Category: Civic

  • No more civic washing – most universities now pay their staff a living wage

    No more civic washing – most universities now pay their staff a living wage

    Today 88 per cent of UK universities pay a living wage, marking a significant increase from 2022 when I first published an article on Wonkhe that suggested that several universities were engaged in “civic washing” – claiming civic credentials without the concrete action to back up their claims.

    My argument then was that a significant proportion of universities had made public commitments to be “civic” but were not paying the living wage. How, I often asked myself, can you claim to be civic and not treat your lowest paid, and often local, staff with the dignity of a living wage?

    The Living Wage Foundation calculates the living wage to be £12.60 (£13.85 in London) according to the cost of living, based on a basket of household goods and services. This is above the statutory minimum wage, which the government brands as the “national living wage.” Employers – including universities – have used the language of the “voluntary living wage” (VLW) where they claim to pay the level determined by the Living Wage Foundation but are not accredited in doing so. This contrasts with the “real living wage” (RLW) which is when an employer is accredited by the Living Wage Foundation as paying the living wage.

    To be accredited with the Living Wage Foundation an employer must pay all directly employed staff the living wage and have an agreed plan in place for third party contracted staff such as for outsourced catering, cleaning and security. The requirement placed on subcontracted staff is one of the reasons that universities and other employers pay the VLW as opposed to the RLW.

    Real progress

    As reported in a series of Wonkhe articles (here and here), over the past four years there has been an increase in the number of universities paying the real and voluntary living wage. In the context of the acute financial crisis impacting many universities this is a massive achievement that should be celebrated. Indeed, I am aware of only one university that has de-credited from the Living Wage Foundation over the past few years.

    In 2019 (when I first looked into the living wage issue) only 38 of Universities UK members were accredited with the LWF. Today that has increased to 80 with four accrediting in 2024. However, this does not take into account the universities that pay the VLW. The only way to determine this is to check institutional websites and where no information is available to follow up with a freedom of information request. In 2024, we contacted 61 universities and determined that 39 were paying a voluntary living wage.

    This year I decided to update this analysis by focusing on the 22 universities that confirmed they did not pay the RLW or VLW. Two of these were private providers that did not respond to a FOI last year, so I excluded them. The remaining 20 did respond, of which 12 unambiguously acknowledged that they did not pay the living wage, three said they were considering it but currently do not pay the VLW, 2 said no, but added that their pay scales are above the living wage and thus were included in the analysis and three said that they now pay the VLW.

    This means that out of 140 universities in my sample, 123 now pay the real or voluntary living wage (88 per cent), up from 82 per cent last year. Whilst this is undoubtedly cause for celebration, it is important to note that the VLW does not require a commitment for subcontractors to be paid a living wage.

    As some of you know, I am off to pastures new and thus this will be the last time I update the analysis. However, I am delighted that Citizens UK’s community of practice on higher education has agreed to take on the exercise and I have shared with them all the data from previous years. Perhaps when I return to the UK the university sector will have set a precedent by being wholly accredited with the Living Wage Foundation.

    Find out more about the Living Wage Foundation and the process of accreditation as a Living Wage employer here. 

    Source link

  • The class gap in the civic map

    The class gap in the civic map

    Albert Hill Working Men’s Club and Institute has played an important role in my life.

    It’s the place where my parents had their wedding reception. My christening party was held in its concert room. Friends of mine, uncles, and acquaintances, have had their wakes with luke warm pork-pies and pints of Magent in the bar. The day I got my membership to the club was a milestone into adulthood and at thirty one I suspect I am still the youngest member.

    Temperance and temperament

    The working man’s club emerged through colliding strains of the temperance movement as an alternative to the gin bars of the 1800s, the rise of the industrial working classes and their desire for betterment, and as a hub for leisure, sports, lectures, and other recreational activity. In university parlance we often talk of local catalysts but Albert Hill has maintained a generation of allotments for leek growing competitions, brought money into local economies through the touring domino tournaments, and kept hundreds if not thousands of self-employed singers, caterers, and turns in business.

    And they would not be pretentious enough to call themselves it but it is a civic institution. As the writer Devika Rao has said on the decline of these kinds of third spaces that are neither home nor work “Where do you go if you are not at school, work or home? For some, the answer is, well, nowhere.” The civic agenda does not quite know how to deal with these kinds of third spaces.

    It’s not that universities are not doing things which directly benefit the drinkers of Albert Hill. Universities are providing nursery places, improving school performance, supporting sustainability projects, and much more between. These things are exceptionally valuable, if executed well will change a place, and in an era of constrained university spending are admirable. At the same time, like the temperance campaigners of the 1800s, projects can sometimes feel like telling a general population to know what is good for them. As recent polling by Public First demonstrates a plurality of the public know not much or very little about what their local university does for the local area.

