stated. The tendency to seek compromise solutions and
to make decisions collectively seemed not to apply at the top level of
government. Perhaps the discussions between staff in decision making were
limited to issues which could be framed as issues of how to interpret existing
instructions rather than independent actions. This would fit with the
explanation given to me as to the behaviour of drivers while IN their cars. When,
for any reason, drivers were not actually performing the role of driver, the
usual rules of conduct could apply. In an accident the driver who lost his
temper or who was the more aggressive was always assumed to be the one at
fault. Hence drivers involved in accidents tended to behave well.
I was surprised at the almost open
conflict between Ministries as to national policy. Two instances came to my
attention and both might have been seen as 'territorial disputes'. The Ministry
of Justice (which was the department responsible for the operations of the
UNAFEI) was a powerful Ministry and apart from dealing with criminal law it had
control over passports. In fact in 1964-6 the Japanese people did not have
passports, but had to get clearance for every single journey out of the country
from the Justice Ministry. The Ministry of Commerce and Trade were strong
opponents of this procedure and wanted passports similar to those of most other
democracies. My opinion was sought in another dispute between the Supreme Court
and the Justice Ministry. Juvenile delinquency and criminal acts by young
offenders were within the province of the Supreme Court as was the probation
service. The Ministry of Justice wanted to take over juvenile delinquency if
not also the probation service. So, it seemed that when there was no prior
situation which might analogously indicate a clear line of conduct, the
Japanese operated with the same confrontational style as western cultures.
During the time I was with the U.N.
(1964-6) the police force was deployed in a manner which I consider to be
superior to the British or American system. I do not know whether this system
has been preserved with the changes which have taken place in the country
since. There were local boxes (Koban) not much larger than a telephone box,
distributed around the built-up areas. These were manned by two officers, one
of whom would be present in the box while the other would walk around the area.
Houses in Tokyo (and probably other cities) were numbered in the order in which
they are built within the local area (about the size of a parish) The Koban
was, therefore an essential first call if one wished to find anyone for the
first time. Another method for meeting the difficulty of identification of
location was in the almost universal use of 'visiting cards' which would have a
map printed on the reverse. A card (or something similar) is also essential if
a name is to be 'recognised' because the pronunciation does not define the
Kanji script which must be seen. Japanese do not 'sign' documents but have an
individualised and registered stamp (carried in a small case with ink pad).
This will be seen as the signature on Japanese paintings or prints. Police work
was much more widely defined than in the UK or U.S.A. It was, for example, part
of their duty to carry out census and various other tasks.
Soon after Japan had became 'open'
to the rest of the world, it had become successful in business by copying the
technology of the west and selling its products cheaper than home products in
Europe and the Americas. The image of Japanese imports in these countries was
of cheap (and nasty) copies of low quality. This was not completely inaccurate
at the time, though it was a strategy which had little impact upon the cultural
development of the country. The copies were provided solely for others, if they
paid for them! For the Japanese themselves, while they took note of foreign
technology and consumer goods, tended to adapt these for their own use rather
than merely to copy.
After WW2 Japanese industry changed
its orientation. It soon became concerned to design and produce goods of
quality and reliability rather than in quantity and cheaply. Quality control
methods were welcomed and utilised. New technology was embraced far more
readily in Japan than in the United Kingdom. Still more recently (mid '90s) Japan
made another industrial strategic policy decision. Its research expenditure
will give priority to work which in Britain would be classified as 'blue sky
research'. Development has taken a back seat to research.
I have continually to remind myself
that my main tour of duty and residence at Fuchu was in the mid '60s -- more
than 30 years ago. The rate of change in all departments of life was extremely
fast when I was there and the present situation must be very different. I
observe Japanese student visitors and they are no longer of shorter stature
than western students. Whether time has resulted in a multidimensional
westernisation' of Japan or a more fundamental and deep social, political as
well as economic similarity I cannot say. Some of my experiences in that
country may be only of historic interest.
There was one more feature of
Japanese culture which had to be accommodated by any Westerners in social or
business situations that could cause difficulties. I doubt that the traditions
have vanished. The 'obligation' principle makes the giving of presents or
rewards a difficult matter for foreigners if not also for natives. I had to
'hide' my domestic assistant's birthday and Christmas presents as one hides
Easter eggs -- not too difficult to find! It being accepted that if she 'found'
the present it did not put her under obligation to reciprocate. A direct gift
would have presented such an obligation. The value also has to be carefully
considered. It must not be a bribe. And, I almost forgot -- Japanese taxi
drivers do not expect a tip unless they do more than the generally expected
level of service.
