There was a basic dilemma. As Ken emphasized in our meetings, it was necessary to take as many as possible of the teachers and Her Majesty’s Inspectorate (HMI) with us in the reforms we were making. After all, it was teachers not politicians who would be implementing them. On the other hand, the educational establishment’s terms for accepting the national curriculum and testing could well prove unacceptable. For them, the new national curriculum would be expected to give legitimacy and universal application to the changes which had been made over the last twenty years or so in the content and methods of teaching. Similarly, testing should in their eyes be ‘diagnostic’ rather than ‘summative’ – and this was only the tip of the jargon iceberg – and should be heavily weighted towards assessment by teachers themselves, rather than by objective outsiders. So by mid-July the papers I was receiving from the DES were proposing a national curriculum of ten subjects which would account for 80–90 per cent of school time. They wanted different ‘attainment targets’, stressing that assessments should not denote ‘passing’ or ‘failing’: much of this assessment would be internal to the school. Two new bodies – the National Curriculum Council and the Schools Examination and Assessment Council – were to be set up. The original simplicity of the scheme had been lost and the influence of HMI and the teachers’ unions was manifest.
All this was bad enough. But then in September I received a further proposal from Ken Baker for comprehensive monitoring of the national curriculum by the recruitment of 800 extra LEA Inspectors, who themselves would be monitored and controlled by the HMI, which would doubtless have to be expanded as well. I noted: ‘It is utterly ridiculous. The results will come through in the tests and exams.’ I stressed to the DES that all of these proposals would alienate teachers, hold back individual initiative at school level and centralize education to an unacceptable degree. The Cabinet sub-committee which I chaired to oversee the education reforms decided that all of the core and foundation subjects taken together should absorb no more than 70 per cent of the curriculum. But, at Ken Baker’s insistence, I agreed that this figure should not be publicly released – presumably it would have caused offence with the education bureaucrats who were by now planning how each hour of school time should properly be spent.
Perhaps the hardest battle I fought on the national curriculum was about history. I had a very clear – and I had naively imagined uncontroversial – idea of what history was. History is an account of what happened in the past. Learning history, therefore, requires knowledge of events. It is impossible to make sense of such events without being able to place matters in a clear chronological framework – which means knowing dates. No amount of imaginative sympathy for historical characters or situations can be a substitute for the initially tedious but ultimately rewarding business of memorizing what actually happened. I was, therefore, very concerned when in December 1988 I received Ken Baker’s written proposals for the teaching of history and the composition of the History Working Group on the curriculum. There was too much emphasis given to ‘cross-curricular’ learning: I felt that history must be taught as a separate subject. Nor was I happy at the list of people Ken Baker was suggesting. His initial names contained no major historian of repute but included the author of the definitive work on the ‘New History’ which, with its emphasis on concepts rather than chronology and empathy rather than facts, was at the root of so much that was going wrong. Ken saw my point and made some changes. But this was only the beginning of the argument.
In July 1989 the History Working Group produced its interim report. I was appalled. It put the emphasis on interpretation and enquiry as against content and knowledge. There was insufficient weight given to British history. There was not enough emphasis on history as chronological study. I considered the document comprehensively flawed and told Ken that there must be major, not just minor, changes. In particular, I wanted to see a clearly set out chronological framework for the whole history curriculum. But the test would of course be the final report.
By the time this arrived in March 1990 John MacGregor had gone to Education. I thought that he would prove more effective than Ken Baker in keeping a grip on how our education reform proposals were implemented. On this occasion, however, John MacGregor was far more inclined to welcome the report than I had expected. It did now put greater emphasis on British history. But the attainment targets it set out did not specifically include knowledge of historical facts, which seemed to me extraordinary. However, the coverage of some subjects – for example twentieth-century British history – was too skewed to social, religious, cultural and aesthetic matters rather than political events. John defended the report’s proposals. But I insisted that it would not be right to impose the sort of approach which it contained. It should go out to consultation but no guidance should at present be issued.
There was no need for the national curriculum proposals and the testing which accompanied them to have developed as they did. Ken Baker paid too much attention to the DES, the HMI and progressive educational theorists in his appointments and early decisions; and once the bureaucratic momentum had begun it was difficult to stop. John MacGregor did what he could. He made changes to the history curriculum which reinforced the position of British history and reduced some of the unnecessary interference. He insisted that the sciences could be taught separately, not just as one integrated subject. He stipulated that at least 30 per cent of GCSE English should be tested by written examination. Yet the whole system was very different from that which I originally envisaged. By the time I left office I was convinced that there would have to be a new drive to simplify the national curriculum and testing.
