Review by Mark Harrison, Australian National University

The Future of Schools: Lessons from the Reform of Public Education
by Brian Caldwell and Don Hayward
Falmer Press, London, 1998, 189 pp, $32.95
ISBN 0-7507-0723-2

Brian Caldwell, a Professor of Education at the University of Melbourne, and Don Hayward, Minister of  Education during the first term of the Kennett Government, were two of the protagonists in the recent Victorian school reforms. The authors aim to record what was done in the ‘Schools of the Future’ reforms (‘the most dramatic transformation of public schooling in Australia’), set the developments in perspective and explore the possibilities for further reform.

Caldwell writes chapters one (putting the reforms in international perspective) and four (examining the research on the impact of the reforms). Hayward writes a personal account of the reforms in chapters two and three. As we are told at least twenty times in the book, the Schools of the Future reforms are ‘necessary but not sufficient’ for lasting reform. In the jointly written chapters five, six and seven, a policy framework for lasting school reforms is set out.

Both authors are at pains to establish their support for public education, rating it ‘among the great successes of the last century’ (p.1). Nevertheless, in chapter one it is argued that there is a ‘crisis’ in public education. Some failures of, and pressures on, public schools are outlined, the most compelling being concern that about twenty per cent of students complete primary school with inadequate literacy skills.

The conflict between the claims that public education is a great success and that it is in crisis is resolved by asserting that public education worked well in the past, but has now become dated. The dawn of a new millenium, new technology and globalisation are all wheeled out, although it is not clear what these have to do with low literacy performance. Many would say that the problems with public education started in the 1960s and 1970s with curriculum changes and faddish educational theories that dominated teacher-training institutions.

There are some inconsistencies between chapter one and other parts of the book. For example, the dominance of the East in international comparisons of student achievement is said to demonstrate the crisis of schooling in the West. Yet, later the superior performance of Asian countries (despite larger class sizes) is dismissed as due to community attitudes.

Hayward’s two chapters about his efforts to ‘dismantle the system’ (33), while at the same time dealing with the need to cut expenditure and close schools, are very readable. Chapter two gives autobiographical details (such as his time as a ministerial adviser and as an executive with GMH) which explain his ideas and strategy to reform education. His observations on producer capture, the excesses of the previous Labor government (such as using the education system for social engineering) and the lack of a professional culture amongst teachers are insights into the problems with public education.

Chapter three sets out the story of how the Schools of the Future reforms were implemented. The reforms all improved the way public education was run. They increased operating autonomy for government schools (devolving funding and hiring decisions), introduced curriculum and standards that would prevail across all schools and increased accountability by State-wide assessment and reporting. Heyward claims to have applied a simple test for all proposals and expenditure: ‘Does it add value to a child’s learning?’ (67), not the usual path to re-election.

We are told the reforms undertaken in Victoria ‘were unprecedented, comprehensive, coherent and far-reaching, and they transformed education in the state’ (79). Unfortunately, the book is light on the detail of the reforms, making it difficult to judge how significant they were. Some parts of the book indicate that accountability is still mainly to central office rather than parents.

We are told that school councils were equivalent to a board of directors, yet are never told how they are determined. The importance of principals is emphasized, yet it is never explained how principals are appointed, who sets their fixed term contracts and who judges their performance. Although we are told schools had autonomy over their budget and staff, we are also told about central funding for information technology, literacy and over-entitlement teachers, and that the Department transferred teachers from school to school.

If teachers are still the employees of central office and a centralised award applies, how much local autonomy and control is there? Who determines teacher rewards? Who can fire teachers? In fact, the problem of dealing with incompetent teachers is never mentioned.

A major instrument of accountability is testing. But test information is only used to provide information on individual students (e.g. for diagnostic purposes) and not to provide school indicators for school managers and parents. Not making information public contradicts the idea that public education is democratic, and is difficult to justify. How are voters to evaluate education policies if they are denied crucial information? To create accountability at the classroom level, infrequent statewide testing needs to be backed up by regular evaluation at the school level. Lack of competitive pressure gives schools little incentive to respond to poor test results.

