M. J. D. Roberts
Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2004, ISBN: 0521833892; Price: £48.00
London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine
Date accessed: 6 March, 2014
Middle-class reform initiatives have long fascinated historians of Georgian and Victorian Britain. Some took their cue from the radical critique embodied in William Cobbett's contemporary attack on the 'Subscription Tribe', who gave charity soup kitchens but denied political rights.(1) Thus the Hammonds inveighed in 1917 against evangelical benevolence as the 'conscience of the rich' which legitimated the 'toleration of abuses and cruelties'.(2) Similar suspicions ran through the literature of the 1970s, with its emphasis on the exertion of social control through the medium of educational charity and the reform of popular leisure. Others viewed such enterprises not through the spectacles of class conflict but rather as representative of an emerging social consensus, manifested, for example, in the temperance movement or the churches' social mission: voluntary associations were therefore a formative element of the mid-Victorian 'peacable kingdom'.(3) In the last twenty years various trends have converged to sustain and further this interest. Welfare historians have increasingly turned away from linear narratives of state advance to reinstate the 'moving frontier' between state and voluntary sector as an ongoing and integral element of social reform.(4) Urban historians have conducted studies of provincial towns which show how institutions of civil society could both enact social cleavage and ensure stability by creating economic and social networks. Meanwhile those concerned with the making of middle-class identity have shown how the new subscription associations were key to the forging of social and gender norms.
M. J. D. Roberts's Making English Morals is an important new contribution to this literature, aiming as it does for the type of synthesis achieved in the work of scholars such as Peter Clarke on early modern clubs and societies, Frank Prochaska on philanthropy and R. J. Morris on voluntary association. Its distinctive feature is a close focus on a particular field of activity - moral reform. Roberts defines his subject using the self-delineation of the temperance movement: that is, as something distinct from educational, medical and eleemosynary charity, as well as from religious evangelising and from partisan political association. In practice this means not just opposition to drink, but also societies for the prosecution of vice, the promotion of sabbatarianism and social purity, the prevention of cruelty to children and animals and the organisation, rather than the transmission, of charity. Of course, this choice of themes cannot hope to catch all the ways in which moral reform voluntarism sought to mould values and behaviour. Such motives surely inspired other kinds of philanthropists and proselytisers, from the sponsors of the most modest Dorcas society or day school to the patrons of the grandest voluntary hospital. Nor, as Roberts hints in his discussions of the Sunday and National School movements, can the persons who supported 'moral reform', narrowly defined, be easily distinguished from the subscribing publics which sustained other local charities and cultural institutions, given the networks of church, chapel and party which undergirded so much social action.
This however would make for a potentially limitless field, and the virtue of Roberts' selection strategy is that it allows him to provide a coherent narrative over a long period. It also permits a detailed analysis of the leadership of the movement, on which he builds a fine-grained account of the context in which different initiatives arose. As the title indicates, the study is organised as a chronological survey with two bookends looking backwards and forwards. It begins in 1787, with the work of William Wilberforce and the inauguration of the Proclamation Society, though this prompts a retrospective glance at the 1680s in search of its precursors, the Societies for the Reformation of Manners. It concludes in 1886, a year of political change in which the broadened franchise and the Liberal defeat spelt the end of hopes that moral reformers might influence mainstream politics. The narrative closes with some reflections on a future in which institutions of civil society were less able to shape public discourse.
There are several interrelated elements to the book's conceptual framework. Perhaps most importantly, Roberts achieves a synthesis of past and present approaches to the use of class as an explanatory factor. First, he rejects a reductionist view of moral reform as the cultural superstructure of economic identity, treating the practices of association rather as 'independent variables capable of shaping moral discourses' (p. 14). Second, however, he stresses throughout that a key impulse for reformers was the tension generated by the market society which was coming into being. At particular junctures and for particular individuals this was manifested in different ways: sometimes as the 'psychic strain' of the 'precarious social rank' of the nouveaux riches (pp. 40-1); sometimes as anxiety about the effects of consumer capitalism on patterns of leisure (for example the deleterious temptations of the brewing industry (p. 98), or the undermining of Sabbath observance by the railways (p. 116)); sometimes as capitalist guilt prompting a compensatory rhetoric of 'stewardship' (p. 128), and so on. There are two further organising themes. Roberts uses the long history of moral reform initiatives as a case study with which to explore Jurgen Habermas's account of the rise and structural transformation of the public sphere. He sees in the discourses and public representation of these voluntary societies the empirical substance of Habermas's ideal of 'rational-critical debate'. Moreover, the process by which voluntary initiative was superseded by state agency and the professionalisation of social work illustrates the disintegration of the bourgeois public sphere in the later nineteenth century. Roberts is also alert to the concerns of theorists of civil society. The key influence is the North American political scientist, Robert Putnam, who has postulated, based on the experience of the US and Italy, that a vigorous culture of societies and associations is vital to a healthy democracy, since such activities cultivate the habits of participation, embed procedures of collective organisation, and instil support for transparent public debate. Moral reform voluntarism offers a prism through which to view all these issues.
