Struggling with identity (or forming identity and what that means) in Essay

Struggling with identity (or forming identity and what that means) in the stories - Essay Example In these works characters are in the quest for their identity. In Tillie Olsen’s ‘I stand Here Ironing’ we find that Emily is seeking her own identity. Her mother, her family members, her teachers and schoolmates, all are in search of identity. We find Emily’s mother’s feelings of sadness and lack and her inability to connect with her daughter Emily. Emily had an inner sadness in properly understanding her own position in the social fabric that existed during that period. A diametrically opposed pattern is evident here. Emily’s mother feels that she must have acted in a different way to influence the behaviors of Emily. Emily, on the other hand, feels that her out of home behaviors were wrong. She thinks that she must have been more positive. She had a strange mix of childhood and motherhood. The very first sentence reveals the mood of the complete story. Emily’s mother explains with a mood of despair her daughter’s hard attempts to locate her own identity being in a self-limiting environment. The story raises several questions individual identity. In the story, both mother and daughter are searching for their identity though they face numerous limitations brought by social constraints and their history of poverty. The constraints that surround them make them search for their identity. Sherman Alexie’s ‘The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven’ is yet another works that involves characters who are in search of their identity. Racial and ethnic identity does matter in the lives of individuals. Racial identity and cultural identity symbolize the cultural existence of an individual. Racial identity and cultural identity often shapes the lives of individuals. The story presents several cultural barriers and difficulties where individuals are in search of their identities. The story describes the life of an young native American man whose life is focused in his ethnic identity. Being an Indian he was brought up on a reservation. He however was constantly on travel. He lived in Seattle. His constant shifting between two cultures and two environments created a big question about his identity. In Tim O'Brien’s ‘The Things They Carried’ also we find a striving for identity. The dual personae that are found in the story often gets intertwined and even become indistinguishable. The narrator himself says that the identity that lives inside is what really matters (Napersteck, 1991). The real identity of the narrator is not always visible in the story. Locating the identity of the narrator is a big threat to the readers also. The identity of the narrator is quite confusing in all the stories in ‘The Things They Carried’. Critics and readers have always been puzzled by this. The narrator himself is unidentified in the title story. However in other stories we find the narrator as Tim O'Brien a fictional character. The author himself admits the identity strife evident in the story. The third-person narrator in the story is nameless or without identity. However as the stories are interrelated we can consider this third-person narrator as fictional Tim O'Brien. The story includes constant shift of identity. The central character or the narrator is striving for identity. Junot Diaz’s ‘How to date, a Browngirl, Blackgirl, Whitegirl, or Halfie is yet another work in which we see a struggle for identity. Here the character is striving for her racial identity. Here th

History of the Olympic Games Term Paper Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1250 words - 2

History of the Olympic Games - Term Paper Example The Olympics was later revived by Baron Pierre de Coubertin of France in 1894 with the formation of the International Olympic committee (IOC) which is the governing body until now. Since then, the events are held every four years during summer and winter. This paper will outline the history of Olympic Games from inception to date highlighting the major changes the games have undergone. These began in ancient Greece 3000 years ago. However, it is not known when the games actually began as some date back to 776 B.C while others indicate earlier or later dates. From 8th century B.C to 4th century A.D, the games were held every four years between August 6 and September 19 during religious festivals at the Olympia in honor of Greek god Zeus (Crowther 45-46). The Olympia was situated in West coast of Peloponnese or what was referred as the Island of â€Å"Pelops’ who was the founder of Olympic Games. According to Olympic.org (nap), it was a meeting place for worship, political and religious practices as early as 10th century B.C. At the central part of the Olympia lay the temple of Zeus hence most events were held during religious festivals of cult of Zeus. The games were entrenched in the aristocratic ideals of â€Å"the beautiful and the good† which included spiritual and moral excellence, harmony, skill, balance and grace (Crowther 58). These ideals ar e still embraced by IOC today. The games were held every four years between city-states and kingdoms and involved a period of Olympic peace during which safe passage across the Mediterranean was allowed for 3 months before and after the games. Noticeable is the fact that only men were allowed to participate in the games and married women were not allowed to be spectators. According to Crowther â€Å"the men were to be male, of Greek city-state and tribe, free born, have legitimate

Strategies for Workforce Shortage in Australian Healthcare

Strategies for Workforce Shortage in Australian Healthcare Introduction The Australian healthcare system has over the years been ranked as one of the best on the global perspective (Naccarella, 2014). This has been based on the extent to which quality care is given and the investment of the state of the art technology to facilitate these processes. However, there are various major concerns that continue to ail the health care sector in Australia (Scott, 2009). The shortage of healthcare providers within the country has remained a key issue that continue to impact on any attempts to make positive strides. While the respective states in Australia such as Queensland have adopted measures in the move to resolve this concern, it remains a thorny issue (Lim Seale, 2014). Therefore, there is a need for the adoption of a management model that is implemented on the national scale so as to resolve this issue. The importance of the shortage management model is emphasised by the vital role that the sector plays towards the economic development (Moran, Burson Conrad, 2014). A sector that has served as an icon for different countries across the globe faces the threat of undergoing through massive decline as the shortage of qualified workforce continue to linger. This is especially based on the fact that this shortage is in line with the future demand for healthcare service (Parrella, 2013). The gap between the demand for healthcare services by the Australian population and the supply of the care givers continue to widen (Lines, 2015). Previously, historical models of finding a long term solution towards the issue have not been effective. This creates the need for the development of an effective management initiative that would play a key role towards resolving the issue and casting a ray of hope towards this essential sector in the Australian context. This report aims at presenting a management initiative that could be implemented within the Australian healthcare sector so as to address the issue of workforce shortages. The initiative is known as the NEW DAWN management model. The rationality of the name of the model is the new insights that it seeks to bring into the Australian healthcare sector in the long term .The model is to be implemented on a national perspective so as to ensure that it is able to address the key concerns on a holistic approach. The main elements that are included in the report include; identification and substantiation of need and aim of the initiative, the relation to best practice and a business plan that would facilitate the implementation of the model. Essentially, the focus of the management initiative is to develop a framework of reducing the workforce shortage with the Australian context in the long term. In the context of this study, the workforce population in the Australian healthcare sectors is taken to incorporate all forms of staff who work towards delivering care. This includes nurses and other healthcare practitioner. Within the Australian context, nurses represent the largest share of the workforce within the sector. They constitute more than 50% of the healthcare sector workforce within the country. Therefore, the insights developed within the management initiative outline are meant to provide a solution in relation to the entire workforce within the country. Identification and substantiation of need and aim of change/innovation Evidence of the need for the change/innovation According to data collected in the Australian healthcare sector in 2002, there is a massive gap in terms of the labour force. Evidence suggests that the country had a shortfall of 10-12,000 nurses (Segal Bolton, 2009). This is a representation of close to 5% of the entire healthcare workforce in the country. Worse still, the report presented by the Productivity Commission illustrated that the trend continues to soar over the years. This is a worrying factor this it is an illustration of the extent to which the workforce shortage within the healthcare sector in Australia may have far reaching implication towards the quality of care given in the long term. Different attributes have been linked towards the problem of workforce shortage within the Australian context. While seeking to devise an appropriate management initiative to address this concern, focusing on the key contributing factors is vital. One of the key reasons that have been cited to be contributing towards the increase in the workforce gap in Australia is the ageing population. Over time, the Australian workforce and population has been ageing at high rates. At the same time, the mortality rates have remained low compared to other countries across the globe. According to data presented by the Australian Institute of Health and Welfare (AIHW) the number of nurse working in the country who are aged 55 years and above has increased massively over the years. The report indicates that in a period of ten years, the numbers increased from 7% in 1995 to 19% in year 2005 (Australian Institute of Health and Welfare, 2014). This is an illustration of the extent to which the elderly a ge continues to dominate the nursing and general healthcare workforce within the Australian context. Ultimately, the increase in the number of healthcare workforce aged 55 years and above within the country has contributed towards shortage of adequate staff to tend to the future demand. Another factor that has contributed towards the shortage of the healthcare workforce in Australia is the low uptake of related course within the colleges and other higher learning institutions. The healthcare course still remains largely unfavourable among the students at the college