Another reason to make tests public is to enhance the accountability of the testers. Are we to trust the Department, which refused to test in the past, to suddenly do a good job? Or is the U.S. case more likely, where investigations revealed massive deceptions, for instance when  all fifty states were reported to be above average on all the major tests.

Nor is there any information on the quality of the new curriculum. If the New Zealand and British experience is any guide, what panels of experts produce is heavily influenced by prevailing educational philosophies, which do not accord with the educational priorities of at least part of the public. Often attitudes, feelings and values are emphasised rather than basic skills and fundamental knowledge.

Chapter four evaluates the reforms. The reason for suppression of the test data becomes clear – a threat of a teacher boycott of the tests from the unions (although on page 73 we were informed that the unions were ignored).  In fact, the unions have banned the release of test data to researchers. Instead, the reforms are evaluated in the typical education sector way – by a questionnaire of a producer interest group. Although the driving motive of reforms was to enhance learning by students, the reforms are judged by perceptions of principals.

If information can be suppressed in such a manner, it makes for a lack of accountability and leads to doubts about whether a centralised system can ever be able to be run effectively.

The following chapters set out a reform agenda. The authors call for a fundamental redesign of the education system in an excellent eighteen point plan. Although there is no economic analysis of the different options, the thrust is deregulatory, and much can be applauded. The authors support a role for government in subsidising education, in quality control – auditing standards and standardised assessment – and in establishing a curriculum, but want to increase school autonomy. They support per head funding on a neutral basis to all schools (‘entitlement’), and allowing all schools to charge top-up fees (‘contribution’).

A number of criticisms can be made. For example, what is the advantage of a mandated curriculum? Is the political process the appropriate way to resolve major disagreements about what should be taught in schools, or should a market process be used? Does the resulting curriculum justify the costs of conflict?

Nor is it clear how government ownership ‘adds value to a student’s learning.’ It could be argued that government provision conflicts with the government’s monitoring role, as it gives the department a large stake in the test scores it reports. Will it reveal poor performance by government schools?

It is not clear what objective is being met by paying subsidies to all. Why not target the subsidies at the poor and integrate them with the tax transfer system?

The justification for top-up fees is the assumption that the provision of sufficient funds from the public purse will be unacceptable to the community, rather than a principled argument for private over public funding. Yet payment of fees directly by the parents has a number of advantages over a government department spending money raised by taxes: the deadweight costs of taxation are avoided, price signals on consumer preferences are provided, parental involvement is greater and parents have more incentive to monitor than bureaucrats and can use decentralised information. Also, if taxpayers will not pay more, that leaves open the question of where the enormous expansion in funding (to private schools) to remove the government school financial advantage will come from.

The authors see a need for more resources, especially to upgrade buildings and technology. It is not clear whether the authors’ enthusiasm for information technology in schools is to be subjected to the market test, or ‘will require determination by an expert panel’ (157) distributing public money.

There are a number of omissions. For example, a competitive market system requires free entry of new schools and exit of inefficient ones. There are no details on how funding of new capital, especially buildings, will work in their optimal system, which is surprising given their criticism of the ‘box like structures’ of current schools (6). It is equally crucial to have exit mechanisms, especially as they contemplate shrinking the public sector to thirty per cent. The authors envisage privatisation of schools, but it is ‘beyond our scope to address these in detail’ (152).

Bolingbroke: Political Writings
edited by D. Armitage
Cambridge University Press, London, 1997,
305pp, £Stg16.95
ISBN 0-521-58697-6

I must say it was with some surprise that I discovered that Bolingbroke’s ‘Political Writings’ had made it into the Cambridge ‘History of Political Thought’ series. According to the listing at the back of this volume there are now eighty odd titles in the series – a place in a top hundred being august company indeed for someone A.J.P. Taylor described as an ‘unprincipled adventurer.’

This modern day elevation of Bolingbroke would perhaps be even more surprising to the generations which followed his own. Even someone with a similar political perspective, Edmund Burke, was moved to ask ‘Who now reads Bolingbroke? Who ever read him through?’