With respect to methodology, Roberts identifies for analysis a number of associations which illustrate the principal themes of the period he has under review. He draws on their published reports to establish how their aims and assumptions were articulated, and pays close attention to the personal circumstances of their leaders, whose economic position and social networks yield insight into the wellsprings of reform. Personal papers, autobiographies and published writings are used to dissect their emotional lives, beliefs and motivation. Among these individuals are some familiar names, such as William Wilberforce, Lord Shaftesbury, Josephine Butler and Elizabeth Fry. However many lesser known individuals also feature: Henry Budd, founder member of the Vice Society and chaplain of Bridewell Hospital, driven both by religious duty and his ambition to network with the influential; or Peter Bedford, the Quaker silk merchant in Spitalfields whose post-1815 work with delinquent youths provided him with 'a surrogate family of dependants over which to preside' (p. 125); or Joseph Livesey, the self-made newspaper man whose activism in the mid-century temperance movement was inspired by a desire to spread the gospel of improvement to his peers. Careers such as these can most tellingly illuminate the impulses of social action. That said, it must be stressed that this pursuit of 'representative' and articulate individuals is preferred to an analysis of ordinary supporters. While there is a certain amount of prosopographical work on leaders (e.g. pp. 38-40) there is little reference to the characteristics of lesser activists and supporters, and the milieux from which they sprang; instead the accent is very much on the thoughts and deeds of the elite.
Opening his account in the 1780s, Roberts consciously aligns his narrative with a familiar chronology of modernisation, emphasising the destabilising effects of rapid population growth, urbanisation and the coming of a national market society. This was the context in which fears of a 'moral crisis' emerged well before the spectre of revolutionary France was in sight. Licentious behaviour, criminality and subversive publications were the targets of the Proclamation Society which lobbied for the more active prosecution of transgressors, while the Philanthropic Society favoured the removal and institutionalisation of the children of the 'vicious'. Analysing the make-up of the leadership Roberts finds an alliance of aspiring members of the commercial and professional middle class and gentlemen of conscience. The next chapter turns to the war years, 1795-1815, which are marked by a distinct change of trend. Military mobilisation destabilised society and undermined ties of deference, while economic disruption exacerbated problems of disorder and the allure of Jacobin ideas raised fears of godlessness. This was the spur to a revival of efforts of metropolitan and provincial elites, manifested for example in the Society for the Suppression of Vice, to support tougher application of the law as a bulwark against indiscipline. Another innovation was the range of relief schemes promoted in years of economic crisis, which combined soup kitchens with a more discriminating use of charity, entailing enquiry and domestic visiting. The hitherto ecumenical nature of moral reform also gave way in this period to a clearer delineation between establishment and dissenting projects, as patriotism was aligned with religious orthodoxy. Increasingly it was London's business and professional classes rather than the gentry which furnished the personnel of associations. Though some were driven by the 'spiritual anguish and emotional discomfort' (p. 83) arising from labour market position, and others by a sense of duty, all were inspired by a sense of their moral superiority to those both above and below them on the social scale: a 'sense of middle-class consciousness and self-assertion' (p. 85) fostered by the war years.
