Social Policy and the City

Papers from the 1993 Conference of the Social Policy Association

Helen Jones, John Lansley

• Publisher: Taylor & Francis
• Year: 2019
• Print ISBN: 9781138342927
• eBook ISBN: 9780429800214
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Sociology
• Index: Social Sciences

First published in 1995, this volume explores the effects of social policy on cities during Conservative Party rule over the 1980s and 1990s. It identifies the place where the effects of social policies are most strikingly felt due to the concentration of populations in cities. Delving into issues including business elites, market forces, regenerating cities and poverty, this volume's contributors make clear that there can be no 'quick fix' for Britain's complex urban problems.

1 Business elites and political power: Economic influences on urban policy-making in Birmingham in the later Victorian period

Linda Jones

It was not until the late nineteenth century that businessmen moved in significant numbers into parliament but in many British towns and cities they had already come to dominate local councils and to influence the direction of municipal politics (Searle 1993). In Lancashire, for example, textile masters comprised one-third of all councillors between 1835 and 1860. In Nottingham hosiers dominated the council in mid-century, giving way to lace manufacturers who controlled all the major council committees by the 1870s (Church 1966). In Salford a narrow class of nonconformists businessmen seized control, justifying their success in monopolising council offices and committees by citing their industrial experience and worldly success which gave them the ‘time, money and breadth of view requisite for elective municipal service’ (Garrard 1977; 1978). In other towns, such as Bolton, Blackburn and Rochdale, similar groups of ‘large proprietors’ the local political arena provided ‘a range of economic, idealistic, social and psychological satisfactions that were unlikely to be obtained at higher levels in the political system’ (Garrard 1983).

In Birmingham larger-scale manufacturers, led by ex-commercial manager Joseph Chamberlain, gained effective control of the council in the 1870s.¹ This group of progressive Liberal, nonconformist businessmen carried through an ambitious programme of sanitary reforms (Jones 1983). The main ingredients were a town centre slum clearance programme, including the building of a new thoroughfare (Corporation Street), the municipalisation of local water and gas companies and the financing of the whole scheme through municipal gas profits, which Chamberlain saw as yielding ‘ultimately…a shilling rate’.²

These bold policy strokes, which followed a period of relative inaction by the council, have led commentators to characterise urban-policy making in Birmingham in the later nineteenth century in two main ways: first, as a species of advanced Liberalism or ‘municipal socialism’ (Garvin 1932; Gulley 1958) and second, as a ‘civic gospel’ of religious reform and regeneration (Hennock 1973). Such interpretations were initially advanced by J. B. Bunce, the earliest official historian of Birmingham, who coined the phrase the ‘civic gospel’ and who established a three stage model of decline and revival in Birmingham politics, with the 1870s as ‘the third and healthiest period of its municipal history’ (Bunce 1885). Yet Bunce, proprietor of the Liberal Daily Post, was hardly a dispassionate observer. He was commissioned by the Council to write the history in order to demonstrate the value of municipal government and the triumph of progressive politics in the town.

With this in mind, I want to advance a third interpretation and to characterise urban-policy making in a somewhat different way. I will argue that a distinctive ‘business ideology’ played at least as important a part in determining the scope and nature of local decisions about housing, health and urban infrastructure as did political radicalism or religious zeal. Business imagery and rhetoric pervaded not just council debates but wider fields of local public life, such as charity work. At many crucial points, when important decisions had to be made regarding the spending of council budgets and the implementation of policies, economic considerations and business logic - as projected by the medium- and large-scale businessmen who dominated the council during the years 1865-1914 - carried the day. The sanitary reforms themselves were driven by economic considerations: in 1975 overseas investment had dried up and money was cheap and plentiful.

As Julius Ralph, an American reporter, commented in 1890, Birmingham was ‘the best governed city in the world’, because it was a city ‘run by businessmen on business principles’ (Briggs 1963). Chamberlain himself characterised the corporation as the biggest business in the city, which was best organised and run by businessmen of substance. In gaining and sustaining such influence over local public life, Birmingham businessmen can be said to have played a significant role in the shaping of urban policy.

It is not being claimed that only economic considerations counted, however; rather that they have until now been relatively neglected and that this has resulted in an unbalanced and partial view of urban policy-making. Although at crucial points business interests overrode the radical and religious impulse, in other situations such interests were able to dominate. It is helpful to view business ideology, radical Liberalism and the gospel of reform as competing discourses, each grounded in a particular way of ‘seeing and knowing’ the social world, and underpinned by distinctive beliefs, assumptions, and methods (Foucault 1973). Each sought to establish its truth claims through rhetorical elaboration and characteristic modes of action. Urban policy was shaped by the interplay of these discourses, each of which attempted to capture and to redefine policy in its own terms and for its own purposes.

Since advanced radicalism and religious reform have already come under scrutiny, the present task is to substantiate the claim that there was a distinctive ‘business ideology’ in late nineteenth century Birmingham and to assess its influence on policy-making.

