Who governs Britain?: Trade unions, the Conservative Party and the failure of the Industrial Relations Act 1971

By Sam Warner

Providing fresh insights from the archival record, Who governs Britain? revisits the 1970-74 Conservative government to explain why the Party tried – and failed – to reform the system of industrial relations. Designed to tackle Britain’s strike problem and perceived disorder in collective bargaining, the Industrial Relations Act 1971 established a formal legal framework to counteract trade union power. As the state attempted to disengage from and ‘depoliticise’ collective bargaining practices, trade union leaders and employers were instructed to discipline industry. In just three-and-a-half years, the Act contributed to a crisis of the British state as industrial unrest engulfed industry and risked undermining the rule of law. Warner explores the power dynamics, strategic errors and industrial battles that destroyed this attempt to tame trade unions and ultimately brought down a government, and that shape Conservative attitudes towards trade unions to this day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Manchester University Press
• Release date: Apr 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9781526166005

Book preview

Who governs Britain?

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Richard Hayton

The study of conservative politics, broadly defined, is of enduring scholarly interest and importance, and is also of great significance beyond the academy. In spite of this, for a variety of reasons the study of conservatism and conservative politics was traditionally regarded as something of a poor relation in comparison to the intellectual interest in ‘the Left’. In the British context this changed with the emergence of Thatcherism, which prompted a greater critical focus on the Conservative Party and its ideology, and a revitalisation of Conservative historiography. New Perspectives on the Right aims to build on this legacy by establishing a series identity for work in this field. It will publish the best and most innovative titles drawn from the fields of sociology, history, cultural studies and political science and hopes to stimulate debate and interest across disciplinary boundaries. New Perspectives is not limited in its historical coverage or geographical scope, but is united by its concern to critically interrogate and better understand the history, development, intellectual basis and impact of the Right. Nor is the series restricted by its methodological approach: it will encourage original research from a plurality of perspectives. Consequently, the series will act as a voice and forum for work by scholars engaging with the politics of the Right in new and imaginative ways.

Reconstructing conservatism? The Conservative Party in opposition, 1997–2010 Richard Hayton

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What about the workers? The Conservative party and the organised working class in British politics Andrew Taylor

Who governs Britain?

Trade unions, the Conservative Party and the failure of the Industrial Relations Act 1971

Sam Warner

Manchester University Press

Copyright © Sam Warner 2023

The right of Sam Warner to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Published by Manchester University Press

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www.manchesteruniversitypress.co.uk

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ISBN 978 1 5261 6601 2 hardback

First published 2023

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COVER IMAGE: Dockers march on Pentonville in July 1972. Image courtesy of the Marx Memorial Library. Reproduced by permission of the Daily Star.

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Contents

List of tables

Acknowledgements

List of abbreviations

Introduction

1 Managing the trade unions: four themes

2 Planning for government

3 Turning strategy into action

4 The Act's institutions

5 Bringing the law into disrepute

6 Putting the Act ‘on ice’

7 Who governs Britain?

Conclusion

Appendix: The main provisions of the Act

Bibliography

Index

List of tables

4.1 The staggered approach to introducing the institutions

4.2 The realities of registration, October 1971

4.3 Total days lost in all stoppages in the mining and quarrying industry, 1965–72

5.1 Working days lost in all stoppages, 1962–72

5.2 The 41 trade unions that passed on to the full register

5.3 Breakdown of the result of the railways ballot

6.1 Increases in wage rates and average earnings (wages and salaries combined) in 1972

6.2 The increase in breakaway unions in manual and non-manual sectors, February 1973

7.1 Caseload of the NIRC, October 1973

7.2 Outcome of cases before the NIRC, November 1973

8.1 State of the Permanent Register, December 1973

8.2 References made to the CIR, 1969–74

Acknowledgements

This book is the culmination of nearly ten years of work, on and off. Its publication represents an important moment in my on-going academic and intellectual development, although the writing process feels more poignant than that because it spanned many of the most important events in my life. I have been fortunate to engage with, and learn from, some incredible academics and mentors along the way. It is fitting that, alongside the usual caveat that all errors remain my own, their input and influence is warmly acknowledged.