    Further research by Public First shows people see the place where they live as the locus of their identity. Not the United Kingdom, not England, and certainly not Europe, but the actual places they live. The very idea of levelling up (remember that) is tied to both a desire to revitalise a place and an industrial heritage in places that have been left ashore with the tides of globalisation.

    People and their place

    The challenge is that universities are not just local institutions but global ones. Inevitably, this means that they will do things which are unfamiliar to populations that are less internationally mobile. David Goodhart, once darling of the liberal media now feted immigration sceptic, may argue this is the divide between nowheres and somewheres. The somewheres being people rooted in their local places, often not university educated, with small c conservative views. The nowheres being the mobile, less rooted, and highly educated. If the civic agenda is anything it is an attempt to bridge the education faultline through the university.

    This also means that universities do university coded things in their civic agenda. There is not a focussed civic university agenda about revitalising and supporting working men’s clubs, snooker halls, pubs, places of worship, community centres, small music venues, local football teams, or, to a lesser extent, saving the local high street. It’s legitimate to argue that this isn’t the business of universities but this is no more or less true than partnering with the local museum, art gallery, or literature festival.

    And this is perhaps the second challenge. Value, and the things worth spending public money on that aren’t education and teaching, are often middle class coded. This isn’t to say universities aren’t minded of their impacts on working-class communities. From supporting a just transition, to school programmes, free nursery places, and so on, they clearly are. It’s more that the kind of intangible, culturally coded, doing nice things for an area, can feel middle class.

    Again, to be absolutely clear, it’s not that working-class people don’t enjoy literature, art, and culture. This is obviously the case and it’s tedious to suggest otherwise. It’s more about the range of things universities choose to invest in. And, whisper it, it’s because many of these working-class spaces are also full of people who share views that are anathema to universities. They are often less in favour of immigration, less socially liberal, and more opposed to high levels of public spending on the things universities do. To organise in those spaces is to not organise with people that aren’t aware of universities but with people that are aware of universities and simply don’t always like them that much.

    Pot and trench leeks

    This leaves the fundamental challenge of the extent to which universities responsibility extends to areas where they have no direct mission, with individuals that may never join in their activity, and with activities they do not have the cultural cache to do authentically. Even if universities thought maintaining a working-class culture was their role it’s not even that clear what they would actually do.

    Ambiguity doesn’t mean universities can vacate the space. The politics of young white men is flipping the political map. We know there is an increasing pull toward the far right, they are less likely to receive a university education than nearly any other group, and they are more likely to stay in the places they were born. To entirely leave this space is to say universities have no place in their lives which is to tacitly acknowledge that universities’ civic commitments are partial.

    Universities also cannot dictate the civic institutions they have. It’s not their role to tell their populations where to work, live, love, study, enjoy their time, and just hang out. The role of the civic university agenda is not to extend the university into the world but to extend the world into the university. The people who have the most to gain from universities being civically involved are often the least likely to know what the university is or what it does.

    The civic agenda has spurred universities toward a greater consciousness of their places and achieved practical things. The way activities are coded is not to say that these activities are not valuable but it is to say that the authorial intent of civic agendas of economic growth and cultural enrichment hit the reality of communities that feel alienated from institutions generally not just the university.

    If universities are to lead on growth and capture momentum with this new government they have to demonstrate they can support growth everywhere. The success of the civic agenda is not just about days spent in museums, hours of tutoring, or student spending. It is also whether the people that once felt like their university had nothing for them now does.

    Source link

  • Innovation and skills in the English devolution white paper

    Innovation and skills in the English devolution white paper

    Devolution is a central plank of the government’s growth agenda. Providing places with the tools and resources to address local problems in ways that make sense on the ground is a means to unleash potential – and to end what English devolution minister Jim McMahon is happy to call the “top-down micromanaging” approach of ringfencing funds and centralising decision making.

    The launch of the English devolution white paper is the first step on that journey. Strategic authorities, led (for preference) by elected mayors, will cover the entirety of England. Integrated settlements will provide powers covering transport, infrastructure, housing, public services – and, of particular interest to the higher education sector, skills and innovation.

    A big part of the work of the white paper is in consolidating and standardising what had become an unruly system. Sitting above unitary, county, and district councils, a layer of strategic authorities will take on the services that larger areas need to thrive:

    Our goal is simple. Universal coverage in England of Strategic Authorities – which should be a number of councils working together, covering areas that people recognise and work in. Many places already have Combined Authorities that serve this role.

    The forthcoming English Devolution Bill will enshrine this concept in law. We get a computer game-like hierarchy of how strategic authorities will level up (so to speak): foundation strategic authorities (which do not – yet – have a mayor), followed by mayoral strategic authorities, which can then “unlock” designation as established mayoral strategic authorities through fulfilling various criteria. This will grant integrated funding settlements and other treats such as the ability to pilot new kinds of devolution.

