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KENNETH MCLAUGHLIN
Manchester Metropolitan University
From ridicule to institutionalization:
anti-oppression, the state and social work
Abstract
Anti-racist and anti-oppressive practices are considered essential components of social work education and practice. This paper charts the rise
and rationale for these initiatives, detailing the social and political
factors that influenced their development and incorporation into the
profession. The criticism of such measures from a variety of perspectives
is also discussed. Whilst this was at times vitriolic and did affect policy,
the claim that it constituted a backlash is contested. Influenced by a
Marxist view of the state and Foucauldian insights into both the power
of discourse and controlling aspects of the ‘helping professions’, it is
argued that what were considered radical measures have now become
institutionalized and in the process lost their original meaning. Antioppressive social work, rather than being a challenge to the state has
allowed the state to reposition itself once again as a benign provider of
welfare, and via the anti-oppressive social worker is able to enforce new
moral codes of behaviour on the recipients of welfare.
Key words: anti-oppression, backlash, political correctness, social
work, the State
Introduction
Within social work education and practice, a commitment to antiracist and anti-oppressive practice is essential in order for students to
gain professional status. It is also expected that this will form an
integral part of their practice post-qualification. Students and practitioners are expected not only to have an awareness of the construction
and perpetuation of social divisions, but also to demonstrate in
practice how they have challenged the norms, assumptions and
Copyright © 2005 Critical Social Policy Ltd 0261–0183 84 Vol. 25(3): 283–305; 054072
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behaviours that lead from them. According to the International
Federation of Social Workers, ‘the main aim of social work is to
alleviate poverty, to liberate vulnerable and oppressed people with the
ultimate aim to promote social inclusion’ (quoted in Horner, 2003:
98). This definition has also been adopted in England by the Training
Organisation for the Personal Social Services (TOPSS) (quoted in
Horner, 2003: 98).
It was the politicization of social work in the 1970s that
highlighted the way social welfare and social work individualized
social problems. Rather than being seen as due to the moral failings of
the poor, poverty and marginalization were seen as due to wider
political and structural inequalities. This early critique, focusing on
social class, was itself seen as problematic, being charged with
ignoring or indeed perpetuating other forms of oppression, such as
racism or sexism. The 1980s and 1990s therefore saw the focus move
to anti-racist and anti-oppressive practice within social work, with the
agenda widening further to include issues such as disability, sexuality
and age-related discrimination.
Influenced by both Marxist and Foucauldian insights this paper
charts the rise of ‘anti-racism’ and ‘anti-oppression’ within social
work, discussing the social and political factors that helped shape the
debate. From a Marxist perspective it views the state as historically
specific, as a social relationship rather than an independent entity and
as made up of many layers (e.g. parliament, judiciary, police and social
workers). Foucauldian influences include recognition of both the
power of discourse and controlling aspects of the helping
professions.
The role of pressure groups, some local authorities and black
people themselves in prioritizing initiatives to combat racism and
other forms of oppression is highlighted, and the opposition to such
developments from a variety of perspectives is discussed. The claim by
many social work academics that this opposition constituted a ‘backlash’ by right wing anti-egalitarians is contested.
It is argued that what were seen as radical developments by their
proponents, were in fact a response to political defeat and have now
become institutionalized. Rather than being a challenge to the state,
anti-oppressive practice has conversely allowed the state to reposition
itself as a benign provider of welfare, as the solution to the problems
of the oppressed, and via the anti-oppressive social worker is able to
MCLAUGHLIN—ANTI-OPPRESSIVE PRACTICE
enforce new moral codes of behaviour on the recipients of welfare
services.
Social work and anti-oppression
The 1980s saw much political unrest over social inequality and the
impact of racism on the black community. Black activists, community
groups and organizations highlighted the way in which their communities were discriminated against by the police and judicial system,
education departments and housing policy and practice (Gilroy,
1987). This critique and resistance towards discriminatory welfare
practices also applied itself to social service departments. Social work
theory and practice was exposed as pathologizing and controlling
black people, for example black people were more likely to have their
children removed and placed in residential care (Bebbington and
Miles, 1989), and more likely to be compulsorily admitted to hospital
under the Mental Health Act than their white counterparts (Francis,
1991).
This increasing recognition of the unequal nature of British
society was hugely influential within social work training in the mid
to late 1980s, culminating in the publication of the second edition of
the Central Council for Education and Training in Social Work’s Rules
and Requirements for the Diploma in Social Work (Paper 30) (CCETSW,
1989), which emphasized the need for an anti-racist approach, and the
adoption of a policy which stated that,
racism is endemic in the values, attitudes and structures of British
society including that of social services and social work education.