I owe a debt of gratitude to friends and colleagues at the Department of Political Science and International Studies (POLSIS) at the University of Birmingham, where most of the research for the book was conducted. Peter Burnham provided invaluable support, guidance and rigorous critique throughout the research process. His intellectual influence was critical in framing the book's core argument. Pete's work inspired me to head to the National Archives at Kew to conduct the research for my MA dissertation, and the rest, as they say, is history. Throughout my time at POLSIS, Peter Kerr was – and indeed remains – an important mentor and sounding board. I respect him a great deal as an academic and value our catch-ups in which he always gives insightful advice with good humour.

Writing this book has helped me refine my own style as an academic. I have benefited from incredibly helpful discussions with Stephen Bates, Jim Buller, Peter Dorey, David Marsh, David Richards and Martin Smith over the years. This was especially valuable as I began to seriously re-engage with the research in challenging circumstances in March 2020. For any Early Career Researcher reading this, never underestimate how generous with their time senior academics can be – even if you're emailing without knowing them personally. You have nothing to lose, and I for one gained a lot. My approach to the study of the politicisation–depoliticisation dynamic has come almost full circle but was undoubtedly sharpened during a productive recent collaboration with Darcy Luke, for which I am grateful. I am also appreciative to Mattias Hjort, Conor McKenna and Joseph Ward who read sections of the book and provided useful comments and correctives. I must also thank Rob Byron for his diligent editorial guidance, for showing faith in the book from the start and giving me the space to complete it, even if it took a little longer than planned.

Academic life is not just about teaching and publications. Navigating this career doesn't always come easily. I have benefited from the support and camaraderie of numerous friends and colleagues over the years. In particular, Colin Thain has been a kind and supportive mentor since we reacquainted in December 2019, and I will not quickly forget the generous advice and encouragement he has given me. I consider myself extremely fortunate to have had the opportunity to work as a post-doc researcher on David Richards's Public Expenditure Planning and Control in Complex Times project, alongside Diane Coyle and Martin Smith. After a lingering spell of illness scuppered my carefully planned strategy to complete the book, Dave proofread and provided comments on the bulk of the manuscript as I burned the midnight oil to cut words. His input and support made the final push more bearable and sharpened the argument. I think he tired of hearing me say ‘thank you’ at the time, but it remains important to me to state my gratitude here.

Last, but certainly not least, I must acknowledge the unwavering support of my family. My parents have unconditionally supported my studies from their directionless infancy to the PhD without questioning my choices. My parents-in-law have shown an interest in my admittedly niche academic pursuits and were an incredible help with the kids in the critical final two weeks of writing. More than anyone, though, this book would not have been possible without the love, understanding and companionship of my wife, Manu. The book's run-in had its trying moments, coinciding with a global pandemic, moving house (twice) and the birth of our daughter. Navigating this process has been made worthwhile by Manu and our two amazing children.

List of abbreviations

Introduction

The infamous Industrial Relations Act 1971 reached the statute book just over fifty years ago in August 1971. It was hugely ambitious, as it created a formal legal framework to regulate the British system of industrial relations for the first time. The Conservative Party was determined to modernise collective bargaining practices and impose discipline on British industry, confident in the belief that trade union activities undermined the productive capacity of the economy. Militant trade unionists, reformers argued, enjoyed privileges before the law that shifted the balance of industrial power in their favour. This perceived imbalance solidified within an archaic system of collective bargaining that had remained largely unchanged since 1906. The 1971 Act is remembered for setting the state, courts and trade union movement in a head-on collision course. It frayed Britain's social fabric and undermined the rule of law itself. Its reputation is one of notorious failure. This book explains why.

