Parental Guidance & Thatcher

I heard a very interesting viewpoint on the Southport tragedy this week from a retired psychiatrist:

In a world obsessed with efficiency and "streamlining," there’s a cruel irony in the Southport tragedy. A system designed to save money and reduce the role of the state instead created the perfect conditions for a catastrophic failure – a failure that cost lives. The death knell of institutions like Parental Guidance during the Thatcher years wasn’t just about cutting red tape; it was about cutting lifelines.

The Parental Guidance initiative was more than a well-meaning programme; it was a lifeline for struggling families. It offered specialist early intervention for those dealing with complex behavioural, emotional, and mental health challenges. Families could receive tailored advice, access to parenting workshops, and referrals to targeted support services – all designed to catch problems early, before they spiralled into crises. It was about creating strong foundations, not patching things up after they’d crumbled.

When this vital service was merged into the NHS, it became just another underfunded branch of an overstretched system. Health visitors and general practitioners, though invaluable in their roles, were never equipped to take on the specialised work Parental Guidance provided. The personalised care it offered became yet another casualty of "streamlining," leaving vulnerable individuals like the Southport perpetrator to fall between the cracks of a fragmented system. It filled the gaps that Social Services, Mental Health Services, PREVENT and the anti-terror institutions couldn't fill because of their narrow focus.

Why does this matter? Because small-state ideology – the belief that less government intervention is always better – leaves people to fend for themselves in a world increasingly designed to favour the privileged. Vulnerable families don’t need fewer services; they need coordinated, properly funded ones. Without them, individuals like the Southport perpetrator fall through the cracks. We all know what happens when cracks widen.

The tragedy lays bare the myth that smaller government equals better governance. A properly funded "large state" isn’t a bureaucratic monstrosity; it’s a safety net. It’s early intervention. It’s recognising that the cost of neglect – in human and financial terms – far outweighs the price of robust public services.

Psychiatrists have long pointed to cases like Southport as the logical conclusion of short-termist thinking. Prevention was Parental Guidance's purpose. It was proactive, targeted, and specialised – exactly the kind of thing the NHS, overstretched as it is, can’t be. The decision to fold it into the healthcare system wasn’t just a bureaucratic reshuffle; it was a quiet dismissal of the very idea that the state has a role in addressing complex social issues before they explode.

Those who champion the small-state mantra might argue that individuals and families should take responsibility. But responsibility doesn’t mean much when you’re drowning without a lifeline. It’s easy to pontificate about personal accountability when you’ve never had to navigate a system that actively works against you.

The Southport killings aren’t just a tragedy – they’re a lesson. A lesson in what happens when ideology trumps compassion. A lesson in the importance of recognising that society functions best when it takes care of its most vulnerable. And, crucially, a lesson in why the state must be big enough, bold enough, and compassionate enough to step in where others can’t.

We shouldn’t need tragedies like this to remind us of the cost of neglect. But if ever there was a case for a "large state," Southport is it. The price of prevention may seem high, but it’s nothing compared to the cost of letting people fall.