The Cambridge volume contains three of Bolingbroke’s texts: A Dissertation upon Parties, On the Spirit of Patriotism and The Idea of Patriot King (together with an interesting, but flattering, introduction and comprehensive list of further reading).  The three texts can be seen as directed at the people, the aristocracy and the monarch respectively, although there is naturally a
great deal of overlap.

‘A Dissertation upon Parties’ contains nineteen letters to the Craftsman newspaper – ten written before the 1734 election and nine after.

The early letters build up Bolingbroke’s view of the conflicts in English history through the seventeenth century.  He believes these conflicts were settled by the compromise of the Glorious Revolution and he argues that disputes, particularly that between Whigs and Tories, should have been finally put to rest from that time. For Bolingbroke, the settlement of 1688 created a balance between monarchy, nobility and people. By their agreement at that point, the Whigs showed they were not ‘republicans’, the Tories that they were not ‘papists’ and thus the Revolution was ‘a fire, which burned off the dross of both parties.’

The second half of the ‘Dissertation upon Parties’ draws comparisons between the British Constitution and those of Ancient Rome, Spain and France before lamenting some of the problems of the time including, some perceptive comments about what happens when government expenditure expands: ‘It is natural for men to be less frugal, when others are to pay for their want of frugality.’

‘The Idea of a Patriot King’ is more philosophical than the historical and political nature of ‘Dissertation Upon Parties’. He draws a contrast between his view of princely behaviour and that of Machiavelli. Bolingbroke wants ‘real virtue’ not just the ‘appearance’ of it. Some comments regarding the personal behaviour of princes would make interesting reading for many modern politicians and he raises issues regarding Britain’s role in Europe which still resonate 250 years later.

Some of Bolingbroke’s other insights still have direct relevance to current political issues. One of my favourites comes in letter XI of ‘Dissertation upon Parties’ when he discusses frequency of elections. Bolingbroke warns of the dangers of a ‘stale, ministerial Parliament’ whose views are different from the ‘sense of the nation’ and correctly concludes that this danger is far greater than the ‘trifling consequences’ of the ‘inconveniences’ which may arise from frequent elections. Admittedly he was arguing for the return of three year terms, whence they had become seven, but the argument can equally be put to those, particularly conservatives, who routinely argue that Australia would be better served by four rather than three year terms. As Bolingbroke saw, it is far more important for people to have the opportunity to vote out bad governments than to delay their opportunity to pass judgement on good ones.

On the nature of governments he comes up with a quote to rival the sporting truism that ‘every victory means you are one game closer to your next defeat’ when he states that every hour a government lives ‘is an hour the less they have to live.’

Governments can ‘grow and improve for a time’ but decline is inevitable and in a piece of very sound political advice he recommends that ‘to prolong the duration of a good government .... draw it back ... to the first good principles on which it was founded.’

His views on how the monarch should interact with parties and governments were clear and in fact quite progressive. Unlike the early Hanoverian kings, Bolingbroke did not believe the monarch should ‘espouse’ or ‘proscribe’ parties, a lesson derived from his personal experience of the exclusion of the Tories in 1715. Bolingbroke’s ideas on how a constitution should be balanced between executive and legislature apparently influenced early post-Revolutionary politicians in the United States, an irony considering Horace Walpole’s claim that George III was a disciple of Bolingbroke.

However, despite finding some clever insights into the nature of politics the overall impression of Bolingbroke’s three works is still that one is reading the views of a typical Tory harking back to past monarchs (Elizabeth I), and past political solutions (1688).

Furthermore, Bolingbroke’s fundamental thesis on the evil of political parties would have more credibility if it were not for his own partisan behaviour as a politician in the reign of Queen Anne and in particular his entering into the service of the Old Pretender in 1715. Also, his critique of parties does not really extend to explaining how he saw governments forming and in turn being replaced without the ‘political evil’ that he saw parties to be.

The ultimate irony is that these anti-Party tirades played a part in developing the body of views which formed the basis for the Tory Party and to which Pitt, Disraeli, and even many twentieth century Conservatives were the heirs.