level in the country. This may be facilitated by the lack of mentorship or the perception that the field is not as well compensation as others. Studies suggest that the increase in the number of students who take up healthcare related course within the context of Australian sector has only been at 3%. Therefore, this is an indication of the need to adopt corrective measures to address this concern. Still on this note, the number of people who take up professional healthcare jobs in Australia compared to other countries is low. According to statistics, only 2.7 persons out of 1000 take up professional practice in the healthcare sector in the country (Segal Bolton, 2009). Furthermore evident suggests that Australia attempts to close this gap by relying on the overseas labour market by this has not worked effectively. Evidence that the change/innovation planned meets this need. The NEW DAWN management initiative is aimed at addressing the gaps that exist within the Australian healthcare sector by countering the specific challenges that have been faced. It will be aimed at increasing the number of students who take up the healthcare practices as a profession, and improve the ability of the country to manage the future needs of the sector. Since the model will be implemented in all the states across Australia, it will be effective towards addressing the key concerns that have been ailing the sector in terms of staff shortage. Change strategy in relation to best practice While implementing the new dawn management initiative, the focus is to ensure that the change elements are well implemented. For effective undertaking of this process Kotter’s 8 areas for successful change are used in illustrating the approach to be taken. By following the concepts that have been presented by Kotter it is expected that the new dawn change model will become a reality within the Australian healthcare sector. In this perspective, the model will be implemented in the following steps. Towards the New Dawn: Kotters 8 areas for successful change Area 1: A sense of Urgency This involves the process of creating a sense of interest and urgent needs to take action (Kotter Rathgeber, 2006). In this perspective, a message will be passed through social media including Facebook and twitter in the form of a campaign to get more youth involved in the healthcare sector in Australia. This will be effective since most of the young people who are the target audience for the new dawn change management initiative users to such forums. Area2: Building a Guiding Coalition This involves the process of getting likeminded parties to be part of support towards the change initiative that has been proposed. In this perspective, the play a vital role towards providing the required assistance in terms of information sharing and forging more support (Bateman, 2012). In the case of the new dawn initiative seeking to deliver more enrolment of young students in healthcare professions, the news media team will be used. More precisely, Sky News Australia will be targeted as the key support party. The link will be derived through the social media interaction. This group is selected as the first approach area since it reaches out to people across Australia using different information outlets. Also, students from different universities in Australia will be encouraged to be ambassadors of the social media campaign towards reducing the gap in the staff shortage in the Australian healthcare sector. Area3: Strategic vision and initiative The vision and initiative provides the drive towards achieving the targets set (Kotter Cohen, 2012). It also gives a sense of direction towards the approach set. In the context of the new dawn initiative, the vision is to reduce the workforce shortage to 0% in 5 years. This is to be achieved through achieving a 35% increase in the enrolment for healthcare related courses within the Australian colleges and learning institutions within the period. Area4: Enlisting a volunteer army This involves finding as many people as possible who are willing to support the change process (Rasmussen, Mylonas, Beck, 2012). In the case of the new dawn management program within the Australian healthcare sector, the volunteer army will be obtained from the social media. On twitter, the hash tag #iamAustraliasnewdawn will be formed to obtain support. By getting this conversation top go viral; more and more young people will gain an interest in enrolling for healthcare related courses. Similarly on Facebook, a group will be formed so as to advocate for the need to drive efforts towards achieving a new dawn in the Australian healthcare. Area5: Enable Action by removing barriers This involves eliminating any form of hurdles that may be experienced by potential supporters in giving their support (Pollack Pollack, 2015). To achieve this, the initiative will encourage people from different ages, gender and cultures, professions, to join in giving their voice through the social media and any other method that they may prefer. The overall intention is to ensure that the message of achieving a new generation of young people within the healthcare sector in Australia is achieved in the long term. Area6: Generating short term wins This involves the process of recognizing the small strides that have been made towards the change process (Naranjo-Gil, 2015). In the case of the new dawn initiative in the Australian healthcare sector, the change initiative will be evaluated weekly based on the number of followers it has achieved on the social media and the actual people who have enrolled as a result of the initiative. The weekly tracking will eventually escalate to monthly and annually. However, recognizing the small strides will play a key role in motivating the parties involved and making them feel part of the change program. Area7: Sustaining acceleration The process of getting more people involved in the process of creating awareness on the need to have more young employees within the Australian healthcare will be achieved by changing approaches. For instance, in the first phase of evolution, the target of the initiative will be on the individual major universities in Australia. This focus will help in generating a more personalised approach of the initiative by the students and the faculty within the university. They will be in a position to take the process more seriously and embrace initiative to implement the suggested approaches. Area8: Instituting change This involves the process of ensuring that the concepts that have been suggested are implemented within the framework that that it has been intended (Bateman, 2012). In the case of the new dawn, strategies will be put in place to ensure that different states of Australia make the changes of increasing the number of university students who enrol in the healthcare related courses. This will be achieved through making a follow up with the political representatives of the different states to ensure that they recognise the approaches that they need to adopt so as to ensure that the new dawn change management program become successful. Business plan Tasks July-Sept 2015 August-October 2015 November-December 2015 Jan-March 2016 April-June 2016 Initiation of the change campaign Passing information to universities Passing information to hospitals Political elites Change achievement Based on the Gantt chart provided, it is estimated that the change will have been achieved fully by the end of June 2016. By this period, the targeted increase in the number of young students who enrol in healthcare sector courses in different states in Australia is expected to have increased. Most of the responsibility of undertaking these tasks will be for the change management team that has been selected to undertake the project (Hornstein, 2015). Undertaking these tasks as a team will help in ensuring that the level of control towards the operations involved is maintained over time. Before the actual adoption of the change management plan, detailed research in relation to the extent of the issue in the Australian market will be conducted. This will be aimed at so as gain deep insights. This will help in responding to any issues that are raised by the parties participating in the process of achieving the change within the healthcare sector in Australia. Control mechanisms There are various issues that may have to be considered while implementing the new dawn initiative in the Australian healthcare. These are the control concepts that will give an indication of the difficulty in achieving the set change plane. One of the key elements is the cost. The cost of implementing the project may become too high to the extent that the entire process ceases to be feasible. Since it is intended to cover the national scope covering all states in Australia, this may happen. To some extent, the project may be abandoned if the costs become too high. At the same time, if the project takes too long to achieve the desired outcomes based on the set timeline, it may lead to eventual termination. Therefore, the timelines that have been set will be adhered to with the provision of only few weeks if the project is to be implemented. Transitional arrangements The transitional arrangement that may be facilitated within the specific hospitals in Australia may involve the effective hand over of position. The management of the hospitals within the country will be informed effectively on the need to ensure that the young graduates from different universities within the country are welcomed peacefully. This also involves facilitating the process of induction so as to ensure that they are able to deliver towards the success of the Australian health sector in the long term. Resources Costs The resources required for the implementation of the project will be minimal. The considerations include the travel costs, stationery and internet charges that will be used. Such costs will be significant as to warrant the justification of the progress that has been made towards the implementation of the project. Risks The risk management policy adopted will be in line with the specific development at each stage of the process. This will ensure that appropriate measures of hedging against risks are adopted and implemented at each stage of the process. In the long term, it will be effective in terms of allowing the process to run smoothly without any form of external disruptions. Evaluation of the change/initiative The evaluation of the success of the initiative will be measured quarterly. This is based on the specific objectives that have been set for the specific quarter of the year. At this point, the points of success or failure will easily be identified since the process will have been broken down into different stages. The focus of phases as opposed to the process as a whole will be effective in terms of controlling the factors impacting on the process. Dissemination of plan to others The information relating to the completion of the project will be done through the social media, news article among others. The intention will be to provide the details of the success story in relation to the project to as many people as possible especially the policy makers in the Australian health sector over the strides that have been made through the process.