Education policy was one of the areas in which my Policy Unit and I had begun radical thinking about proposals for the next election manifesto – some of which we envisaged announcing in advance, perhaps at the March 1991 Central Council meeting. Brian Griffiths and I were concentrating on three questions at the time I left office.
First, there was the need to go much further with ‘opting out’ of LEA control. I authorized John MacGregor to announce to the October 1990 Party Conference the extension of the GM schools scheme to cover smaller primary schools as well. But I had much more radical options in mind. Brian Griffiths had written me a paper which envisaged the transfer of many more schools to GM status and the transfer of other schools to the management of special trusts, set up for the purpose. Essentially, this would have meant the unbundling of many of the LEAs’ powers, leaving them with a monitoring and advisory role. It would have been a way to ease the state still further out of education, thus reversing the worst aspects of post-war education policy.
Second, there was the need radically to improve teacher training. Unusually, I had sent a personal minute to Ken Baker in November 1988 expressing my concerns. I said we must go much further in this area and asked him to bring forward proposals. The effective monopoly exercised by the existing teacher-training routes had to be broken. Ken Baker devised two schemes – that of ‘licensed teachers’ to attract those who wished to enter teaching as a second career and that of ‘articled teachers’ which was essentially an apprenticeship scheme of ‘on the job’ training for younger graduates. These were good proposals. But there was no evidence that there would be a large enough inflow of teachers from these sources to significantly change the ethos and raise the standards of the profession. So I had Brian Griffiths begin work on how to increase the numbers: we wanted to see at least half of the new teachers come through these or similar schemes, as opposed to teacher-training institutions.
The third educational policy issue on which work was being done was the universities. By exerting financial pressure we had increased administrative efficiency and provoked overdue rationalization. Universities were developing closer links with business and becoming more entrepreneurial. Student loans (which topped up grants) had also been introduced: these would make students more discriminating about the courses they chose. A shift of support from university grants to
the payment of tuition fees would lead in the same direction of greater sensitivity to the market. Limits placed on the security of tenure enjoyed by university staff also encouraged dons to pay closer attention to satisfying the teaching requirements made of them. All this encountered strong political opposition from within the universities. Some of it was predictable. But undoubtedly other critics were genuinely concerned about the future autonomy and academic integrity of universities.
I had to concede that these critics had a stronger case than I would have liked. It made me concerned that many distinguished academics thought that Thatcherism in education meant a philistine subordination of scholarship to the immediate requirements of vocational training. That was certainly no part of my kind of Thatcherism. That was why, before I left office, Brian Griffiths, with my encouragement, had started working on a scheme to give the leading universities much more independence. The idea was to allow them to opt out of Treasury financial rules and raise and keep capital, owning their assets as a trust. It would have represented a radical decentralization of the whole system.
Of the three major social services – Education, the Health Service and Housing – it was, in my view, over the last of these that the most significant question mark hung.
State intervention to control rents and give tenants security of tenure in the private rented sector had been disastrous in reducing the supply of rented properties. The state in the form of local authorities had frequently proved an insensitive, incompetent and corrupt landlord. And insofar as there were shortages in specific categories of housing, these were in the private rented sector where rent control and security of tenure had reduced the supply. Moreover, new forms of housing had emerged. Housing Associations and the Housing Corporation which financed them offered alternative ways of providing ‘social housing’ without the state as landlord. Similarly, tenant involvement in the form of co-operatives and the different kinds of trusts being pioneered in the United States offered new ways of pulling government out of housing management. I believed that the state must continue to provide mortgage tax relief in order to encourage home ownership, which was socially desirable. The state also had to provide assistance for poorer people with housing costs through housing benefit. But as regards the traditional post-war role of government in housing – that is building, ownership, management, and regulation – the state should be withdrawn from these areas as far and as fast as possible.
This was the philosophical starting point for the housing reforms on which Nick Ridley was working from the autumn of 1986, which he submitted for collective discussion at the end of January 1987, and which after several meetings under my chairmanship were included in the 1987 general election manifesto. The beauty of the package which Nick devised was that it combined a judicious mixture of central government intervention, local authority financial discipline, deregulation and wider choice for tenants. In so doing it achieved a major shift away from the ossified system which had grown up under socialism.
Central government would play a role through Housing Action Trusts (HATs) in redeveloping badly run down council estates and passing them on to other forms of ownership and management – including home ownership, ownership by housing associations and transfer to a private landlord – with no loss of tenant rights. Second, the new ‘ring-fenced’ framework for local authority housing accounts would force councils to raise rents to levels which provided money for repairs. It would also increase the pressure on councils for the disposal of part or all of their housing stock to housing associations, other landlords or indeed home ownership. Third, deregulation of new lets – through development of shorthold and assured tenancies – should at least arrest the decline of the private rented sector: Nick rightly insisted that there should be stronger legal provisions enacted against harassment to balance this deregulation. Finally, opening up the possibility of council tenants changing their landlords, or groups of tenants running their estates through co-operatives under our ‘tenants’ choice’ proposals, could reduce the role of local authority landlords still further.