Chapter 3 is tellingly entitled 'Taming the masses', and identifies the period between the end of the war and the passage of the Poor Law Amendment Act as a distinct phase in which moral reform voluntarism flowered. There were various reasons for this: the example of evangelical missions dissolved the barriers to co-operation between church and chapel, while concern with reform of public administration prompted experimentation in the areas of policing and management of the poor. Moreover, as 'the free market came into its own,' (p. 96) so fears of moral decay manifested in drink, religious apathy and commercial leisure, were heightened. Roberts argues that the ensuing proliferation of voluntary associations represented the 'triumphant completion of the middle-class mission' (p. 141), as the reform agenda mapped out in the 1780s was 'unpacked' into specialist groupings. Characteristic ventures of the time were societies for the suppression of begging and brothel-keeping, the reclamation of prostitutes, prison reform, prevention of cruelty to animals, and of course, the abolition of slavery. The political and economic crises of the late 1820s and early 1830s were particularly important, prompting the foundation of the British and Foreign Temperance Society and the Lord's Day Observance Society. This was the period in which an 'identifiably continuous moral reform tradition may be said to have emerged' (p. 142), yet the bases of its support and the legitimacy of its self-appointed leaders remained uncertain. These issues are brought to the fore in the following section, which discusses the years 1834 to 1857. With matters such as policing, slavery and the poor law resolved by the reform settlement of the Whig governments a new era began in which moral reformers concentrated on the temperance campaign, the ragged school movement and the prevention of prostitution. However, fissures within the class project were becoming apparent, in the denominational divisions in educational and visiting charities and in the proselytising missions, and in the more explicitly political campaigns which drained support. More seriously, by the 1850s the evangelical activists were on the receiving end of criticism from more secular and commercial interests. The context for this was the impending conflict between the campaigning and petitioning activities of voluntarists and the nascent processes of parliamentary democracy: how representative were the self-appointed moral champions? Hotly contested issues such as Sunday trading and the suppression of the drink trade were focal points for debates on the limits of the state's right to curb individual liberty in the name of moral improvement.
In the mid-Victorian phase (1857-1880) many of the anxieties about disorder were fading, as economic growth and a more controlled urban environment allayed fears. Now the key problem for reformers was to foster the autonomous moral individual within a market society, and this guided the activities of temperance supporters, rescuers of fallen women, visitors to workhouses and the 'moral disciplinarians' (p. 209) of the Charity Organisation Society (COS). It was also the period in which mass democratic politics emerged, and with it the continuing expansion of state power in the social realm. This brought new opportunities such as the COS's attempt to co-ordinate its volunteer casework with poor law policy. But there were also challenges, and here Roberts aligns his account with the Habermasian paradigm, as he shows how moral reformers came into conflict with the state-approved professionals who increasingly guided policy, for example in the rows over the Contagious Diseases Acts and vivisection. The final substantive chapter argues that by the 1880s the transformation of the public sphere of reform voluntarism was complete. Activists now sought to achieve their goals through lobbying government, but even where successful (such as the outlawing of child prostitution in the 1885 Criminal Law Amendment Act), doubts remained as to whether reliance on the state undermined individual moral responsibility. And tying their fortunes closely to a political party, as temperance campaigners did with the Liberals, could leave reformers exposed if politicians decided such single-issue causes had become electorally disadvantageous. More importantly, as the imperative of guarding national economic efficiency directed the interests of the state towards social welfare, so moral reformers, with their localist approach and their commitment to individual and family reclamation, were marginalised. With professional elites now oriented towards social rather than moral causes of poverty and deviancy, the late-Victorian voluntarists failed to transmit their tradition to a new generation.
The major achievement of this book is to provide a nuanced and extraordinarily erudite account of the forces which brought into being this form of voluntary action. Though presented under the banner of cultural history, Roberts has deftly explicated the formative role of political events on the arena in which reformers functioned, and shown the decisive importance of economic forces in impelling their engagement. The chronology he presents is compelling and deserves to become a benchmark account for future researchers. One qualification has already been mentioned though, and that is the potential pitfall of discussing moral reform in isolation from the broader currents of philanthropic and cultural association, which were arguably all facets of the same middle-class project. For example, the moralising agenda which Mary Fissell noticed in the Georgian voluntary hospitals or the civilising mission which Helen Meller observed in the efforts of Victorian urban elites to provide facilities for leisure and recreation, cannot be easily severed from this story.(5) The book also makes an important contribution to the historical literature on the public sphere, and Roberts' analysis should be read alongside Geoff Eley's critical discussion of Habermas's ideal-typical account.(6) Of particular interest is the argument here that moral reform provided the opportunity for articulate women to retain a public platform at a time when formal democratic procedures conspired to exclude them.