Inadequate Secondary Education in the United States :: Educational Learning School Essays

Inadequate Secondary Education in the United States ‘Tis education forms the common mind; Just as the twig is bent the tree’s inclined. Pope – Moral Essays Two years ago, I used to work at a photo shop in downtown Philadelphia. Except for me, the only foreigner, there were five Americans working there. Once, we talked about the American life in the beginning of the twentieth century. To support my opinion, I used an example from a short story called â€Å"The Gift of the Magi† by a famous American writer O. Henry. It was a very shocking experience for me to find out that nobody knew who O. Henry was or what he had done for the world literature. Since then, I met a lot of American people with a lack of basic cultural knowledge and, at the same time, with an outstanding professional expertise. Very quickly, I figured out that the root of this problem is in the secondary school education. The American secondary school pays too little attention to producing students with well-rounded education substituting the â€Å"what† with the â€Å"how†. Placing an undue emphasis on the methods of teaching and studying (the â€Å"how†) at the expense of the material being taught and studied (the â€Å"what†) makes the choice of what to teach of secondary importance. A weak and disintegrated curriculum is a source of another problem. Excessive attention to the American culture and inadequate attention to the culture of the rest of the world lead American people to a false confidence in the superiority of the American culture. However, the fact is that American â€Å"high school graduates are ranked low compared to other countries† (Bowsher, 146). Many people may say that I exaggerate the problem, because the United States is one of the most technologically advanced countries in the world and this fact is directly associated with a quality education. As to some lack of cultural education, they say, it can be filled at the higher educational level in college. Thus, these problems cannot be so global. Unfortunately, they are just so global. Evidently, the college education in the United States retains high standards that enable the U.S. to maintain its technology at the cutting edge. But students coming from high schools are often not ready for a more advanced study and must waste their time in noncredit courses (Burstein, par. 1). Alexander Burstein, an Assistant Professor of Mathematics at the Iowa State University, describes his view of this situation: Inadequate Secondary Education in the United States :: Educational Learning School Essays Inadequate Secondary Education in the United States ‘Tis education forms the common mind; Just as the twig is bent the tree’s inclined. Pope – Moral Essays Two years ago, I used to work at a photo shop in downtown Philadelphia. Except for me, the only foreigner, there were five Americans working there. Once, we talked about the American life in the beginning of the twentieth century. To support my opinion, I used an example from a short story called â€Å"The Gift of the Magi† by a famous American writer O. Henry. It was a very shocking experience for me to find out that nobody knew who O. Henry was or what he had done for the world literature. Since then, I met a lot of American people with a lack of basic cultural knowledge and, at the same time, with an outstanding professional expertise. Very quickly, I figured out that the root of this problem is in the secondary school education. The American secondary school pays too little attention to producing students with well-rounded education substituting the â€Å"what† with the â€Å"how†. Placing an undue emphasis on the methods of teaching and studying (the â€Å"how†) at the expense of the material being taught and studied (the â€Å"what†) makes the choice of what to teach of secondary importance. A weak and disintegrated curriculum is a source of another problem. Excessive attention to the American culture and inadequate attention to the culture of the rest of the world lead American people to a false confidence in the superiority of the American culture. However, the fact is that American â€Å"high school graduates are ranked low compared to other countries† (Bowsher, 146). Many people may say that I exaggerate the problem, because the United States is one of the most technologically advanced countries in the world and this fact is directly associated with a quality education. As to some lack of cultural education, they say, it can be filled at the higher educational level in college. Thus, these problems cannot be so global. Unfortunately, they are just so global. Evidently, the college education in the United States retains high standards that enable the U.S. to maintain its technology at the cutting edge. But students coming from high schools are often not ready for a more advanced study and must waste their time in noncredit courses (Burstein, par. 1). Alexander Burstein, an Assistant Professor of Mathematics at the Iowa State University, describes his view of this situation:

Parents in Islam Essay

All the praise and glory belongs to Allah swt who is the Sustainer and Cherisher of the worlds. The closest meaning of the word ‘Rab’ is sustainer and cherisher. Allah swt is ‘Rab’ in the global sense. He is the ‘Rab’ of every living and non-living particle of any size that exists in this whole universe. All the sovereignty of heaven and earth belongs only to Him. Allah swt at various places in the Holy Quran invites, dictates and warns the people of all religions and races to love, respect and to be compassionate with the Parents. He educates the mankind a special sense of dignity, honor and respect to be given to the parents. Undoubtedly He is the ultimate authority and the cherisher but in order to show the importance of the parents He goes on to say in Sura-e-Kahf (17:24) â€Å"Qul rabbir ham huma kama rabbayani saghira†¦Ã¢â‚¬  which means He instructs the mankind to pray for them by calling ‘O my Lord! Have mercy on them (my parents) as they cherished me when I was little’. Here He wants the mankind to understand the magnitude of dignity, honour and respect that parents deserve by calling them as a cherisher even after the fact that He being the ultimate cherisher. He elevated their position to a very high degree by explaining to mankind that the parents share what I do in terms of sustaining and cherishing the children when they are little. Although the word ‘Rab’ used here is in a specific sense and to show the high degree of importance of the parents to the mankind, He is actually commanding mankind to honor and respect their parents exactly in the same manner as one would honor and respect Allah swt himself. This obedience is only in terms of honor & respect and not in terms of prostration and prayers (ibadat). The prayer (ibadat) is only done specific to Allah swt. There are many places in Holy Quran & traditions of Masoomeen (a.s.) that addresses the issue of special honor and respect to be given to the parents and they uphold a special and elevated position in the eyes of Islam. There is an authentic hadith that the Holy Prophet (s.a.w.) said: â€Å"Paradise is under the feet of the mothers!† In another tradition he reinforced:†The pleasure of parents is the pleasure of Allah, and the anger of parents is the anger of Allah.† Amirul Momineen Imam Ali (a.s.) explained: â€Å"Honoring parents is one of the noblest characteristics.† Imam Sadiq (a.s.) explained: â€Å"If a person desires a long life and blessings, he must honor his parents and stay in contact with kin.† Imam Reza (a.s.) said: â€Å"The Almighty Allah commands that thanks be given to Him and to parents. Whoever fails to thank his parents does not thank Allah.† The divine Imams (a.s.) even warned us from misbehavior and disobedience to the parents. The sixth Imam Sadiq (AS) said: â€Å"Disobedience towards the parents is a heinous sin, for Allah has made the disobedient one rebellious and hard.† He also warned, â€Å"The mildest form of ill conduct towards parents is â€Å"uff†, and if Allah knew something lesser than that, He would have forbidden it.† While explaining the verse, â€Å"And lower unto them the wing of submission through mercy† (Al-Quran 17:24), sixth Imam (a.s.) said: â€Å"When you look at them, do not fill your eyes with anything else but mercy and sympathy, and do not raise your voice above their voice, and do not put your hand above theirs, and do not go in front of them!† Commenting upon the ayat, â€Å"And say kind words unto them,† Imam al Sadiq (a.s.) said: â€Å"If they strike you, say to them: May Allah forgive you both.† Thus, it is incumbent on us to abide by the teachings of Holy Quran and to be steadfast & follow the teachings of Ahlu’l-Bayt (a.s.). Disobeying parents is disobeying the verses of Holy Quran & denying the teachings of Masoomeen (a.s.). This is making mockery of Allah’s commands and Allah swt warns those people: â€Å"The warning not to take the communications of Allah for mockery†, Baqarah, 2:231 â€Å"Evil was the end of those who rejected the communications of Allah and mocked at them†, Room 30:10 â€Å"Do not sit with people who mock at the communications of Allah otherwise you will end in Hell with them†, Nisa, 4:140 Thus it is very important to abide by the command of Allah swt that says, ‘Your Lord has commanded that you worship none but Him, and be kind to parents. If either or both of them reach old age with you, do not say ‘uff’ to them or chide them, but speak to them in terms of honor and kindness. Treat them with humility, and say, ‘My Lord! Have mercy on them, for they did care for me when I was little’ (17:23)

Desistance

Criminology & Criminal Justice  © 2006 SAGE Publications (London, Thousand Oaks & New Delhi) and the British Society of Criminology. www. sagepublications. com ISSN 1748–8958; Vol: 6(1): 39–62 DOI: 10. 1177/1748895806060666 A desistance paradigm for offender management FERGUS McNEILL Universities of Glasgow and Strathclyde, UK Abstract In an in? uential article published in the British Journal of Social Work in 1979, Anthony Bottoms and Bill McWilliams proposed the adoption of a ‘non-treatment paradigm’ for probation practice.Their argument rested on a careful and considered analysis not only of empirical evidence about the ineffectiveness of rehabilitative treatment but also of theoretical, moral and philosophical questions about such interventions. By 1994, emerging evidence about the potential effectiveness of some intervention programmes was suf? cient to lead Peter Raynor and Maurice Vanstone to suggest signi? cant revisions to the ‘non-treatme nt paradigm’.In this article, it is argued that a different but equally relevant form of empirical evidence—that derived from desistance studies—suggests a need to re-evaluate these earlier paradigms for probation practice. This reevaluation is also required by the way that such studies enable us to understand and theorize both desistance itself and the role that penal professionals might play in supporting it.Ultimately, these empirical and theoretical insights drive us back to the complex interfaces between technical and moral questions that preoccupied Bottoms and McWilliams and that should feature more prominently in contemporary debates about the futures of ‘offender management’ and of our penal systems. Key Words desistance †¢ effectiveness †¢ ethics †¢ offender management †¢ nontreatment paradigm †¢ probation 39 40 Criminology & Criminal Justice 6(1) IntroductionCritical analysts of the history of ideas in the probati on service have charted the various reconstructions of probation practice that have accompanied changes in penal theories, policies and sensibilities. Most famously, McWilliams (1983, 1985, 1986, 1987) described the transformations of probation from a missionary endeavour that aimed to save souls, to a professionalized endeavour that aimed to ‘cure’ offending through rehabilitative treatment, to a pragmatic endeavour that aimed to provide alternatives to custody and practical help for offenders (see also Vanstone, 2004).More recent commentators have suggested later transformations of probation practice related ? rst to its recasting, in England and Wales, as ‘punishment in the community’ and then to its increasing focus on risk management and public protection (Robinson and