PRACTICAL

SOCIAL WORK
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 PRACTICAL
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Social Work and Mental Social Work and Child Abuse
Handicap David Ball and David Cooper
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Social Work and Mental Illness of Violence
Alan Butler and Colin Pritchard Robert Brown, Stanley Bute and
Residential Work Peter Ford
Roger Clough Sociology in Social Work Practice
Computers in Social Work Peter Day
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Computers in Social Work

Bryan Glastonbury

M
MACMILLAN
©British Association of Social Work 1985

All rights reserved . No reproduction, copy or tran smission

of this publication may be made without written permission .
No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced , copied
or tran smitted save with written permission or in accordance
with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956(as amended).
Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to
this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and
civil claims for damages.

First published 1985

Published by
Higher and Further Education Division
MACMILLAN PUBLISHERS LTD
Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 2XS
and London
Companies and representatives
throughout the world

Filmsetting by Vantage Photosetting Co Ltd,

Eastleigh and London

British Library Cat aloguing in Publication Data

Glastonbury, Bryan
Computers in social work .
\. Publ ic welfare-Great Britain-Data
proces sing
I. Title
361'.941'02854 HV245

ISBN 978-0-333-37671-3 ISBN 978-1-349-17902-2 (eBook)

DOI 10.1007/978-1-349-17902-2
Contents

Preface VII

Introduction

Computer Myth and Reality 10

What is a computer? 10
What can computers do? 14
Why should social workers use computers? 18

2 The Growth of Computing in Social Work Services 21

Computers in the personal social services 22
What sort of computer systems? 25
A rational approach to computer use 28
Installing computer systems 30

3 Computing in One Social Services Department 33

Origins of the computer system 34
The management information system 38
Going on-line 41
From MIS to SWIS 42
Security and the Code of Practice 46
Comment 48

4 Computers in Social Work Practice 50

Information systems and practice 55
Computers as calculators 59
Computers in client assessment and treatment 63
vi Contents

5 Handson the Computer 67

Fear of trying 69
Social workers and programmers 73

6 The RightsandWrongs of Computing 79

Power and the computer 82
Rights and the computer 86
Social work standards and the computer 91
Some proposals 94

7 Computers and the Daily Life of Social Workers 98

The dehumanising computer 102
Extra work, productivity and the computer 106

8 Keying in Social Work Practice 112

Individual case-files 114
Composite data analysis 120
Resource files 122
Repetitive tasks and calculations 126
General trends 128

9 The RobotSocial Worker 132

Bibliography 139

Index 142
Preface

Computers have been used in the personal social services for over
a decade now. Most social services departments use them, as do
many probation services and larger voluntary organisations. Yet
they have not impinged much on the daily activities of social
workers, perhaps because they have been seen as tools of
management, or perhaps because it has been assumed that
bringing practitioners and computers together would be a recipe
for upheaval. After all, computers are more than just pieces of
equipment - they represent highly charged controversies.
The decision to write this book reflects the observation, which
must be clear to all of us, that computers are moving fast into
many aspects of our lives - into offices, schools, homes and the
contacts we have with 'officialdom'. The computer seems unstop-
pable, and is already starting to wind its way into professional
social work. We cannot, and indeed may not , want to bring it to a
halt, so instead we need to understand it and put it to sensible use.
Computing can be studied as a separate subject, to be kept at
arm's length by all but the enthusiasts and those who cannot avoid
it. That may be a viable approach to computer science, but it will
not serve for computer application, and it has proved challenging
to have the invitation from Macmillan and the British Association
of Social Workers to write about computers in a series on social
work practice.
I am grateful to several colleagues from the Department of
Social Work Studies at Southampton University, and to many
staff of government and local authority services for help in
gathering material. Mike Gardner from Hampshire Social
Services Department and Allan D. Maclean of the Home Office
Vlll Preface

Research and Planning Unit have been especially helpful.

However, three people have made major contributions. Charles
Whaley, from Cornwall Social Services Department, gave me a
flying start by letting me have a copy of his study ofcomputers in a
local social services office (done as part of a post-qualifying course
at Plymouth Polytechnic), and with it an extensive bibliography.
David Ward, from Hampshire Social Services Department, gave
me time and documents for the case-study of Hampshire's
computer system , and later made valuable comments on the draft
of Chapter 3. Sheena Kimberley talked to many social workers
about their attitudes to and experiences of computers, and has
also been a dependable 'second opinion' on the script.
I have tried to present a balanced view of the issues surrounding
the use ofcomputers in the personal social services, but I should be
counted as a computer buff, who believes firmly in the creative
potential of the new technology within social work practice.

Southampton BRYAN GLASTONBURY

1985
Introduction

Can computers do social work? This is as pertinent a question now

as it was over a decade ago when it was first posed as the title of an
article in a social work journal (Abels, 1972). The fantasy should
not be taken too far into the realms of science fiction , to portray a
vision of redundant social workers, and area offices full of TV
screens. Rather it is a practical question - what can computers do
to help in running social work agencies and providing services for
customers?
The purpose of this book is to answer such a question, and
many others which inevitably arise from it. As a society and a
work force we are right in the middle of a massive technological
metamorphosis. The young people coming up through schools
and universities are the first generation educated, however
skimpily, for the computer age. Today's social workers, even the
young ones, come from the tail end of an era when a file is located
inside a manila folder , not in a data-base. Leaving aside the vital
question of how far the transition will go, it is likely that any move
towards new technology in social work will be uncomfortable. It
will involve new learning; it will continue to raise political and
ethical dilemmas; and the change itself will create more work ,
especially during the years when old and new systems run side by
side.
Much of the handling of computing has been designed or had
the effect of making adults feel inferior. On TV advertisements
smug 'Acorn'-fed children look indulgently at their stone-age
parents; the newspapers bombard us with reviews of the continual
flow of new systems; and the magazines show that computing
would win any prize for the speediest development of the most
2 Computers in Social Work

obscure and jargon-filled specialist language. Therefore any book

which wants to convince social workers that computers are not to
be feared, and do indeed have some utility, must begin with some
simple explanations and removal of mystique. This is the purpose
of Chapter I.
The chapter offers answers to some basic questions - What is a
computer? What can it do? What is the difference between the
machine hidden in the bowels of County Hall and the small
keyboard plugged into the TV at home? Where do word-proces-
sors fit in? Are computers just for numbers, or can they really
handle words and concepts? Can they think? Do they have a will
of their own? What sort of jobs are they capable of doing which
might be of any practical use to a social worker? Among all the
jargon, what are the terms that it could be useful to understand? Is
it easy to use a computer without making it do something
disastrous? What does a social worker need to know so as to avoid
being confused or upstaged at meetings?
This first chapter also tries to describe with precision just what
we generally assume to be encompassed when we use the umbrella
term 'computer'. Strictly speaking the computer itself is a
relatively small part of the range of equipment. Most of the bits
(called 'peripherals') have to do with communicating in some
form or other with the computer - the keyboard, screen, printer
and so forth. Furthermore, much of our image of this scene,
whether of banks of flickering lights and whizzing spools from TV
films (totally obsolete from the technological point of view since
the 1960s!), or of vast stores of confidential and invasive personal
information, or of 'personalised' advertising letters and bills for
o pence, is only partly to do with computing. It is as much
connected with the development of telecommunications, which
allows us to pass and receive messages at very high speed over
great distances, and move around enormous chunks of informa-
tion at the pressing of a few buttons. On their own, computers
would have made much less impact if their technological develop-
ment had not paralleled similar advances in ways of communicat-
ing.
Chapter I will have a slant towards social work, but is mainly
concerned to offer a more general introduction to computing.
Those who are already well into computing can pass over it, just as
they can skip the early part of Chapter 2. This chapter starts with a
 Introduction 3

brief history of computing, partly to explain why it is so often

referred to as ' the new technology', and partly as a feeder into a
discussion of the gradual intrusion of computers into the personal
social services. One of the conclusions to be drawn from a
historical review is that almost all the pioneering efforts , and the
bulk of current use, is in service management rather than front-
line practice. Social workers themselves, whether from lack of
opportunity or motivation, have tended to keep a distance, and
retain a commitment to traditional ways of working. In the
broader context of computer applications this places social
workers firmly in the rearguard, though their colleagues in
America have been more adventurous. The chapter will not go
into any detail about technical developments, but it will advance
the argument that in most sectors of the economy computer
capability continues well ahead of actual use. Specifically in the
personal social services it is no longer relevant to talk of computer
possibilities as 'on the horizon' or 'just around the corner' . A
recent survey by the Local Authority Management Services and
Computer Committee's Social Services Applications Group
(LAMSAC, 1982) suggests that most, maybe all, social services
departments now have access to computers. Probation services
are moving in the same direction. But access is one matter, use is
another. Few if any of these agencies will be using more than a
part, sometimes a small portion, of the range of useful tasks the
computer could undertake.
The chapter also suggests that the development ofcomputing in
social services departments has been somewhat opportunistic,
without testing feasibility in a careful and thorough way. It is
arguable that there is a rather wider range of issues worthy of
consideration than is generally acknowledged, and that these can
be structured into a coherent sequence of decisions to be taken in
relation both to determining whether a computer is needed and
going through the process of installation.
Chapters 3 and 4100k in more detail at what is happening in the
agencies, both with routine computer work and some of the
pioneering and developmental activities . Chapter 3 is a case-study
offering a detailed narrative of a decade of computing in one
social services department. Hampshire has one of the largest
departments in the country. It has also been using computers
longer than most - since 1974 - and has invested in a large and
4 Computers in Social Work