I doubt Bolingbroke would have minded.

Rethinking Law and Order
by Russell Hogg and David Brown
Pluto Press, Sydney, 1997, 256 pp, $24.95.
ISBN 1-8640-3027-5

In the preface of this book, Hogg and Brown point out that ‘excessive, rhetorical, simplistic, uncivil law and order politics have become standard features of the Australian and indeed international political landscape.’ While the international claim is a bit much, recent state elections prove the claim itself is correct as far as Australia is concerned.

The aim of their book is to examine how and why this has happened and how we might construct a more responsible and constructive law and order politics that takes crime, fear of crime and criminal justice more rather than less seriously. Central to their argument is the attempt to link law and order issues with questions of social and economic marginality, associative democracy, pluralism and the development of forms of positive regulation that are inclusive and re-integrative, drawing on notions of civility, citizenship, equality and equity.

Essentially, the book can be separated into two parts. The first part deals with the image of crime most people have. This image is a socio-political construction which is not consistent with the reality of crime in Australia (or elsewhere for that matter). To experts in the field this is nothing new but unfortunately it is the constructed image, not the reality of crime, that dominates the public and policy debate. The second part of the book builds upon the first and consists of arguments on the need to rethink law and order.

As a start, Hogg and Brown examine the assumptions which form the bedrock of law and order commonsense (or rather ‘nonsense’) so omnipresent that most of us have come to accept it. The most negative aspect of this situation is that while law and order attracts the fiercest of opinions, it is a subject most people know very little about. It is therefore instructive to have the most basic common(non)sense analysed.

To illustrate the lack of knowledge of most people, Hogg and Brown uncover the reality of interpersonal violence in Australia, showing that the image of the pathological stranger committing random acts of violence distracts us from the reality of violence. The reality is that some groups in society have to deal with violence on a daily basis: violence among (young) men, violence among family members, sexual violence, violence among and directed at marginalised people and minorities (especially Aborigines), and official and institutional violence.

As a further illustration, Hogg and Brown examine criminal behaviour motivated by the desire for material gain, showing that individual acts of appropriation form part of wider economic and social processes. They show that the reality of economic crime is much wider than the popular image, which is dominated by burglary, motor vehicle theft and robbery. Having the greatest emotional impact on the individual, these types of economic crime tend to dominate the debate, obscuring other types of economic crimes (like business and white collar crime, fraud, collective crime, organised crime, and the heroin economy) which have far more serious consequences for society and require more attention than received so far.

The second part is where the authors link past and current (international) policies with the reality of crime (and their effectiveness in dealing with crime). Citing examples from Australia, Britain and the US, they deal with law and order in relation to neo-conservatism, radical leftism, liberal social democracy, communitarianism and civil society, and neo-liberalism. Having earlier uncovered the reality of crime, they are able to argue that most policies tend to focus on the symptoms of crime instead of addressing the causes.

Next, Hogg and Brown link socio-economic policies to crime. In recent decades economic and social changes have led to the development of an underclass and intergenerational poverty. The Australian suburban ideal, too, has consequences which need to be taken into account. The serious and deepening social divisions in the US and Britain serve as a reminder as to why economic and social policy and the role of government are the main elements of any serious answer to the crime problem.

In the last chapter Hogg and Brown examine some new developments which deviate from traditional criminal justice policies and may offer solutions. One of those developments is the emphasis on the community as a vehicle for crime prevention strategies. According to the authors the idea of the community as a cohesive functioning whole confronting its crime problem can be very misleading. Nonetheless, the community is an essential part of crime prevention; both situational crime prevention as well as social crime prevention depend on the structure and dynamics of the community to be able to succeed.

Of a different category but equally important is evaluation of law and order policies. The authors point out that there is a woeful lack of knowledge about the costs and benefits of existing responses to crime. However, new forms of ‘governing at a distance’ necessitate new technologies of management, coordination and accountability. This trend is now starting to show up in the domain of crime policy too.