During the 1950s and 1960s, trade unions became the scapegoat for Britain's relative economic decline (Gamble, 1994; Taylor, 1978, 1993). While this attitude germinated across the political spectrum, it found especially fertile ground within the Conservative Party. Since the nineteenth century, party members believed trade unions distorted the laissez-faire free market economy and consequently treated them with suspicion. Britain's prosperous postwar ‘Golden Era’ deteriorated into a crisis-prone governing context, characterised by falling productivity, stagnating growth, recurring balance of payments crises and rising inflation. A causal link was forged between these recurrent governing dilemmas and trade union activities (Dorey, 2006b; Seldon and Ball, 1994). Britain's strike problem in the 1960s was far from unique among industrialised nations. At the time, only Italy, Canada and Australia suffered a worse record in terms of working days lost (Taylor, 1996: 161). In the context of Britain's relative economic decline, this was enough to brand the trade unions the socio-economic ‘problem’ that must be solved. As one backbench Tory MP put it, trade union leaders ‘had come to believe that their relationship to the executive was akin to that of the barons and King John’ (Bruce-Gardyne, 1974: 148–149). For the Conservative Party, this was intolerable.

The increasing prevalence of unofficial strike activity was framed as the greatest affliction to befall an economy dubbed ‘the sick man of Europe’. By 1970, 90 per cent of industrial action was unofficial as millions of working days were lost. Unofficial strikes were often called by a militant rank-and-file that was decoupled from trade union leaders and reflecting a breakdown in traditional bargaining mechanisms. Collective agreements devised through national bargaining arrangements became subjugated to informal, shop-floor-led negotiations with employers. Restrictive practices were rife. The number of unconstitutional or wildcat strikes – stoppages in which existing grievance procedures had not been exhausted, proved inadequate or were non-existent – increased. This type of industrial action was particularly volatile and disruptive as walkouts could commence immediately. At the time, academics described ‘an irreversible devolution of bargaining power to the shop floor’ (McCarthy and Ellis, 1973: 3), as trade union leaders were often side-lined in workplace disputes.

The first Royal Commission on trade unions since 1903, appointed by Labour Prime Minister Harold Wilson (1964-70), acknowledged that systemic deficiencies undermined long-held principles of industrial relations. The final report, published in June 1968, argued that focusing on working days lost only scratched the surface of the economic impact. The indirect consequences of stoppages meant that comparatively minor disputes could bring hundreds of workers throughout a supply chain to a standstill. Employers compromised on efficiency by pre-empting strike action to maintain their position in a competitive market. As unofficial action was almost always short-notice, it was highly unpredictable in nature, undermining businesses’ ability to plan strategically (Royal Commission, 1968: 111-112).

Trade union memberships swelled as victories over employers increased. The movement was seen to offer tangible protection against the decade's economic uncertainty (Wrigley, 1996). As employers conceded pay claims, wages rose. So, too, did prices, as businesses scrambled to claw back profit margins. To compound matters, productivity did not increase at the same rate. Successive governments intervened through incomes policies – legislation designed to restrict wage and price increases – but to no avail (for a detailed overview, see Dorey, 2001). Attempts to maintain the credibility of the postwar political economy floundered. When confronted with external inflationary pressures caused by rising global commodity prices throughout the 1960s, the British state was bereft of ideas. Industrial harmony, long secured by Britain's brand of corporatism, was undermined, as the consent of powerful interest groups evaporated (Middlemas, 1990). Amid rampant industrial unrest and spiralling inflation, politicians turned their attention to curbing the power of organised labour. Governments of left and right repeated the same error, laying the blame for Britain's relative economic decline at the trade union's door. Few publicly acknowledged that the dilemmas politicians and officials faced were global phenomenon from which Britain could not be easily shielded.