continually growing management information system. More

recently the Department has started to involve front-line staff,
both in computer usage and programme development. Hampshire
is not offered as a case-study because it is ' typical' or because it is
the most advanced, but rather for the continuity and extent of
planning which has gone into ' the system , and the way all the
anticipated dilemmas and controversies have, at some stage in the
last decade, come to the surface.
Hampshire's arrangements are called a Management Informa-
tion System - appropriate in the early years , but less so following
recent developments. On a wider stage the concept of the
Management Information System (MIS) has faced many critics -
one commentator sub-titled a book on computers in welfare 'T he
MIS-match' (Dery, 1981). Some of the criticism has focused on
the flaws and inadequacies of such systems; some has been
motivated by the feeling that there is little of value in all of this for
the practising social worker. Chapter 4 does not argue this issue
(later chapters take it up) , but instead offers some of the raw
material which will help the reader decide if computers can and do
ha ve a useful role in practice. The chapter will look at a variety of
computer applications in use among social workers, ranging from
calling up central data stores for information about client s and
resources, through programs for various form s of assessment
(welfare benefits is the best-known one), to computer-aided
decision-making and therapy. All of this is newer than the
management systems mentioned earlier, and therefore tend s to be
experimental. In the context of computing 'experimental' is likely
to mean unreliable, inaccurate and hedged with limitations, but it
is important not to dismiss trial programs because they have
prolonged teething troubles. A lengthy refining and correcting
process (called 'de-bugging' in the jargon) is an integral part of
computer programming. The point about the applications des-
cribed in this chapter is that they are all in some form of use in
practical settings. They are not in the realm of wishful thinking -
or nightmare!
However important it may be for social workers to be
understanding, appreciative and sympathetic about computing
there remains the task of taking the plunge and becoming a
' hands-on' user. This is likely to mean either working with a desk-
top micro-computer or sitting at a terminal. There is little
 Introduction 5

difference . The micro will be all together on the desk, either in a

single container, or as an array of equipment connected by a
tangle of cables . There may be a few 'setting up' activities before
getting into action, but the micro is seen as a more immediately
responsive piece of apparatus, more 'user-friendly'. A terminal is
' remote' in the sense that it connects to the computer proper at
some distance, often in another building or place . There is no
setting up because someone else is looking after the computer, and
the opening task is 'keying in' , which is equivalent to applying for
and establishing the right to communicate.
Chapter 5 looks at what is involved in becoming a user. It is not
a d-i-y guide (anyone who is going to work at a computer can
expect an introductory course), but aims to tackle two major
impediments to social workers moving easily into the role . One
concerns the mystification surrounding computing, a theme
which will already have been touched on in an earlier chapter.
Indeed the concept features regularly in social work itself, so the
term 'de-mystification' will be understood in its multiple nuances.
There is an entertaining side to the strained efforts of a computer
specialist and a social worker to talk to the other, each in his or her
own jargon, but it is also a serious and harmful block . Should the
social worker speak computerese? Is there scope for a common
language? What are the similarities and differences in the mental
processes of the two?
The second impediment derives from the fears many social
workers have that in order to use computers they will have to
undertake a whole new range of learning. There is a specific fear
that this will require a high degree of numeracy. This chapter will
clarify the distinction between programming a computer, which
requires special skills and knowledge, and using a computer,
which needs no more than a short orientation course. It is
important to get across to social workers the message that there is
no great complexity about using computers, and that the skills
they already have need little supplementing. Indeed the additional
abilities are equivalent to being able to use a credit card in a slot
machine and do simple two-finger typing.
Chapter 6 moves away from the descriptive and specific into the
broader context of the social, political and professional issues
circumscribing the use of the full technical potential ofcomputers.
These issues in turn are enveloped in an ethical debate about the
6 Computers in Social Work

rights and wrongs of employing such powerful systems. One focus

is on the memorising capacity of a computer, and the way this can
be used to build up massive stores of data about individuals and
families. Part of the worry here is simply the scale of operations,
the fact that what has replaced traditional filing systems is so
much more mind-boggling in its size. Probably more important,
however, is the relationship between these big data stores and the
state of security in which they are held. Does the system allow too
many people access to confidential personal information? Is there
illicit access? Are there behind-the-scenes exchanges of informa-
tion between the organisations controlling data stores? What has
happened to traditional professional attitudes towards confiden-
tiality?
A further concern, particularly among those who have used
mass data storage, is about its reliability and accuracy. Can
computer files be kept sufficiently up to date to be of any use to
social workers? And are they? Can they make mistakes in the
information that is stored and later revealed? Can we trust this
sort of recording as much as older methods? Can it be sufficiently
comprehensive, or will it be distorted by the need for brevity and
standardisation? There is a phrase in computing, 'garbage in -
garbage out', which implies that if computers ever make a mistake
it is because fallible humans have offered incorrect material or bad
instructions. Is this really so?
Social workers are likely to share the concern about the impact
of new technology on employment, both in relation to themselves,
and for the possible effect on secretarial and other colleagues. The
threat to employment takes specific forms in questions about the
precise tasks computers could take over from agency staff. Could
computers take on direct interaction with customers, for example,
as the duty officer taking initial referral information? Will locally
based clerical tasks largely vanish? Are these real threats?
The early developments of computing in the personal social
services, with their strong slant towards management uses, had
limited appeal to front-line staff because there seemed to be no
immediate advantages. Social workers were being asked to fill in
rigidly structured forms, designed for a clerk to key in to the
computer, but in response to this extra job the computer gave
them nothing back, not even a 'thank you' . It remains pertinent
for social workers to ask - 'What's in it for us?' - and to go further
and wonder about the impact on professional standards and
 Introduction 7

practices, as well as on day-to-day social work activities . Chapter

7 focuses on the social work task, and questions whether a greater
use of computers will destroy the 'essence' of social work . Will it
damage the personal nature of the work, with its emphasis on the
relationships between workers and clients? Does it undermine the
principle of treating each client as unique? Will it make social
workers more like impersonal service dispensers? The answer to
such questions may well depend on the clarity and firmness of
social workers' responses to the encroachment of computing, and
on their success in gaining a mastery over its application .
The chapter will move on to look at the view that computers just
mean extra work for social workers, without, at present, offering
much to ease tasks . A central reason for accepting this assessment,
at least for a transitory phase lasting several years , is the
likelihood that new computerised systems will not be allowed to
stand alone until they have proved themselves adequate and
reliable for a reasonable trial period. Social workers will therefore
be expected, along with their colleagues, to contribute to these
new developments while simultaneously maintaining most of the
older routines. A big risk is that this transitory phase will become
institutionalised into a chronic duplication of functions. An
American study (Dery, 1981) has suggested that social workers
may be tempted to see a useful opportunity in such duplication .
One set of data, a doctored set, is put on the computer for
management, so that managers get the picture the field staff want
them to have . The other set, kept on traditional locally based files,
contains the 'real' records .
There seems to be a widespread acceptance that increasing use
will be made of computers in the personal social services, but the
likely pace of development is disputed. Advocates of slow
development can point to the lack of clarity about the direction of
new initiatives, especially in social work practice, and reinforce
this view by drawing attention to the scarcity of resources to invest
in equipment. The alternative view cites the undoubtedly substan-
tial technical potential for useful computer activity in the agencies.
Furthermore, the last decade has been one of innovation in
management information systems, and this is now moving into a
phase of consolidation. The innovative focus may well switch to
social work practice, particularly if the challenge takes the
imagination of program (software) writers.
The final chapters look ahead to likely developments in the next
8 Computers in Social Work

few years and decades , so before leaving the present Chapter 7

poses a leading question - Does computerisation work in our
personal social services? Is there enough evidence from experience
so far to justify moving ahead with confidence, not only into new
technology investments, but also into abandoning ways of
conducting social work practice and administration which have
lasted as long as social work itself?
Chapter 8 looks at the prospect of a decade of development in
social work practice, not in general terms so much as in the day-to-
day activities of agency staff. Where will computers fit in? What
tasks will computers be doing? How will this impinge on social
workers' daily work patterns? It is repetitive and tangible tasks
that can most easily be set up for computers, so what precisely are
the functions under consideration? The creative approach is to see
this sort of computer involvement as meeting important needs for
the social worker, in strengthening and speeding up the support
aspects of the job, so leaving the worker more time for direct work
with clients, and providing the information base for a more
reflective approach to professional activity. There remains,
however , another angle to be recognised . Will the computer be
used as an excuse to downgrade social work, and possibly reduce
the number of staff? Put another way, will it be used narrowly as a
tool for greater productivity, rather than as an opportunity to make
a jump forward in the quality of social work performance?
Computers could become a boon to the social worker, but there is
every risk that in the hands of insensitive political and managerial
control they could add to the already high stressfulness of the task.
The last chapter is more speculative, and will crystal-gaze into
the more distant prospects for social work. Clearly the computer is
not going to be the central catalyst in social work changes. There
will be political decisions about the kind of society we are to have ,
and the meaning that will be given to the term 'Welfare State'.
There is no reason to suppose that the relationship of social work
to other services will change dramatically, so social work will
continue to respond to the dynamics of society, to levels of
employment, family breakdown, crime or communal disruption.
However, on the assumption that social work will remain a
predominantly reactive profession (assuming indeed that it con-
tinues as something approaching a 'profession' rather than a
social policing employee role), then the computer will need to
 Introduction 9

accommodate to the well-established values of personal service.

One specific and relevant change in society can be anticipated -
the upsurge in familiarity with computers among the community,
and therefore in the customer population. If we can assume
familiarity and a willingness to communicate via a computer
among people who want personal social service, then the machine
will no longer be a block to the establishment of appropriate
treatment relationships. The era of keyed-in d-i-y contacts and
assessments cannot be far away .
The technology of computing and communicating has progres-
sed with astonishing speed in the last few decades, and there is no
reason why it should slow down, so potential is likely to keep its
place well ahead of application, and our aspirations will not be
held back by technical limitations. One of the achievements of
continual miniaturisation in the equipment is to bring down
costs. Computing will get progressively cheaper relative to more
traditional techniques. It will also become much less realistic to
label a computer a 'Dumb l' (Healey, 1976, p.4I), because the
future will bring artificial intelligence. The chapter discusses what
we mean by that term and what a computer armed with artificial
intelligence capabilities might be in a position to do for social
workers and their clients. Perhaps one will become a Director!
1
Computer Myth and Reality

A large part of this chapter will be concerned to start an essential

process in any discussion of computing among those who are not
specialists in the subject , not part of an 'in-group' . That is de-
mystification, clearing away the layers of complexity which
impede easy understanding. Complexity surrounds, first of all, the
very definition of the term 'computer', which can be used to
indicate one specific item of equipment, or as an umbrella label for
a range of equipment (hardware) and programs (software). More
difficulty stems from the technical language of computing, a
jargon which has developed with great rapidity, primarily from
American sources, and is a mixture of abbreviations, newly
created words and a distorted use of everyday terms.
Once we are clear what we are talking about when referring to a
computer and some of the more common terms in the same
context, it becomes easier to consider what it is that computers can
actually do . This in turn leads up one useful blind alley -
indentifying the myths and making clear what cannot be done -
but more importantly begs a vital question. What usefulness can
computers possibly have for social work?