While Japanese culture seemed
generally, to me, to be tolerant of ambiguities (as demonstrated with respect
to religions) and while moral instruction associated with Shinto made its
points by means of examples of moral dilemmas, there was a dichotomy which was
present in the undercurrent all the time. This was the distinction between
'being Japanese' or being a geigen. The term geigen has a lot of historical and
probably emotional baggage and even experts find it difficult to define. It may
be taken to mean, or to be used in much the same way as we might refer to an
'outsider', or as inhabitants of the Isle of Man might use the term
"come-overers". But being Japanese has much more content than any
similar terms in English would suggest. I experienced this one evening and the
story will illustrate this point. I had missed the last Keo Line train to Fuchu
which departed just before midnight from Shinjuko. It meant that I had to
travel by the main suburban line which was served with rather less modern
equipment. Bench seats were provided only along the outer sides of the
carriage. No seat was available for me. I stood with a few others in the door
sector (which was very similar to the London Underground trains). The seats
were unavailable because three or four were all occupied, or should I say, were
being used in so far as he found it possible, by a drunk trying to get some
shut-eye. Trains in Japan, as elsewhere, often go around bends and each time,
he was thrown on to the floor. Each time he tried to retrieve his 'bunk' and he
certainly was very persistent in trying to retain a comfortable horizontal
posture. I was watching this performance (could not avoid doing so). The
behaviour of the celebrant clearly embarrassed some law students, who were
disturbed that a 'geigen' who was obviously older than the drunk, was being
prevented from having a seat by this behaviour. I noted earlier that age was
given considerable respect in Japanese culture at this time.
Eventually one of their number who
spoke some English was apparently assigned to come over and apologise to me for
this situation. He said something about being sorry and remarked "He is
drunk". I treated this comment as rather humorous because it was all too
obvious to need pointing out, even to a geigen. But the student pressed his
point since clearly I had not understood. "He is not Japanese -- he is drunk".
The role of 'being drunk' was the dominant quality. It was inconsistent with
the role of 'being Japanese'. Remembering my problems with the Senior
Administrator at the Institute about the fire doors, I indicated that I
understood the position.
While I am discussing the different
perception of the individual I might mention another related concept. It was
the protocol officer who in my initiation talks pointed out to me that the
Japanese people have a great sense of beauty, but no sense of ugliness.
Certainly they have great regard for art, and particularly art from early
times. Most households have a special niche or alcove which will have freshly
arranged flowers or the most significant piece of art that they can purchase.
Even drinking bars will often have a similar special 'piece'. (I believe that
this alcove/shrine has a specific name in Japanese). When visitors are received
into the home, they are always seated with their backs to this exhibit. This
symbolises that the visitor is of more importance than the most prized
possession of the household.
Figure 7. Reception with then Crown Prince of
Japan, later to be Emperor.
I learned much from the 2 years of
my U.N. assignment based on Fuchu. It was possible to meet some of the most
distinguished authorities in jurisprudence who were among the official
visitors. But there were other visitors and formalities to be performed by the
U.N. representative. One distinguished visitor was the Crown Prince, or
whatever is the appropriate title for the son of the Emperor. He had been
educated at Cambridge as a biologist and, as I learned much later, as a patron
of the Pike and Eel. He was pleased to speak English and discuss scientific
issues in an informal atmosphere. Whatever guards there were were not obvious.
The formalities which were required by his visit, and these were considerable,
were all looked after by the Japanese. It was necessary, among other things, to
rent for the day the most valuable Bonsai tree in the country. This was no mean
charge on the Institute's funds. But costs of this kind are a natural
consequence of a royal household. Such costs are never included in reckonings
as to the cost of a monarchy. I am sure that while at Cambridge the Prince was
not accorded such deference, but he seemed to have enjoyed his time there,
particularly at the Pike and Eel(?). (So do we!)
The role conferred by the system of
monarchy overrides any personal qualities of the individual; and in this Japan
is not unique in its subservience to the systemic factors of role and status.