    Already eligible for this top designation are Greater Manchester, Liverpool City Region, the North East, South Yorkshire, West Midlands, and West Yorkshire. There’s an aspiration for something similar to apply to London as well, but some legislative fiddling will be needed due to the capital’s “unique circumstances.”

    Innovation

    If you’ve got your head around the different levels of hierarchy, there’s actually quite a lot in the white paper for research and innovation, dependent on an area’s level of devolution.

    In language echoing the industrial strategy green paper, we are told that a strong local network of public and private institutions focused on R&D, innovation, and the diffusion of ideas “is one of the factors which sets highly productive local economies apart.” A big part of this is closer join-up between UKRI and local government.

    Working our way up the devolution ladder, all strategic authorities (including foundation level) will be able to draw on UKRI data on the location of R&D investments, to better allow them to “understand publicly supported innovation activity in their region and how to best take advantage of it.”

    Those mayoral strategic authorities will additionally work with Innovate UK to produce joint plans, to shape long-term innovation strategies and investments in places. UKRI will also be extending its regional partnerships and “network of embedded points of contact” with mayoral strategic authorities.

    And then coming up to the pinnacle of devolution, those established mayoral strategic authorities – to remind you: Greater Manchester, Liverpool City Region, the North East, South Yorkshire, West Midlands, and West Yorkshire, and possibly London – will get actual devolved research funding, in the form of a future regional innovation funding programme allowing local leaders to develop “bespoke innovation support offers for their regions.”

    This draws somewhat on the spirit of the Regional Innovation Fund, though this was allocated to individual higher education institutions – what’s on offer here sounds like a pot of money controlled by mayors. Its format is also to be based on lessons learned from the Innovation Accelerator pilot, which was funding by levelling up money.

    Plus, established mayoralties will get an annual meeting with the science minister, more regular engagement with senior staff at UKRI, and the chance to be consulted on the development of relevant DSIT and UKRI strategies.

    All in all, it’s a decent start down the road of a more significantly devolved research landscape. Important to note, however, that the actual funding on offer to established mayors is contingent on next year’s spending review, and so we’re talking about 2026–27 onwards here. And we might also observe that the House of Commons science committee’s inquiry into regional R&D, announced last week, has clearly been set up with an eye to influencing how this all comes together.

    At least to begin with, there will also be a not insignificant gap between what’s on offer to the most established sites of devolution – some funds to spend as desired, a seat at the strategy table – and what those “foundation” strategic authorities receive, which will be little more than a bit of regional R&D data. There’s potential for imbalance between regions here. Foundation-level authorities are described as a “stepping stone” to later acquiring a mayor, but it could be a long and drawn-out process.

    Skills and more

    On skills, strategic authorities will retain ownership of the Adult Skills Fund (with ringfencing removed from bootcamp and free course pots to allow for flexibility), take on joint ownership of Local Skills Improvement Plans alongside employer representative bodies, and work with employers to take on responsibility for promoting 16-19 pathways. In future, strategic authorities will have a “substantial role” in careers and employment support design outside of the existing Jobcentre Plus network, as the Get Britain Working white paper gestured towards.

    You’ll have spotted that this does not immediately extend to higher education, except to the extent that universities and colleges already get involved with adult skills provision. However the centre of gravity is such that any provider with an avowed interest in the local area will end up developing close relationships with strategic authorities. It isn’t just on skills or innovation – many universities work with local government on issues that affect students (and staff!) such as housing, infrastructure, and transport, and will have a strong interest in working with strategic authorities with new and wider powers to act.

    Administrative geography corner

    If you are labouring under the impression that dividing England up into administrative chunks is a fairly straightforward task, may we introduce you to possibly the single finest document ever published by the Office for National Statistics: the Hierarchical Representation of UK Geographies.

    Pedants may also note that the existing geography of LSIPs, which was controversially allowed to evolve into being outside of the established local authority boundaries, does not map cleanly to current or proposed local authorities – something that a future iteration of plans may need to consider. Likewise, the scope of university core recruitment areas or civic aspirations may not map to either.

    What we’d have loved to have shown you is a map showing which of the new strategic authorities your campus might be in. Sadly the boundaries of the “current map of English devolution” included in the white paper do not cleanly map to England’s many contradictory systems of administrative geography. Some of the devolved areas depicted are almost LSIP regions, one (Surrey) is a non-metropolitan ceremonial county, and one – Devon, including Torbay but not under any circumstances Plymouth – is just plain mad.

    As soon as we get an answer and some boundaries from ONS, we’ll let you know. In the meantime, here’s the map from the white paper:

    Source link