McNeill, 2004). In each of these eras of probation history, practitioners, academics and other commentators have sought to articulate new paradigms for probation practice. Though much of the debate about the merits of these paradigms has focused on empirical questions about the ef? acy of different approaches to the treatment and management of offenders, probation paradigms also re? ect, implicitly or explicitly, developments both in the philosophy and in the sociology of punishment. The origins of this article are similar in that the initial impetus for the development of a desistance paradigm for ‘offender management’1 emerged from reviews of desistance research (McNeill, 2003) and, more speci? cally, from the ? ndings of some particularly important recent studies (Burnett, 1992; Rex, 1999; Maruna, 2001; Farrall, 2002).However, closer examination of some aspects of the desistance research also suggests a normative case for a new paradigm; indeed, some of the empirical evidence seems to make a necessity out of certain ‘practice virtues’. That these virtues are arguably in decline as a result of the fore-fronting of risk and public protect ion in contemporary criminal justice serves to make the development of the case for a desistance paradigm both timely and necessary. To that end, the structure of this article is as follows.It begins with summaries of two important paradigms for probation practice—the ‘nontreatment paradigm’ (Bottoms and McWilliams, 1979) and the ‘revised paradigm’ (Raynor and Vanstone, 1994). The article then proceeds with an analysis of the emerging theoretical and empirical case for a desistance paradigm. This section draws not only on the ? ndings of desistance studies but also on recent studies of the effectiveness of different approaches to securing ‘personal change’ in general and on recent developments in the ‘what works’ literature in particular.The ethical case for a desistance paradigm is then advanced not only in the light of the empirical evidence about the practical necessity of certain modes of ethical practice, but also in th e light of developments in the philosophy of punishment, most notably the ideas associated with the work of the ‘new rehabilitationists’ (Lewis, 2005) and with Anthony Duff’s ‘penal communications’ theory (Duff, McNeill—A desistance paradigm for offender management 2001, 2003).In the concluding discussion, I try to sketch out some of the parameters of a desistance paradigm, though this is intended more as an attempt to stimulate debate about its development rather than to de? ne categorically its features. 41 Changing paradigms for probation practice Writing at the end of the 1970s, Bottoms and McWilliams declared the need for a new paradigm for probation practice, a paradigm that ‘is theoretically rigorous, which takes very seriously the limitations of the treatment model; but which seeks to redirect the probation service’s traditional aims and values in the new penal and social context’ (1979: 167).Bottoms and McWilliams proposed their paradigm against the backdrop of a prevailing view that treatment had been discredited both empirically and ethically. Though they did not review the empirical case in any great detail, they refer to several studies (Lipton et al. , 1975; Brody, 1976; Greenberg, 1976) as establishing the broad conclusion that ‘dramatic reformative results are hard to discover and are usually absent’ (Bottoms and McWilliams, 1979: 160). They also stressed the theoretical inadequacies of the treatment model, noting several ? aws in the analogy between probation interventions and medical treatment; ? st, crime is voluntary whereas most diseases are not; second, crime is not pathological in any straightforward sense; and third, individual treatment models neglect the social causes of crime. Worse still, neglect of these ? aws produced ethical problems; they argued that over-con? dence in the prospects for effecting change through treatment had permitted its advocates both to coerce offenders into interventions (because the treatment provider was an expert who knew best) and to ignore offenders’ views of their own situations (because offenders were victims of their own lack of insight).Perhaps most insidiously of all, within this ideology coerced treatment could be justi? ed in offenders’ own best interests. Bottoms and McWilliams also discerned an important ‘implicit con? ict between the determinism implied in diagnosis and treatment and the frequently stressed casework principle of client selfdetermination’ (1979: 166). How can offenders be simultaneously the objects on whom psychological, physical and social forces operate (as the term diagnosis implies) and the authors of their own futures (as the principle of self-determination requires)?Bottoms and McWilliams’ hope was that by exposing the weaknesses of the treatment paradigm, they would allow for a renaissance of the probation service’s traditional core val ues of hope and respect for persons. They suggested that the four primary aims of the service ‘are and have been: 1 2 3 4 The provision of appropriate help for offenders The statutory supervision of offenders Diverting appropriate offenders from custodial sentences The reduction of crime’ (1979: 168). 42 Criminology & Criminal Justice 6(1) It is their discussion of the ? rst and second of these objectives that is most relevant to the discussion here.However, it is worth noting ? rst that, for Bottoms and McWilliams, the problem with the treatment model was that it assumed that the fourth objective must be achieved through the pursuit of the ? rst three; an assumption that they suggested could not be sustained empirically. 2 With regard to the provision of help as opposed to treatment, Bottoms and McWilliams rejected the ‘objecti? cation’ of offenders implied in the ‘casework relationship’, wherein the offender becomes an object to be treated, c ured or managed in and through social policy and professional practice. One consequence of this objecti? ation, they suggested, is that the formulation of treatment plans rests with the expert; the approach is essentially ‘of? cer-centred’. Bottoms and McWilliams (1979: 173) suggested, by way of contrast, that in the non-treatment paradigm: (a) Treatment (b) Diagnosis (c) Client’s Dependent Need as the basis for social work action becomes becomes becomes Help Shared Assessment Collaboratively De? ned Task as the basis for social work action In this formulation, ‘help’ includes but is not limited to material help; probation may continue to address emotional or psychological dif? ulties, but this is no longer its raison d’etre. Critically, the test of any proposed intervention technique is that it must help the client. Bottoms and McWilliams (1979: 174) explicitly disavowed any claim that the help model would be bene? cial in the reduction of cr ime. 3 Having reconceived of probation practice as help rather than treatment, Bottoms and McWilliams’ discussion of probation’s second aim, the statutory supervision of offenders, explored the implicit tensions between help and surveillance.Accepting that probation of? cers are ‘law enforcement’ agents as well as helpers, they drew on an article by Raynor (1978) that argued for a crucial distinction between coercion and constraint; ‘choice under constraint is morally acceptable; manipulative coercion is not’ (Bottoms and McWilliams, 1979: 177). Following Raynor, they suggested that making this distinction meaningful required probation of? cers actively to seek, within the constraints of the probation order, to maximize the area of choice for the offender.Their paradigm therefore invoked a distinction between the compulsory requirements imposed by the court (with the offender’s constrained consent) and the substantive content of the hel ping process. In the latter connection, the ‘client’ should be free to choose to accept or reject help without fear of further sanctions. Put another way, the authority for supervision derives from the court but the authority for help resides in the offender. For Bottoms and McWilliams this required that the (then) legal requirement of consent by defendants to probation and community ervice should be taken much more seriously; indeed, they suggested that so as to avoid compulsory help McNeill—A desistance paradigm for offender management arising from a probation recommendation, defendants’ consent to such recommendations should be required. Where consent was absent, no such recommendation should be made. Fifteen years later, Peter Raynor and Maurice Vanstone (1994) argued that the non-treatment paradigm—a paradigm that they clearly regarded as being well worthy of the in? uence that it had exercised in the intervening years—was none the less in need of revision.The resurgence of optimism about the potential effectiveness of some forms of ‘treatment’ led Raynor and Vanstone to argue that the foundations of the non-treatment paradigm, ‘built as they were out of a mixture of doubt and scepticism about the crime-reducing potential of rehabilitation, have produced cracks in the structure’ (1994: 396): By uncoupling ‘helping offenders’ from ‘crime reduction’, the paradigm is prevented from exploring whether work with individuals on their thinking, behaviour and attitudes has any relevance to crime reduction. Current knowledge of research into effectiveness necessitates, therefore, a rede? ing of the concept of appropriate help in a way that retains the principle of collaboration, and the stress on client needs, but which incorporates informed practice focused on in? uencing and helping individuals to stop offending . . . This should not detract from the need to address the s ocial and economic context of crime. (Raynor and Vanstone, 1994: 398) 43 It is clear that Raynor and Vanstone (1994) were not advocating a return to a treatment paradigm; rather, in their discussion of intervention ‘programmes’, they explicitly rejected Bottoms and McWilliams’ dichotomization of treatment and help.More speci? cally, Raynor and Vanstone questioned the assumption that critiques of psychodynamic approaches as ‘involving disguised coercion, denial of clients’ views, the objecti? cation of people, and a demonstrable lack of effectiveness when applied to offenders’ (1994: 399) could be equally applied to all forms of treatment. This false assumption, they argued, led Bottoms and McWilliams to ‘ignore other possible bases for intervention outside the â€Å"medical model† and encouraged the reader to identify all attempts to in? uence offenders as ethically objectionable treatment’ (Raynor and Vanstone, 1994: 400). A further crucial problem with the ‘non-treatment paradigm’ rested in its neglect of victims. The arguments of left realist criminologists (Young, 1988) persuaded Raynor and Vanstone (1994) that the traditional probation value of ‘respect for persons’ had to include the actual and potential victims of crime. This in turn implied that the extent to which client (that is, offender) choice could be respected and unconditional help could be offered had some necessary limitations; essentially, probation had to accept an obligation to work to reduce the harms caused by crime, as well as the ills that provoke it.Thus: Compensatory help and empowerment of offenders are a proper response to situations where individuals have had few opportunities to avoid crime, but 44 Criminology & Criminal Justice 6(1) their purpose is not simply to widen offenders’ choices: it includes doing so in a manner consistent with a wider goal of crime reduction. Such a goal is not simply in the interests of the powerful: although criminal justice in an unequal society re? ects and is distorted by its inequalities, the least powerful suffer some of the most common kinds of crime and are most in need of protection from it. This includes, of course, many offenders who are themselves victims of crime . . . ) (Raynor and Vanstone, 1994: 401) Raynor and Vanstone (1994: 402) concluded by adapting Bottoms and McWilliams’ (1979) schematic summary of their paradigm: (a) Help becomes Help consistent with a commitment to the reduction of harm Explicit dialogue and negotiation offering opportunities for informed consent to involvement in a process of change Collaboratively de? ned task relevant to criminogenic needs, and potentially effective in meeting them b) Shared assessment