Shirley Williams (1930-2021): an appreciation ; and some thoughts on the history of education

In the words of Julia Langdon's obituary in the 'Guardian', Shirley Williams 'exuded reasonableness'. This, together with her warmth, humanity and intellect, made her a remarkable person. Like many others who had the good fortune to meet her, I can testify to that. She was completely without self-importance or pomposity.

Her Wikipedia entry describes her as a Liberal Democrat politician. This ignores the obvious fact that, until the age of 50, she was very much a socialist. Party labels are often clumsy ways to describe political identities, which are often plural and fluid. It is possible to be influenced by more than one ideological tradition. Indeed, the history of political activity and thought would be rather strange if this were not true.

She was a consensual figure, but she also raised her head above the parapet when it came to matters of social justice. In particular, her support for the striking workers at Grunwick in 1977 (which led to her arrest) showed her solidarity with a particularly exploited and vulnerable group of workers, one which had not been particularly well served by the predominantly white- and male-dominated trade union movement.

Williams' political career, both as a minister under Anthony Crosland in the Harold Wilson government in the 1960s, and as Secretary of State for Education from 1976 to 1979, in James Callaghan's government, were marked by a revolution in education provision: 'comprehensivisation'. From the perspective of 2021 it is difficult to appreciate how deeply unpopular the selective system was, and how much it contributed to Labour's handsome election victory in 1966, one of only three such convincing victories in the 20th century. In particular, selection at the age of eleven was very unpopular among the middle classes, as it threatened many of their children with downward social mobility. This groundswell of opinion was behind Crosland's famous desire to close 'every f-g grammar school.' (That this was also a desire which was, for a time, shared by the Conservative Party, and that Margaret Thatcher, when she was Edward Heath's Education Secretary, 'comprehensivised' more schools, by some reckonings, than did Williams, was very conveniently forgotten when Williams was ferociously criticised for doing the same thing).

Since then, as the comprehensive 'experiment' has been portrayed as an example of impossibly utopian social engineeering, and as selective education, in a covert form, has been re-introduced, it should be recalled that there were very good reasons for introducing comprehensive education in the first instance. The selective system was failing large numbers of children, and ruining their life chances. Those who lament the demise of grammar schools forget the extent to which they failed many of those who attended them. The present writer has to declare an interest here. I cannot imagine the course of my life had it not been for the enormously beneficial influence of a particular comprehensive school. For that, I salute the memory of Williams and Crosland. I suppose that, in this instance, I have to salute the memory of Thatcher as well, since, during Edward Heath's premiership, she followed the correct policy. While we are on the subject of education, I have to praise Thatcher's decision in 1970, against the advice of her civil servants, to continue to fund the Open University, one of Harold Wilson's proudest achievements. Let nobody accuse the present writer of unfairness. Credit where credit's due.

In a subsequent blogpost, I will examine Williams' career from 1981, and will endeavour to assess the historical significance of the Social Democratic Party.