I would not wish to give the
impression that my time in Japan was a total learning experience. I was the
only English individual in the set-up. The other full-time United Nations staff
were the chief of administration who was from Sri Lanka and a devout Anglican,
and a young Dutch Lawyer (Antonie Peters). Tony became much involved with the
Japanese interpreter whom he later married. I should note that I played the
role of 'go-between' for the purposes of the Shinto wedding. I had to be a
character witness for Tony, but also to give my views as to the desirability of
the marriage and whether it was likely to last. We met again in my next
location in U.C. Berkeley. Tony is a poor communicator, both in personal and
professional terms -- he does not appear in the citation index! He has not
contacted me in the last decade. The last I heard he was a professor of law in
Holland and was still married to Michiko. So my prognosis was apparently
justified.
Another staff member who was also
around during the teaching sessions was provided by the Australian government
but he lived (with his wife) somewhere provided by their embassy. Their tastes were
not mine, and they had other associations through their Embassy, so we did not
socialise to any degree.
The U.N. provided relief by giving
some assignments in Europe which made it possible to visit home. By this date
the 707 passenger jet was operating transpolar flights and the travel was
tolerable (unlike my first transatlantic trip by a 4-engined propeller aircraft
driven by an in-line power unit which entailed stopovers in Ireland, Iceland
and Gander en route for New York).
The European assignments which
punctuated the Fuchu/UN experience included the 1965 Quinquennial Congress of
the United Nations on Crime and Social Defence which was held in Stockholm. I
was given the task of rapporteur. It was hard work. Late nights, often after
midnight, were required to prepare an acceptable version of the next day's
business. Ed. Galway was the organiser as head of the Criminal Justice Section
of the U.N. I owed much to him and his sorting out the position at Fuchu when
the Strathclyde post disintegrated. He was a perfectionist in the drafting of
U.N. resolutions. There were also off-site issues to consider!
Student protest was just beginning
and demonstrations against some delegations caused trouble. Some delegates were
sympathetic to the student cause, as was Jackson Toby, the distinguished
professor of Sociology at Rutgers University. He was, I believe, representing
an NGO (Non-governmental organisation) He was associating with a demonstration
of students on the steps of the Parliament building when the Swedish police
decided to act. Jackson was thrown down the steps (indirect evidence only!) but
I had to sort things out with the police. I had some sympathy with the police
because Jackson was dressed for the part of protester rather than that of an
academic. I later learned that this 'grunge' style was the height of fashion on
U.S. universities and sported by most sociology types.
I have said little about the things
I did in the course of my official duty at the Institute. The work was not
unduly demanding. I did, however, treat it rather more seriously than some
members of the foreign (non-Japanese) staff. I was responsible for planning the
courses and various ceremonials. I usually gave two or three lectures a week
during the course sessions. There was considerable travel in Japan arranged by
the Institute staff. Nominally these trips were visits to Japanese prisons or
other 'correctional establishments'. I had to go along on these visits with the
participants. The opening and closing ceremonies required appropriate speeches.
It was, however, the informal contacts with participants from a large number of
different countries which was most rewarding.
My assignment with the United
Nations ended without any problems. I had been invited (on expiration of my
term) to a post as a full tenured professor in the School of Criminology at the
University of California at Berkeley. I was to become a real academic! As of
August 1966 I was, technically a resident of the United States. This was the
beginning of the great commuting period for the family when we lived in two
countries, separated not only by a common language.
CHAPTER
SEVEN: THE BERKELEY EXPERIENCE
Conflict, Conspiracy and Criminology!
At the end of my period of office
with the U.N. I was already appointed to a chair at the University of
California at Berkeley. Obtaining the necessary visas and work permits
presented some problems. I had been an 'exchange visitor' within two years (the
President's Commission attachment and the temporary release from the Home
Office was arranged on these terms). The issue of work permits was not allowed
in such cases. The reason for this restriction, I was told, was at the request
of the British and not due to American restrictive immigration policy. Britain
did not want to constrain 'exchange visits' by academics but was perturbed by
the 'brain drain'. The two-year prohibition on the issue of work permits after
an exchange visit inhibited the use of the exchange process as a means whereby
British scholars could be 'looked over' in the head hunting process. The
intervention of the Law Department at Berkeley probably facilitated my entry,
despite this bar. It was, of course, part of the argument that I was 'entering'
from the United Nations and not from the UK
It is perhaps fortunate that I had
no real option but to accept the post. It would have been a tragedy if I had
been persuaded to return to England. In retrospect, I find it odd that a number
of British academic acquaintances tried to persuade me not to emigrate. I
believe that they thought that they were giving me good advice. American
universities, it was said, were great places to visit, but not good places to
join. A Cambridge 'type' told me in a mock Cockney accent, that it was only
those who were 'not of the salt' who went down the 'brine drine'.