What is a computer?

There are many introductory books to computing, some offering

a decidely technical approach (for example , Lewin, 1972; Healey,
1976), some aimed at the layman but not shirking some technical
aspects (Fry, 1978), and others taking a more discursive line (c.
 Computer Myth and Reality II

Evan s, 1979). An y reader who wants to investigate the binary

system and Boolean algebra (the underpinning of computer
architecture), the working of semi-conductors (the basis of
computer engineering) or anything else about the inte stine s of a
computer can follow up some of these publications. For all
practical purposes there are man y th ings we do not need to know
about computers, and which we can add to the general pile of
mysteries around us, like what makes refrigerators work or why
cocoa will not dissolve in cold water. Simpl y because computers
are part of what we regularly refer to as ' new technology' there is
no overriding imperative to strive for total comprehension.
Certainly it is fashionable to be able to impress and upstage other
people at a meeting, as well as confuse them, by an over-casual
recital of technical phrases; but social workers need to see such
behaviour for what it is and not be deluded into thinking that
there exists some vital area of knowledge and wisdom from which
they are excluded. Social workers are not designers or builders of
computers, and most likely not writers of programs; they are
(potential) computer users , and as such need a relatively unclut-
tered range of knowledge.
This book will use 'computer' as an umbrella term, covering a
whole system, and including the programs or instructions by
which the system functions. Technically the computer is the heart
of the system (often also called the CPU or central processing
unit), while all the other devices around it (the peripheral
hardware or peripherals) represent forms of communicating or
interacting with the central core. Conceptually that ma y be a
useful way to view the system, but from a practical viewpoint it is
deceptive because the peripherals are quite likely not to be visuall y
or physically separate from the CPU . Sometimes the y are all in the
same cabinet, and with mo st home computers there is no obvious
core or CPU because it is hidden under the keyboard (which
conceptually is a peripheral!).
It is helpful to have an image of the CPU as containing three
items : a memory store which can be filled with words and figures,
a machine for manipulating all the material in the memory and a
controller which passes on our instructions about precisely what
manipulating shall be undertaken. If we follow certain rules then
the controller also has the ability to understand the message s we
transmit.
12 Computers in Social Work

There are numerous devices for communicating with the

computer. Some allow us to pass messages (input devices), of
which much the best known is the keyboard; this looks, and to a
considerable extent behaves, like a conventional typewriter
keyboard. Others are for the computer's response (output devices)
and include the TV screen (monitor or VDU - visual display unit)
and printer. Still more serve both purposes and these are especially
concerned with material that is to be stored for later use. There is a
limit to the storage capacity of computers, even the very big ones,
so when it gets full (or when, with a home or small officecomputer
it is time to switch the power off) extra storage has to be found.
This is almost certain to be a cassette recorder, using ordinary
cassettes (for the cheaper home computers), or a disk drive, using
small flexible plastic disks, like a gramophone record (a 'floppy'),
or a bigger thicker disk (a hard disk). These are called input/
output (I/O) devices because they can both record transmissions
from the computer and play them back again.
A distinction was made earlier between the concept of a
computer (defined from now on as the total system) and its visual
appearance. It is helpful to hang on to the understanding that
conceptually all computers are much the same, though computer
specialists might have apoplexy at such an assertion. The purpose
of this generalisation is to make the point that the enormous visual
disparities do not indicate totally different types ofequipment and
functioning, and the social worker should take reassurance from
knowing that the home computer is really only different in scale
(mainly speed of activity and size of memory) from the county
council machine. Visually the home computer is small, portable
and usually plugs into a TV and cassette recorder which are often
used for other purposes. The more expensive personal and small
business computers are self-contained desk-top machines, usually
with disk storage, because it is quicker, more reliable and has
greater capacity, and usually with a screen designed to give a
crisper picture and cause less eye strain than conventional TV.
Some home computers are made with a restricted use, normally
for taking games cartridges only, and some office machines are
also limited (or 'dedicated'), most commonly to word-processing.
They are still computers, despite the limited range of functions.
All of the computers mentioned in the previous sentences could
also be accurately called micro-computers, meaning both small-
 Computer Myth and Reality 13

scale and derived from micro-technology (i.e. using micro-proces-

sors or chips) .
If a computer is not a 'micro' it may be called a mini-computer,
though this is becoming an uncommon label and it is more likely
to be a 'mainframe'. These very large computers were the first to
be designed and produced, and remain those with the largest
capacity. Most local authorities and government departments,
not to mention other big institutions, will probably have a
mainframe computer capable of holding an enormous data store
and carrying out a range of tasks . More of this later. Visually a
mainframe may well occupy a large space (sometimes air-con-
ditioned to keep the atmosphere dust-free), often out of sight ofall
but those who work to maintain and operate it. It is the remote
terminals, made up of keyboard and screen, which will be the only
visible part to most social workers. These terminals may have a
direct cable link to the rest of the computer, if it is in the same
building; if it is further away, British Telecom provides the
connection.
Mention of terminals gives the opportunity to take up a point
made in the Introduction - that the technical developments which
make possible such labels as 'new technology' are only in part
connected with computing. Another important aspect is the
growing scope of telecommunications. Together they have been
titled 'Information Technology' (IT) . Computers store and
process the information while communication networks spread it
around, so without the transmission potential computers would
be restricted to much more localised activity.
As a postcript to this section here is a true story to illustrate the
confusion which can be caused by getting immersed in jargon and
abbreviation. The author was attending a meeting with officers
from a number of agencies to discuss collaboration between social
services and education. A social worker took the opportunity to
turn the meeting into an impromptu case conference about a 14-
year-old boy who was a source of worry. After due deliberation
the group decided that what the boy needed was a spell of IT. Over
lunch it emerged that the social worker understood this to mean
Intermediate Treatment, the education welfare officer anticipated
a programme of Industrial Therapy and the boy's head teacher
was planning how to find a place on a course in Information
Technology.
14 Computers in Social Work

What can computers do?

The speed and volume of activity will depend on the capacity of

the machine. Speed shows itself most clearly in how long the user
has to wait for the computer to meet a particular request, though
very often if there is a wait the cause of delay lies in one of the
peripherals. Cassette recorders and printers are certainly liable to
slow down processes and it is generally true that mechanical parts
of the computer system work more slowly than electronic parts.
There is another way for delays to occur , brought about by the
way some computers receive requests from the user. As a
community accustomed to home computing we tend to think of
computers relating directly and immediately to instructions (being
'interactive'), but many of the older and larger machines were not
designed to work in this way. Instead they could only take
instructions (via punch cards, for example) in a form which
inevitably meant that the user submitted a job, went away and
came back later for the results . More to the point, this problem of
having to wait for a job to be done, perhaps by joining a queue
(often through what is called a 'batch' arrangement) persists with
many mainframe computers to the present time. The cause is the
need to have a queueing system when there are many users of the
same CPU. Jobs can be requested through a keyboard, but if a
' batch' system applies the response may come hours or even days
later. Such an arrangement has little if any value for social
workers (as the later discussion of Hampshire's developments will
indicate), though it may be less inhibiting for managers. For a
computer to have any effectiveness in social work practice a pause
of maybe thirty seconds in front of a screen will not be
troublesome, but a wait of several hours for some case-file
information might be impossible to handle. Put the other way
round, any computer system which is going to be helpful in social
work practice will have to be interactive and immediate ('on-line').
The volume of material a computer can deal with will depend
largely on the size of its memory compartment, and how
efficiently material can be compressed into it. The big computers
have massive memories, way in excess of the needs of any single
user, so it is rare for a user even to know what the nominal
capacity is. On the other hand micro-computers are almost always
described in a way which includes a memory statement. Memory
 Computer Myth and Reality 15

is rated in k-bytes (k standing for kilo) or just plain 'k', and having
a big ' k' has become something of a virility symbol among
computer buffs. Small micros are probably anything from 16k to
128k, while office machines move rather higher than mere 'k' and
into 'm' (for mega-bytes).
In practical terms it is not very helpful to try being precise about
how much memory is possible in, say, lk . The truth will depend on
how cleverly designed the specific computer has been to make best
use of its memory space , and some will hold a lot more than
others. In any event the valid question for social workers is what
sort of speed and capacity would be needed to handle a single
caseload, an area team's workload or the whole agency load ? It
has already been argued that the vital factor about speed is being
'on-line', and that memory size is not going to be an issue with a
mainframe computer. This leaves only the memory capacity of
micro-computers to consider, and this has to be related to other
factors , such as how quickly a particular machine can call in some
material from a connected 'off-line' store (a disk drive), and
whether the material in the computer's memory is all going to be
needed simultaneously, or bit-by-bit, in sequence. There is no
helpful generalised answer.
Moving on from the specific questions of how much and how
fast, and back to the theme of 'What can computers do?', the next
part of the answer is that they can only, in theory, do what they are
asked to do - providing they have the ability to do it. At this point
'ability' should be understood as covering rather different areas to
those considered earlier under the theme of 'capacity'. That is to
say, it is not concerned with the internal electronic potential and
limits of the equipment, which has already been touched on when
discussing such topics as memory size. Ability here refers
primarily to the degree of success with which user and computer
can communicate. The variations are great. Some computers can
only respond if the user issues instructions of a specific kind in a
rigidly predetermined format. Other machines are more tolerant
in the range of communication they can understand, or are
designed to help the user get the format correct by reporting what
is wrong and indicating how it can be altered . The concept here is
described as 'user-friendliness', and it is usually the smaller systems
which have been designed to be most 'user-friendly'. Indeed there
is something of a gulf in design between the larger computers,
16 Computers in Social Work

