The standardisation process failed during the COVID-19 exams fiasco, but so too did the policy process
By Sean Kippin and Paul Cairney, University of Stirling, 4 March 2021. First published British Politics and Policy at LSE on 22 February 2021
In the summer of 2020, after cancelling exams, the UK and devolved governments sought teacher estimates on students’ grades, but supported an algorithm to standardise the results. When the results produced a public outcry over unfair consequences, they initially defended their decision but reverted quickly to teacher assessment. These experiences, argue Sean Kippin and Paul Cairney, highlight the confluence of events and choices in which an imperfect and rejected policy solution became a ‘lifeline’ for four beleaguered governments.
In 2020, the UK and devolved governments performed a ‘U-turn’ on their COVID-19 school exams replacement policies. The experience was embarrassing for education ministers and damaging to students. There are significant differences between (and often within) the four nations in terms of the structure, timing, weight, and relationship between the different examinations. However, in general, the A-level (England, Northern Ireland, Wales) and Higher/ Advanced Higher (Scotland) examinations have similar policy implications, dictating entry to further and higher education, and influencing employment opportunities. The Priestley review, commissioned by the Scottish Government after their U-turn, described this as an ‘impossible task’.
Initially, each government defined the new policy problem in relation to the need to ‘credibly’ replicate the purpose of exams to allow students to progress to tertiary education or employment. All four quickly announced their intentions to allocate in some form grades to students, rather than replace the assessments with, for example, remote examinations. However, mindful of the long-term credibility of the examinations system and of ensuring fairness, each government opted to maintain the qualifications and seek a similar distribution of grades to previous years. A key consideration was that UK universities accept large numbers of students from across the UK.
One potential solution open to policymakers was to rely solely on teacher grading (CAG). CAGs are ‘based on a range of evidence including mock exams, non-exam assessment, homework assignments and any other record of student performance over the course of study’. Potential problems included the risk of high variation and discrepancies between different centres, the potential overload of the higher education system, and the tendency for teacher predicted grades to reward already privileged students and punish disabled, non-white, and economically deprived children.
A second option was to take CAGs as a starting point, then use an algorithm to produce ‘standardisation’, which was potentially attractive to each government as it allowed students to complete secondary education and to progress to the next level in similar ways to previous (and future) cohorts. Further, an emphasis on the technical nature of this standardisation, with qualifications agencies taking the lead in designing the process by which grades would be allocated, and opting not share the details of its algorithm were a key part of its (temporary) viability. Each government then made similar claims when defending the problem and selecting the solution. Yet this approach reduced both the debate on the unequal impact of this process on students, and the chance for other experts to examine if the algorithm would produce the desired effect. Policymakers in all four governments assured students that the grading would be accurate and fair, with teacher discretion playing a large role in the calculation of grades.
To these governments, it appeared at first that they had found a fair and efficient (or at least defendable) way to allocate grades, and public opinion did not respond negatively to its announcement. However, these appearances proved to be profoundly deceptive and vanished on each day of each exam result. The Scottish national mood shifted so intensely that, after a few days, pursuing standardisation no longer seemed politically feasible. The intense criticism centred on the unequal level of reductions of grades after standardisation, rather than the unequal overall rise in grade performance after teacher assessment and standardisation (which advantaged poorer students).
Despite some recognition that similar problems were afoot elsewhere, this shift of problem definition did not happen in the rest of the UK until (a) their published exam results highlighted similar problems regarding the role of previous school performance on standardised results, and (b) the Scottish Government had already changed course. Upon the release of grades outside Scotland, it became clear that downgrades were also concentrated in more deprived areas. For instance, in Wales, 42% of students saw their A-Level results lowered from their Centre Assessed Grades, with the figure close to a third for Northern Ireland.
Each government thus faced similar choices between defending the original system by challenging the emerging consensus around its apparent unfairness; modifying the system by changing the appeal system; or abandoning it altogether and reverting to solely teacher assessed grades. Ultimately, all three governments followed the same path. Initially, they opted to defend their original policy choice. However, by 17 August, the UK, Welsh, and Northern education secretaries announced (separately) that examination grades would be based solely on CAGs – unless the standardisation process had generated a higher grade (students would receive whichever was highest).
Scotland’s initial experience was instructive to the rest of the UK and its example provided the UK government with a blueprint to follow (eventually). It began with a new policy choice – reverting to teacher assessed grades – sold as fairer to victims of the standardisation process. Once this precedent had been set, a different course for policymakers at the UK level became difficult to resist, particularly when faced with a similar backlash. The UK’s government’s decision in turn influenced the Welsh and Northern Irish governments.
In short, we can see that the particular ordering of choices created a cascading effect across the four governments which created initially one policy solution, before triggering a U-turn. This focus on order and timing should not be lost during the inevitable inquiries and reports on the examinations systems. The take-home message is to not ignore the policy process when evaluating the long-term effect of these policies. Focus on why the standardisation processes went wrong is welcome, but we should also focus on why the policymaking process malfunctioned, to produce a wildly inconsistent approach to the same policy choice in such a short space of time. Examining both aspects of this fiasco will be crucial to the grading process in 2021, given that governments will be seeking an alternative to exams for a second year.