Patterns of recruitment and promotion

We can begin to estimate the influence of business interests on council policy-making by exploring patterns of recruitment and promotion. Businessmen provided a solid 55 per cent of the 64 councillors on Birmingham council between the 1860s and the 1890s, and businessmen of substance (medium and large-scale manufacturers or merchants with industrial interests) increased their representation to nearly 25 per cent by 1882.³ Successful businessmen had more chance of being nominated, getting elected, and - once in the council - of being promoted. In particular, there was a growing influx of general and commercial managers after the mid-1860s from manufacturing enterprises which were characterised by enlargement of scale and greater vertical integration: for example, Joseph Chamberlain (wood screws), William Kenrick (hollow- ware), and Richard Tangye (hydraulic jacks) were all drawn from commercial management.

The nomination and election of businessmen as Liberal councillors in the 1860s was justified on the grounds of their financial independence, large employment of labour, and ‘practical knowledge of business and financial affairs’.⁴ But the assumed correspondence between commercial and council work - embedded in the notion of the council as ‘a large manufactory’ needing careful, low-cost management - gave way by the 1870s to a more sophisticated view of the businessman as far-sighted financial expert and large-scale manager. ‘The great business of the representatives should not be to make professions of economy’ councillors began to argue, ‘but to see that the money was spent wisely’. As the full cost and potential risk of sanitary reform in the 1870s began to become evident, businessmen were increasingly seen as best suited to provide the managerial skills and financial acuity needed to manage the large municipal undertakings. Richard Tangye, one of several prominent businessmen persuaded by Joseph Chamberlain to accept nomination in the 1870s, noted ‘that we have been selected (for) the council because of our presumed business knowledge and business capacity’ (see note 2).

Clearly, business capacity was not the sole requirement for public office; the strength of the Chamberlainite reform group in the council ensured that successful entrepreneurs were also good party Liberals. But in subsequent decades the model of the progressive businessmen-councillor attained a general validity which cut across party lines. Prominent Conservatives argued that the party should throw off its petit-bourgeois image by recruiting wealthy middle-class manufacturers.

By the late 1880s, after Home Rule had split the Liberal party, both Gladstonian and Liberal-Unionist councillors can be found arguing that business ability and ‘commercial experience’, rather than ‘mere factious and party purposes’, should determine the re-selection and election of candidates. It was said in defence of Gladstonian-Liberal Councillor Fulford, for example, that ‘no candidate should be supported or opposed for reasons merely political, but that the true test of fitness should be real business capacity’.

The businessman-councillor model gained acceptance outside the council as well. In the early 1880s the Birmingham Daily Post produced a ‘job specification’ which read like a description of the leading Liberal manufacturers on the council, emphasising ‘business capacity; a power of mastering complicated details, ..suavity of manner and ..(financial) means’. To a considerable degree, this verdict was accepted across Birmingham public life, with growing representation for large-scale businessmen on poor law and school boards, as magistrates, and on the boards of charitable bodies. The sermon that Dr R.W. Dale, a notable Congregationalist minister, preached at the funeral service for Thomas Avery, scale- manufacturer and leading Conservative councillor, in 1894, carried in it the suggestion that manufacturing was in itself creative and public-spirited. The great manufacturer, argued Dr Dale, deserved to be honoured as much as did the great lawyer or doctor, for he promoted ‘good workmanship’ and ‘commercial honour’ and provided ‘remuneration and employment for large numbers of work people’.

The acceptance by the council of the superior claims of big business can be seen in the increasing concentration of businessmen in key executive positions. Large-scale manufacturers, in particular, chaired the highranking and big-spending committees - such as gas, public works, finance, improvement, health, water, and sewage. The finance committee, for example, was dominated by three prominent manufacturers: Richard Chamberlain (1876-79), Powell Williams (1879-86), and F.C. Clayton (1886-1900). In fact between 1870 and 1900 this was the rule for all council committees: 71 per cent of chairmen in 1872, 93 per cent in 1882, 69 per cent in 1892, and 87 per cent in 1900 were businessmen.

Once again, although party loyalty was required it was not in itself enough to gain power. For example, in 1885 thirteen councillors monopolised 45 committee seats whilst eighteen served on only one committee. It is clear that some councillors were being excluded from greater service by their lack of ability - as defined by the general purposes committee - but, although some of those excluded were loyal Liberals, none was a businessman. Substantial business experience and expertise thus comes through as the other qualification necessary for success on the council. Between 1860 and 1900 twenty manufacturers and five merchants served as mayor, compared with only six professional men. Businessmen achieved quicker promotion to aldermen and a disproportionate number of them chaired the numerous sub-committees of the council, where they were groomed for higher office. By the 1890s a new generation of business leaders was in place to safeguard established principles and policies.

