In
May 2003, a group of eminent childcare professionals got together
in Sweden and agreed the Stockholm Declaration*, whose essential
message is that residential care should be avoided for children
and young people, virtually at all costs. It is a message which
has been around for several decades in Great Britain, and it is
one which divides those who see the benefits and value of residential
care from those who see it as inherently pernicious. Sometimes
the divide has been seen as a battle between residential childcare
workers and field social workers; sometimes it has taken the form
of a comparison of foster and residential care, as if they were
rivals. It seems to rumble on without going away or ever being
resolved.
Clearly,
the Stockholm Declaration has a campaigning tone, stoked up by
feelings as well as rational argument. The defenders of residential
care also feel strongly about the matter. In this issue, for example,
Keith White* reacts passionately to the Stockholm Declaration.
Can
we throw any light on the issue? Why the feelings, and what are
the facts?
First,
there have clearly been a large number of examples of bad residential
care in recent years, and it is a good thing that people have
been motivated by strong feelings to do something about the situation.
These have included the large orphanages in eastern Europe where
unwanted children were minded with minimal care in awful conditions,
but there have also been the homes and schools in richer western
European and North American countries where children were sexually
and physically abused. None of this bad practice should be excused
and it has to be stopped.
But
the bad practice in these schools, homes and orphanages does not
offer a rational argument for jettisoning residential care as
a whole. More children are abused in their own families than anywhere
else, but it is unlikely that the Stockholm pundits would use
this fact as an argument for abandoning families, or only allowing
children to remain at home as a last resort.
The
critics of residential care seem to think that there is something
inherently bad in it. The Stockholm Declaration, for example,
argues that residential care should only be used as a last resort
and for brief periods. It does not include any positive reasons
for using residential placements at all, though it acknowledges
that some will exist.
However,
if one analyses the nature of residential childcare and other
places where children may be brought up, each has different qualities,
strengths and weaknesses, but there is nothing inherent in any
setting which makes one form of care necessarily bad or other
types of placement good.
The
quality of a setting depends to a large extent on the people involved.
Bad foster carers can be as pernicious as bad residential workers,
and good residential workers can help children and young people
as much as good fostercarers.
A
key point made by Keith White is that the wishes and needs of
children and young people have to be taken into account. To take
wishes first, children and young people sometimes positively request
placements in residential care. Are these wishes to be ignored
or over-ruled by adults who think that they know about a child’s
needs better than the child? It may be that at times, a child’s
stated wishes need to be over-ruled, but there is a real risk
that those who argue that residential care is inherently bad steer
children to non-residential placements as a matter of their professional
judgement, regardless of the child’s wishes.
It
is a complex matter to assess what a child or young person needs,
but among the factors are security, being valued as an individual,
a sense of belonging, opportunities for social contact, social
controls, the chance to address personal problems, access to education
or work, scope for leisure activities, the chance to plan ahead
and a whole range more besides. The options open for a child or
young person who can no longer live at home, such as adoption,
fostercare, children’s homes and residential schools all
have varying constellations of these qualities, and matching the
placement to the child is a difficult task.
Some
agencies and some national guidance suggests that in such circumstances
adoption is best for children, fostercare is next best and residential
placements of any sort come last, to be used only if neither of
the others is available. Such crude prioritisation risks ignoring
both the wishes of the children and the complexities of needs
assessment and matching. It makes life simpler for those involved
in care planning, but it may well not be right for the children
and young people.
As
Professor James Anglin’s book Pain, Normality and the Struggle
for Congruence* shows, good residential care can be a powerful
force to help young people. As Victims of Benevolence* shows,
residential care can be equally powerful in damaging children
and young people. Because residential settings can control the
whole of children’s life space, they can be highly influential
for good or bad. This does not mean that residential care is in
itself bad. It means that it has to be used carefully, sensitively
and professionally in the interests of the resident children and
young people. If used in this way, it can be as effective as any
other form of care or education.
If
we are to understand the Stockholm Declaration, we need to consider
what triggers such feelings. Movements sweep across the world
of social care without proper evidence, despite the Declaration’s
claim to an evidential basis. The antipathy for residential child
care has been strong among field social workers for thirty years
in the United Kingdom, and it could be argued that it is this
very antagonism which has resulted in the system’s failings.
In
1998 in a UNICEF report, Gunnar Dybwad, a leading activist in
Europe and the United States, concluded, "four decades of
work to improve the living conditions of children with disabilities
has taught us one major lesson: there is no such thing as a good
institution." Now, the Stockholm Declaration confirms that
the view of residential care as inherently damaging is acknowledged
worldwide. In our view, this is a dangerous myth.
It
may be that we need such movements to motivate us to take action
about bad practice, to raise funds, to encourage support and to
create commitment in the workforce, but we should not pretend
that they are necessarily rational or based in fact. The danger
with myths are that they can create damage before they are exploded,
and the people who lose out are usually those whom we are trying
to help.
* Starred references relate to articles or reviews in this issue.
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