CCETSW recognises that the effects of racism on black people are
incompatible with the values of social work and therefore seeks to
combat racist practices in all areas of its responsibilities. (CCETSW,
1991: 6)
In one sense this was a remarkable achievement. The 1980s was a
period of Conservative political power with Margaret Thatcher the
Prime Minister. A key aspect of the Conservative Party’s programme
was an attempt to create political hegemony around free market
economics and a return to ‘traditional values’ around the family and
the nation state (Gamble, 1988). However, such Conservative rhetoric
disguised a society where conflict over politics and values was never
far from the surface (Molyneux, 1993; Penketh, 1998).
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Riots in the predominantly black areas of Bristol (St Paul’s),
Manchester (Moss Side), Liverpool (Toxteth) and London (Brixton and
Tottenham) brought to the surface the underlying tension between
black people and the police (Gilroy, 1987). Positive role models for
black and Asian youth were conspicuous by their absence (Syal, 1994),
whilst the year-long miners’ strike of 1984–5 exposed the brutality of
the police, as they were utilized to protect the employers whilst
simultaneously crushing the miners.
The Conservative Party’s appeal to ‘traditional values’ merely
exposed the lack of consensus as to just what such values were and
who benefited from them. And whilst the Labour Party was out of
central government, it had control of many inner city boroughs
through which it attempted to push through a ‘reformist left’ politics.
The accommodation within the Labour Party of both black and
women’s groups was recognition that issues of gender and race could
not be ignored. Labour controlled councils increasingly adopted
‘Equal Opportunities’ statements, which by their nature were an
acknowledgement that inequality existed. Some such authorities, for
example Hackney, pressed CCETSW to address the inadequacies of
much social work training which as it stood was ill preparing students
to work in an anti-racist manner. According to Penketh (1998: 31)
It was a combination of struggle by black social workers and students,
in an atmosphere of both a growing awareness and critique of institutional racism within welfare agencies, and the rise of a counterThatcherite political opposition within the Labour party, local
government and the equal opportunities community which created the
‘space’ for CCETSW’s anti-racist initiatives to develop.
In order to be approved by CCETSW social work training providers
had to develop ‘Clear and explicit anti-discrimination and anti-racist
policies and explicit practices and procedures which provide evidence
that these policies will be implemented and monitored in all aspects
of the programme’ (CCETSW, 1989: 22).
Penketh (1998: 37) argues that the understanding of racism
developed
from individualistic explanations based on personal attitudes and behaviour, to a recognition that racism is a phenomenon that exists, and is
structured within the practices of all British institutions, including
social services departments, local authorities and higher education
institutions. This reconceptualisation of racism highlights the manner
MCLAUGHLIN—ANTI-OPPRESSIVE PRACTICE
in which individuals who may be genuinely opposed to racism can
behave in ways which inadvertently discriminate against black people
by following uncritically, the activities, ‘norms’ and unquestioned
assumptions of the institutions within which they are located.
Whilst there was this recognition, in practice local authorities still
directed considerable effort to individualistic solutions to the problem
of racism. For example, whilst the Greater London Council established London as an ‘Anti-racist Zone’ in 1982 and declared 1984 to
be ‘Anti-racist Year’, its poster campaign still portrayed racism as a
moral individual phenomenon. One poster asked: Are you a racist?
You’d be a much nicer person if you weren’t. Another read, If you are a racist
you have a problem. Don’t you have enough problems already? Apart from
being criticized for being sanctimonious and individualistic, local
authorities were also attacked for portraying the public as the problem
and themselves as the solution, conveniently overlooking employment
and housing policies that had historically marginalized the black
population (Gilroy, 1987; Tompson, 1988).
The social work profession faced a similar attack. Its image as a
benign provider of welfare had already been attacked along class lines
(Bailey and Brake, 1975), but increasingly its role in both the
production and reproduction of racist ideology and practice was
exposed. Dominelli (1988) in her book Anti-racist Social Work was
unequivocal about both the extent of the problem and the necessary
steps required to overcome it. Chapters One and Two are titled
‘Racism Permeates Social Work Ideology and Practice’ and ‘Social
Work Training is imbued with Racism’ respectively, although her
criticism was not of social work per se, just current practice. With
effort, she believed that the profession could atone for past sins by
incorporating ‘anti-racist’ practice. Seeing themselves as working
within a caring profession and opposing social injustice, it was noted
that many social workers and students found it difficult to come to
terms with the possibility that they themselves may be perpetrating
injustice through racist or sexist practices (Cooper, 1997; Penketh,
1998).