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Note: the above draws on the authors’ published work in British Politics.
About the Authors
Sean Kippin is Lecturer at the University of Stirling.
Paul Cairney is Professor at the University of Stirling.
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Coronavirus: why French sex workers seeking support from government are unlikely to receive funding
Emily St Denny, University of Stirling, first published in The Conversation 17 April 2020
In France, where prostitution is partly criminalised, it is illegal to buy sexual services but legal for a woman or a man to sell sex. And anyone selling sex must pay taxes like everyone else. But many people in prostitution – some of whom consider themselves “sex workers” and therefore believe they should be entitled to workers’ rights and protection – are not currently eligible for state income support, despite seeing their income disappear as a result of the nationwide COVID-19 lockdown.
Sex-worker organisations are now calling on the government to create an emergency fund to help the most vulnerable among their number survive the crisis. Understanding France’s current prostitution policy helps to explain why it is unlikely the state will agree.
Like many countries, France has introduced unprecedented measures to combat the spread of Covid-19: citizens are required to stay indoors and avoid social contact, and all non-essential businesses have either closed or switched to working from home. For people in prostitution, these new rules have led to a significant loss of income as sex workers and their clients isolate at home.
In 2016 a law was introduced that banned the purchase but not the sale of sexual services. The law was designed to signal the state’s belief that prostitution is a form of violence against women and contrary to human dignity.
But community health groups have criticised the law for increasing the stigma around and vulnerability of those working in prostitution. They argue that sex workers, and especially those who are particularly vulnerable, such as undocumented migrants and people struggling with substance abuse, have had to adopt increasingly unsafe working practices in order to survive. Competing for fewer clients, some of whom demand risky conditions such as unprotected sex, makes people more vulnerable. Having to hide from the police to protect their clients also exposes sex workers to increased violence.
Recently, aid organisations have highlighted the escalating insecurity experienced by sex workers unable to work because of the new confinement measures. Reports have emerged of sex workers being evicted from their homes because they cannot afford rent, and fewer vulnerable people are reaching out to community health organisations for food or medical help. It is not a problem specific to France and similar situations have been reported around the world, including the UK.
Shadow workers
In response to the COVID-19 lockdown, the state has agreed to subsidise up to 84% of employees’ wages, and has introduced a €1,500 per month grant for the self-employed. Sex workers who have the right to live and work in France and are registered as self-employed may be able to apply to these schemes.
However, anybody working illegally, in what is referred to as the “underground” or “shadow” economy, is excluded from workers’ benefits, including income support, despite being required to pay tax. In France, everybody who earns money through legal and illegal means has to pay tax. However, only those who work legally get workers’ benefits – including the new COVID-19 income support.
It’s a paradox: everybody works, everybody pays tax (in theory), but only some get workers rights and protection. In the current situation, anybody in the underground economy loses their work but get no benefits. This means that all mitigation measures introduced to help people with their income during lockdown are useless to part of the population.
The issue being raised by activist groups is that this will push vulnerable sex workers to continue working to earn money and put public health measures at risk since they cannot access income support. These organisations argue that setting up an emergency fund for people in this position would ensure that they can stay at home and self isolate without becoming destitute.
Although exact numbers are hard to determine, there are an estimated 30,000 people involved in prostitution in France, of which 93% are believed to be foreigners (documented or not), and many of whom are vulnerable and unable to draw on government support.
Community health groups and sex-worker organisations have begun fundraising to help out those most in need. They have also written to French President Emmanuel Macron for emergency funds to support sex workers during the lockdown as these organisations are unable to meet the demand for their help.
MPs have also written to the Marlène Schiappa, secretary of state for gender equality, to highlight the plight of sex workers during the crisis. All argue that state support is vital to ensuring that vulnerable people are not forced out of confinement to earn money, putting themselves and others at risk.
Prostitution policy
So far, the government has refused to provide special assistance to these sex workers. Schiappa has stated that it would be “very complicated” for the state to compensate individuals working illegally, including undeclared sex workers. Since the end of World War II, the French government considers all those working in prostitution (overwhelmingly presumed to be women) as victims of exploitation in need of rescue and rehabilitation, and only steps in to help those willing to leave prostitution.
The state supports people wishing to stop selling sex via a programme of social and financial aid delivered through accredited charities and women’s rights organisations. But recent research reveals this support package remains underfunded and unevenly applied. It has also been criticised for helping fewer than 100 people per year exit prostitution since the programme was introduced in 2017.
If the French state maintains its current policy position, it is unlikely to compensate vulnerable sex workers for lost income if they are unwilling or unable to leave prostitution. Instead it will continue to direct people towards its exit programme or charitable organisations for support. Yet policies that do not address sex workers’ welfare needs, or those of people subsisting in the “shadow” economy more generally, are likely to endanger lives and undermine the wider public health measures aimed at stemming the epidemic.
Emily St Denny, Lecturer in Politics, University of Stirling
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.