becomes (c) Collaboratively de? ned task becomes In terms of both organizational change and practice development, the 10 years that followed the publication of Raynor and Vanstone’s (1994) article have been even more tumultuous than the years between the publication of the non-treatment paradigm and its revision. It is beyond the scope of this article to give an account of these changes (see Nellis, 1999; Raynor and Vanstone, 2002; Mair, 2004; Robinson and McNeill, 2004).Indeed, since the purpose of this article is to consider how the practice of offender management should be reconstructed in the light of the desistance research, there is some merit in ignoring how it has been reconstructed for more political and pragmatic reasons. That said, two particular developments require comment. The ? rst relates to changes in formulations of the purposes of probation since the publication of the earlier paradigms.Without entering into the ongoing debates about the recasting of probation’s purposes south of the border (see Robinson and McNeill, 2004; Worrall and Hoy, 2005), it is suf? cient to state that, in contrast to the four aims outlined by Bottoms and McWil liams—aims which were still uncontested by Raynor and Vanstone in 1994—the new National Offender Management Service, incorporating prisons and probation, exists to manage offenders and in so doing to provide a service to the ‘law-abiding’ public. Its objectives are to punish offenders and to reduce re-offending (Blunkett, 2004: 10).The second development concerns the application of a particular approach to developing effective probation practice in England and Wales in McNeill—A desistance paradigm for offender management the form of the ‘what works’ initiative (McNeill, 2001, 2004a). In effect, this initiative involves the imposition from the centre of an implicit ‘what works’ paradigm for probation practice. Once again the debates about the characteristics, implications and ? aws of this paradigm are complex (see Mair, 2004). Perhaps he easiest way to summarize the paradigm however, is to suggest a further revision to Ray nor and Vanstone’s (1994) adaptation of Bottoms and McWilliams’ (1979) schematic summary: (a) Help consistent with a commitment to the reduction of harm (b) Explicit dialogue and negotiation offering opportunities for informed consent to involvement in a process of change (c) Collaboratively de? ned task relevant to criminogenic needs, and potentially effective in meeting them becomes Intervention required to reduce reoffending and protect the public Professional assessment of risk and need governed by the application of structured assessment instruments 5 becomes becomes Compulsory engagement in structured programmes and case management processes to address criminogenic needs – as required elements of legal orders imposed irrespective of consent Theoretical and empirical arguments for a desistance paradigm4 A fundamental but perhaps inevitable problem with the non-treatment paradigm, the revised paradigm and the ‘what works’ paradigm is that they b egin in the wrong place; that is, they begin by thinking about how practice (whether ‘treatment’, ‘help’ or ‘programmes’) should be constructed without ? rst thinking about how change should be understood.For Bottoms and McWilliams (1979) this omission makes some sense, since their premise was that the prospects for practice securing individual change were bleak. However, for Raynor and Vanstone (1994) and for the prevailing ‘what works’ paradigm, the problem is more serious; given their reasonable optimism about the prospects for individual rehabilitation, the absence of a well-developed theory of how rehabilitation occurs is more problematic. 5 Understanding desistance The change process involved in the rehabilitation of offenders is desistance from offending.The muted impact that desistance research has had on policy and practice hitherto is both surprising and problematic because 46 Criminology & Criminal Justice 6(1) knowledge about processes of desistance is clearly critical to our understandings of how and why ex-offenders come to change their behaviours. Indeed, building an understanding of the human processes and social contexts in and through which desistance occurs is a necessary precursor to developing practice paradigms; put another way, constructions of practice should be embedded in understandings of desistance.The implications of such embedding are signi? cant and far-reaching. Maruna et al. (2004) draw a parallel with a related shift in the ? eld of addictions away from the notion of treatment and towards the idea of recovery, quoting an in? uential essay by William White (2000): Treatment was birthed as an adjunct to recovery, but, as treatment grew in size and status, it de? ned recovery as an adjunct of itself. The original perspective needs to be recaptured. Treatment institutions need to once again become servants of the larger recovery process and the community in which that recovery is nested and sustained . . (White, 2000, cited in Maruna et al. , 2004: 9) Although the language of recovery may be inappropriate in relation to offenders, given both that it implies a medical model and that it suggests a prior state of well-being that may never have existed for many, the analogy is telling none the less. Put simply, the implication is that offender management services need to think of themselves less as providers of correctional treatment (that belongs to the expert) and more as supporters of desistance processes (that belong to the desister).In some respects, this shift in perspective, by re-emphasizing the offender’s viewpoint, might re-invigorate the non-treatment paradigm’s rejection of the objecti? cation of the ‘client’ and of the elevation of the ‘therapist’. However, it does so not by rejecting ‘treatment’ per se, but by seeing professional intervention as being, in some sense, subservient to a wider proce ss that belongs to the desister. Before proceeding further, more needs to be said about how processes of desistance should be understood and theorized.Maruna (2001) identi? es three broad theoretical perspectives in the desistance literature: maturational reform, social bonds theory and narrative theory. Maturational reform (or ‘ontogenic’) theories have the longest history and are based on the established links between age and certain criminal behaviours, particularly street crime. Social bonds (or ‘sociogenic’) theories suggest that ties to family, employment or educational programmes in early adulthood explain changes in criminal behaviour across the life course.Where these ties exist, they create a stake in conformity, a reason to ‘go straight’. Where they are absent, people who offend have less to lose from continuing to offend. Narrative theories have emerged from more qualitative research which stresses the signi? cance of subjective cha nges in the person’s sense of self and identity, re? ected in changing motivations, greater concern for others and more consideration of the future. Bringing these perspectives together, Farrall stresses the signi? cance of theMcNeill—A desistance paradigm for offender management relationships between ‘objective’ changes in the offender’s life and his or her ‘subjective’ assessment of the value or signi? cance of these changes: . . . the desistance literature has pointed to a range of factors associated with the ending of active involvement in offending. Most of these factors are related to acquiring ‘something’ (most commonly employment, a life partner or a family) which the desister values in some way and which initiates a reevaluation of his or her own life . . (Farrall, 2002: 11) 47 Thus, desistance resides somewhere in the interfaces between developing personal maturity, changing social bonds associated with certain li fe transitions, and the individual subjective narrative constructions which offenders build around these key events and changes. It is not just the events and changes that matter; it is what these events and changes mean to the people involved. Clearly this understanding implies that desistance itself is not an event (like being cured of a disease) but a process.Desistance is necessarily about ceasing offending and then refraining from further offending over an extended period (for more detailed discussions see Maruna, 2001; Farrall, 2002; Maruna and Farrall, 2004). Maruna and Farrall (2004) suggest that it is helpful to distinguish primary desistance (the achievement of an offence-free period) from secondary desistance (an underlying change in self-identity wherein the ex-offender labels him or herself as such). Although Bottoms et al. 2004) have raised some doubts about the value of this distinction on the grounds that it may exaggerate the importance of cognitive changes which ne ed not always accompany desistance, it does seem likely that where offender managers are dealing with (formerly) persistent offenders, the distinction may be useful; indeed, in those kinds of cases their role might be constructed as prompting, supporting and sustaining secondary desistance wherever this is possible.Moreover, further empirical support for the notion of secondary desistance (and its usefulness) might be found in Burnett’s (1992) study of efforts to desist among 130 adult property offenders released from custody. Burnett noted that while eight out of ten, when interviewed pre-release, wanted to ‘go straight’; six out of ten subsequently reported re-offending post-release. For many, the intention to be law-abiding was provisional in the sense that it did not represent a con? dent prediction; only one in four reported that they would de? itely be able to desist. Importantly, Burnett discovered that those who were most con? dent and optimistic about de sisting had greatest success in doing so. For the others, the ‘provisional nature of intentions re? ected social dif? culties and personal problems that the men faced’ (Burnett, 2000: 14). That this implies the need for intentions to desist to be grounded in changes of identity is perhaps supported by Burnett’s ? ndings about different types of desisters. She discerned three 48Criminology & Criminal Justice 6(1) categories: ‘non-starters’ who adamantly denied that they were ‘real criminals’ and, in fact, had fewer previous convictions than the others; ‘avoiders’, for whom keeping out of prison was the key issue; and ‘converts’ who appeared to have decided that the costs of crime outweighed the bene? ts. Indeed, the converts were: the most resolute and certain among the desisters. They had found new interests that were all-preoccupying and overturned their value system: a partner, a child, a good job, a new vocat ion.These were attainments that they were not prepared to jeopardize or which over-rode any interest in or need for property crime. (Burnett, 2000: 14) Although Burnett notes that, for most of the men involved in her study, processes of desistance were characterized by ambivalence and vacillation, the over-turning of value systems and all pre-occupying new interests that characterized the ‘converts’ seem to imply the kind of identity changes invoked in the notion of secondary desistance.Maruna’s (2001) study offers a particularly important contribution to understanding secondary desistance by exploring the subjective dimensions of change. Maruna compared the narrative ‘scripts’ of 20 persisters and 30 desisters who shared similar criminogenic traits and backgrounds and who lived in similarly criminogenic environments. In the ‘condemnation script’ that emerged from the persisters, ‘The condemned person is the narrator (although he o r she reserves plenty of blame for society as well). Active offenders . . . argely saw their life scripts as having been written for them a long time ago’ (Maruna, 2001: 75). By contrast, the accounts of the desisters revealed a different narrative: The redemption script begins by establishing the goodness and conventionality of the narrator—a victim of society who gets involved with crime and drugs to achieve some sort of power over otherwise bleak circumstances. This deviance eventually becomes its own trap, however, as the narrator becomes ensnared in the vicious cycle of crime and imprisonment.Yet, with the help of some outside force, someone who ‘believed in’ the ex-offender, the narrator is able to accomplish what he or she