In trade union reform, the political class believed it had found an effective ‘economic lever’ to pull. The Conservative Party's strategy, devised during its wilderness years following electoral defeat in October 1964, was framed as instilling a sense of ‘responsibility’ and ‘fairness’ into the regulation of employer/employee relations. The Party believed, that with meticulous planning, a legal framework could be devised to overcome many of Britain's social and economic woes. The Labour Party also sought to challenge the status quo, following widespread disappointment across the political spectrum in a Royal Commission whose recommendations failed to capture the political mood. Labour's response, the 1969 White Paper In Place of Strife, lit the touchpaper of discord and discontent, confirming trade unionists’ long-held suspicions about state power. To their minds, the state was overtly attacking their bargaining power (Dorey,

2019).

As the labour movement embarked on civil war, the Conservative Party produced Fair Deal at Work (CPC, 1968), a programme designed to redress the balance of industrial power and outflank its opponents. It promised a comprehensive framework of law – legitimised by new courts and institutions – to permeate every aspect of British industrial relations. A raft of new measures required trade unions to submit their rules to oversight by a registrar in exchange for ‘trade union’ status and traditional rights and immunities. Additionally, collective agreements would be assumed to be legally binding, while a new category of ‘unfair industrial practice’ outlawed activities deemed incompatible with ‘orderly’ industrial relations. Employers could seek enforceable court orders, and the government retained emergency powers if industrial unrest damaged the economy and wider community. Lord Donovan, Chairman of the 1965–68 Royal Commission, described the eventual Act as ‘state intervention in the field of industrial relations on a massive scale’ (cited in Campbell, 1971: xxi).

To understand the attitudes and practices of trade unionists, you cannot neglect ‘national political traditions’ and the behaviour of employers conditioned by the principles of a laissez-faire market economy (Hyman, 2003a: 38). The Conservative Party's ambition can only be fully grasped when set in this historical context. The adversarial nature of British industrial relations, framed by the tradition of voluntarism, is often said to reflect the relative absence of the law from collective bargaining practices. While true in a sense, Lord Wedderburn's (1972: 270) depiction of a system of law that ‘grew as threads inherent in the social web’ of British industrial relations reveals a complex ‘framework’ of legal immunities and individual rights. Voluntarism embedded suspicion of state intervention in collective bargaining, although repeated judicial interventions left judges especially mistrusted. Too often, creative, judge-made law curtailed the bargaining rights of trade unionists, forcing the state to legislate to restore the status quo. Chapter 1 details this ‘leapfrogging’ process. The central point, as noted by Allan Flanders (1974: 354), is that voluntarism implies ‘not so much a distrust of legislation but of the courts of law’. Conservative politicians’ failure to comprehend this fact was a major strategic error.

The Conservative Party's surprise victory in the June 1970 General Election confirmed the future of industrial relations reform. Ministers hoped to produce ‘orderly’ collective bargaining and transform Britain's stagnating economy by disciplining industry. Wage drift inflation could be managed down as both sides of industry began to take their contribution to the ‘national interest’ seriously. Robert Carr, the Secretary of State at the Department of Employment and Productivity (1970–72), instructed industry to ‘put its own house in order’ as the state ‘disengaged’ and shifted the disciplinary initiative to trade union leaders and employers. The government was not destroying voluntarism, ministers claimed, but providing an enabling framework so industry could work harmoniously to improve collective bargaining procedures. Disputing parties were expected to behave responsibly and cooperatively. When this did not happen, the courts would adjudicate. The problem was that, despite the rhetoric of even-handedness, the ostensibly ‘neutral aims’ of the Act shrouded political assumptions that trade union power was out of hand and must be curtailed (Weekes et al., 1975: 5). The government ostensibly extended trade union rights and aspects of voluntary collective bargaining, but made registration a prerequisite of accessing them. This implied coercion and state control (Crouch, 1977: 168).