I cannot remember now how it came
about that I was 'landed' in San Francisco while Barbara was 'landed' in New
York. I can only assume that I must have flown directly from Tokyo to the West
Coast. But there were so many flights! 'Landed' is the U.S. technical term for
acceptance into the country as an immigrant alien with rights of residence and
employment with the issue of the 'green card' (which to my sight is duck egg
blue!) If the facts of entry were not part of the continuous record on my
official documents I doubt that I would have remembered that my wife and I
entered America from opposite sides. Must be some significance in that -- but I
cannot think of any.
The apparently unsolicited
invitation to take a chair at Berkeley was not so mysterious as at first it
appeared to me to be. It was probably not merely coincidental that Norval
Morris, my predecessor at Fuchu, who was then Dean of the University of Chicago
Law School, had been a member of the Graduate Program Assessment Council which
had recently approved the doctoral programme of the Berkeley School. This
procedure is known as 'accreditation'. It is a 'peer review' of proposed
programmes and the members spend several days in the departments concerned. The
recommendations of this panel were essential before the School could offer a
doctoral degree course and award doctorates to those who qualified. The
expansion of the School probably gave rise to additional positions. Proceedings
to get me 'on board' had begun several months before I ceased my Fuchu work.
Initially my family were with me
(during the English vacation period) and we lived in a house rented from an
anthropologist (Professor George De Vos). It was a residence of typical
professorial status on El Camino Real.
Fortunately academic salaries in
the U.S were at that time about twice that of the UK We could afford two
residences, one in England and one in California and pay for our children to
visit us while for the most part they continued their education in England.
Berkeley salaries were a percentage point or so lower than similar status
universities elsewhere because the environment, both academic and geographic
was a great selling point. I certainly used the views through the Golden Gate
at sunset as an appeal when trying to attract quality staff! .
Later we could manage with a small
apartment and we selected one within a few minutes walk to the campus. We moved
into the top floor apartment ('penthouse'!) of a block on Hillegass Avenue
which ran parallel with Telegraph Avenue two blocks up the hill. This was
certainly a 'central' location. We had a 'deck' (balcony) where we could relax
or when the police helicopters were not directly overhead, even sun ourselves!
This sun deck had a view over the second block of Telegraph Ave. We did not
realise the significance of this at the time, indeed it probably had no
significance then. It certainly did later! But I will not anticipate that. It
also featured a grand view of Golden Gate bridge, and on a day both in the
Spring and Fall the setting sun went down right in the centre span as viewed
from our vantage point. The colours featured in many photographs and it was
some time before we came to take the view for granted.
It is not possible to recount more
than a selection of my experiences over the 30 months I was at Berkeley, and
those which may be worth telling I cannot assemble into any systematic
presentation. Berkeley was at the centre of the student revolts. The Viet Nam
war was still on. The Free Speech movement had ended, but the organisers
(activists) involved were still highly active. All kinds of protests were
organised and then disorganised. The image of 'student unrest' as being organised
from Berkeley had even gained international credibility. Even car stickers gave
support to this perception. One which Jan, my daughter, gave me read, "I'm
from Berkeley but I'm not revolting".
Berkeley had reputations of two
kinds. It was internationally renowned for the scholarship but also for its
dissidents. These two features were not new. It is also possible that
politicians see intellectuals as threatening whether or not they are
politically active -- they are unpredictable, and that's 'bad'.
I cannot convey the excitement I
felt at Berkeley at the challenge of the extremes of experiences of so many
kinds. From the moment of my arrival there was always some unexpected
happenings to deal with. Some were humorous, others serious, some very serious,
some relaxing, some most stressful. There were features of the 'hippie' culture
which were not unattractive -- to 'hang loose' was better than to be 'up
tight'. There was a wonderful countryside, beaches, mountains and sunshine, and
the occasional fog. Retaining a balance between different roles when part of
the family were on the other side of the globe was demanding. But that was not
the reason for my rather short time of attachment to the University of
California. The termination of my period of service was sudden and somewhat
dramatic. I doubt that anything I could have done would have resolved the
problems and saved both my career there and prevented the eventual closure of
the School.