was ‘always meant to do’. Newly empowered, he or she now seeks to ‘give something back’ to society as a display of gratitude. (Maruna, 2001: 87) The desisters and the persisters shared the same sense of f atalism in their accounts of the development of their criminal careers; however, Maruna reads the minimization of responsibility implied by this fatalism as evidence of the conventionality of their values and aspirations and of their need to believe in the essential goodness of the ‘real me’.Moreover, in their accounts of achieving change there is evidence that desisters have to ‘discover’ agency in order to resist and overcome the criminogenic structural pressures that play upon them. This discovery of agency seems to McNeill—A desistance paradigm for offender management relate to the role of signi? cant others in envisioning an alternative identity and an alternative future for the offender even through periods when they cannot see these possibilities for themselves.Typically later in the process of change, involvement in ‘generative activities’ (which usually make a contribution to the well-being of others) plays a part in testifying to the desister that an alternative ‘agentic’ identity is being or has been forged. Intriguingly, the process of discovering agency, on one level at least, sheds interesting light on the apparent theoretical inconsistency that Bottoms and McWilliams (1979) inferred from the treatment paradigm; that is, an inconsistency between its deterministic analysis of the causes of criminality and its focus on self-determination in the treatment process.Arguably what Maruna (2001) has revealed is the role of re? exivity in both revealing and producing shifts in the dynamic relationships between agency and structure (see also Farrall and Bowling, 1999). Supporting desistance The implications for practice of this developing evidence base have begun to be explored in a small number of research studies that have focused on the role that probation may play in supporting desistance (for example Rex, 1999; Farrall, 2002; McCulloch, 2005). In one study of ‘assisted desistance’ , Rex (1999) explored the experiences of 60 probationers.She found that those who attributed changes in their behaviour to probation supervision described it as active and participatory. Probationers’ commitments to desist appeared to be generated by the personal and professional commitment shown by their probation of? cers, whose reasonableness, fairness and encouragement seemed to engender a sense of personal loyalty and accountability. Probationers interpreted advice about their behaviours and underlying problems as evidence of concern for them as people, and ‘were motivated by what they saw as a display of interest in their wellbeing’ (Rex, 1999: 375).Such evidence resonates with other arguments about the pivotal role that relationships play in effective interventions (Barry, 2000; Burnett, 2004; Burnett and McNeill, 2005; McNeill et al. , 2005). If secondary desistance (for those involved in persistent offending at least) requires a narrative reconstruction of identity, then it seems obvious why the relational aspects of practice are so signi? cant. Who would risk engaging in such a precarious and threatening venture without the reassurance of sustained and compassionate support from a trusted source?However, workers and working relationships are neither the only nor the most important resources in promoting desistance. Related studies of young people in trouble suggest that their own resources and social networks are often better at resolving their dif? culties than professional staff (Hill, 1999). The potential of social networks is highlighted by ‘resilience perspectives’, which, in contrast with approaches that dwell on risks and/or needs, consider the ‘protective factors and processes’ involved in positive adaptation in spite of adversity.In terms of practice with young 49 50 Criminology & Criminal Justice 6(1) people, such perspectives entail an emphasis on the recognition, exploitation and development o f their competences, resources, skills and assets (Schoon and Bynner, 2003). In similar vein, but in relation to re-entry of ex-prisoners to society, Maruna and LeBel (2003) have made a convincing case for the development of strengths-based (rather than needs-based or risk-based) narratives and approaches.Drawing on both psychological and criminological evidence, they argue that such approaches would be likely both to enhance compliance with parole conditions and to encourage exprisoners to achieve ‘earned redemption’ (Bazemore, 1999) by focusing on the positive contributions through which they might make good to their communities. Thus promoting desistance also means striving to develop the offender’s strengths—at both an individual and a social network level—in order to build and sustain the momentum for change.In looking towards these personal and social contexts of desistance, the most recent and perhaps most wide-scale study of probation and de sistance is particularly pertinent to the development of a desistance paradigm. Farrall (2002) explored the progress or lack of progress towards desistance achieved by a group of 199 probationers. Though over half of the sample evidenced progress towards desistance, Farrall found that desistance could be attributed to speci? c interventions by the probation of? cer in only a few cases, although help with ? ding work and mending damaged family relationships appeared particularly important. Desistance seemed to relate more clearly to the probationers’ motivations and to the social and personal contexts in which various obstacles to desistance were addressed. Farrall (2002) goes on to argue that interventions must pay greater heed to the community, social and personal contexts in which they are situated (see also McCulloch, 2005). After all, ‘social circumstances and relationships with others are both the object of the intervention and the medium through which . . . change can be achieved’ (Farrall, 2002: 212, emphases added).Necessarily, this requires that interventions be focused not solely on the individual person and his or her perceived ‘de? cits’. As Farrall (2002) notes, the problem with such interventions is that while they can build human capital, for example, in terms of enhanced cognitive skills or improved employability, they cannot generate the social capital that resides in the relationships through which we achieve participation and inclusion in society. 6 Vitally, it is social capital that is necessary to encourage desistance. It is not enough to build capacities for change where change depends on opportunities to exercise capacities: ‘. . the process of desistance is one that is produced through an interplay between individual choices, and a range of wider social forces, institutional and societal practices which are beyond the control of the individual’ (Farrall and Bowling, 1999: 261). Barry’ s (2004) recent study provides another key reference point for exploring how themes of capital, agency, identity and transition play out speci? cally for younger people desisting from offending. Through in-depth interviews with 20 young women and 20 young men, Barry explored why they started and stopped offending and what in? enced or inhibited them McNeill—A desistance paradigm for offender management in that behaviour as they grew older. The young people revealed that their decisions about offending and desisting were related to their need to feel included in their social world, through friendships in childhood and through wider commitments in adulthood. The resolve displayed by the young people in desisting from offending seemed remarkable to Barry, particularly given that they were from disadvantaged backgrounds and were limited in their access to mainstream pportunities (employment, housing and social status) both because of their age and because of their social class. B arry recognizes crucially that: Because of their transitional situation, many young people lack the status and opportunities of full citizens and thus have limited capacity for social recognition in terms of durable and legitimate means of both accumulating and expending capital through taking on responsibility and generativity . . .Accumulation of capital requires, to a certain extent, both responsibilities and access to opportunities; however, children and young people rarely have such opportunities because of their status as ‘liminal entities’ (Turner, 1969), not least those from a working class background. (2004: 328–9) 51 It is interesting to note that similar messages about the signi? cance both of the relational and of the social contexts of desistance have emerged recently from ‘treatment’ research itself.Ten years on from McGuire and Priestley’s (1995) original statement of ‘what works’, these neglected aspects of practic e have re-emerged in revisions to and re? nements of the principles of effective practice. One authoritative recent review, for example, highlights the increasing attention that is being paid to the need for staff to use interpersonal skills, to exercise some discretion in their interventions, to take diversity among participants into account and to look at how the broader service context can best support effective practice (Raynor, 2004: 201).Raynor notes that neglect of these factors may account for some of the dif? culties experienced in England and Wales, for example, in translating the successes of demonstration projects to general practice. He suggests that the preoccupation with group programmes arises from their more standardized application, which, in turn, allows for more systematic evaluation than the complex and varied nature of individual practice. However, this pre-occupation (with programmes), ironically perhaps, is undermined by the literature on treatment effectiven ess in psychotherapy and counselling; arguably the parent discipline of ‘what works’.Here, the evidence suggests that the most crucial variables of all in determining treatment outcomes—chance factors, external factors and ‘client’ factors— relate to the personal and social contexts of interventions rather than to their contents (Asay and Lambert, 1999). Moreover, in terms of those variables which the therapist can in? uence, it is a recurring ? nding that no method of intervention is any more effective than the rest, and, instead, that there are common aspects of each intervention that are responsible for bringing about change (see Hubble et al. , 1999; Bozarth, 2000). These 52Criminology & Criminal Justice 6(1) ‘core conditions’ for effectiveness—empathy and genuineness; the establishment of a working alliance; and using person-centred, collaborative and ‘client-driven’ approaches—are perhaps familiar to probation staff, but not from earlier reviews of ‘what works? ’. 