Where the summation is rather less convincing, however, is on the evaluation of the reformers' impact on their unwitting subjects. The assumption that moral reform 'at the very least eased the transition' (p. 294) to a more polite and respectable society is not supported by the book's original research, which has little to say on the practical achievement (or lack of it) of the associations under consideration. True, there is some discussion of the limited success of the Proclamation and Vice Societies (pp. 66, 77) and of the transitory nature of anti-slavery sentiment (pp. 132-3) but in the main Roberts relies on secondary sources for his evaluation of outcomes. And, as Robert Humphries showed in his exploration of the gulf between the rhetoric and practice of the COS, the administrative and financial realities lurking in provincial minute books may have been far removed from the high-flown ambitions of the metropolitan elites who people this book. Similarly, it is plausible enough to claim that 'moral reform movements made a significant contribution to the emergence of a society capable of debating issues in a way which led neither to violent confrontation nor to coercion' (p. 295). But how exactly can the degree of this contribution be calibrated when set against other forms of associational activity? Consider for example John Garrard's recent reflections on the role of the working-class friendly society in nurturing an appetite for democratic procedures.(7) That said, Roberts has no intention of marshalling these arguments behind the cause of 'reinventing' civil society in the present day. Ultimately the story he tells is of an 'historically specific phase in cultural adjustment' (p. 298), and is not meant as a timeless exemplar of the potential of the third sector. This is a salutary conclusion for those who would invoke greater voluntary engagement as a panacea for the contemporary welfare state.
- Political Register, 3 Nov. 1816. Back to (1)
- J. L.Hammond and Barbara Hammond, The Town Labourer (1917; 1978 edn), p.154. Back to (2)
- For example, Brian Harrison, Peacable Kingdom: Stability and Change in Modern Britain (Oxford, 1983), pp. 217-59. Back to (3)
- Geoffrey Finlayson, Citizen, State and Social Welfare in Britain 1830-1990 (Oxford, 1994). Back to (4)
- Mary E. Fissell, Patients, Power, and the Poor in Eighteenth Century Bristol (Cambridge, 1991); H. E. Meller, Leisure and the Changing City, 1870-1914 (1976). Back to (5)
- G. Eley, 'Nations, publics and public cultures: placing Habermas in the nineteenth century', in Culture, Power, History: a Reader in Contemporary Social Theory, ed. N. Dirks, G. Eley and S. Ortner (Princeton, NJ, 1994), pp. 297-335. Back to (6)
- John Garrard, Democratisation in Britain: Elites, Civil Society and Reform since 1800 (Basingstoke, 2001). Back to (7)
My thanks to Martin Gorsky for a careful and comprehensive survey of the key themes of my book - and for a fair-minded evaluation of my findings. It is, in post-modern times, always a distinct reassurance to find a reader who interprets the text presented in pretty much the way the author intended. Rather than try to find grounds for dispute in a situation where none (or no major ones) exist, perhaps a more productive use of opportunity is to expand on some general issues of approach touched on in the review, and to flag tasks which, in hindsight, I see myself as having left incomplete.
As I pointed out in the Preface to Making English Morals, my driving interest in writing on the subject of 'moral reform' was to give myself opportunity to explore how the moral values of a society change - to work out what sort of person becomes anxious or angry about an existing state of 'morals and manners' and to trace the ways in which they come to persuade (or fail to persuade) their less sensitive or more self-interested fellow citizens. This exploration, I hoped - I continue to hope - has the potential to engage readers on at least three fronts. First and foremost, it makes a good story, acted out by a diverse range of unusually vivid characters. And, while the different strands of the story are in some cases well-known, this is an attempt to weave them into a systematically developed whole - to present them as a distinctive phenomenon of their times. A further aim is to use the opportunity created by the construction of this overall narrative to achieve two other tasks: to redress a historiographical imbalance by demonstrating the cultural ambivalence of the nineteenth-century 'English middle classes' to the coming of a market-organised society; and also to apply the evidence gathered to the testing of a (Habermasian) hypothesis about the construction (and decay) of a 'public sphere' of uncoerced, 'rational-critical' citizen decision-making through voluntary associational action over the period explored.