The Act rapidly descended into controversy. It vexed trade unionists and was fought tooth and nail in Parliament by the Labour Party (Moran, 1977: 97-110). The government propelled the legislation through Parliament at breakneck speed. Ministers repeated the merits of reform ad nauseam, but refused to test their assumptions and consult with disgruntled interest groups. They believed the Act would be received favourably by employers because it gave them the ‘teeth’ to combat unfair industrial practice and trade union militancy. Ministers argued that trade unionists would come round to acknowledging its merits and become allies in shaping the new economy. They were wrong. From 1972, the industrial battlefield became strewn with the casualties of repeated government losses. The Trades Union Congress (TUC) successfully framed the Act as a ‘state licence’ on trade union affairs, a narrative the government was ineffective at counteracting.

Successive election defeats in February and October 1974 inflicted deep wounds upon key figures in the Conservative Party, which was forced to regroup. The scars of 1970–74 shaped future rounds of policy-making before a return to government in May 1979. For a vocal group in Thatcher's governments, memories of the Industrial Relations Act's failure and the public's subsequent rejection of the Party produced a mindset that would not allow this embarrassment to be repeated. This, alongside a pragmatically incremental ‘step-by-step’ approach to reform in the 1980s, paid dividends as plaudits claimed ‘success’ in emasculating the trade unions once and for all. This was a transformative period in British political history, but large gaps in our knowledge remain about the Act's turbulent existence and its enduring significance.

The rationale for the book

This overview of events is the dominant narrative. It is informative, but somewhat superficial. It has changed little since the masterful work of Michael Moran, The Politics of Industrial Relations, published in 1977. Moran's book is the last to have this Act as its dedicated subject matter. This is surprising given the large, multi-disciplinary secondary literature that exists. Influential accounts can be found within edited collections dedicated to the Heath government (Taylor, 1996; Warner, 2021), British trade unionism (Taylor, 2007) or economic policy in the 1970s (Wrigley, 1996). Political scientists and political historians have also contributed valuable chapters that focus on the Heath government specifically (Holmes, 1997) and the Conservative Party generally (Bale, 2012). The most important dedicated works, however, draw on the nature of industrial politics and the relationship between the Conservative Party and the trade unions (Barnes and Reid, 1980; Crouch, 1977, 1979; Dorey, 2006b; Dorfman, 1979; Marsh, 1992; Taylor, 1994, 2021). Reflecting the at-times technical nature of the subject matter, the glue binding this broad literature together is a large body of industrial relations and legal scholarship (Clegg, 1979; Davies and Freedland, 1993; Hyman, 1975; Kahn-Freund, 1974; McCarthy and Ellis, 1973; Wedderburn, 1972; Weekes et al., 1975). This brief overview is not exhaustive but gives a sense of what is a rich, comprehensive and multi-disciplinary literature.

The orthodox understanding is broadly consistent across the extant literature. It highlights the multiplicity of factors contributing to the Act's downfall. These include inadequate drafting, flawed assumptions about internal trade union dynamics, strategic failings and, less often acknowledged, tensions linked to complex interdependencies at the heart of the core executive. Bottom-up processes of resistance are underappreciated. Despite the breadth of scholarship, extant accounts are inevitably partial because of the unavailability of archival material at the time of writing. Outside of my own contributions (Warner, 2019, 2020), insights from the National Archives have been limited to a few pages in broad explorations of economic policy (Williamson, 2015: 174–177) or discussions of the Heath government's relationship with trade unions (Taylor, 2021: 187-196). Without access to this wealth of information and knowledge, it is impossible to unpack how the intentions and preferences of politicians and civil servants shaped the Act as a governing strategy. This statement stems from two observations – one methodological and one theoretical – that provide the rationale for the book's approach.