where it is assumed that they will be operated by experts, and the

bulk of micro-computers, which have to cope with experts and
amateurs, as well as those of us who want to be users but have no
urge to comprehend the intricate intestines.
The assertion that computers can only do what they are
instructed to do is a long-established dogma. At a time when there
was no working computer, and nothing more than a plan for an
'Analytical Engine', Lord Byron's daughter, Lady Ada Lovelace ,
was writing firmly that it 'has no pretensions whatever to originate
anything. It can do whatever we know how to order it to perform.
It can follow analysis ; but it has no power of anticipating any
analytical relations or truths' . (Lovelace , 1842, note G.) The same
basic message has been repeated ever since, and it has a
characteristic which has already been noted about some comput-
ing principles. It is useful as a concept, but riddled with holes if we
want to use it as a working guideline. Leaving aside for the
moment any query about the soundness of the principle, its
apparent simplicity and neutrality covers up important issues.
The computer may only be able to do what it is told, but it can
receive instructions in different ways, from different people, at
different times. At the design and production stage it can be given
instructions which are built into the machine and cannot be
countermanded by later orders. The same potential exists when
programs are lodged in the machine for (semi-) permanent use. As
will be seen later in Chapter 3, this facility is regularly used, for
example in setting up security systems for local authority com-
puters.
The important point for social workers, and indeed anyone else
who may want computers to do tasks with confidential informa-
tion , is to avoid falling into the trap of seeing the principle of
giving/receiving orders as implying a unique and discrete relation-
ship between themselves and the computer they are using. There
are other users or others who can get into the position, legitimate-
ly or not, of giving instructions, so although the computer will
only do what it is told it may not have been YOU who did the
telling. Furthermore computers, especially the smaller ones, can
have accidents. There are all sorts of unavoidable causes - dust,
static electricity , a flash of lightning or coffee leaking down
through the keyboard. Often these will provoke nothing more
than a passing hiccup ; but they can lead the machine to freeze up
 Computer M yth and Reality 17

or start emitting a ma ss of incoherent rubbi sh, and ju st occa sion-

ally the accident gets interpreted by the computer as a recogni sa-
ble instruction, which it then carries out. None of this is intended
to stir up alarm, because it can easily be incorporated into the
user's expectations of the equipment and programmes. Rather it is
aimed to dispel the idea that becau se a computer 'onl y does what it
is told ' it has some kind of infallibility. An y social worker who has
used a computer, large or small , will know onl y too well how
fallible they are . There are , of course, ethical, political and
practical dimensions to this fallibility (and to intentional abuse)
all of which will be discussed in later chapters.
There is a more restricted way of expressing the relationship
between computer and user which has totally dependable out-
comes . It is contained in the phrase 'garbage in - garbage out'
(GIGO), a wholly reliable rule that if the user puts inaccurate
material into the computer then the computer will give inaccurate
material back.
A computer has no difficulty in handling any material com-
posed of words and/or figures (alphanumeric data), so given the
necessary instructions there is nothing in conventional social work
records which could not be stored. Charts and diagrams can also
be keyed in. The tasks the computer can accomplish with this
material can be categorised into a number of general functions:

1. Pro vide safe storage.

2. Repeat back the data on demand.
3. Enable the data to be changed (edited).
4. Search the data to find a particular item.
5. Search for 'look alike ' material.
6. Rearrange the format/presentation of the data.
7. Undertake 'secondary analysis', to offer composite data.

There are other more specialised functions, but those listed are
likely to be found in any system. These, and more tailor-made
applications, will be followed through at later stages in the book.
However, it should be noted that no suggestion has been made
about computers thinking for themselves, which after all is
precluded within the rule of 'following orders'. Computers do not
have independent minds, but the idea of the 'thinking computer' is
no longer pure fantasy, and there are developments of artificial
18 Computers in Social Work

intelligence. These have not spread to social work, and are not
likely to in the foreseeable future, but they will be touched on in a
speculative final chapter. Social workers are not in the vangu ard
of computer applications, and there is a decade or more of
technical development to employ in the personal social services
before the latest innovations are reached .

Why should social workers usecomputers?

First a word ofclarification is called for about 'use' in this context.

Most uses to date have been connected with the administration of
services, primarily with overall agency management, but with
extensions into more localised caseload management. There are
specific arguments for and against this form of usage . However
there has already been discussion in these pages, and there will be
much more , about computer use in social work practice. In so far
as this brings computers directly into the working relationship
between social worker and client, a new set of arguments are
appropriate. Issues specific to computers in social work practice
will be left to later chapters, and this section will focus on general
arguments and those concerned with administrative activities .
There is a rational to this approach. It is a clear observation that
computers have gained their foothold in social services depart-
ments in order to help with administrative tasks , while practice
developments have followed on or been held in abeyance. This
reflects (or can be rationalised to reflect!) a gradual organic
introduction of computing into agency processes. It also indicates
a higher level of experience and greater sense of security about
some uses as contrasted with others. It would seem sensible,
therefore, at least as a first stage, for arguments to be based on the
central body of experience, rather than on more speculative
experimental or possible future uses.
The roots of the argument have two strands: one linked to
dissatisfaction with traditional methods, the other to kowledge
about the technical possibilities of computing. The critique of
older forms of administration have less to do with any intrinsic
weaknesses than with their inability to cope with changing
circumstances. Those changes included dramatic increases in
agency size, so that the total volume of agency data, especially
 Computer Myth and Reality 19

client files and information about resources, was suddenly too

large to be handled by manual systems . Close on the heels of the
formation of bigger agencies came a winding down of an era of
comfortable growth, and the imposition of ever-tighter systems of
budgeting and resource deployment. Once again manual methods
were found not to be taut enough, or sometimes sufficiently fast -
acting to meet new pressures.
There remains a sound alternative to bringing in computers,
and that is to avoid increases in agency size, and keep to
proportions which can be handled in traditional ways . Over the
last couple of decades it has gained little headway because the
values of big-scale and high-powered management have held
sway. Computers have not been neutral in all this . Their existence
has made it possible to think big, and give plausibility to the whole
philosopohy. However, if we are prepared to accept as a
permanent feature that our agencies are now relatively large
organisations and big spenders, it becomes logical to accept
computing as a necessary tool. If personal social services agencies
had not thought about, and in most instances taken on, some
computing facility , there would have been a degree of isolation
from other local authority and central government services.
Indeed it is agencies which have been characterised by small size
and a clear sense of separate identity (often probation and
aftercare services) in which traditional practices have been best
able to endure.
These are desultory and somewhat lack-lustre arguments for
using computers, in a context of inevitability rather than enth-
usiasm. There are fervent supporters and equally strong oppon-
ents. On the one hand computers have been called the 'next great
turning-point which mankind is rapidly approaching' (c. Evans,
1979, p. 12); while in contrast they have been seen as a 'monstro us
system of "total administration" that cancels out man, not
through terror and brutal authoritarianism, but through gradual
subjugation' (Gruber, 1974, p. 625). In the social work services
published comments have been more reticent:

In principle, new technology in social services departments offers a

valuable opportunity to relieve social workers of much of the clerical
and administrative drudgery which deflects them from direct contact
with clients and the exercise of their distinctive professional skills. ...
In practice, experience is varied! (NALGO, 1984, p.44) .
20 Computers in Social Work

Within the social services there have, for many years , been small
groups of enthusiasts, participating in organisations like LAM-
SAC and BURISA (British Urban and Regional Information
System Association). Yet the predominant impression from
talking to social workers has been one of suspicion and scepticism,
and the arguments for using computers have been stated in that
sort of tone to reflect such attitudes. Despite signs of change there
remains a widespread feeling among social workers that comput-
ing does not have much to offer them , and certainly nothing like as
much as it offers managers. Such views will need to change before
it becomes possible to put the case for computers with both
conviction and gusto.
2

The Growth of Computing in

Social Work Services

Computers have developed from calculating-machines, and be-

cause, through most of our history, ideas and plans have
outstripped the capability of production engineering, it is easier to
look back and find designs for computers than working models. It
is usual to identify two of the great philosophers, Pascal and
Leibniz, both from the seventeenth century, as the first conceivers
of calculating-machines. Charles Babbage, in the nineteenth
century, came nearer to a design for a computer. His Analytical
Engine has a format similar to a modern computer, with a CPU
(he called it a 'Mill') incorporating a memory. He also conceived
the idea of putting information into the Engine via punched cards,
and linking a printer to receive the output. However, there were no
electronics in his day , so the design was entirely mechanical. He
received a little government development money, but precision
engineering techniques were not up to the job, and the Engine
could not be built. 'He was born one hundred years too soon.'
(Healey, 1976, p.29.)
For the next few decades computing returned to the realms of
ideas and designs, but it was an important phase because it carried
through the conceptual transformation of calculator into com-
puter. Babbage (who was a Professor of Mathematics at Cam-
bridge University) had suggested a move away from making
specific requests for specific calculations towards the idea of a
programme of instructions, incorporating both a sequence of
activities and the possibility offlexibility along the lines of- 'if this
occurs then go along that path, but if it doesn't then take a
different course' . Extensions of these ideas led to the image we
have today of a computer as a flexible programmable machine,
22 Computers in Social Work

capable of handling almo st any type of material, and cert ainl y not
confined to numbers. At the same time there was evident
frustrat ion that ways of putting theories into practice , first
mechanic ally, then electr ically, and finally electronically were so
inadeq uate until the I940s. Mass production in the se early yea rs
focused much more on mechanical calculators, especially after the
boo st given to them by the US Census Bureau. In the 1880s the
Bureau, worried that the next ten-yearly Census would take place
before the result s of the previous one were available, had a
competition to find the best way of calculating the 1890 results.
Hermann Hollerith won easily, got the job, got a lot more jobs as
interest grew in the business community, and helped to set up the
International Business Machine Corporation - IBM , the giant of
the computer industry. His successor at IBM put up a million
dollars to build the first genuine computer - the Harvard Mark I.
These early machines were colossal, expensive, had long spells
out of action and were wholly incomprehensible to all but a few
specialists. The revolution between the I940s and the pre sent has
been caused not so much by new ideas on computing as new
inventions in electronics - the transistor and the micro-processor
especially - which have brought the small, competent low-priced
equipment we know tod ay.
What, the reader might pertinently ask , has all of this got to do
with social work? The an swer is to draw the ob viou s conclusions
about the incredible rate of technical development, and equally
astonishing reduction s in size, complexity and cost of computing,
and to point out that these must have implications for all
organisations, with no exemptions for social workers. The answer
is also to focus attention on the continuing pioneering activity that
characterises such rapid growth, and note the qualities of
imagination, inventiveness and experimentation which are
present in abundance. How forcefully this contrasts with the
apathy and suspicion of many social workers, as mentioned in the
last chapter.