As it developed, the term ‘anti-racism’ whilst still a discrete and
specific term, in an acknowledgement of its egalitarian principles, and
in an attempt to avoid the dilemma of creating a ‘hierarchy of
oppressions’ embraced other areas of inequality, for example around
sexuality, disability and age, leading to a focus on ‘anti-oppressive
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practice’ (AOP) (e.g. Dominelli, 1996; Macey and Moxon, 1996).
AOP has been defined as
A form of social work practice which addresses social divisions and
structural inequalities in the work that is done with people whether
they be users (‘clients’) or workers. AOP aims to provide more appropriate and sensitive services by responding to people’s needs regardless
of their social status. AOP embodies a person centred philosophy; an
egalitarian value system concerned with reducing the deleterious effects
of structural inequalities upon people’s lives; a methodology focusing on
both process and outcome; and a way of structuring relationships
between individuals that aims to empower users by reducing the
negative effects of social hierarchies on their interaction and the work
they do together. (Dominelli, 1996: 170–1)
The move to AOP has been both influenced and challenged by
postmodernism and poststructuralism. Influences include a suspicion
of grand narratives in favour of many competing narratives, power as
operating at a variety of loci and the importance of language in
constructing subjectivity (e.g. Philip, 1979; Parton, 1994). Challenge
has come from postmodern writers (e.g. Fawcett et al., 2000) who
argue that AOP’s tendency towards ‘oppositional discourses’ (e.g.
oppression/emancipation; racism/anti-racism; masculinity/femininity)
can in fact ‘often extend the very relations of domination that they are
resisting’ (Fawcett and Featherstone, 2000: 13).
However, they share the view of power as operating at a variety of
levels which means that the concept of oppression can be widened.
According to Doyle (1997: 8)
child and ‘elder’ abuse and the mistreatment of dependent younger
adults is at one end of the continuum of oppression with societal
discrimination at the other . . . Oppression, whatever its form, has four
essential components: the misuse of power, processes of objectification,
the silence of witnesses and the entrapment or accommodation of
witnesses.
Oppression is here characterized as being the exploitation of difference, in the way Preston-Shoot (1995) uses the term. This differs from
Singh’s (1996) focus on oppression as the ‘denial’ of difference (Trew,
2002). In these readings oppression is expanded from earlier notions
where it meant the systematic denial of democratic rights to certain
sections of society (for example, women and black people), to include
interpersonal cases of abuse.
MCLAUGHLIN—ANTI-OPPRESSIVE PRACTICE
This concern with ‘minimising the power differences in society’
(Dalrymple and Burke, 1995: 3) is presented, not as a reaction to
criticisms of anti-racist practice (ARP), but as a radical measure which
moved ‘from the narrow, exclusive focus on racial oppression to a
broader, more inclusive understanding of the links between various
forms and expressions of oppression’ (Macey and Moxon, 1996: 309).
It also broadened the scope of social work intervention. If oppression
was operating at every level of society, including intimate interpersonal relationships, then the anti-oppressive social worker had
licence to intervene, highlight and minimize such power
imbalances.
The case against ARP/AOP
Having briefly sketched some of the influences on the move to AOP it
is necessary to look at some of the criticisms that it has attracted. The
focus will be on three main areas; firstly that AOP was ideologically
driven and was itself oppressive, secondly that it focused on ‘trivial’
issues of language and terminology and thirdly that it was a top down
divisive approach that was detrimental to the black struggle against
racism. Finally, the AOP response to these issues is discussed and the
concept of the ‘backlash’ problematized.
Ideologically driven and oppressive
Social work’s commitment to ARP/AOP was criticized for being
ideologically driven by political zealots who would not accept deviations from the anti-racist doctrine, intimidating colleagues and
students into a new conformity (e.g. Phillips, 1993, 1994; Pinker,
1993, 1999).
According to Phillips (1994: 50) ‘the anti-racism taught to
trainee social workers has nothing to do with promoting freedom and
equality; rather it explicitly rejects such principles’. The idea that
racism is all pervading is also ridiculed: ‘We do know that certain
institutions have racist cultures, and that racial prejudice is a general
problem. But it does not follow that all institutions behave in a
prejudiced manner, such an assertion is little better than propaganda’
(Phillips, 1994: 50, emphasis in original).