A final aspect of crime prevention the authors pay attention to is the political and normative context. The technical efficacy of prevention measures, even if it were open to straightforward demonstration, would not of itself resolve the questions of normative commitment and engagement of key interests in crime prevention.

Hogg and Brown point out that, compared to crime prevention measures in other countries, Australia is hampered by its structure. For crime prevention to be successful it needs to be a coordinated effort. Needless to say this hasn’t happened in Australia yet, but the example of the Waverley council in Sydney shows the effectiveness of an integrated effort at the local level.

However, for crime prevention to be successful it not only has to be supported by a wide field of public and private organisations at a certain level (horizontal integration), but also by all levels of public and private organisations (vertical integration). As the experience in the Netherlands shows, this type of integration of crime prevention measures tends to work better than grand schemes designed at the national level and dropped at streetlevel.

Apart from that, it is essential to realise that repression should not dominate the political debate. All the links of the so-called ‘security chain’ need to be addressed and repression is but one of the links. The security chain as defined in the Netherlands consists of five links: preparation, prevention, pro-action, repression and follow-up. A chain is no stronger than its weakest link, hence each of these links requires the attention of a number of different actors. This in turn explains why integration is so important in dealing with crime.

Returning to the need to align crime prevention with economic and social developments in society, Hogg and Brown point out that the growing division of Australian society makes the implementation of alternative crime prevention measures increasingly difficult. On the one hand we see an increase in the emergence of ‘walled suburbs’ and ‘secure’ housing estates. On the other hand we see growing area concentrations of unemployment, single parenthood, and family and child poverty in communities also characterised by high crime rates.

Hogg and Brown conclude that a different strategy is needed to turn the tide. In order to accomplish this there is a need for a political strategy that strengthens governance without simply enhancing the size and capacities of government and state.
Neo-liberalism appeals very strongly to the second half of this proposition, but, according to Hogg and Brown, there are grave doubts as to what it has to offer to the first.

As an alternative they concentrate on the tradition of pluralist thought and its more recent incarnations in what proponents call ‘associative democracy.’ The starting point for these ideas lies in the recognition that modern liberal democratic societies are characterised by a pluralism of belief, social purposes and forms of authority and association. These intermediate forms of association and authority govern the lives of their members on a day-to-day basis alongside the more centralised apparatuses of state.

According to Hogg and Brown, associative democracy aims not at the contraction of public provision and responsibility, but its extension and reconstitution through devolution and decentralisation of powers and functions of governance to associations within civil society and to regional and local levels of government. While this may sound radical, the example of horizontal and vertical integration in the security link shows its importance in handling the crime problem.

As Hogg and Brown keep pointing out, repression is not the sole answer to the crime problem, it’s the final piece. Intermediate forms of association and authority continuously play a role of importance in the security link. Instead of concentrating on repression and increasing penalties it would be advisable to strengthen the intermediate forms of association and authority and to take into account all links in the security chain.

Social Justice: Fraud or Fair Go?
edited by Marlene Goldsmith
Menzies Research Centre, Canberra, 1998, 206pp, $20.00
ISBN 0-646-34983-X

This is the first of a series of books presenting Liberal perspectives on current political issues. The Menzies Research Centre is a non-profit ‘think tank’ connected to the Liberal Party. According to the editor, Dr Marlene Goldsmith, ‘the purpose of the Centre is to promote the values [Sir Robert Menzies] espoused as Australia’s longest serving Prime Minister, which [according to Goldsmith] were individual liberty, competitive enterprise, limited government, democracy, and a concern for the needs of all Australians.’

The preface states:

Much of what has been promoted as social justice in the past has been a fraud. Now the focus must be on providing a fair go. If the only function of a label is to make its users feel good, then it is at best harmless; but when the label has been used to promote policies that produce the opposite of their promised intent, such hypocrisy needs exposing (page ix).

The art of politics is the art of winning the propaganda war – defending the black against the white – yet, in truth, the world is largely grey. The words used here, like  ‘fraud’, ‘opposite’ and ‘hypocrisy’, are typical emotive terms in politics; we’re right and they’re wrong. In summary, this is a political book that begins with a premise of judgement before the facts; most contributors have begun with their minds made up and argue to prove their case. However, in most cases this is well done and provides some excellent reading for the converted as well as the unconverted.

