Nearly ten years ago, I embarked on the path of doctoral research and eventually achieved my PhD in 2023. I realised that very few people would be likely to read my thesis, which was inevitably an academic document, of interest to only a small group of scholars with similar interests. I was keen, however, to share the findings of my research more widely, and was thrilled to find a publisher who agreed that the subject had the potential to become a more accessible book. A Care Manifesto for the Early Years has now been published, by Bristol Policy Press, and I hope that it will find a receptive readership within the sector, particularly with those interested in the ethic of care and how it can be embedded in early years policy and practice. 

My original research question was to find out what difference it makes if early years providers are run in a for-profit or not-for-profit business model. As the founder and CEO of a charitable social enterprise I obviously hoped that my findings would confirm my instinct that for ethical, high-quality provision, profits need to be reinvested rather than extracted by financial stakeholders, but, spoiler alert, the answer turned out to be much more nuanced and contingent on a wider range of factors. The first two years of my doctoral studies were spent learning about methodology, and conducting an extensive literature review, to investigate what had already been studied, and to narrow down my research focus. I soon decided that the ethics of care provided a useful framework to evaluate whether and to what extent early years provision was operating in an ethical way – my simple definition of ethical is provision that is of high quality, but is also inclusive, affordable and non-exploitative.  

I soon found that there was a wealth of literature on ethical practice in the care sector and in education, but very little that focused specifically on ethical practice in the early years. I also realised that I would need to explore the full range of factors, from the macro level of government policy and funding, through the meso level of sector influences and organisational policies and practices, down to the micro level of individual practice. Having read everything I could find that was relevant (and a whole lot more than I probably needed to), I then embarked on the fun part of my research – the interviews. Having worked in the sector for so long, I had built up a network of contacts from across the country and in a wide range of organisations.  I was very fortunate that so many of them were receptive to my blatant asking-a-favour to let me interview them, and that others came forward after a conference presentation in which I asked for volunteers. 

I interviewed sector leaders, CEOs, owner-managers, managers, deputies, room leaders, practitioners, consultants and parents and thoroughly enjoyed visiting some inspirational nurseries where I was made to feel very welcome. I think it helped that I was able to assure everyone of full confidentiality, even for those who were happy to put their thoughts on public record, and in practice, many recounted experiences from settings prior to their current provision, so the range of nurseries that formed the context for interview data was much wider than the 12 organisations that formed the core of my research material. I was also fortunate in being able to recruit volunteer interviewees in my own organisation and I also drew on my diaries to recall details of my own experiences over many years. 

Halfway through this part of my research, Covid happened, which obviously put paid to any more face to face interviews and visits to nurseries, but I was able to continue with online interviews, and the pandemic itself triggered many reflections from interviewees about how the early years sector was undervalued and how they felt taken for granted by the government of the time. I loved hearing about their wealth of experience, their reflections, and discovering the very different routes that brought people into early years and kept them there, despite the challenges. I was also impressed and inspired by the passion and dedication of so many of my interviewees.

So what did I discover? I found a lot of similarity in the views about what constitutes ethical practice, and inclusivity and high-quality care were foremost. Nurseries situated in areas where high fees are unaffordable, and where there is a greater dependence on government funding rates often struggle to pay competitive salaries and to invest in high quality resources, but I found that the most inspiring practitioners were just as likely to work in areas of deprivation as in the nurseries with the biggest budgets. Whether a setting was for-profit or not-for-profit didn’t necessarily determine the quality of the workforce, although inclusive practice was more evident in settings with a social purpose. My own view has always been that all children should receive the same quality of provision within a setting, and that ‘optional extras’ are the antithesis of inclusive practice. Several of my interviewees expressed similar concerns about the way in which parents were often seen as customers rather than partners in their children’s care and education, and that profit was sometimes prioritised over children’s needs. 

At the macro level of government policy, I found that there are often unintended consequences to well-intentioned but badly thought-through policy decisions. I was heartened to hear several stories of rebellion on the part of early years professionals who defied or challenged policies, both national and organisational, that seemed to them to be unethical or uncaring. At an organisational level there were some horror stories of appalling practice and of exploitation of early years professionals – not safeguarding issues, just unthinkingly uncaring practice. Fortunately there were more examples of deeply reflective, genuinely caring practice and some inspiring accounts of the ways in which such excellence can be successfully embedded in an organisation’s culture and way of working, and I was able to include examples of these in the book. 

Finally, at the micro level of practice, I was fascinated by the detailed accounts of care practices that are often taken for granted or done without conscious thought, but which can have a significant impact on the wellbeing of children depending on how they’re carried out. There was a reassuring consensus about how nappy changing, for example, should be done - “not like a conveyor belt” was a phrase I heard several times. The awareness of skilled practitioners about the impact of their actions (e.g the feel of cold or gloved hands on skin) led to many discussions about how training new staff in the “right” way of doing things could best be done, and how poor practice could lead to “ethical slippage” and a deterioration of genuine care in a setting. Finding evidence for the importance of tacit and embodied knowledge and skills became one of my favourite areas for exploration.

I discuss in the book the problems of marketisation, and also of ‘schoolification,’ which valorises education over care. There are understandable concerns over the term ‘childcare’ which is associated with unskilled babysitting, but I argue that we’re in danger of throwing out the baby with the bathwater, and losing sight of the importance of respectful, loving, professional care. The plight of the undervalued early years workforce should be of wider concern than it seems to be, and in tracing the reasons for the lack of understanding about the importance of early years care and education, gender stereotyping is obviously relevant – and the ethics of care is unashamedly feminist in nature, and has a fascinating connection with maternal care (I even end up discussing breastfeeding as the ultimate in embodied care). Sustainability also emerged as an important theme, which is probably unsurprising, given its basis in caring for the environment. What I didn’t expect was the emergence of sensemaking and sensegiving as valuable tools for ethical leadership, and my exploration of that formed the nub of my doctoral research. 

My conclusion in the book is that the ethic of care can be an effective way of implementing ethical practice in early years settings – treating care as a moral value as well as a practice. I conclude with a ‘manifesto’ of what I think needs to be done to address some of the concerns I know are shared with others in the sector, and I am looking forward to discussing the ideas in the book with readers, and hope that this has given you a taster to whet your appetite for reading it.  

Details of the book can be found below, and readers of the February edition of Nursery Management Today can access a discount code
Policy Press | A Care Manifesto for the Early Years - The Need for an Ethic of Care in Childcare Policy and Practice, By Zoe Raven