The most difficult aspect of the package seemed likely to be the higher council rents, which would also mean much higher state spending on housing benefit. But it seemed better to provide help with housing costs through benefit than through subsidizing the rents of local authority tenants indiscriminately. Moreover, the higher rents paid by those not on benefit would provide an added incentive for them to buy their homes and escape from the net altogether.
These reforms will need time to produce results. But the new arrangements for housing revenue accounts are applying a beneficial new discipline to local authorities. And deregulation of the private rented sector will increase the supply of rented housing gradually, as ideological hostility to private landlordism recedes. But I have to say that I had expected more from ‘tenants’ choice’ and from HATs. The obstacle to both was the deep-rooted hostility of the Left to the improvement and enfranchisement of those who lived in the ghettos of dependency which they controlled. The propaganda against ‘tenants’ choice’, however, was as nothing compared with that directed against HATs and, sadly, the House of Lords gave the Left the opportunity they needed.
Their Lordships amended our legislation to require that a HAT could only go ahead if a majority of eligible tenants voted for it. This would have been an impossibly high hurdle, given the apathy of many tenants and the intimidation of the Left. We finished up by accepting the principle of a ballot, limiting it to the requirement of a majority of those voting. In the summer of 1988 Nick Ridley announced proposals to set up six HATs, of which – after receiving consultants’ reports – he decided to go ahead with four in Lambeth, Southwark, Sunderland and Leeds. I later saw some of the propaganda by left-wing tenants’ groups – strongly backed by the trade unions – which showed how effective their campaigns had been to spread alarm among tenants who were now worried about what would happen when they moved out as their flats were refurbished and about levels of rents and security of tenure. One would never have guessed that we were offering huge sums of taxpayers’ money to improve the conditions of people living in some of the worst housing in the country. As a result, no HATs were set up while I was Prime Minister, though three have been since I left office.
Housing, like Education, had been at the top of the list for reform in 1987. But I had reserved Health for detailed consideration later. I believed that the NHS was a service of which we could genuinely be proud. It delivered a high quality of care at a reasonably modest unit cost, at least compared with some insurance-based systems. Yet there were large and on the face of it unjustifiable differences between performance in one area and another. Consequently, I was much more reluctant to envisage fundamental changes than I was in the nation’s schools. Although I wanted to see a flourishing private sector of health alongside the National Health Service, I always regarded the NHS and its basic principles as a fixed point in our policies. And so I peppered my speeches and interviews with the figures for extra doctors, dentists and midwives, patients treated, operations performed and new hospitals built. I felt that on this record we ought to be able to stand our ground.
Some of the political difficulties we faced on the Health Service could be put down to exploitation of hard cases by Opposition politicians and the press. But there was more to it than that. There was bound to be a potentially limitless demand for health care (in the broadest sense) for as long as it was provided free at the point of delivery. The number of elderly people – the group who made greatest call on the NHS – was increasing; advances in medicine opened up the possibility of – and demand for – new and often expensive forms of treatment.
In significant ways, the NHS lacked the right economic signals to respond to these pressures. Dedicated its staff generally were; cost conscious they were not. Indeed, there was no reason why doctors, nurses or patients should be in a monolithic state-provided system. Moreover, although people who were seriously ill could usually rely on first-class
treatment, in other ways there was too little sensitivity to the preferences and convenience of patients.
If one were to recreate the National Health Service, starting from fundamentals, one would have allowed for a bigger private sector and one would have given much closer consideration to additional sources of finance for health, apart from general taxation. But we were not faced by an empty slate and any reforms must not undermine public confidence.
I had had several long-range discussions with Norman Fowler, then Secretary of State at the DHSS, in the summer and autumn of 1986 about the future of the National Health Service. It was a time of renewed interest in the economics of health care so there was much to talk about. Norman provided a paper at the end of January 1987. The objective of reform, which we even now distinguished as central, was that we should work towards a new way of allocating money within the NHS, so that hospitals treating more patients received more income. There also needed to be a closer, clearer connection between the demand for health care, its cost and the method for paying for it. We discussed whether the NHS might be funded by a ‘health stamp’ rather than through general taxation. Yet these were very theoretical debates. I did not believe that we were yet in a position to advance significant proposals for the manifesto. Even the possibility of a Royal Commission – not a device which I would generally have preferred but one which had been used by the previous Labour Government in considering the Health Service – held some attractions for me.
Margaret Thatcher: The Autobiography Page 75