Computers in thepersonal social services

Managers in the services have been less apathetic, and have been
using computers for over a decade. There was some small use
 The Growth of Computing in Social Work Services 23

before 1971, but the real impetus came from the formation of
social services departments, coupled with the simultaneous rise in
statutory work and the increased range and volume of circum-
stances recognised as 'needs'. Indeed a persistent difficulty for
social services departments has been the contrast between the
seemingly endless scope for needs to expand and the limits placed
on the growth of resources. The rise in demand through the 1970s,
sometimes running at an annual rate of25-30 percent (documen-
ted in Sainsbury, 1977), cannot be explained solely by analysing
the nature of human needs, since, in crucial ways, social services
departments have developed a new perspective on service prov-
ision. It is, perhaps, a justifiable generalisation to suggest that
traditional social work has been preoccupied with the quality of
interaction between worker and client, and less concerned with
issues of quantity. Social services departments set out to redress
this imbalance, to facilitate a high standard of work and at the
same time meet, in so far as resources permitted, the span and
scale of expressed needs. The themes which have emerged, in
consequence, are broadly similar to those which have been found
in other welfare sectors, such as the Health Service. How can the
volume of service output be maximised, while maintaining
acceptable standards of performance? Can short-term methods of
treatment be developed so that the turnover of clients is speeded
up? Are there ways of improving staff productivity? Can we
operate humane and sensible forms of rationing to deal with the
apparently inevitable disparity between demand and supply?
The importance of finding answers to these questions is
sufficient justification for examining ways of improving the
effectiveness of social work administration. To many managers it
seemed obvious that computers might be a helpful tool, par-
ticularly when faced with breakdowns in traditional procedures
under the weight of expansion. A London-based study concluded
that social workers 'consider their efforts to be almost as
frequently hindered as helped by existing administrative
procedures' (Pascoe, 1978). It cited a number ofcomplaints about
the reaction of manual systems to pressure:

Too much paperwork

Difficulties in information retrieval
Poor arrangements for circulating information
24 Computers in Social Work

Information not kept up to date

No standardised and widely understood system.

In the US similar experiences have pushed agencies towards

computing. Schoech and Arangio (1979) suggest four categories
of motivation: standardisation, getting bigger information sys-
tems, having the ability to evaluate projects and aiding better
service co-ordination. Another comment on the US scene asserts
that 'many manual information systems are no longer adequate to
meet the increasingly complex data demands which are being
placed on agencies. Often the data needed to make decisions is not
collected, or if collected, it is stored in such a way that useful
retrieval is extremely difficult.' (Schoech, Schkade and Mayers,
1982, p. 12.)
The earliest computer installations in British social work
services just preceded the formation of social services depart-
ments, but the flurry in the 1970s was very much a response to the
new departments, or to the increases in size following local
government reorganisation in 1974. One of the first reports on the
experience (Derbyshire, 1974) discussed five computer systems,
without claiming that these were the only ones. The earliest had its
origins in Lancashire's Children's Department. The most recent
survey (LAMSAC, 1982) found that all local authorities respond-
ing to a questionnaire (96 out of 125) had some central computing
facility, and over three-quarters (74 of the 96) had specific
applications for their social services departments. Several of the
remainder had plans in hand.
The rapid expansion in the number of computer systems in
operation has not been matched by comparable changes in the
objectives and functions of the programs. Derbyshire's study
suggested four frequent uses:

1. Management information
2. DHSS Annual Returns
3. Operational or ad hoc information
4. Rationalising records

By the 1980s there had been some change of emphasis,

noticeably in the way annual returns had become an integrated
 The Growth of Computing in Social Work Servi ces 25

taken-for-granted aspect of the wider processing network, and

much more sophistication could be found . Yet the only substan-
tially new preoccupation, and a clear reflection of the changing
economic circumstances over the decade, was with using com-
puters for budgetary control and monitoring. Except for a
growing scope for social workers in the front line to have access to
the data store of client records and resources, there was little sign
of computer functions spreading much beyond the management
scene. In particular only five authorities had developed micro-
computer applications for anything other than word-processing
in their social services departments (LAMSAC, 1982, para. 3).

What sort of computer systems?

The large majority of social services departments use mainframe

computers, shared with other local authority departments. Very
often the sharing arrangement is with longer-standing users, so
that the systems themselves may have been installed with these
other users in mind . Most commonly they are the departments
handling central accountancy, personnel and payroll functions
(LAMSAC, 1982). This has had a number of implications for
social service uses. When a computer already exists in the local
authority, and it has spare capacity, the social services committee
is hardly likely to give a high priority to buying new equipment for
a different type of system . There were obvious economies, or so
there seemed , in having a slot in the existing machine. The real
price to be paid was that the system was not necessarily
appropriate for social services, especially where it involved small
departments buying space on large (and possibly dated) com-
puters. The sort of space on offer might itself not be suitable if it
could not be utilised to give an immediate (on-line) response to
requests, and this was one of the most important weaknesses of
early developments. Put in a slightly more political way, social
services, as newcomers, could not expect any privileges, and
would always come further back in the queue than established
users. This has been most noticeable when major policy decisions
have had to be taken about, for example, equipment replacement.
Finally the sharing itself carried the seed of dissent and con-
26 Computers in Social Work

troversy, because it so blatantly set up the possibility of data

sharing, of allowing other departments and agencies to get hold of
confidential case file s.
The development of purpose-designed computer systems for
the personal social services has shown some distinct differences to
the schemes which were cobbled on to existing computers. The
best-known of the early systems is SOSCIS (SOcial Services Client
Information System), which was developed in Gateshead between
1974 and 1977, using a large ICL computer. Gateshead's circum-
stances were in many ways typical of those discussed earlier. Local
government reorganisation had more than doubled the catchment
population of the social services department. Traditional adminis-
trative methods were collapsing under the pressure - there was not
enough standardisation and no quick or easy access to informa-
tion , case files were inconveniently located and liable to get lost
and management felt disadvantaged by the absence of cumulative
and comparative data (Eason, 1982). The local authority (not the
social services department) had decided on the purchase of a big
new computer. It is pertinent to ask just how different SOSCIS
would have been if its developers had not been forced to react to
urgent pressures or to share a computer.
The answer to that question may well come from looking at one
of the small number of systems which have been purpose-designed
for personal social service tasks , without having to consider the
needs of other departments. An example is PROBIS, the PROBa-
tion Information System developed and made available through
the Home Office Research and Planning Uni t. An initial point to
note is that probation departments are generall y smaller than
social services, and it is no accident that the temptation to
purpose-develop comes from that end of the size spectrum.
Systems like SOSCIS will certainly be less attractive to the smaller
agencies, mainly because they are likely to be expensive to set up
and operate on a small scale.
PROBIS is micro-computer based, and hence makes use of
more modern technology. It also presupposes that it will be the
only programme operating on the equipment, since the capacity
of the machines to be installed is calculated from the anticipated
size of the PROBIS information store. Hence it removes fears of
contamination or muddling with other data files and other users-
 The Growth oj Computing in Social Work Services 27

fear s which exist even if computer specialists assert that they are
groundless.
The opportunities offered by PROBIS, SOSCIS and mo st of the
other systems in use around the country have broad similarities.
They all store information relevant to the agency , about clients ,
services offered, resources available and in use, budgets, staff,
staff workloads, known risks and so forth. The difference between
systems is that whereas the more limited schemes are selective
about the information stored, focusing on what management
considers to be high priority, the more comprehensive ones
(usually newer) aim to establish an 'all-in' file, often with internal
categories, but in an overall context of the computer becoming the
repository of the agency's information. A big task (and headache!)
for all the systems, but especially the more substantial ones, is
keeping the information up to date. The problem of out-of-date
information has already been mentioned as a characteristic of
manual systems, as well as potentially of computer-based ones ,
and any system requires an effective, accurate and quick way for
adding to or altering files. A difficulty at the other end of the
process which is exacerbated by computation, can be caused by
the system getting cluttered up with data no longer needed,
especially if it fills limited memory space.
All the computer systems are designed to make the stored data
available to management, whether in raw form or after analysis.
Dery (1981) makes a point about this: 'the central information
issue is not how many data there are , or how fast the y can be
retrieved, but, rather, whether ... we not only create data-rich
worlds but also help management to get what it wants or needs ,
and thereby convert data into information' (p.9). This is a
controversial statement, heavily biased towards a management
viewpoint. Keeping the distinction he makes between data and
information, data may be of little use to managers until it is
processed into information, but data (by which we mean mostly
material about individual clients or circumstances) is the life-
blood of the front-line practitioner. It is a foretaste of debate to
come later that managers are more bothered about the quality of
material after it has been analysed, while social workers will have
greater need of the raw data. These needs are not always in
harmony.
28 Computers in Social Work

In its most limited format the information offered by the

computer system (please forget now any subtle distinctions
between information and data!) will be for managers only, and
possibly supplied only with a slow turn-around (as on a batch
system). The development offered by SOSCIS and most of the
more recent programmes makes the information available quickly
(on-line), and it can be directed to several outlets, so that it
becomes a resource for social work practitioners. The next chapter
will contain a much more detailed look at topics which have been
summarised in previous paragraphs, since Hampshire's computer
history moves from initial limited managerial aims through to a
sophisticated agency wide computer network.