The main thing that appears from this book is that Liberals and those on the right of the political spectrum have great difficulty defining and understanding the word ‘social’. Defining ‘justice’ is relatively straightforward; Tony Abbott, in ‘Justice, Social Justice and Educational Justice,’ says it ‘is the outcome of fair treatment ... when an individual receives what is his due ...’(149). But historically, conservatives and liberals have had trouble with the idea of the ‘group’ versus the sacrosanct idea of the ‘individual’.

The market economy is a spontaneous and impersonal process. The outcome of this process, that is, its rewards, cannot be described as either just or unjust. Where conservatives and liberals have a problem with ‘social justice’ is where socialists use it as another term for ‘distributive justice.’ The pervading theme throughout this book is as if the socialist argument has dominated the meaning of social justice to the point of extinction. Andrew Norton, in ‘Liberalism and Social Justice – the Unhappy Couple,’ argues that in pursuit of social justice ‘voluntary processes have been displaced by coercion. … A voluntary society simply cannot be relied upon to produce particular outcomes’ (23).

No doubt this is true. However, the free market produces certain results, and the ‘social market’ with government intervention produces different results – nearly always less economically efficient. Prompted by the dangers of concentrated economic power in the hands of a few, including entrenched social dislocation and poverty cycles (as in some third world countries), social justice policies have sought to strike a balance between economic efficiency and social cohesion.

A number of contributors start with the traditional nuclear family, a social unit with which conservatives feel comfortable. John Howard refers to ‘putting the interest of Australian families at the centre of policy making,’ and explains that

the Australian Liberal tradition ... draws on both the classical liberal and the conservative political traditions. It emphasises the importance of individual freedoms and responsibilities, and the relevance of values and obligations in securing outcomes that are in the national interest (172).

Nowhere does he explain the relationship of individualism with the ‘national interest,’ or how support for the family fits with the fundamental belief in individualism.

Susan Bastick eloquently argues for the traditional nuclear family as the ‘best insurance’ for creating a harmonious society. Most liberals and conservatives would agree, and only the extreme individualist would disagree with some government policy designed to support families as a social unit. But no-one calculates the economic inefficiency of some support measures – such as child labour laws, which stop young children from doing paid work when they could easily go out to work for money.
Only an extreme individualism would worry about this inefficiency, but many liberals and conservatives are inadvertently heading down the same road.

Margaret Valadian (‘An Aboriginal Dilemma: the Injustice of Social Justice’) focuses on Aboriginal policy over the past 25 years and why ‘social justice’ has not been achieved despite the best of intentions and at times the best political will. She cites the ignoring of traditional community values and beliefs as a major reason why policymakers and the bureaucracy appear to have failed in empowering Aborigines.

For instance, the payment of social welfare to individuals rather than communities has seen the demise of the Aboriginal social structure. Is it fair to say that ‘social justice’ ideals have failed, or is it possibly the fault of the white man’s inability to honour, at least in some way, the traditional social structure of the extended family and strict rules of social conduct? And can we say that Aboriginal people are worse off with the misdirected policies than if they had been left entirely alone? This is the dilemma that policymakers always have to face; however, it does not make intervention wrong per se.

Don Harwin, writing on ‘Compassionate Liberalism,’ quotes Menzies in 1944 as calling for ‘a true revival of liberal thought which will work for social justice and security,’ and in 1964 reporting ‘that his Government’s work has “greatly aided social justice”’ (33). Even the New South Wales Division of the Liberal Party includes the following statement on its membership form:

We believe in equal opportunity and tolerance for all Australians; and the encouragement and the facilitation of wealth so that all may enjoy the highest possible standards of living, health, education and social justice.

Harwin says it is time for Liberals to reclaim social justice and explain why only a liberal approach to it will lead to a more just and humane society.