7 With regard to the probation paradigms reviewed earlier, these ? ndings are particularly signi? cant because, despite the disciplinary location and positivist approaches of these studies, the forms of treatment that they commend seem to be some way removed from those criticized by Bottoms and McWilliams (1979).Indeed, the notion of therapeutic or working alliance implies, as Bottoms and McWilliams (1979) advocated, that the worker and client share agreement on overall goals, agreement on the tasks that will lead to achievement of these goals and a bond of mutual respect and trust (Bordin, 1979). This seems explicitly to preclude the kind of attitudes and practices that Bottoms and McWilliams (1979) associated with treatment and that arguably characterize the prevailing ‘what works’ paradigm (McNeill, 2004b). Ethical arguments for a desistance paradigmLeaving aside these emerging empirical ? ndings and theoretical issues, desistance research has some clear ethical implications for the practice of offender management. The ? rst of these implications is perhaps already obvious. Rex’s (1999) research, reviewed in the context both of Maruna’s (2001) account of narrative reconstruction and of the evidence from psychotherapy research about the critical signi? cance of certain core conditions for treatment, points to the importance of developing penal practices that express certain practical virtues.Virtue-based approaches to ethics have experienced something of a resurgence in recent years (Pence, 1991), suggesting a shift in moral thinking from the question ‘what ought I to do? ’ to the question ‘what sort of person should I be? ’ In this context, one of the merits of desistance research is that by asking offenders about their experiences both of attempting desistance and of supervision, progress is made towards answering the questi on that a would-be ‘virtuous’ offender manager might ask: What sort of practitioner should I be?The virtues featured in responses from desisters might include optimism, hopefulness, patience, persistence, fairness, respectfulness, trustworthiness, loyalty, wisdom, compassion, ? exibility and sensitivity (to difference), for example. The practical import of the expression of these virtues is suggested by recent discussions of the enforcement of community penalties, which have emerged particularly (but not exclusively) where community penalties have been recast as ‘punishment in the community’. This recasting of purpose has increased the need for effective enforcement in order that courts regard community penalties as credible disposals.Though the language of ‘enforcement’ implies an emphasis on ensuring the meaningfulness and inevitability of sanctions in the event of non-compliance, Bottoms (2001) has argued convincingly that attempts to encour age or require compliance in McNeill—A desistance paradigm for offender management the criminal justice system must creatively mix habitual mechanisms, constraint-based mechanisms, instrumental mechanisms and normative mechanisms (related to beliefs, attachments and perceptions of legitimacy).What seems clear from the desistance research is that, through the establishment of effective relationships, the worker’s role in supporting compliance is likely to be particularly crucial to the development of these normative mechanisms. It is only within relationships that model the kinds of virtues described above that the formal authority conferred on the worker by the court is likely to be rendered legitimate in the mind of the offender. Just as perceptions of legitimacy play a key role in encouraging compliance with prison regimes (Sparks et al. 1996), so in the community legitimacy is likely to be a crucial factor both in preventing breach by persuading offenders to comply with the order and, perhaps, in preventing recidivism by persuading offenders to comply with the law. This notion of moral persuasion (and modelling) as a role for offender managers resonates with some aspects of Anthony Duff’s penal communications theory (Duff, 2001, 2003). Duff (2003) has argued that probation can and should be considered a mode of punishment; indeed he argues that it could be the model punishment.However, the notion of punishment that he advances is not ‘merely punitive’; that is, it is not concerned simply with the in? iction of pain as a form of retribution. Rather it is a form of ‘constructive punishment’ that in? icts pain only in so far as this is an inevitable (and intended) consequence of ‘bringing offenders to face up to the effects and implications of their crimes, to rehabilitate them and to secure . . . reparation and reconciliation’ (Duff, 2003: 181). The pains involved are akin to the unavoidable pains of repentance.For Duff, this implies a role for probation staff as mediators between offenders, victims and the wider community. Though developing the connections between Duff’s theory and desistance research is beyond the scope of this article, Maruna’s (2001) study underlines the signi? cance for desisters of the ‘redemption’ that is often achieved through engagement in ‘generative activities’ which help to make sense of a damaged past by using it to protect the future interests of others. It seems signi? ant that this ‘buying back’ is productive rather than destructive; that is, the right to be rehabilitated is not the product of experiencing the pains of ‘merely punitive’ punishment, rather it is the result of evidencing repentance and change by ‘making good’. In working to support the reconstruction of identity involved in desistance, this seems to underline the relevance of the redemptive opportunitie s that both community penalties and restorative justice approaches might offer.No less obvious, by contrast, are the futility and counter-productiveness of penal measures that label, that exclude and that segregate and co-locate offenders as offenders. Such measures seem designed to con? rm and cement ‘condemnation scripts’ and thus to frustrate desistance. However, as well as highlighting the importance of encouraging and supporting offenders in the painful process of making good, the desistance 53 54 Criminology & Criminal Justice 6(1) research at least hints at the reciprocal need for society to make good to offenders.Just as both Bottoms and McWilliams (1979) and Raynor and Vanstone (1994) recognized the moral implications of accepting the role that social inequalities and injustices play in provoking offending behaviour, so Duff (2003) argues that the existence of social injustice creates moral problems for the punishing polity. The response must be ‘a genuin e and visible attempt to remedy the injustices and exclusion that they [that is, some offenders] have suffered’ (Duff, 2003: 194). Duff suggests that this implies that: the probation of? cer . . . ill now have to help the offender negotiate his relationship with the polity against which he has offended, but by whom he has been treated unjustly and disrespectfully: she must speak for the polity to the offender in terms that are censorious but also apologetic—terms that seek both to bring him to recognise the wrong he has done and to express an apologetic recognition of the injustice he has suffered: and she must speak to the polity for the offender, explaining what is due to him as well as what is due for him. (2003: 194, emphasis added)Thus the help and practical support advocated in the non-treatment paradigm can now be re-legitimated both empirically, in terms of the need to build social capital in supporting desistance, and normatively (even within a punishment disc ourse) as a prerequisite for making punishment both intelligible and just for offenders. Recognition of interactions between, on the one hand, exclusion and inequalities and, on the other, crime and justice, also lies behind some of the arguments for rehabilitative approaches to punishment. Such arguments tend to lead to rights-based rather than utilitarian versions of rehabilitation.For McWilliams and Pease (1990), rights-based rehabilitation serves a moral purpose on behalf of society in limiting punishment and preventing exclusion by working to re-establish the rights and the social standing of the offender. By contrast, Garland (1997) describes how, in late-modern penality, a more instrumental version of rehabilitation has emerged in which the offender need not (perhaps cannot) be respected as an end in himself or herself; he or she has become the means to another end. He or she is not, in a sense, the subject of the court order, but its object.In this version, rehabilitation is not an over-riding purpose, it is a subordinate means. It is offence-centred rather than offender-centred; it targets criminogenic need rather than social need. The problem with this version of rehabilitation, however, is that it runs all the same moral risks that led Bottoms and McWilliams (1979) to reject treatment; it permits, in theory at least, all of the same injustices, violations of human rights and disproportionate intrusions that concerned, for example, the American Friends Services Committee in 1971, and led ultimately to the emergence of ‘just deserts’ (von Hirsch, 1976; Home Of? e, 1990). Indeed, in England and Wales, the current situation is worse in one respect: McNeill—A desistance paradigm for offender management the removal of the need for offenders’ consent to the imposition of community penalties (under the Crime (Sentences) Act 1997), which made some sense in the context of the move towards seeing probation as a proportionate punishme nt, means that offenders can now be compelled to undertake ‘treatment’ in the form of accredited programmes.In a recent article, Lewis (2005) has drawn on the work of the ‘new rehabilitationists’ (Cullen and Gilbert, 1982; Rotman, 1990) to revive the case for a rights-based approach to rehabilitation; meaning one which is concerned with the reintegration of offenders into society as ‘useful human beings’. According to Lewis, the principles of the new rehabilitationists include commitment to, ? rst, the state’s duty to undertake rehabilitative work (for similar reasons to those outlined above); second, somehow setting limits on the intrusions of rehabilitation in terms of proportionality; third, maximizing voluntarism in the process; and, ? ally, using prison only as a measure of last resort because of its negative and damaging effects. In exploring the extent to which these principles are articulated and applied in current penal policy, she reaches the conclusion that ‘current rehabilitative efforts are window-dressing on an overly punitive â€Å"managerialist† system’ (Lewis, 2005: 119), though she retains some hope that practitioner-led initiatives at the local level might allow some prospect that these principles could be applied.The value of the desistance research may be that just as the evidence about ‘nothing works’ allowed Bottoms and McWilliams (1979) to make a theoretical and empirical case for more ethical practice, and the evidence that ‘something works’ enabled Raynor and Vanstone (1994) to revise that case, so the evidence from desistance studies, when combined with these constructive developments in the philosophy of punishment, might do a similar job in a different and arguably more destructive penal climate. 55 Conclusions: a desistance paradigmThis article has sought to follow the example offered by Bottoms and McWilliams (1979) and Raynor and Vanstone (1994) by trying to build both empirical and ethical cases for the development of a new paradigm for probation practice. In summary, I have suggested that desistance is the process that offender management exists to promote and support; that approaches to intervention should be embedded in understandings of desistance; and, that it is important to explore the connections between structure, agency, re? exivity and identity in desistance processes. Moreover, desistance-supporting interventions need to respect and foster agency and re? xivity; they need to be based on legitimate and respectful relationships; they need to focus on social capital (opportunities) as well as human capital (motivations and capacities); and they need to exploit strengths as well as addressing needs and risks. I have also suggested that desistance research highlights the relevance of certain ‘practice virtues’; that it requires a focus 56 Criminology & Criminal Justice 6(1) on the role of legiti macy in supporting normative mechanisms of compliance; that it is consonant in many respects with communicative approaches to punishment which cast probation of? ers (or offender managers) as mediators between offenders, victims and communities; and that it suggests a rights-based approach to rehabilitation which entails both that the offender makes good to society and that, where injustice has been suffered by the offender, society makes good to the offender. Like the authors of the earlier paradigms, I do not intend here to offer a detailed account of precisely how a desistance paradigm might operate in practice (for some initial suggestions see McNeill, 2003). That task is one that could be more fruitfully undertaken by those working in the ? ld, preferably in association with offenders themselves. However, in an attempt to suggest some direction for such development, Table 1 summarizes the contrasts between the constructions of practice implied by the nontreatment, revised, â₠¬Ëœwhat works’ and desistance paradigms. Unlike the earlier paradigms, the desistance paradigm forefronts processes of change rather than modes of intervention. Practice under the desistance paradigm would certainly accommodate intervention to meet needs, reduce risks and (especially) to develop and exploit strengths, but Table 1.Probation practice in four paradigms The non-treatment paradigm Treatment becomes help The revised paradigm Help consistent with a commitment to the reduction of harm A ‘what works’ paradigm Intervention required to reduce re-offending and protect the public A desistance paradigm Help in navigating towards desistance to reduce harm and make good to offenders and victims8 Explicit dialogue and negotiation assessing risks, needs, strengths and resources and offering opportunities to make good Collaboratively de? ed tasks which tackle risks, needs and obstacles to desistance by using and developing the offender’s human and social cap ital Diagnoses becomes shared assessment Explicit dialogue and negotiation offering opportunities for consensual change ‘Professional’ assessment of risk and need governed by structured assessment instruments Client’s dependent need as the basis for action becomes collaboratively de? ned task as the basis for action Collaboratively de? ed task relevant to criminogenic needs and potentially effective in meeting them Compulsory engagement in structured programmes and case management processes as required elements of legal orders imposed irrespective of consent McNeill—A desistance paradigm for offender management whatever these forms might be they would be subordinated to a more broadly conceived role in working out, on an individual basis, how the desistance process might best be prompted and supported.This would require the worker to act as an advocate providing a conduit to social capital as well as a ‘treatment’ provider building human capit al. Moreover, rather than being about the technical management of programmes and the disciplinary management of orders, as the current term ‘offender manager’ unhelpfully implies, the forms of engagement required by the paradigm would re-instate and place a high premium on collaboration and involvement in the process of co-designing interventions.Critically, such interventions would not be concerned solely with the prevention of further offending; they would be equally concerned with constructively addressing the harms caused by crime by encouraging offenders to make good through restorative processes and community service (in the broadest sense). But, as a morally and practically necessary corollary, they would be no less preoccupied with making good to offenders by enabling them to achieve inclusion and participation in society (and with it the progressive and positive reframing of their identities required to sustain desistance).Perhaps the most obvious problem that might be confronted by anyone seeking to envision further or even enact this paradigm, is that the communities on which its ultimate success would depend may lack the resources and the will to engage in supporting desistance, preferring to remain merely ‘punishing communities’ (Worrall and Hoy, 2005). This is, of course, an issue for any form of ‘offender management’ or reintegration.However, rather than letting it become an excuse for dismissing the paradigm, it should drive us to a recognition of the need for offender management agencies to re-engage with community education and community involvement and to seek ways and means, at the local level and at the national level, to challenge populist punitiveness (Bottoms, 1995) and to offer more progressive alternatives. 57 NotesI am very grateful to Steve Farrall and Richard Sparks for their hospitality in hosting the seminars through which this article was developed and to all of the contributors to the semi nars both for their helpful and encouraging comments on earlier versions and for the stimulation that their papers provided. I am also grateful to Monica Barry, Mike Nellis and Gwen Robinson for comments on the draft version of this article. Though I have grave reservations about the term ‘offender management’ (relating to its obvious inference that the offender is a problem to be managed rather than person to be assisted and that the task is technical rather than moral), I use it here, not just because of its contemporary relevance, but also because it refers both to community disposals and postprison resettlement. 8 Criminology & Criminal Justice 6(1) 2 Owing to their pessimism about the prospects for treatment delivering their fourth aim (the reduction of crime), Bottoms and McWilliams turned their attention to other crime reduction strategies and in particular to crime prevention. Their argument in this connection was essentially that because ‘crime is predomi nantly social . . . ny serious crime reduction strategy must be of a socially (rather than an individually) based character’ (Bottoms and McWilliams, 1979: 188). 3 That said, they allowed that: ‘there is, ironically, at least a tiny shred of research evidence to suggest that, after all, help may be more crime-reducing than treatment’ (Bottoms and McWilliams, 1979: 174). To support this claim they referred to two studies that presaged later desistance research; the ? st suggested that although intensive casework treatment had no apparent impact, changes in the post-institutional social situations of offenders (for example, getting married or securing a job) were associated with reductions in recidivism (Bottoms and McClintock, 1973); the second suggested that treatment did demonstrate lower reconviction rates where the ‘treatment’ involved primarily practical help which was given only if and when offenders asked for it (Bernsten and Christiansen, 1965 ). 4 This section of the article draws heavily on McNeill et al. (2005). 5 It may be that this gap in theory s in part the product of the incremental and quasi-experimental character of ‘what works’ research; indeed it might even be said that the ‘what works’ philosophy is anti-theoretical in that it is more preoccupied with identifying and replicating successes than in explaining and understanding them (Farrall, 2002). 6 Signi? cantly, Boeck et al. ’s (2004) emerging ? ndings suggest that bridging social capital in particular (which facilitates social mobility) seems to be limited among those young people in their study involved in offending, leaving them ill-equipped to navigate risk successfully. That said, some recent studies have begun to explore the contribution of particular practice skills to effectiveness. Raynor refers in particular to a recent article by Dowden and Andrews (2004) based on a meta-analysis examining the contribution of certa in key staff skills (which they term ‘core correctional practices’ or CCPs) to the effectiveness of interventions with offenders. 8 It is with some unease that I have merely mentioned but not developed arguments about the importance of making good to (and for) victims in this article.I am therefore grateful to Mike Nellis for highlighting the contingent relationships between offenders making good and making amends to victims. There is little empirical evidence that desistance requires making amends or making good to particular victims, although there are of course independent and compelling reasons why this matters in its own right. As Nellis suggests (personal communication, 18 August 2005), the case for making amends requires separate justi? cation. He further suggests that from the point of view of interventions with offenders, it may be important not so much as an enabling factor in desistance as a signifying factor.Drawing on this distinction, my own view is that a lthough making amends is neither necessary nor suf? cient for desistance to occur, it may be useful none the less in consigning the past to the past (for victims and offenders) and thus in entrenching redemption scripts (for offenders). McNeill—A desistance paradigm for offender management References American Friends Services Committee (1971) Struggle for Justice. New York: Hill & Wang. Asay, T. P. and M. J. Lambert (1999) ‘The Empirical Case for the Common Factors in Therapy: Quantitative Findings’, in M. A. Hubble, B. L. Duncan and S. D.Miller (eds) The Heart and Soul of Change: What Works in Therapy, pp. 33–56. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. Barry, Monica (2000) ‘The Mentor/Monitor Debate in Criminal Justice: What Works for Offenders’, British Journal of Social Work 30(5): 575–95. Barry, M. A. (2004) ‘Understanding Youth Offending: In Search of â€Å"Social Recognition†Ã¢â‚¬â„¢, PhD dissertation, Uni versity of Stirling, Stirling. Bazemore, Gordon (1999) ‘After Shaming, Whither Reintegration: Restorative Justice and Relational Rehabilitation’, in G. Bazemore and L. Walgrave (eds) Restorative Juvenile Justice: Repairing the Harm of Youth Crime, pp. 55–94. Monsey, NY: Criminal Justice Press. Bernsten, K. and K. O. Christiansen (1965) ‘A Resocialisation Experiment with Short-Term Offenders’, in K. O. Christiansen (ed. ) Scandinavian Studies in Criminology, vol. 1. London: Tavistock. Blunkett, David (2004) Reducing Crime—Changing Lives: The Government’s Plans for Transforming the Management of Offenders. London: Home Of? ce. Boeck, Thilo, Jennie Fleming and Hazel Kemshall (2004) ‘Young People, Social Capital and the Negotiation of Risk’, paper presented at the European Society of Criminology Annual Conference, Amsterdam, August.Bordin, E. (1979) ‘The Generalizability of the Psychoanalytic Concept of the Working Allian ce’, Psychotherapy 16: 252–60. Bottoms, Anthony (1995) ‘The Philosophy and Politics of Punishment and Sentencing’, in C. Clarkson and R. Morgan (eds) The Politics of Sentencing Reform, pp. 17–49. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bottoms, Anthony (2001) ‘Compliance and Community Penalties’, in A. Bottoms, L. Gelsthorpe an

Getting Started With Student Portfolios

Getting Started With Student Portfolios There are many wonderful benefits to having students create portfoliosone is the enhancement of critical thinking skills which results from the need for students to develop evaluation criteria. You can also use this criteria to evaluate their work and engage in self-reflection about their progress. Additionally, students are pleased to observe their personal growth, they tend to  have better attitudes toward their work, and they are more likely to think of themselves as writers. The payoff for using portfolios becomes concrete when students discover they can earn college credit and, in some cases, skip a freshman writing class by creating a top notch writing portfolio while they are still in high school.    Before proceeding with assigning a portfolio, familiarize yourself with the rules and credit requirements for such a project. Theres little point to requiring this work from students if theyre not properly credited or dont understand the assignment.   Working Student Portfolio A working portfolio, often a simple file folder containing all the students work, is helpful when used in conjunction with the evaluation portfolio; you can start it prior to deciding what youll require in the evaluation portfolio and thus protect work from being lost. Arrangements must be made, however, to store folders in the classroom. Students at all levels generally become proud as they watch their work accumulateeven students who rarely work will be amazed to see five or more assignments that they actually finished. Getting Started With Student Portfolios There are three main factors that go into the development of a student portfolio assessment. First, you must decide on the purpose of your students  portfolios. For example, the portfolios might be used to show student growth, to identify weak spots in student work, and/or to evaluate your own teaching methods. After deciding the purpose of the portfolio, you will need to determine how you are going to grade it. In other words, what would a student need in their portfolio for it to be considered a success and for them to earn a passing grade? The answer to the previous two questions helps form the answer to the third: What should be included in the portfolio? Are you going to have students put in all  of  their work or only certain assignments? Who gets to choose? By answering the above questions, you are able to start student portfolios off on the right foot. A big mistake some teachers make is to just jump into student portfolios without thinking through exactly how they are going to manage them. To help you answer these questions, you might find it helpful to review the Portfolio Planning Checklist and Suggested Portfolio Items for each kind of portfolio students will keep. If done in a focused way, creating student portfolios will be a rewarding experience for both student and teacher.