A rational approach to computer use

This brief look at some of the factors in the history of computer

uses in social services departments tends towards the conclusion
that pressure and opportunity played a large part, with careful
design and reflection often some way behind. A more careful
approach is often advocated, sometimes a more cautious one (as
by LAM SAC's Social Services Computer Applications Group,
reported in Community Care, 17 February (983). Emphasis is
likely to be placed too on responsibility - 'it is the responsibility of
administrators not only to recognise and exploit the capabilities of
the modern computer ... but to comprehend the impact of the
computer on staff at all levels . . . the administrator must view the
computer broadly' (Hoshino, 1982, p. 5). Arguments of a general
kind for using computers have already been aired, but is there a
more specific process which can amount to a rational, thorough
and realistic feasibility check? The relevance of such a check has
been observed. 'The notion of feasibility is one that is critical to
the implementation of a formal information system, particularly
one that will or does include a computer.' (LaMendola, 1982,
p.43.)
A number of planning stages can be identified. Given that a
computer installation is an expensive item, the first steps should
involve the pre-computer schemes:

1. A check to discover the level of effectiveness of the existing

 The Growth of Computing in So cial Work Services 29

information system, leading to an itemised list of weaknesses and

another list of valued characteristics which must be obtainable in
any replacement system .
2. A statement of the contents of the data-files, the categories
of files and the volume of material.
3. An estimate of expected changes to the agency 's informa-
tion , whether originating from changes in agenc y policies or
external circumstances. It is helpful for this to include some
comment on desired surplus capacity.
4. A statement of information turnover, including expected
daily /weekly amounts to be added and the speed with which
entries are required, as well as the volume and rate of data
discards. Is data simply deleted or a transfer arrangement wanted
to an inactive file?
5. A statement of information use. What is the level and nature
of transactions? Facts are needed about the daily /weekly number
of requests for information from the files, and the type of requests
which are made (for case-file access, composite tables, secondary
analysis and so forth) . An estimate is needed of likely changes in
use, especially if improved access arrangements are being con-
sidered, or the addition of more potential users.
6. A calculation of time needed for different uses, which at least
specifies the ratios between data input, deletion, search and
analysis. Precise timings may not be helpful if consideration is
being given to major changes in operation, for example from a
card index system to a computer, but ratios and an attempt at an
overall estimate are needed to aid calculating the scale of any new
equipment (number of computer keyboards, for example).
7. A ranked list of the essential characteristics and the func-
tions of any new system , drawing not only on the virtues of what is
being replaced, but also on what agency staff have identified as
necessary for future developments.

While it may be helpful to have an idea of what a computer can

do if the ranked list is to be realistic, it is only once this preliminary
information is established that the possibility of computers comes
into the reckoning, initially in comparison with alternative
pro spects .

8. Examine the potential for altering or extending the existing

30 Computers in Social Work

information system to overcome known weaknesses and meet

anticipated needs. If the potential exists, cost it.
9. Report on the technical feasibility of different systems, to
clarify which can offer, with ease and convenience, the character-
istics and functions needed . Include capacity and scope for
expansion. Flexibility is also worth consideration. The suggestion
here is to do this exercise for different systems, meaning more than
one computerised arrangement. At a minimum this should
include one mainframe- or mini-computer-based scheme , and one
using micro-computers.
10. Report on the 'image' ofany proposed system. What does it
look like? What space will it take up? How accessible will it be?
Will it be attractive for current and possible future users, in the
sense of being 'user-friendly'?
11 . Produce costings, to include equipment, installation, main-
tenance and replacement. Budgets are also needed for space,
staffing, staff training and routine running.

At this point the concerns move into areas of economic feasibility

and away from the intended subject-matter of this book.
However, a process such as has been itemised here can serve useful
purposes. Most obviously it puts calculations and estimates about
computer applications within the same planning context as other
possibilities for information handling, which is a more rational
approach than assuming that computers must be better because
they are new and fashionable. In addition a logical approach has
much more prospect of convincing the doubters, especially among
social workers, that decisions have been soundly based , at least at
a technical, economic and administrative level. It means that these
practical factors do not muddy the water when we try to clarify the
political, professional and ethical aspects of computer use.

Installing computer systems

There is, in outline, a clear sequence to installation. It begins with

moving in the equipment (hardware), linking it together, which is
not always easy, and checking that it works. Next the overall
system instructions (the programs - software) can be incor-
porated, and trial runs can begin. Writing a program for a
 The Growth of Computing in So cial Work Services 31

computer has a three-step sequence - designing the program,

writing it and then getting it to run smoothly and effectively
(debugging). Most debugging is done once the program is running
in the computer, because it is only by trial runs that many of the
flaws can be discovered and wrinkles ironed out. Even if the
program works well there may still be more work to do , because
there is a quality to programming which is akin to literary style. A
message can be conveyed in a clumsy, long-winded and unattrac-
tive way, and still be understood; but it can also be expressed with
panache, brevity and beauty. The most flattering comment a
computer specialist can pass on a program is to call it 'elegant'!
The final stage of the installation process is to move into full
operation, which does not in theory seem a very difficult task,
though many agencies have agonised over it, and few have tackled
it comprehensively. The problem lies less in the computer itself
than in our frequent but not always justified mistrust of it. During
the trial stages it is sensible to retain the previous information
system as a backup. The big hurdle to overcome is to discard the
backup once the computer is fully operational. In practice many
social services departments have opted to keep a permanent
backup, to institutionalise their doubts about the dependability of
computers. It is a costly decision, and a sort of information
obsession .
During the process of installation, whether of 'off-the-shelf or
newly devised computer systems, there are a couple of factors
which particularly affect social workers. The previous paragraph
got close to one of them, in mentioning the mistrust ofcomputers.
It is the tendency of the system to sporadic inaccuracies and
oddities which are especially likely to occur during the early
months, and may never vanish altogether. The inaccuracies are
likely to be in specific bits of data, and although there will be
exceptions, they can usually be explained by reference to the
'garbage in - garbage out' principle. The oddities may be more
dramatic, and are more likely to be the result of ' bugs' in the
system. A screen display of total rubbish is one sign, as is the
seeming inability of the computer to carryon doing what you have
instructed. Just occasionally (very rarely indeed, if the truth is
told) a user asks for some simple bit of information and instead
breaks into a juicy confidential file!
Bugs need to be cleared out, but some of the problem over
32 Computers in Social Work

inaccuracies stems from social workers' attitudes. Under the old

manual regimes social workers took it for granted and in their
stride that files or file entries would go missing, or be unreadable
and untrue. Why is it that the moment a computer comes into
operation our expectations change, and we look for perfection?
Computers are far from perfect , but they are a lot more accurate at
storing and retrieving information than their manual predeces-
sors.
The remaining installation difficulty for social workers is the
communication gulf between those who know how to do social
work and those who know about computers. There are very few
people who combine that knowledge. This is especially a problem
when the computer is a large one or is situated in another
department, because in those circumstances the computer will be
run by specialist staff whose training and experience may have
involved no contact whatsoever with the personal social services.
On the other side, the use of computers is not yet considered an
essential part of the curriculum for social work training, and in-
service induction courses will, quite reasonably, focus on the
functional specifics of 'being a user '. The interdisciplinary com-
munication task presents a big challenge for the future, and the
next chapter will relate how one large social services department is
trying to meet it.
3
Computing in One Social
Services Department

Hampshire Social Services Department (from now on 'the Social

Services') covers the entire county of Hampshire. It is a large
department, with a population catchment of over one and a half
million people. In 1971, when the Social Services Act came into
operation, there were three independent social services depart-
ments, in the county of Hampshire and the county boroughs of
Portsmouth and Southampton. The boroughs were the main
urban centres, but were nevertheless a lot smaller than the county.
A proposal that as part of the local authority reorganisation
planned for 1974 the three councils should merge into one was
strenuously opposed at a political level, partly because the
boroughs were fearful of being swamped, partly on account of the
party political make-up. The county has a tradition of Con-
servative management, whereas the boroughs have shown more
tendency to waver. A combined authority would have a built-in
Conservative majority.
The merger duly occurred in 1974 and since then there has been
regular discussion about reversing the process and re-establishing
the old boroughs. There is no evidence in the Social Services that
this debate has affected planning, and the process of integration
into a single agency, slow at first, has gained pace in the early
1980s. Whether the level of services has fallen below that which
the boroughs might have wanted is more debatable. The county
gets a tick, a star and a pat on the back from the Conservative
government at Westminster for its adherence to expenditure
limits, though it may well not receive such favourable backing
from the (now) district councils of the two south-coast cities.
Any political worries which might have existed in the three
34 Computers in Social Work

social services departments were kept well beneath the surface,

though concern about the new structure and the rearrangement of
jobs was widely discussed . In the event the new Social Services
represented the minimum disruption, possibly at the price of a
managerial framework which was cumbersome, costly and hierar-
chical. The old boroughs, with additions to their geographic
peripheries, because Divisions , as did the remainder of the county.
Superimposed on the divisions was a new HQ in the county town ,
Winchester. This framework was given nearly a decade to settle,
and consolidate its work patterns before a further round of
administrative restructuring began with the removal of the
divisional headquarters. Only recently, therefore, has Hampshire
switched from an atypical three-tier structure (HQ - Divisions-
Areas) to the more usual two-tier arrangement (HQ - Areas).
The purpose of this historical summary is to identify a number
of factors which influenced the growth of a computer system. One
point has already been noted - that the Social Services has a large
catchment population. It also covers a large geographical area,
with as much as fifty road miles separating the distant points. The
fact that it is made up of three different social services depart-
ments, which only a few years before were themselves amalgama-
tions , resulted in a wide range of different practices and informa-
tion systems. Political sensitivity has perhaps led to careful
attention to the provision of data upon which the Department's
performance can be judged, with some emphasis on being able to
provide an effective factual backup service to any issue under
political debate. Lastly, the long-drawn-out process of adminis-
trative reorganisation has forced some tailoring of the computer
system .