The book looks inside the ‘black box’ of policy-making to reveal the ‘very private’ stage when civil servants forensically examine the available options and advise ministers on potential outcomes before decisions are made (James, 1997: 13). It is concerned with the ‘precise linkages’ in policy-making or, to put it another way, the ‘why’ and ‘how’ questions that shape the process (Kavanagh, 1991: 494). This extends beyond the deliberations of Cabinet which ‘can affect administration directly only by limited and judicious intervention at key points’ (Aris, 1998: 187). This book casts a wide net to cover the numerous bodies and working groups at the ‘lower levels’ of the core executive. It is here, Lowe (1997) argues, that the range of influences on government policy can be revealed, providing insights into what did and didn't change and improving our understanding of the policy networks that operate within and across government departments. This is an important site of analysis, given that the Act's complex institutional framework suffered from internal tensions and mutually constraining interdependencies linked to relational power dynamics. Because existing accounts often heavily rely on biographies and autobiographies of prominent political actors (e.g. Campbell, 1993; Gormley, 1982; Heath, 1998; Howe, 1994; Hurd, 1979; Jones, 1986), this level of granularity is often lacking. Memoirs can tell us a great deal about the personality, motives and style of political actors (Gamble, 2002; Kavanagh, 1991), but questions remain about the reliability of personal recollections (Ball, 1995). In a book about policy failure, the danger is that events are reinterpreted through rose-tinted spectacles. Diligent appraisal of archival materials and other relevant sources overcomes these deficiencies.

The large number of primary documents consulted in researching this book reflects the multiplicity of social actors involved in the imposition of, or affected by, industrial relations reform. It is also a product of the complex logistical task of establishing a novel framework of law and several new institutions. The book draws together public records from the National Archives, Kew,¹ the TUC and Confederation of British Industries (CBI) archives at the Modern Records Centre, University of Warwick, and the Conservative Party Archive located in the Bodleian Library, University of Oxford. Scrutinising the archival record can substantiate existing accounts or challenge received wisdom. The process should always produce a balanced reappraisal of events. This ‘critical reading’ of the archival record highlights the dissonance between the private and public discourses of politicians and public officials. When explored in detail, it can also illustrate how political strategies are deployed to mediate the contradictions of capitalist society reflected in persistent governing dilemmas (Rogers, 2017: 124). This approach underpins the book's methodology and provides authoritative insights into the 1970-74 Conservative government's strategy to contain rising industrial relations.

Howell (2005: 8) argues that industrial relations literature ‘has been dominated by empirical work’. This is true of a lot of scholarship investigating the Industrial Relations Act, which tends to accept its failure as self-evident, even inevitable. It failed to achieve its aims and objectives and, after provoking a second dispute with the miners in as many years, the government lost a General Election it had called to reassert its own authority. The Act was swiftly repealed by the incoming Labour government. However, important questions remain unanswered. Could any other conclusion be reached? Could ‘successes’ be gleamed from this policy experiment? What lessons were learnt? More importantly, how did the Act's legacy shape the industrial relations landscape and employment relations in the 1980s and thereafter? These challenging questions stimulate the intellectual curiosity of those interested in the failure of this short-lived Act.

It is notoriously difficult to conceptualise policy failure. Existing typologies focus on the interplay between intended programme outcomes, political implications and, for some, the process of enacting a given reform (e.g. Bovens and Hart, 2016, and McConnell, 2015). Devising objective measures of ‘success’ or ‘failure’ is complex. For example, a policy programme could have notable success by achieving its aims and improving service delivery, but the message fails to cut through and it is rejected by the public regardless. It could be that, in the longer term, a policy ‘failure’ is viewed more sympathetically. How the different aspects of policy formulation and implementation interact is multi-faceted and highly specific, and should be unpacked through detailed empirical work. For those concerned with what McConnell (2015) calls the real politick of failure, these typologies point to an important question. Why can governments survive some examples of policy failure when others prove insurmountable? By exploring the different dimensions of policy failure, such as grey areas, the role of perceptions and differing impacts, a more detailed picture can be painted. A broad, thematic approach potentially obscures nuance and limits our ability to explain specific outcomes. A granular empirical analysis of the components of failure improves understanding of policy-making as a form of adaptation, problem-solving and learning which conditions the possibilities of future rounds of policy-making (Kavanagh, 1991).

