Gender, work and social control

I am delighted to announced that the book from this project has now been published

Thank you to everyone who has made this possible, including readers and prospective readers!

You can order a copy from the publisher at this link .Your library service may also be able to find a copy for you.

For a taster of some of the content and some of the development of the ideas in this book, have a look at previous blog posts on this site.

You should write a book about that

I have just sent the final manuscript for the book from this project:  Gender, work and social control: a century of disability benefits, to the publishers, Palgrave Macmillan for their socio-legal studies series.

It has been a long road to get to this stage and it has had its ups and downs. Writing a book can be a slow process, one step forward, two steps back most of the time.  Just as a chapter looks as if it’s almost there, I realise I’ve missed something or it doesn’t make sense or it doesn’t capture what I really wanted to say.  Writing a book is a lonesome process and it is easy to sink under waves of self-doubt. At one stage, when I was feeling particularly downhearted, I was discussing the research with a friend in a cafe. My enthusiasm for the project must have come through somehow because the woman at the next table came up to me and said ‘That sounds fascinating. You should write a book about it’.  She did not know how important that was to me then.

I found this drawing under a pile of papers. It represents how I was feeling about a year ago when I took part in a course on creative research methods at the Morgan Centre at the University of Manchester.  The organisers asked us to draw a picture, illustrating a problem with our research.This picture was an attempt to show what I was thinking at that time. In the top left corner there is a pile of papers. These represent all the archive files that I have been working on for years of this project. In the top right are all the people in the archives, calling out to me, telling me their stories, waiting to be heard.  In the middle is my laptop, where the project mainly lies and where most of the thinking gets done.  Down in the bottom left hand corner is another pile of paper. These are all the pages and pages of draft manuscript that a book produces. Most of my drafts have stayed in electronic form but this represents the many different versions that I have worked on. Then there is the book itself – imagined as a finished product, a real thing with a cover and a spine.

When I drew this picture, my problem concerned how to get from the middle of the picture to that finished book. Now I’m nearly there. There’s still work to be done but that particular problem has been mostly solved.

Finally, in the bottom right hand corner you can find a reader – you perhaps? I don’t know what the reader, or you, will think about it but I’ve done most of my work.

Incapacity benefits research: new publications

I’m delighted that a couple of new publications from this project about incapacity benefits across the twentieth century have appeared recently.  You can find full details of these articles and how to access them on the publications page – link here

Gulland, J., 2017. Working while incapable to work?  Changing concepts of permitted work in the UK disability benefit system. Disability Studies Quarterly 37. 

How can a person be ‘incapable of work’ but at the same time ‘working’? This article discusses how the idea of ‘permitted work’ evolved in the UK social security system.  In the early twentieth century people were allowed to do small amounts of ‘trivial’ work while still claiming benefits.  This changed with the two World Wars leading to more formal ways in which disabled people could be allowed to do ‘therapeutic work’ and still claim benefits. The law was complicated and people sometimes appealed when they were told that the work they were doing was not therapeutic.  The appeal decisions helped to define what people could or couldn’t do.  In the late twentieth century social security policy changed so that people claiming disability benefits were expected to do as much as possible to return to work.  The rules under Employment and Support Allowance today mean that many people must make attempts to find work or risk losing their benefits.  But there are still strict rules about how much work you can do while still claiming.  There are still complicated permitted work rules.  That is changing with the introduction of the controversial Universal Credit but there are still risks for people who need to prove that they are ‘disabled enough’ to qualify for benefit but can also work.  This article traces the changes in legislation and interpretation through appeal decisions from 1911 until today.
I’ve also written about some of these issues on the blog here
This article is part of a special themed issue in the Disability Studies Quarterly on ‘Disability, Work And Representation: New Perspectives’  . Read more here

Gulland, J., 2017. All under one umbrella? The Family Guide to National Insurance 1948. Northern Ireland Legal Quarterly 68, 259–270.

This article tells the story of the ‘Family Guide to National Insurance’ which I found unexpectedly in an archive while looking for something else. The Guide was published in 1948 and was intended to inform the public about their rights and responsibilities under the new National Insurance scheme.  But the story of the Guide is more complicated than that. When I first saw the Guide I noticed the owls – and I wrote about this on the blog here

Family Guide 1948 ‘making a claim’

The pictures struck me as quirky, but rather patronising. I tried to find out more about them but couldn’t find any trace of the artist or who decided to include them.  But I did find a survey, carried out in 1948 to find out what the public thought of the leaflet.  There was no mention of the owls in the survey but there was a lot of interesting material about what people thought.  Mainly, people didn’t read the booklet or didn’t understand what it was about.  I wondered why a booklet with these kinds of pictures seemed to everyone else to be just a boring government leaflet.  I took part in a conference presentation where we had to make a model about our research. I wrote about the conference on the blog here.  My model was a mock up of the leaflet, complete with a boring cover and a pop-up owl