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Other criticisms were that whilst the proponents of ARP/AOP
insisted that all conduct must be anti-racist and anti-oppressive, it
was of course left to them to decide not only what constituted racist
or oppressive behaviour or language, but also what was the ‘anti’ in
AOP/ARP (Pinker, 1999). Or as Webb put it
Judgement, censure, righteousness and watchfulness – all of which must
perforce attend anti-sexism and anti-racism if they are to succeed – are
also the defining attributes of the ideal-typical puritan. To the puritan
falls the heavy obligation of practising extreme strictness in matters of
morals and a developed sensitivity to breaches in the correct code of
behaviour or thought. (quoted in Pierson, 1999: 61)
Those who demanded attention to such matters were labelled the
‘politically correct’ (PC) police, enforcers of the correct way of
speaking and behaving. The danger of PC becoming a new middleclass way of moralizing to the poor was highlighted. According to
Dent (1999: 28), the ‘PC police were swapping the pursed lips of “you
should see the state of her kitchen” for the pursed rhetoric of “you
should see her ideology”’ (emphasis in original). For Pinker, ‘A
shamefully small number of social work academics raised objections to
this pernicious nonsense [with the result that] The clientele of the
social work profession – most of them poor and disadvantaged people
– were once again short changed in the currency of welfare’ (1999:
19).
It is of course disingenuous of Pinker to note how disadvantaged
social welfare recipients are, whilst at the same time dismissing
attempts to understand and to combat such a situation. However,
both Pinker and Webb provide an appropriate cautionary note. If
social work and social welfare have historically been an instrument for
oppression and re-enforcing class, race or gender stereotypes, as
proponents of AOP/ARP insist, then we should be careful not to
uncritically embrace the contemporary moral consensus.
Words not actions
One criticism of AOP/ARP that tended to personify charges of
political correctness was that it paid too much attention to language,
for example in censoring certain words for their inappropriateness and
lecturing people on their choice of terminology, thereby implying
that changing the vocabulary of the nation would ease social inequal-
MCLAUGHLIN—ANTI-OPPRESSIVE PRACTICE
ity. This approach was exemplified by tabloid press sensationalism,
but a more serious, if still jocular critique comes from one
commentator
I used to think I was poor. Then they told me I wasn’t poor I was needy.
They told me it was self-defeating to think of myself as needy, I was
deprived. They then told me deprived was a bad image, I was
underprivileged. They told me underprivileged was over used, I was
disadvantaged. I still haven’t got a dime. But I sure have a great
vocabulary. (quoted in Philpot, 1999: 13)
The point Philpot is making in using the quote is that raised
awareness does not equate with improved material resources. Dropping ‘The Third World’ in favour of ‘The Developing World’ does not
improve the quality of life or alleviate the hunger of the people living
in poverty. The poor have more to be concerned with than ‘pedantic,
linguistic niceties’ (Molyneux, 1993: 61), or as one Chief Executive
put it, PC was ‘a long way from [service users’] day-to-day priorities’
(Dent, 1999: 37).
Whilst this is the case, the very hostile reaction to the ‘obsession
with words’ for its trivial nature exposes the reality that it is not
trivial at all. Cameron (1995: 140) expresses her frustration at the
self-contradiction inherent in those who get so inflamed about a
‘trivial’ issue, ‘“If the point is so trivial”, I want to tell this person,
“please humour me by conceding it. If it really doesn’t matter what
words we use, then let’s just do it my way and both of us will be
happy”’. She is equally scathing of the implication in the previous
quote that words do not on their own change the material circumstances of the poor. It wasn’t an either/or situation, for example either
non-sexist language or equal pay for women. Women required both.
And if forced into a binary choice, Cameron has no doubt that most
women, herself included, would opt for the latter.
However, the reduction of the campaign for equality to arguments
over linguistic niceties led to a focus on administrative, not material,
measures to combat inequality. As mass political movements receded
there was left ‘a layer of intellectuals stranded in academia or cultural
ghettos trying to continue the struggle by purely verbal means and
falling over themselves to find linguistic wrongs to be linguistically
righted’ (Molyneux, 1993: 59–60). Such measures inevitably took on
an authoritarian edge as local authorities, including social workers,
were charged with enforcing the ‘correct’ terminology.
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This is not to dispute the power of language. Indeed, the very use
of the term ‘political correctness’ is illustrative of both the power and
importance of language. As Thompson (2002: 94) notes, ‘The fact
that “political correctness” has become a term of ridicule illustrates
the basic point – the power of language to reinforce existing power
relations’. The term can be utilized to justify the status quo, its very
repetition enough to close off debate and absolve the speaker from
having to defend their views or practices.