As to the strengths and weaknesses of my attempt at an integrated narrative of moral reform causes, campaigns, and campaigners, I am relieved to find that Martin Gorsky finds the category of 'moral reform' adequately defined. At various stages of drafting the thought did occur that, maybe the technical task of reconstructing the skeleton of yet another defunct voluntary association from the evidence of its scattered organisational bones was becoming something of a private obsession. (I once claimed to colleagues to have had a 'Gibbon moment' of intellectual illumination in the back corridors of Hoare's Bank in Fleet Street on discovering that the financial records of a century of existence of the Society for the Suppression of Vice lay available for recovery and reconstruction. It hardly compared for scenic splendour with Gibbon's backdrop of 'the barefooted friars singing vespers in the Temple of Jupiter' as the setting of inspiration for his Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, but it no doubt helped to convince colleagues that I was committed to the task, perhaps to a disconcerting degree.) Yet I did manage to persuade myself in the end that there were structural reasons why 'moral reform' flourished as a self-identified volunteer project in the hundred years from the 1780s to the 1880s - and that they were reasons connected with forms of economic, political and cultural organization specific to the period. (See pp. 1-3, including note 5.) I'm particularly pleased/relieved to be reassured that my attempt to reconnect political and economic change to cultural change has been accepted as producing a 'compelling' line of narrative.
I agree with my reviewer that my coverage is not exhaustive. (He rightly points out the medical and urban recreational aspects of moral reform left incompletely explored.) In moments of utopian idealism I did contemplate what it might involve to achieve in coverage of my segment of the world of voluntary association a comprehensiveness comparable to that achieved by David Owen in his classic work on English philanthropy.(1) But 120,000 words was all I could manage (and all that my commissioning editor thought the reading public could bear). There is, however, an excellent general survey waiting to be written, I would say, on medical charity over the period, its forms, its practitioners and supporters, its shifting moral assumptions about the definition of 'deserving' and 'undeserving' objects of its attention as shaped by mutations in professional viewpoint (and the expectations of interested parties in the wider society).(2)
As to my methodological approach to the subject, perhaps the following points will help to clarify my intention and/or explain the emphases within my analysis of moral reform as a movement. First of all, as my reviewer accurately notes, I am interested above all in elites - middle-class cultural elites responding to the challenge of 'the tension generated by the market society which was coming into being'. This preoccupation, I hope, will be accepted as a contribution helping historians to expand and 'nuance' their understanding of the relationship between economic change, cultural adaptation and political 'reform' over a key period in modern English history.(3) But I realise that it is a preoccupation with risks attached. It does, for example, tend to downplay the contribution of rank-and-file supporters of moral reform causes. (This is sometimes because time and space were at a premium, sometimes because I didn't have enough information, but sometimes also because my reading of the evidence that I did have, suggested to me that the role of grass-roots spontaneity had been overstated.(4)) The focus on elites does also, perhaps, tend to leave an impression that there was no independent role for 'working-class self-help' in moral reform voluntarism (though I did do my best to indicate the contours of, and reasons for, the participation of non-middle-class elites in 'moral reform', both by case-study of 'personalities' and by organisational analysis.) (See, for example, the disarmingly direct remarks of the pioneer teetotaller, Joseph Livesey, on his inability to 'become a gentleman' (p. 174); also my discussion of Charity Organisation Society relations with 'organised labour' (p. 294).) And - as I can hardly avoid admitting, the approach does tend to swing attention more to dissection of 'moral reform motive' than to evaluation of the socio-cultural impact of moral reform activities on the 'objects' of its attention. All things considered, however, I don't know that I would want to change that emphasis. I count myself fortunate in being able to rely on a good range of well-documented case studies of 'moral reform impacts' (5), and have taken that as a solid enough foundation for the limited generalisations eventually made about 'behaviour modification' among the 'labouring classes'.