The administrative element of
academic life was almost a side-show to the 'student movement' and academic
work was totally overshadowed by both. Despite the situation and events I was
able to carry out some research, conduct seminars and do some political work of
my own.
Ronald Reagan (later President of
the U.S.) was Governor of California and Chairman of the Board of Regents of
the University. Pot was illegal and plentiful. Tim Leary's message had been
taken seriously by many young persons and they had 'dropped out' if not also
'tuned in'. It took me some little time to realise that Berkeley was
characterised by its chaos and to cease trying to see any logic in the
happenings. Indeed the word 'happening' had a specific folk meaning that
eventually I was to appreciate.
The favoured hangout for these
students, would-be students and ex-student dropouts (with a few anti-students
too) was Telegraph Avenue, proximate to the Student Union building and Sproul
Hall, the steps of which made a very suitable grandstand for all kinds of
demonstrations, with speeches by Cleaver, Mario Savio and others.
Remember that this is my first real
experience of a university, and now I was at Berkeley; the campus with more
Nobel Prize winners per square meter (say, yard!) than any other! The politics
of academic life came as a surprise. Here I was to find no 'ivory tower' but
rather a mental motte and bailey! It could also become a battlefield. But I was
not here to admire or "tut-tut" at any features of my new environment;
I had a job to do and part of my task was to define it for myself.
As a civil servant I had been
forbidden to take part in politics and when I was with the United Nations in
order to stress the international basis of my role, I had sought to avoid
national identification. Now, without realising it I was surrounded by politics
of all kinds. My time was to be disproportionately devoted to the political
shenanigans of academic life.
U.S. University titles, significant
differences.
Readers may be more familiar with
the administrative structure of British academic life than that of the United
States. There are words which refer to types of duties which imply different
activities in the two countries and I think I should explain a few of those
which will concern this narrative. A 'School' is an administrative division in
a university, usually applied to the larger divisions. Departments (normally
more than one) are divisions within a School. Teaching staff are referred to as
'faculty'. A School is headed by a Dean. Unlike in England, Deans are not
religious. Indeed American universities are almost all secular -- they have to
be if they are to be funded by the taxpayer. There are private universities
which may or may not be of religious foundation.
The quality of the output, both of
students and research papers, despite the accreditation system, varies widely,
though the systems under the control of the major states are fairly comparable.
In order to assist assessment of students who apply for higher degree programmes,
faculty may refer to a reference book which provides ratings of every
accredited type of programme in all the accepted universities. The best
departments (within a University) are designated "Star" departments.
(Parenthetically, this "star" assessment usually makes it possible
for any school or department so rated to claim higher salaries for its faculty
members). Universities and colleges which are not accredited are of no academic
significance whatsoever. (Note: Schools which are acceptable and accredited for
first or second degrees need separate accreditation before they may grant
doctorates. Hence my note that Dean Norval Morris was a member of the
accreditation team which approved the doctorate in criminology at Berkeley).
The Dean (head of a 'school') is
primarily concerned with administration and chairs faculty meetings. A Dean may
also do part-time teaching and/or part-time research. The Dean has direct
access to the central administration and voting rights in the Deans' meeting --
a sort of controlling council. While a School normally consists of several
departments, the School of Criminology was divided into only two parts. The
major part was concerned with the usual 'criminology U.S. style', with its
roots in sociology. The other part was concerned with 'forensic science' or
'criminalistics'. This was mainly chemistry devoted to identification and
evaluation of evidence from the scenes of crimes. It was also concerned with
research into various 'prohibited substances'. One of the Dean's duties was to
receive from official sources quite large supplies of marihuana and to secure
this in the school's safe. The criminalistics sector was carrying out work to
test the toxic and other qualities of this product. The 30 years or more
research into this substance has merely reinforced the conclusions derived at
that time -- but, then and now, rejected by the establishment..
As for my teaching commitments I realised that I had little experience; my only prior practice being limited to my experience of briefing research assistants and fie