A concern with language within social welfare is important, and
the production, interpretation and reproduction of language are
integral to social work,
Its textual nature is demonstrated at every turn: the essays, process
recordings, placement reports; the case records, applications, letters, case
conference and court reports. From the process of applying to go on a
training course, through the training programme itself, to the daily
practice of ‘professional’ workers – social work is inescapably involved
with the production and reception of text. (Turney, 1996: 2)
Likewise, the role of discourse in identity formation, subjectivity and
the construction of ‘reality’ in the form of ‘truth claims’ are important
areas for consideration. According to Humphries (1997), discourses
produce ‘truths’ and such ‘truths’ are necessary for the exercise of
power. Whilst too much emphasis on discourse can be problematic,
for example from a Marxist perspective human action precedes discourse, the recognition of the importance of discourse in not only
reflecting but producing and reproducing social reality is an appropriate area of social and political investigation. However, it is also the
case that the relationship between signifier and signified is not
constant, but subject to various social and political influences which
necessitates a critical stance in order that changes in the meaning of
concepts and terms can be identified (Parker, 2002). In other words,
what is classed as ‘anti-racist’ or ‘anti-oppressive’ will change historically and its meaning will be debated at each juncture.
A divisive and top down approach
The role of social work academics and professionals in the implementation of AOP has also been criticized for being driven from
above, for being a ‘top down’ activity from a reformist political
MCLAUGHLIN—ANTI-OPPRESSIVE PRACTICE
tradition of engineering social change that was not owned by rank and
file social workers, but rather was imposed on them from on high
(Molyneux, 1993; Penketh, 2000).
Penketh (2000: 129) notes how CCETSW’s policies contained a
major contradiction
CCETSW is a state agency, social work is a practice within which the
dialectic of ‘care and control’ is crucial. Paper 30 denounced the
endemic nature of racism in Britain and its institutional and structural
nature, suggesting it was embedded in dominant social relations, and
hence could not be removed until those social relations had been
radically transformed. However, this is a revolutionary activity to the
problem, and social work is not a revolutionary activity . . .
She goes on to note that aspects of the job, for example probation,
involve an element of controlling or ‘soft policing’ sections of the
black community. Similar accusations can be made of mental health
services (Skellington, 1996) and more recently in social work around
immigration and asylum, with the government wanting social services to remove the children of failed asylum seekers into local
authority care (Hayes and Humphries, 2004).
For Sivanandan (1985: 15), the incorporation of black sections
within the Labour Party and local government was not politically
progressive as such people were ‘no more representative of black
working people than the Labour Party is for white. In fact, black
politics has to cease to be political for blacks to get into politics’.
Sivanandan’s point is not only that the creation of a new black middle
class does not necessarily improve the lot of black people in general,
but also that this entails an accommodation with existing capitalist
social relations which necessitates a more micro analysis of social
power. This led to local government, including social service departments, promoting or effecting an anti-racism that emphasized a
psychological or affective approach to combating racism, which rather
than help matters actually degraded the black struggle against
racism.
Whilst Sivanandan was sensitive to the dangers of black activists
being co-opted into the state machinery, his inability to pose a viable
alternative has him at various times railing against the state and how
it corrupts the well intentioned (1981/1982, 1985) whilst on other
occasions arguing that such entryism is necessary and hopefully in
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such a process some are not corrupted (cited in Tompson, 1988: 101).
For Jacoby (1999: 64) the corruption feared by Sivanandan became
the reality,
Once past the jabber about hegemony, difference and domination, this
politics is defined by appointments and jobs, the not so revolutionary
demand to be part of the university bureaucracy or the corporate world.
In cruder terms, radical multiculturalists want more of their own people
in the organization. This is fully understandable, but it is not radical,
and it is barely political. It suggests patronage, not revolution . . . Once
upon a time revolutionaries tried, or pretended to try, to make a
revolution; they harboured a vision of a different world or society. Now
dubbed radical multiculturalists, they apply for bigger offices.
The move towards a celebration of cultural difference, of competing
ethnicities, would lead to a dilution of the black struggle. Whereas
racism divided communities, multiculturalism would further fragment them (Sivanandan, 1985; Malik, 1996). This is encapsulated in
the endless etc. of difference, where an additional identity can be
forever added, ‘Black women are treated differently from white
women, lesbians are treated differently from heterosexual women,
disabled women are viewed differently from able-bodied women,
older women are viewed differently from younger women’ (Dalrymple
and Burke, 1995: 8). And of course, black disabled women are treated
differently from black able-bodied women and so on . . . . Such
observations may be useful in the realm of interpersonal relations, but
are problematic in trying to develop a form of collective consciousness
for wider political change. The implication in this concept of ‘otherness’ is that differences are insurmountable, which can lead to a policy
of cultural separation, for example in the debate over same race
adoption (Molyneux, 1993).