Model of Family Guide Jackie Gulland

Pop-up owl Jackie Gulland

The article in the Northern Ireland Legal Quarterly tells the story of how I used this model to think about the meaning of the Family Guide to National Insurance.  This article is part of a special issue on using models to think about socio-legal research – read more about other people’s explorations with legal model making here

 

 

Choosing names in research

I’m finally writing up the book from my archival project and I have to decide how I am going to deal with names in the archive papers. At an early stage of my project I decided that I would anonymise the people in the archive cases. This comes from my own social science training which is based on an assumption that we should anonymise any personal data derived from research. Writers in other disciplines do not always do this. Historians usually use real names, although not always. There seems to be a cut-off around the twentieth century when social historians sometimes start using pseudonyms. Legal scholars usually use real names because they are usually dealing with legal cases already in the public domain, where people’s names are part of the case name. Some social scientists and oral historians also argue for an ethical position of using real names. But I find this difficult. The information in the archive files is personal and not very far in the past. It is unlikely that any of the people in these files is still alive today and that is reflected in the status of the files in the archives. The files are ‘open’ – available to anyone to look at but I don’t believe that this gives me permission to use their real names. All of them may have living relatives and people who knew them who would be concerned about their personal details being made public. Some, of course, might be delighted to find an archive with their grandmother or great grandfather named in it, which would enable them to pursue their family history but I don’t think it is my role to expose people in this way. On top of this, around half of the case papers that I am using are already anonymised as they have been published in collections of anonymised legal cases. I don’t know the people’s names at all. Or at least not all of them. For some of these anonymised cases, I’ve also identified an archive file, which gives me the real names of the people in the anonymised published cases. For a very small number of the cases I am looking at, there is a higher level court case or a newspaper report which carries the name of the protaganists. These are fully in the public domain and traditions of legal writing require that I use the full names for these.
But I have made my decision to anonymise all the other cases and intend to stick with it. The question now is what to do when I discuss the people I’m writing about. Until now, in any published papers or conference presentations, I have referred to people by the case number of their legal case only and have not attempted to bring them to life by giving them names. Now that I am writing the book I feel that it would make for easier reading if the people had names. So how to go about choosing them.

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Choosing names the old-fashioned way

When I’ve carried out interview based research in the past I used surnames from a local telephone directory. I knew that this created problems: surnames convey ethnicity, geography and religious associations. All of my interviewees had been white and Scottish or English so I could be fairly confident that names I had chosen would be associated with that identity. First names are even more clearly marked for gender, ethnicity, religion and social class and they are associated with different generations, according to popularity in naming patterns. So I found first names using information from the National Records of Scotland assigning age appropriate first names. I also tried to avoid names of celebrities, fictional characters or well known real people (although this was somewhat dependent on my rather useless knowledge of celebrities). I was happy with the result and my renamed interviewees became real characters, who I felt, began to become alive in my writing.

Wirecaester Barlow or James Bond

So how to go about this process with my archive material? Something else has come along in the way of technical support since I carried out previous research. I’m currently using scrivener software to draft my book and it has a ‘name generator’ built in. This allows writers to select from a very wide range of apparently ethnically and gender appropriate names. I’ve been searching for those of English, Scottish, Welsh or Irish origins, given the backgrounds of most of the people in my data. This produces some unusual names: Wirecaester Barlow, Sped Hell, Oxnaleah Flax? I don’t know how scrivener generates these names but they seem a little unlikely for England in the early 20th century and there don’t seem to be any date filters on the name generator unless you’re looking for Ancient Egyptian, Anglo Saxon or Shakespearean names. So I’m experimenting with names from the British 1881 census, available electronically, which produces the more likely sounding: Alfred Jones, Thomas Hudson and Annie Norton. Though my most recent search also produced James Bond, so I’ll still have to watch out for the celebrities and well known fictional characters.

postscript

Since writing this blog post, I changed my mind about how to use names in the book from this project. Although I had an interesting time creating pseudonyms for the people I discuss in the book, I decided, in the end, to stick with the form Mr B, Mrs E etc. This allowed me to keep the same surname initials for real people whose names I knew, so they remain relatively anonymous without confusing the historical record. This also means that I could use a consistent form for people whose names I knew and those I did not. The way we describe people changes over time and, today, there is much debate about titles and gender pronouns. Personally, I do not use titles today which mark a woman’s married status.  However, in the book I used the titles ‘Mr’, ‘Mrs’ and ‘Miss’ in the book to reflect the use of titles in most of the twentieth century.