What I continue to think is the key issue, however (and a so far under-explored one), is the effect of moral reform mobilisation on the lives of those who became participants in its activities - that is, on its leaders and active supporters. The issue continues to draw my curiosity because it raises the question of moral legitimacy - the quest to feel worthy of civic influence and responsible for civic leadership.(6) And this requires attention to volunteer elite attempts to purify the behaviour of their own class as well as to curb the indiscipline of those outside it. The aspect of moral reform activity that, looking back, I regret I didn't treat more systematically is in fact its own vocabulary of class self-presentation - in particular, its use of terms such as 'sympathy', 'neglect', and 'community' in its depictions of reclamatory motive and intention. Above all, I've become fascinated by an only implicitly stated theme of my treatment of moral reform agenda evolution - the social construction of victimhood. If someone more persistent than I in tracing the long-term evolution of attitudes towards prostitutes and their customers, for example, were to write a book about it, I would be a willing reader.(7)
Finally, what of my attempt to assess, in the light of my findings, the plausibility of the 'Habermasian metanarrative' of the emergence and decay of a 'bourgeois public sphere of rational-critical debate'? On reflection, two points seem worth making. First, my interest in Habermas and 'the structural transformation of the public sphere' is as much an interest in method of approach as it is an interest in possible 'periodisation'. As I tried to sum it up on p. 15 of my 'Introduction', given my driving curiosity about 'how individual [moral] disposition became transformed into practical collective action', the Habermasian concept of a 'public sphere' provided 'a useful concept of linkage'. (That is, it nudged me to formulate the vital questions: Who in the arena of public debate and decision-making needed to be convinced if effective action were to be taken, and by what methods of persuasion might that become possible?)
Secondly, and more riskily, Habermas provided a potential narrative plot line, with the bonus of a 'logical' conclusion. Metanarratives are like that: they encourage closure. Readers who persevere to my final chapter will find that I have my reservations about a pure Habermasian plot-line, especially as it involves 'rational-critical debate'. I do, however, end by adopting a chronology of 'closure' which is compatible with, perhaps supportive of, a Habermas narrative of the rise and fall of a particular phase of social interaction. (I say 'perhaps supportive of' because Habermas seems not very interested in precise chronologies of historical change in particular societies, though he is interested in sequence.) In other words, I remain committed to the view that the 1880s marked the end of an era - particularly in relation to effective public action locally initiated by volunteer association (and I gather that Martin Gorski broadly agrees). If anything is likely to change my mind on this issue it will be the writing of a survey narrative of 'twentieth-century moral reform' (including the partial, late-century invocation of 'market individualism' on a scale reminding some of nineteenth-century 'precedents').(8) In the meantime, in my next project, I shall be going back to have a closer look at that elusive yet critical relationship between ideas and public action, and the agenda-making elites who claim the credit. Clearly, the writing of one book has been insufficient to exorcise this ghost...
- David Owen, English Philanthropy 1660-1960 (Cambridge MA, 1964). Back to (1).
- The prototype for such a general survey might well, in fact, be the reviewer's own area-specific case study: Martin Gorsky, Patterns of Philanthropy: Charity and Society in Nineteenth-Century Bristol (1999). Back to (2).
- For a pioneering study which neatly complements my own approach over the period it covers by tracing specifically intellectual debate about the ethical limits of application of the principles of political economy, see Geoffrey Searle, Morality and the Market in Victorian Britain (Oxford, 1998). Back to (3).
- See, e.g., p. 133 note 136, reviewing the literature on the precise nature of the 'popularity' of the anti-slavery movement in the 1820s and early 30s. Back to (4).
- These include, for temperance work, Brian Harrison, Drink and the Victorians (London, 1971); for charity organisation, Robert Humphreys, Sin, Organized Charity and the Poor Law in Victorian England (London, 1995); for National Vigilance Association work, Paula Bartley, Prostitution. Prevention and Reform in England, 1860-1914 (London, 2000), and Stefan Petrow, Policing Morals. The Metropolitan Police and the Home Office 1870-1914 (Oxford, 1994). Back to (5).
- I agree with my reviewer about the significance of the issues raised by John Garrard in his recent survey, Democratisation in Britain. Elites, Civil Society and Reform since 1800 (Basingstoke, 2002). Back to (6).
- For a useful start, see Michael Mason, The Making of Victorian Sexual Attitudes (Oxford, 1994), and Bartley, Prostitution (note 5 above), but there seems to me room for a longer, wider, and more comparative approach to the subject. Back to (7).
- For a starting point, see Nicholas Deakin, In Search of Civil Society (Basingstoke, 2001); Peter A. Hall, 'Social capital in Britain', British Journal of Political Science 29(3)(1999), 417-61; Jose Harris, ed., Civil Society in British History. Ideas, Identities, Institutions (Oxford, 2003); Adam Lent, British Social Movements since 1945. Sex, Colour, Peace and Power (Basingstoke, 2001); Frank Prochaska, Christianity and Social Service in Modern Britain (Oxford, 2006). Back to (8).