Origins of thecomputer system

The initial thrust to the Hampshire computer development came

from the decision to merge Portsmouth and Southampton with
the county of Hampshire on 1 April 1974, and to negotiate a
gradual integration towards a new Social Services Department. It
undoubtedly helped in this fraught exercise that the Director and
several of the new HQ staff came from one or other of the
boroughs, with an understanding of their circumstances and
 Computing in One Social Service s Department 35

feelings, because it did appear that it was the boroughs which were
being expected to make the biggest changes and to lose their
status. An essential early phase of the plan to get the Social
Services working as a coherent unit was a look at existing
administrative systems . A Records Procedures Working Party
found a chaotic situation. In outline the working party found
three broadly different record systems, each with eccentricities
derived largely from ad hoc responses to national (DHSS) and
local demands as they arose. Within the three systems were sixty-
four different locations of records, again frequently having their
own localised characteristics. The methods of storage varied, both
in substantial ways (like the content of files) and in ways which
were minor but irritating (like the size of index cards). The
purposes for which files were held varied, from card indexes kept
up at considerable cost for use only in preparing annual returns, to
full operational case files. The subject-matter about which data
were held also lacked any consistent pattern, and there was
extensive duplication. It was not uncommon for a client to have
more than one file, assembled quite independently, in different
places . About the only thing the systems had in common was that
they were all manual, and tended to be slow and cumhersome to
use.
At this time the county had an under-used computer (main-
frame), with a computer staff who were interested in the prospects
of extending their range of activities. The outcome was inevitable.
The working party recommended that a single-records system
should be established in each division, standardised both within
and between divisions - effectively a single system, with data
accumulated at three points in the department. Further it was
recommended that the county computer should be used, and a
small group of staff from the computer section and Social Services
got together to make, and later implement, specific proposals. The
objectives of a computer-based system were twofold:

a) the standardisation of the existingrecord systems, thus provid-

ing the Department with an information base common to all three
Divisions;
b) the storage and retrieval of information sufficient for Annual
Returns and any other managementinformation, thus eliminatingthe
need for duplicate or parallel sets of index cards used solely in
36 Computer s in Social Work

compiling DHSS returns. (First Report on the Introduction of a

Divisional Computer-Based Information System, April 1974.)

It is perhaps helpful at this stage to pause and clarify just what

was and was not involved in this proposal, since it would be a
mistake to blanket in all agency records. The focus was clearly and
explicitly on such records as would be needed by management for
specific managerial purposes and annual returns, primarily for
DHSS, but also for the Social Services Committee. Although
client case-files and case-recording in parts of Hampshire were
about to become the subject of study by the National Institute for
Social Work (more later on this), files compiled by social workers
for social work purposes were not included . Indeed the role of
social workers would be to provide data for the computer store,
without any opportunity either to understand the system or make
direct use of it, though some data analysis would be available for
them. The aim of management at this stage was to disturb social
workers as little as po ssible . Hampshire's computer system needs
to be seen as one which grew in a series of steps, and the big step of
involving social workers and social work practice came a few
yea rs later.
The First Report mentioned above discussed the pros and cons
of the proposals. The undeniable advantages were that the system
would overcome confusion in the records, save time in the current
level of information analysis, especially annual returns, make
more information available in forms useful to managers and cope
with the volume of data held by a big department. A more general
argument was made about the greater flexibility of a computer file
over a card index, both in editing (changing or keeping up to date)
and secondary analysis. This latter point was reinforced by the
expectation that output from the computer would include (for the
first time) an analysis of data categorised by area and available to
area offices, as well as an 'ad hoc query' service.
Costing for the system came out favourably. There would be a
need for some extra clerical staff to handle the backlog and get the
data file set up, but in the long run the Group expected a saving
over the cost of the existing arrangements. This calculation was
aided by quite favourable terms for the purchase of time on the
county computer, and the early plan involved very little capital
investment in equipment by the Social Service s. That came later.
 Computing in One So cial Servi ces Department 37

The budgetary arguments were perhaps slightly distorted because

the computer estimates were compared to existing manual system
costs, not to estimates for a streamlined manual scheme (for
example, a microfiche file).
A rather more general economic argument was suggested in a
separate planning document, which as well as giving specific cost
details added: 'In the present climate of economic stringency, the
review of service delivery . . . and the assessment of the effective-
ness of services provided must clearly be of considerable impor-
tance , and the proposed system is intended to provide the data
base for such activity.' (Computer Development Group internal
document of 1974.) This comment is set more in the context of an
advertising puff for computerisation than as part of a discussion
of a sensitive issue. Yet it was, and soon became accepted as one of
the more fraught aspects of developing ever wider information
and analysis capabilities. The prospect of the computer being used
as a means of overseeing and monitoring fieldwork, or as a tool of
fiscal retrenchment, was certain to make it unpopular in parts of
the agency . Furthermore it fuelled the tendency to resent the
computer as an instrument of control and power. To an outside
observer throughout this phase of the Social Services' computer
history it was noticeable that this sort of resentment grew and
continued among social workers, until in a later development it
was decided to inform, involve and consult field staff.
The only disadvantage acknowledged in the planning
documents was the (as it turned out transitory) snag of delays in
the output from the computer. However, others were around and
recognised . One, which subsequently grew to parallel, perhaps to
exceed, the 'control' fears, was the worry about confidentiality
and the security of computer files. Security techniques will be
discussed later in this chapter, but it is arguable that the computer
has been unfairly blamed for a widespread lapse in traditional
attitudes towards confidentiality. The very formation of social
services departments increased the number of staff with author-
ised access to files, regardless of the use of computers. Another
concern, which has been more narrowly contained within the staff
group operating the Social Services computer activity, was with
the relationship with the more powerful computer users in the
local authority. In the early days there was perhaps some of the
insecurity which commonly surrounds a new development, but
38 Computers in Social Work

there is a more lasting element which can have the effect of

reducing Social Services' flexibility. As long as they remained
small users there were few difficulties, but the Social Services staff
found that with the expansion of the system tension points
increased with other users .
The Group recommended implementation of their proposals
over a surprisingly short period . The proposals themselves were
put forward in April, with the recommendation that the system
could be operational by mid-October. Confidence was not
misplaced, and the system was giving output before the end of
1974.

The management information system

When the Social Services system first became operational it was

geared to accommodate data on 33000 current case records and
20000 home-help records. Projecting from the manual scheme, it
was expected that there would be about 15000 entries to the
computer per year (a few new files, but mainly changes and
additions to existing files). Output was anticipated at about fifty
tables for annual DHSS returns, some committee statistics and
perhaps five inquiries each week. It needs to be emphasised that
these figures assumed a level of activity comparable with the past,
whereas in reality the introduction of the computer began a rapid
and continuing phase of growth in the size, range and use of the
information system .
Building up the data files took longer than was expected, but the
backlog had been dealt with by the end of 1975, and a description
of the system in mid -1976 (Wilshire, 1976) saw it broadly as
containing three elements. Two parts combined to form the
Management Information System itself. These were the client files
and the establishment files. The client files did not include all the
cases of social workers and other front-line staff, but only those
with 'management implications'. This was in keeping with past
tradition, and incorporated those cases where there was either a
specific legal requirement or an allocation of agency resources
(other than a bit of social worker time) . The establishment files set
out to list Social Services resources, in residential and day-care
 Computing in One Social Services Department 39

services, foster homes, play groups, child minders and a number of

other sectors. It also included private and voluntary establish-
ments registered with the department.
The third component, described as the Referral Recording
System, was intended partly to plug the gap in the client files and
ensure that note was made of all referrals to area centres. Much
the largest group were the elderly. There was, however, a more
substantial element to this development. Since 1973 the National
Institute for Social Work, with a team of workers led by Tilda
Goldberg, had been analysing data collection documents and
feeding in recommendations to the Social Services. Out of this
research came the Case Review System (see Goldberg and
Warburton, 1979), which was later taken on by Hampshire's
computer division, and subsequently by other local authorities. In
the event it did not retain a separate identity in Hampshire, or
receive much development, but was merged into the expanding
client files. Already it was acknowledged that: 'The true core of
this information base is the Management Information System . It
is this system that will provide the majority of information for the
department in future.' (Wilshire, 1976.) The Case Review System
had not been developed through a study of needs at HQ, but by
linking with social workers and other front-line staff in an area
team. As such it was probably too sensitive to the concerns of
social workers to gain the necessary priority at that stage of
computer applications.
Entries both to client and establishment files were initiated by
an action note from area office or other front-line venue, passed to
division, which in turn transferred the information to an input
form. There was a form each for client or establishment entry, but
the same form covered new referrals, changes to existing files and
closures. The forms were then gathered at the divisional offices
and sent in bundles to HQ for putting on to the computer. A
temporary computer file was created and a copy of the proposed
entry returned for correction to the division, and only after that
was it put (at fortnightly intervals) on to the permanent file. Both
forms included basic factual data which would be useful for
annual returns, statistical analysis and outline data searches, but
excluded any comment or qualitative material, or any record of
social worker involvement (through the reference number of the
40 Computers in Social Work

client's social worker was included , along with 'aids provided') .