Many other excellent contributions come from Paddy McGuinness, Christopher Pearson, Noel Hadjimichael, Michael Warby, Piers Akerman, Michael Wooldridge, Tanya Baini and Chris McDiven. Dr Goldsmith sums up what a liberal civil society is supposed to look like: an Australia where self-reliance and initiative are encouraged, a health system where the affluent are more self-sufficient so as to allow the poor easier access to treatment, an education system that recognises individual difference and offers parents and students real choices, a women’s policy focused on choice and empowerment for all women, and a welfare policy aimed towards encouraging the unemployed, where feasible, back into the workforce.

No doubt the market is more economically efficient in the long run than well-intentioned but misdirected social justice policies. But the word ‘fraud’ is more hyperbole than constructive in this debate. The contributions to this book by Howard, Wooldridge and Goldsmith expand on how government policies aimed at privatisation (economic efficiency) and families (social efficiency) can enhance national welfare. However, they and several more conservative contributors still have a social justice phobia. Many on the right of the political spectrum still have to come to terms with group interaction, whether it be family, corporate or voluntary associations, and with appropriate government policies.

It is not sufficient to denigrate social justice policies in favour of individualism if it means a denial, whether conscious or unconscious, of the need for society to develop codes of conduct in social interaction. Just as there is a risk of failure in the market place, which is corrected by entrepreneurs and others through the market process, so equally the social policies of the government go through their own corrections over time in the democratic ‘market’ to enhance the national welfare.
 
There is nothing socially advantageous in having tobacco companies, casinos and the like operating without any constraints in the market place. There are market solutions to many problems of social dislocation. However, we should not rule out social policies involving limited government intervention in favour of giving a free hand to powerful individuals and corporations with no social conscience in whatever takes their fancy. Instead, we may end up with ‘bottom of the wharf’ asset stripping, with a company supported by government to unlawfully dismiss its workforce – a reminder of government intervention and social justice gone wrong.

The concept of a ‘fair go’ is deeply embedded in the Australian psyche. Goldsmith concludes that if there is to be any intervention in the name of ‘social justice’ then it should be for ‘opportunities to access eduction, training and work … what an individual makes of opportunities is, finally, up to that person.’ Liberals and conservatives believe in ‘social justice’ policies being utilised as a last resort – not the first resort, as in socialist redistribution.

Review by O. Morgan

The Politics of Sex: Prostitution and Pornography in Australia since 1945
by Barbara Sullivan
Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1997, 280pp, $29.95 (pb).
ISBN 0-521-55630-9

The author, who teaches in the Department of Government at the University of Queensland, has produced a brief but well researched political history of the sex industry in Australia from the end of World War II to the recent past.

This scholarly book is broad in scope and provides a useful analytical framework of the social phenomena observed. The author aims to look at the changing attitudes to prostitution and pornography in Australia primarily from 1945 to 1995, as talked about by politicians and ‘other authoritative public figures.’ This she does without yielding to the temptation to put forward her particular brand of feminism – until the final pages.

A broad definition of both ‘prostitution’ and ‘pornography’ has been adopted. The term ‘sex industry’ is acknowledged as having become widely accepted as embracing both, as well as the owners and operators of various sex businesses.

The work briefly examines the state of the game in Australia prior to 1945 before tracing the development of the sex industry to the mid 1950s, when concerns about sexual ‘deviance’ (mainly, but not exclusively, male homosexuality) led to increased expressions of concern and repressive legislation.

The author outlines the development of pornography during the so called ‘Sexual Revolution’ from 1955-1969 and the various moves to censor the printed page. She describes the inability of the federal government to implement a national policy which has led to the regional nature of censorship, which still plagues us, and she concludes that it was during this period that popular opposition to censorship began to acquire some political muscle. The more open acceptance of pornography at this time was nor reflected in more liberal at-titudes towards prostitution.

The censorship debate in the 1970s, and the importance of the decision of the then Minister for Customs and Excise, Don Chipp, to ease censorship, are given due weight. It was at this time, notes the author, that some parliamentarians were arguing that consumption of pornography was an aid to sexual health. Shortly thereafter, the author claims, a broad consensus was arrived at that adults should be able to see what they wished in the privacy of their homes. While this sentiment is frequently voiced the reality is that governments continued to censor material of both a political and sexual nature.