Of importance here is the question of who is charged with
intervening and resolving these ever expanding categories of the
oppressed. The change agent in these discourses is no longer the
working class, and any notion of collective agency immediately
encounters abuses of power within its ranks; the subjects of such
oppression becoming too diffuse and weak to constitute historical
agents of change. In such circumstances, it is invariably the state,
whether in the guise of the government, police or social worker that is
likely to be seen as the solution to the problem of oppression.
MCLAUGHLIN—ANTI-OPPRESSIVE PRACTICE
The backlash against AOP: myth or reality?
The criticisms of ARP/AOP are likely to be dismissed as being part of
a New Right backlash against progressive, egalitarian procedures that
threaten the privileged power positions of a white, male dominated
society (e.g. Dominelli, 2002; Penketh, 2000). For Dominelli (2002:
67) there was a ‘media orchestrated backlash against anti-racist social
work’. She claims that anti-oppressive social work was deemed ‘a
politically subversive operation’ that threatened the status quo and
therefore was attacked by those opposed to social change, who
questioned its relevance and effectiveness. Accusations of ‘political
correctness’ were used to ridicule, denigrate and silence those seeking
change. For Wise (1995: 106) the term ‘political correctness’ is ‘a
catch-all and derisory term used to discredit all positive action against
oppression’, whilst for Mullender (2003: xii), it is ‘the most damaging
phrase in the English language [which] has been employed constantly,
in a slick backlash reaction’ against social work’s mission to promote
equality.
According to Jones (1993: 9) ‘the right wing critics of social
work’ have, with great tactical awareness and persistence pressed their
campaign accusing ‘social work’s anti-racism as merely fashionable
dogma of the lunatic left’. Whilst others (e.g. Alibhai-Brown, 1993;
Humphries, 1993) liken the campaign against anti-racism to the anticommunist witch-hunts of post-war USA. Those opposed to AOP are
said to be fearful of change, a fear that is ‘rooted in a loss of taken-forgranted privileges accorded to them through an inegalitarian social
order’ (Dominelli, 1998: 11).
It is certainly the case that the tabloid press of the late 1980s and
early 1990s delighted in ridiculing many of the policies and practices
of left wing councils, social work departments included. It is also the
case that Virginia Bottomley, when Conservative Secretary of State for
Health accused social work of being pre-occupied with ‘isms’ (racism,
sexism, ageism, disablism etc.). And such criticisms did indeed have
an effect on policy, with the appointment of Jeffrey Greenwood as
chair of CCETSW in 1993. Whilst declaring his commitment to
equal opportunities, Greenwood also pledged to rid social work
training of ‘politically correct nonsense’ (quoted in the Independent, 28
August 1993). This led to a revised Paper 30 being published in
1995, with the explicit references to race and anti-racism being
dropped.
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According to Singh (1996) as a result of this backlash there was a
gradual reduction in institutional commitments to AOP. Even Penketh (2000) in an otherwise perceptive discussion of PC and social
work is of the opinion that such a backlash took place.
However, the concept of a ‘backlash’ is problematic. First, the
extent of the ‘backlash’ is exaggerated. Tabloid sensationalism aside,
more reasoned arguments against these developments were relatively
rare. Invariably, it is the same articles by a small band of critics that
are cited as representing the backlash; the journalists Melanie Phillips
(1994) and Brian Appleyard (1993), plus social work academics
Martin Davies (1985) and Robert Pinker (1993). (Davies’s critique,
although aimed at the Radical Social Work movement of the 1970s,
shares with the others a concern with the overt politicization of the
profession.)
It is of course correct to point out how the term ‘political
correctness’ was used by the Right as a means of closing down debate,
of avoiding criticism or of having to justify opinions or practices,
however the term ‘backlash’ can serve the same purpose for the Left.
Criticism can be dismissed as either part of the ‘New Right backlash’
or due to inherent racism or sexism. Whether the term used is ‘PC’ or
‘backlash’ the same statement is being made; ‘I no longer need to
justify myself to you, you’re part of the a) loony left or b) racist/sexist
right’ (delete as appropriate dep