Building on these insights, the book's theoretical underpinnings are intended to illuminate the priorities of government and help to explain why the Act was so flawed. It acknowledges that policy failure is ‘bound up with issues of politics and power’ (McConnell, 2015: 222). This book's approach draws inspiration from industrial relations scholars who foreground broader social, political and economic factors to explore power in the British political economy (Fox, 1985; Goldthorpe, 1974; Hyman, 1989a). It is organised around the following supposition: the economic prosperity of Britain, and relatedly the electoral viability of its governments, corresponds directly to the ability of the domestic economy to reproduce itself in the context of global competition. This is no banal statement. It highlights the complexities of devising governance arrangements that first and foremost secure the conditions of profitable capital accumulation as a precondition of political stability. How it is manifested in terms of governance arrangements is politically contingent, resulting in ad hoc, even contradictory, policy solutions. One option, the imposition of discipline on British industry, experienced by both capital and labour, is seldom welcomed by workers who will at times endure social hardship in the name of boosting domestic productivity and international competitiveness. Without a corresponding legitimation strategy, a state's primary (but of course not only) objective is more likely to be resisted. A contradiction emerges between ‘accumulation’ and ‘legitimation’ as politicians try to balance the pursuit of economic growth against the need for popular support (Lavery, 2019; Rogers,

2013).

This is a useful way of conceptualising different approaches to political and economic management. It explains why trade unions attracted the state's attention, as their activities were perceived to drive inflationary wage increases, embed unpredictability into collective bargaining and, ultimately, undermine profitable accumulation. On this reading, trade union activities promoted uncertainty. British firms cut back on investment and became increasingly uncompetitive in global markets. The reconfiguration of long-established collective bargaining practices to eliminate perceived obstacles to the renewal of international competitiveness, economic growth and industrial stability was always likely to attract derision. To overcome the electoral damage associated with a head-on clash with concerned interest groups, governments often turn to appeasing strategies by ‘depoliticising’ a problematic policy area. If successful, this can alter perceptions surrounding a government's direct role in the implementation and management of potentially controversial reforms. It can shift accountability by promoting binding rules, ostensibly ‘independent’ institutions or discursive ‘preference shaping’ tactics (Burnham, 2001; Flinders and Buller, 2006; Wood and Flinders,

2014).

In practice, these forms of (de)politicisation intertwine to complement and contradict in complex, even paradoxical ways. They are politically contingent, even though the dominant policy paradigm provides an analytical steer as to whether depoliticisation or politicisation dominates (Hay, 2014: 304). In public policy terms, depoliticisation produces highly political strategies, designed to legitimise the government's agenda and placate domestic and international market actors. These political aims are obscured and placed at ‘one remove’ from the governmental arena. The resulting ‘accountability shift’ can help maintain the perception of governing competence, despite the hardship often associated with economic restructuring, while mollify disgruntled social groups.

The success of depoliticisation cannot be taken for granted. It has the potential to generate significant disruption if powerful interest groups resist its imposition. It can, of course, make matters far worse (Burnham, 2014; Warner, 2019). When used to periodise governance arrangements, it becomes clear that governments oscillate between the dominance of interventionist ‘politicised’ approaches to economic management between 1945 and 1976, followed by increasingly ‘depoliticised’ approaches thereafter (Burnham, 2006). Explaining why these shifts occur is less clear. Politicisation and depoliticisation are not binary processes but operate simultaneously, including within the same statecraft strategy (Buller, 2019). An understanding of the strategic and ad hoc reorientations within the politicisation-depoliticisation dynamic points to the tools needed to explore the drivers of policy change (Warner and Luke, 2022). Chapter 1 explores how these insights can help to explain what the failure of ‘depoliticised’ governance means for the state and society, and why some examples prove to be especially fragile.