After 1972 the author believes that censorship focused on commercial sex establishments or sex shops and the emphasis changed from prohibition of sexual material to classification – with the notable exception of Queensland.

Ms Sullivan devotes the third part of the book to an analysis of  ‘new’ issues associated with the sex industries. These she sees as the regulation of child pornography, the advent of video technology and the decriminalisation of prostitution. Her opinion is that, while the shift to decriminalisation is in the main beneficial, it can be accompanied by oppressive bureaucratic regulation.

The Politics of Sex is sound political history, with a comprehensive bibliography and index. It will be valuable to both students and policymakers and is a must for the bookshelf of anyone interested in the background to the Australian sex industry and its uncertain future.

Reprinted by permission of Eros Foundation’s Adult Industry Review.

Matthew Kramer, a Lecturer in Law at Cambridge, carefully analyses Locke’s theory of property and its implications. Hohfeldian terminology is put to apt use in evaluating Locke’s arguments, and some salient points are uncovered with implications for the way classical liberals use Lockean theory to justify individualism.

Kramer rightly emphasises that Locke’s pronouncements must be understood in the context of his religious commitments, without which some of his conceptual leaps would be hard to grant. He defends Locke against some common criticisms which lack this interpretative generosity. However, Kramer contends that there are some steps in Locke’s argument which do not bear the weight that Locke puts on them.

Kramer understands Locke as saying that people not only have privileges to sustain themselves but also rights against interference with their self-sustainment. He argues that this cannot predetermine the specific sorts of prerogatives which would give it effect. Specifically, he identifies in Locke’s arguments an unjustified conflation between rights of use (which might be essential to sustenance) and property rights.

An alternative way of salvaging Lockean arguments for private property is in the idea that it promotes human flourishing. In tackling this alternative, Kramer seems to give short shrift to consequentialist arguments based on efficiency and wealth maximisation. He suggests that they are collectivist and communitarian, since the remaining rationale for private property following Lockean natural law commitments is community welfare. To use his words, he sees Lockean-derived individualism as ‘epiphenomenal and dispensable.’ This seems to ignore the happy mean of rule-utilitarianism.
 

Review by Charles Richardson

On the Relevance of Metaethics
Edited by Jocelyne Couture and Kai Nielsen
University of Calgary Press, 1997, 348pp, US$24.00
ISBN 0-919491-21-9

Just as metaphysics lies beyond physics, metaethics deals with the status and fundamental nature of ethics. But whereas physicists don’t think it unscientific to study physical phenomena, moral philosophers – especially those in the analytic mainstream – tend to feel self-conscious about real issues of right and wrong, and this century have spent most of their time doing metaethics instead. The traditional divide in metaethics is between ‘descriptivists’, who believe that moral judgements somehow describe matters of objective fact, and their opponents (‘noncognitivists’), who say that it is just confused to apply ordinary judgements of true or false to moral terms.

This book collects recent contributions from both sides, so that the current state of the debate can be assessed. It is a very worthwhile volume, which philosophers will find useful and stimulating. Couture and Nielsen contribute an introduction, and a concluding essay that attempts to synthesise some of the themes of the book. The ten intervening pieces are by such distinguished philosophers as Richard Hare, Isaac Levi, Allen Wood, and the late Jean Hampton, to whom the book is dedicated.

Those who find modern philosophy esoteric and even unintelligible will also, unfortunately, find some ammunition in this book. The two regrettable trends that struck me, however, are by no means confined to philosophy.

One is that disputes become so hedged about with verbal distinctions that the main issue is no longer visible. Peter Railton, for example, one of today’s most renowned metaethicists, leaves one still wondering ‘Well, does he believe in descriptivism or not?’ The other trend is the search for compromise, or the willingness to believe there is truth on both sides. While this is no doubt a worthy impulse, history is full of well-supported intellectual movements that turned out to be completely wrong. The belief in objective moral truth may belong in the same category.

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