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Pouring cold water on hot air: The Big Society and swimming pools

What does a massive round of pool closures due to spending cuts plus a government movement to encourage the public to take over failing public services equal?

It should, on the face of it, mean that we end up with lots of community-run swimming pools? Right?

But, as this video from a director and trustee of the charity that runs Chipping Norton’s Lido rather brilliantly demonstrates, the Big Society (BS for short) isn’t living up to its billing.

Chipping Norton isn’t the only example of a community-run pool. There are others, including Hampton Open Air Pool in Greater London (where I’m from). Like Chipping Norton, it was saved by a charity when the council said it couldn’t afford to keep the pool going.

But what has kept the pool going (and Chipping Norton) is the tremendous hard work of people, not pronouncements from politicians. This might be the greatest conceit at the heart of the ‘Big Society’ – it happens without the involvement of politicians as long as there is the public financial support for it to happen – and that’s clearly evaporating.

Charities that run pools will get, I think, an 80 per cent reduction in their non-domestic (business) rates. The council can then reduce that further, all the way down to 100 per cent relief. But West Oxfordshire District Council has seen its budget reduced. Its grant from central government went from more than £6m to a bit more than £4.5million – as this report which was considered by the council last night shows.

All this pours a good deal of cold water on the Big Society – which, increasingly, does seem like little more than hot air.

It’s worth noting, too, that West Oxfordshire Council chooses to operate its pools through Nexus, which is part of Greenwich Leisure Limited. I wonder if it qualified and has lost the discretionary rate relief as well?

Finding out where swimming pools are closing

As the cuts to local government really begin to bite, more and more pools appear to be threatened with closure.  I’m going to try to keep track of this as best I can. I hope to produce a map that will show where cuts are taking place, but the really important thing is to try, where possible, to help introduce different groups who are fighting closures together.

They’ll be from all over the country and facing, sometimes, very similar problems. I suspect that quite a few won’t be aware of what others are up to, so if the site can collate some information about the cuts to pools – and the campaigns against those cuts – it might be in some way useful.

I will try to find where closures are myself, but if you do stumble upon this and know of a pool that’s closing, I’d be very grateful if you could fill out at least some of this form.

The Freedom of Information Act: a bad way to run a library

In his autobiography, Tony Blair’s greatest ‘mea culpa’ came not in relation to the Iraq War or a failure to narrow the gap between rich and poor, but in exasperation at his government’s passing of the Freedom of Information Act.

He claimed that the Act, despite its high-minded ambition, had only served to benefit pesky journalists and not the public.

‘It’s like saying to someone who is hitting you over the head with a stick, ‘Hey, try this instead,’ and handing them a mallet,’ he complained.

The former prime minister isn’t the only self-confessed FOI hater to have emerged, either. Writing in PR Week, Luke Blair claimed FOI  may have cost the public £350million – and was making ‘us slaves to the bureaucracy needed to administer it.’

Fortunately, both Blairs appear to be on the wrong side of the argument. Government ministers are making more not fewer demands for public transparency – as spending databases are released and data logs filled. But all this doesn’t get the FOI Act off the hook. Some local authorities are fuming about the decision to force all councils to publish spending data – with one council leader claiming the resulting FOIs will cost a fortune to administer. Another local authority wanted to charge journalists for filing FOI requests.

But these attacks are all aimed at damaging public access to publicly owned information because the system we use is broken.

Bibliotic

The best analogy I can make for how we run FOI at the moment is to liken it to a library where the books are behind a counter, rather than on shelves in public view. At this library, it’s the staff who have to find the books – staff who aren’t full-time librarians and who don’t have a proper system for finding those books. When they finally discover what you’ve asked for, they have to sit down and read the book, cover to cover, because the library doesn’t want you to see all its tomes, but hasn’t quite worked out which ones or why.

Lo and behold, the system is just as irritating and time consuming for those who are asking for the books: You have to put your request in writing, justifying why you want to read a book and then wait for weeks to find out what you’ll get. You might, if you’re lucky, receive the book you’ve asked for – or a different book, or half a book, or no book at all.

Is it really any surprise that the only people prepared to use the system are those with time on their hands, a vested  interest or an axe to grind? While ordinary people might brave the bureaucracy once or twice, it largely remains the preserve of the mad, the bad and the professionally inquisitive.

Armchair auditors?

I’m quite sure if I was one of those people charged with running along the corridors, I’d be inclined to see the whole thing as a terrible waste of time, effort and money, too. And, in some ways, this is a persuasive argument. Spending millions on a system to serve the interests of a few is difficult to justify at the best of times. Now, in the middle of a financial crisis, it could look more like extreme folly.

But that criticism – of a vast sum spent on a lucky few – might be just as appropriately applied to the way that we once ‘chose’ to run MPs’ expenses. If it wasn’t for the Freedom of Information Act – and the energy and application of Heather Brooke – that system would still be running, almost certainly without our knowledge. In fact, that’s the problem with those who complain about FOI. They do so in full possession of the act’s flaws, but with little knowledge of its benefits – because its inadequacies are preventing us from seeing just how valuable it might be.

In particular, those inadequacies will make it much less likely that the government’s dream of ‘an army of armchair auditors’ can materialise. This matters particularly when – as in the case of local spending data – you’ll find out almost nothing about the spending unless you file an FOI request. So what’s the answer?

Drum roll…

While data releases are great, what we really need is a clear statement on what the right to public information means. To me it means that any member of the public should have unfettered access to information that matters to them – so they can make better decisions about public services. That means getting the library books out on the shelves, not behind the counter.

Sandwell Leisure Trust: How not to deal with an FOI request

Some time ago… no, scrap that… ages ago I asked Sandwell Leisure Trust for information about its performance. I didn’t get far: The trust told me to get lost. Apparently, it felt that while it is an organisation almost entirely reliant on public funding to deliver a public service on behalf of a democratic institution (Sandwell Metropolitan Borough Council) it could still shield itself from Freedom of Information legislation because it was… wait for it… a private company.

Nothing about this made any sense to me. A private company? That gets its funding from a council? That isn’t competing for business? That is a charity formed solely to provide swimming facilities to a borough? Why does it get away with that kind of excuse?

Nonplussed hardly covers it.

I asked the folk at WhatDoTheyKnow? what they thought. They suggested sticking an FOI request in to the local authority on whose behalf the trust operates the pools. Sadly, it provided no response. Nothing. Well after the 20-day time limit for a response I’d still heard not one squeak from the council.

I then tried again, asking for a review of my case, assuming at this point that it was a matter the council had hoped would go away. Eventually, more than two months after I’d submitted the original request, I got some of the information I’d been hoping to see. Not all, mind. But the majority. Not enough to sate my curiousity, but something.

The irony, of course, is the one thing the local authority couldn’t provide me with was data on the time preceding the establishment of the trust – attendance figures before 2004. Astonishing, given that this is the solitary piece of information I’d assumed there would be absolutely no problem in me obtaining.

There are lots of things about this that make me angry. For the sake of argument I’ll pluck a few out to help illustrate my fury:-

1). What’s the point of having an FOI Act if the private companies that provide many of our public services think they can side-step it?

2). Why on Earth claim I can’t have the data if a local authority then has to provide it anyway? Wasn’t it there to do the work of the LA? And isn’t it absolutely scandalous to make both the local authority and I go through an FOI request process to get at the data, when it kinda belongs to the public?

3). Does a local authority think that missing the dates of a fairly simple procedure like an FOI request is in any way OK?

4). Why do they have to be reminded by me?

In my next post I’ll be looking at the data in detail. You, in the meantime, can do so by going to this page here. I’m off to calm down.