The ‘language of business’ in council policy-making

Inside the council chamber the rhetoric of the entrepreneur and the claims of businessmen to be specially well qualified to comment was ever present. The business tone of council and committee debates was remarkably uniform and went hand in hand with regular disclaimers of the relevance of party politics to municipal affairs. The justification for policies was exclusively couched in business and not political terms, and after the brief flirtation with Chamberlainite radicalism the management of the civic gospel legacy was also explained and justified in economic rather than reformist language. Policies were defended as being ‘financially sound’, exemplifying ‘true economy’ and giving ‘value for money’. Committees frequently claimed that they ‘had viewed the matter as businessmen’. Attacks on policies made use of similar language, denouncing schemes as ‘financial folly’, ‘unbusinesslike speculations’ or ‘indiscriminate economy’.

Another level of influence can be demonstrated by the undisputed assumption of the relevance of business principles and methods for the prosecution of municipal affairs. For example, councillors of all parties were increasingly critical of the gas supply, which Chamberlain had municipalised in 1875 to underwrite his improvement scheme. The gas committee was attacked at frequent intervals throughout the 1880s and 1890s as profits failed to reach the levels predicted in 1875, and it defended itself in economic not political terms.

In debates about the improvement scheme there was little evidence of reforming zeal, even over sensitive topics such as public house licensing (where religious feeling and the temperance interest might have been expected to surface). In December 1884, for example, in a debate over the withdrawal of licenses in the improvement area the main preoccupation of councillors was with the business aspects of the move. William Cook, chair of the health committee, acknowledged the need to take ‘an interest in the sobriety of the town’ but argued that ‘this was a question of pounds, shillings and pence; and was the Council willing to face the difference?’ The whole debate was couched in business terms; even those who supported the withdrawal of licenses did so ‘from the business point of view’, arguing that public houses would result in declining rental values in the immediate vicinity and hence were ‘poor business’.

Other committees, unconnected with commerce, showed a similar urge to justify their actions in terms of cost effectiveness rather than civic gospel politics. The technical schools committee, for example, justified its £11,888 building programme on the grounds that technical education now meant economic prosperity for the city in the future. The water committee, which came under considerable criticism for its ambitious and capital- intensive proposal to bring water from the Elan valley in Wales, justified the scale of the scheme by referring to its long-term cost effectiveness, compared with the short term money savings that might be made (Barclay 1892).

Underpinning all this was the widely accepted notion of the council itself as a big business enterprise, the largest in the city. In 1892 Chamberlain made this explicit in an extensive analogy comparing municipal government to a joint stock enterprise, rate-paying citizens to shareholders, dividends to better health and comfort, and councillors to the directors of the business.

The ‘truth claims’ of business

A distinctive set of ‘truth claims’ guided and sustained businessmen on their path to power in the council. At its crudest the business ethic demanded maximum profits and minimum costs, and the businessmen councillors of the 1860s justified their entry by reference to their success in private enterprise. By the 1870s this crude message had been refined into a more subtle reformist argument about cost-effectiveness and ‘value for money’; essentially the argument became ‘spend now, to save later’. True economy’, it was claimed, lay not in restricting expenditure but in spending to remove the evils that produced those social and economic costs which bore so heavily on the Birmingham ratepayer. The cost of the gaol, the hospital, and the workhouse’, claimed Chamberlain, ‘is infinitely greater than that of any sanitary improvement which the most extravagantly-minded man can devise’ (Chamberlain, 1875). The case for welfare provision was cast in terms of a welfare economics along strict business lines, with ratepayers (the shareholders) as the key group to be persuaded that wiser investment would soon pay social and financial dividends.

This ‘modern doctrine of prevention’, as it was called, had already been used in the 1860s when the Birmingham Education Society and National Education League, led and financed by a clutch of prominent manufacturers and merchants, had argued on similar grounds for legislation on universal elementary education. Invest in education now, they argued, and Great Britain will reap dividends in terms of a more productive and tractable labour force, a greater ability to compete in overseas markets, and immense savings in public expenditure. ‘Educate the people, and does not everyone see, that the annual sum he will pay for the school rate will soon reduce a man’s expenses in poor rates, police and prison expenses?’ (National Education League 1869). A similar message about value for money and prevention was delivered to the charitable groups with which business interests were associated, and they influenced businessmen themselves in developing workplace classes, sick clubs and bonus schemes.

Civic gospel policies cannot be fully understood unless they are viewed as prudent investments which would deliver tangible economic dividends, as well as...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Table of Contents
• Tables
• Contributors
• Preface
• Introduction
• 1 Business elites and political power: Economic influences on urban policy-making in Birmingham in the later Victorian period
• 2 Regenerating cities: Means and ends
• 3 Poverty, mega-cities and social development
• 4 Market forces, inequality and the city
• 5 Faith in the City revisited: A review of the Church of England’s impact on urban deprivation and urban policy since
• 6 Pluralism, separatism and community empowerment: ‘Race’
• 7 Care in the Chinese Community
• 8 Broken windows of opportunity: Crime, inequality and employment
• 9 Urban policy: Problems and paradoxes