Similarly the establishment files did not include anything which
might portray the 'flavour' of the entry. Some parts of the forms
(like addresses) could simply be written in, while others (like the
area officeand social worker) had to be entered as a code number.
This meant that anyone using the computer needed a code book
for translation purposes.
Computer jobs were dealt with by a batch method, which is to
say that there was no immediate interaction with the computer,
and 'processing' time could be as much as two days for some
work . This was not a problem for annual returns and statistical
analysis, but made urgent searches impossible . Hence the com-
puter had great flexibility if there was enough time - it could
produce almo st any kind of analysis as well as other helpful bits
and pieces, like sticky address labels for all addresses lodged on
the establishment files . But the only way it could cope with more
pressing requests was to reinforce the manual backup system by
producing index cards containing some basic information for
each client or establishment. In short a batch-based system with a
limited range of data might be useful for managers and resear-
chers, but had little to offer for social workers.
A retrospective comment by the head of the Social Services
research section (Ward, 1981)looked at these weaknesses, and put
particular emphasis on delays and inaccuracies. The process of
entering data, requiring its transfer from area centre to division to
HQ, and backwards and forwards again for correction, resulted in
some short events (like a two-week admission to a residential
setting) becoming history before the computer got hold of them.
Further, the number of hands that the data passed through left
scope for losses and faults to creep in. On the basis of experience
Ward concluded that 'there had to be a delay of at least two
months before reasonably accurate information could be
produced for any given time period' (Ward, 1981, p. 14). Two
important changes were mooted. While some tasks would con-
tinue to use the batch approach (annual returns and research, for
example), it was essential that a more immediate and direct system
be implemented. First it was recommended that the Social
Services set up direct links with the computer through terminals
(cutting out the middle men), and, second, parts of the service
should become interactive and quick (in short go 'on-line').
 Computing in One Social Services Department 41

Going on-line

The view from outside suggests that the decision to go on -line

caused some soul-searching. In the first place it involved admit-
ting that a few of the enthusiastic expectations of the original
scheme had not wholly come to fruition, though some of this
could reasonably be transformed into a recognition of new ideas
and technical possibilities for further developments. In addition
the Social Services would, for the first time, cease to be solely
tenants of computer equipment, and enter into capital expen-
diture.
The initial proposal (W. Evans, April 1979) envisaged a limited
move. Action notes and the already freshly instituted weekly
returns would still be sent as before from the front line to
divisions . The first visible signs of a new system would be found at
divisional HQ, where instead of manually transcribing data on to
input forms there would be a keyboard and screen (a terminal)
from which direct entries could be made to the computer. The
procedure for these entries would allow corrections to be made on
the spot. Entries were not then held up at Winchester, but
immediately would become part of the computer files. Similarly
requests for information could also be made and quickly supplied
through the terminals, so it would no longer be necessary for the
computer service to circulate index cards for use with urgent tasks .
It would follow that all tasks which were previously held up while
corrected data were filed, including statistical tables and annual
returns, could be speeded up. However, the initial plan did not
envisage a wider use of the system (terminals would only be placed
in the county headquarters at Winchester, and in the divisional
offices, where previously there had been card indexes) or additions
to the content of the files.
At this point, in 1979, a policy decision was taken which with
hindsight can be seen as central to future developments, although
there was hesitation because it was not at all clear if the resources
would be made available to meet the demand for computing
which was expected to result. It was decided not to treat the
process of going on-line as an internal matter for the technical and
managerial group, but to invite comments from the department as
a whole. The first round of comments and suggestions were issued
as a discussion document in August 1979, and these promptly
42 Computers in Social Work

advanced a number of arguments for changes and expansions to

the system. Some proposed alterations to the way the information
was received and dispensed which would make it more helpful and
approachable ('user-friendly'). Others argued for increases to the
coverage of the existing files, to offer more information on clients
or establishments; while yet more wanted new subject areas to be
included in new files, such as information about local voluntary
services.
Consultation was followed by a series of seminars to explain
and discuss the computer scheme, and a further paper was written
in the research section (W. Evans, November 1979) giving a
question and answer report on the seminars. Again pressure was
observed to extend the system, and this led the Computer
Development Group to draw attention to budgetary implications
as well as the need for 'a firm commitment from this Department'
(W. Evans , November 1979). The list of staff attending the
seminars indicated the growing interest in computing, whatever
the motivation. Of the 155 participants very few were basic grade
social workers, but 61 were staff based in area centres. It was the
thin end of the wedge.
The system finally went on-line at the end of 1980. In one
important aspect the suggestions from the field were accepted.
The contents structure of client files was substantially changed to
allow a new range of information to be incorporated at a later
date, if and when the network was extended to front-line venues.
Files were also made more realistic from the viewpoint of
practitioners - for example, the files on establishments now said
how many places were actually available, rather than just giving
the nominal capacity. The scene was set to draw in social workers,
and offer them an information system which they could find
useful. At this stage, however, terminals were only fitted in HQ
and the divisions. Social workers would have to wait, and a
potentially more difficult problem - of access for the Emergency
Duty Team - came to the surface. The computer was in the
Country Treasurer's Department, and manned twenty-four hours
a day for five days a week only.

From MIS to SWIS

Two factors gave a shove to the expansion of the Management

 Computing in One So cial Services Department 43

Information System (MIS) into something nearer to a social work

information system (SWIS). One was a decision by the county to
take the next step of departmental integration in the Social
Services and abolish the divisions . This forced the issue of whether
direct computer links to Southampton and Portsmouth should
remain, and more importantly, of the type of links which HQ
would establish with areas . In the same context a Chief Ex-
ecutive's Working Party decisively tipped the scales by recommen-
ding that Social Services make maximum use of new technology to
manage the accountability of areas , once the ending of divisions
exposed the elongated lines of communication.
Social Services' first action was to set up DISP, the Documenta-
tion and Information Systems Panel, to initiate the next round of
changes. With DISP went DISPatch, started in 1982 as a
newsletter for staff of the department. By spring 1983 DISP felt
swamped by the pace of computer developments, and established
a range of sub-groups to cover:

Personal computing
Specifying a future Management Information System
Monitoring the Management Information System
Non-computer records
Documentation - adults
Documentation - children

From a social worker's viewpoint the interesting groups are

likely to be those concerned with personal computing and
documentation. The former acknowledges the prospect of expan-
ding computing capacity (in most cases through micro-com-
puters) to area centres and other localised settings. The documen-
tation groups are involved in selecting the range of computer-
based data for all departmental uses, and a term of reference is 'To
ensure that documentation is appropriately designed to meet both
operational and administrative requirements.. . .' (Circular from
the Director, 35/83).
It is too early (this is being written in the summer of 1984) to
evaluate the work of these groups, or the success of the overall
scheme. The new system is not yet fully operational, although
large parts of it are running. The facts of expansion sound
impressive. Between 1980 and 1984 the county as a whole
established over 300 on-line terminal links with its computer. Over
44 Computers in Social Work

fifty of these are in the Social Services, in HQ and all the main area
offices (two each) . Some outposted HQ staff still do not have
terminal access, nor do social workers in hospitals, where six
teams will eventually be linked .
Terminal users contribute to and draw on a set of establish-
ments files, broadly as described earlier, and three types of client
file. The briefest contains minimal ('index ') entries, and is for one-
off referrals which did not develop into anything more substan-
tial. Rather more data are available about cases which have been
allocated to a social worker, and perhaps received some counsell-
ing, but no other services or resources. The most detailed are those
which made up the original client files, and are cases to which
resources have been committed. By mid-1984 the number of client
files stood at about 280000, six times the number in the original
system. Information from social workers in the health services is
the largest remaining gap , and it is expected that the total size will
approach 3000000, or about a fifth of the total population of
Hampshire. Projections from earlier activities suggest that there
will be about 60000 changes to files each year, a third being new
records and the remainder revisions or closures.
Despite the massive amount of information now gathered, the
research staff clearly expect that it will settle into a stable and
accurate system . In contrast they anticipate quite a lot of
inaccuracies as part of the teething difficulties. While these are in
part a result of wrong entries being made, confusions and errors
have been traced to the process of transferring material from one
system to another. Thi s is a sensitive issue at present, because in
many area centres the computer has gained a reputation for being
error-prone.
For a social worker using a terminal to look at information
about a client, there are a maximum of eleven pages or screen
displays . Two of them are action rather than information pages,
one to open a file, the other to close it. Of the nine information
pages, the first contains basic data (the card index equivalent), and
is the minimum held about any referral. The next contains some
other useful items of information, addresses for example, and is
followed by 'referral information' , which categorises the initial
assessment (referrer, presenting request, primary problem and so
forth) and notes the type of allocation. Two pages itemise all
resources allocated to the client , and two more similarly cover
 Computing in One Social Services Department 45

aids . The remaining pages provide some caseload information

and a note of client contacts, both with the social worker and
others, including useful contacts outside Social Services .
Introductory courses are given to potential computer users, and
it is not difficult to handle the system, whether for immediate
interactive information or to use the terminal to request a batch
job. The files themselves offer a range of useful information, and
the system is now adept at giving the result of a quick search to see
if a particular person is known to the department, or if a particular
resource or establishment is likely to be available. Yet there are
two negative aspects from a social worker's point of view. The
system is still not very comfortable to approach. A user needs the
help of two manuals, for coding and procedures (though some
'help' is also on offer through the terminal), and most of the
material is in coded form . The system has none of the attractive-
ness of some modern micro-computer programs, and remains
essentially a design for the computer-wise rather than the social
worker who wants to use it without inconvenience. It still looks
like a system with its feet embedded in old-style programming
techniques for statistical analysis, rather than something with , for
example, the panache in presentation of a good word-processor
program.
The other practice disadvantage is that despite the increased
range of data on file, there is no realistic prospect that it could
hold enough information or have the flexibility to substitute for
traditional client folders on active cases . So while a strong and
effective move has been made to involve social workers and offer
them a useful computer service, there is still a very long way to go .
The Hampshire experience, where there has been dependable
managerial commitment, as well as continuous creative effort
from the research section, indicates that the transition phase will
be lengthy. During this time social workers will be faced with a
hybrid information system, part on computer and part (their case-
files) in folders .
For some social workers in Hampshire there is as yet no duality
because there is no computer link. These are (temporarily) from
the big hospitals, and (more permanently) small sub-offices or
outposted settings. The cost ofinstalling terminals for these would
be high, and Hampshire's solution is to have the outline parts of
both client and establishment files put on to microfiche, with a
46 Computers in Social Work

weekly replacement of an updated set. Small bases are then

provided with microfiche reader. A careful process exists for
issuing and recovering microfiche slides, but this is accepted as a
risky area, and consequently kept under close scrutiny.

Security and the Codeof Practice

The Hampshire system has grown up with a preoccupation for

security , which is far from unusual. Most computer systems in
social services departments have built -in security barriers. The
wider aspects of security are taken up in Chapter 6, where it will be
suggested that the real risks are not of an accident or breakdown
of the system (though on exceedingly rare occasions that is
possible) , but of intentional breaches. Here the security arran-
gements set into the Hampshire system will be described.
The first part of any security framework is to control access to
the computer equipment itself, and this is covered both by the
normal locking-up arrangements for the social work offices and
by the closure of the computer at some vulnerable times (such as at
weekends when the office is empty). The next stage is to identify
and authorise the users, which is done by a two-part process .
Every authorised user's name must be registered with the
computer, so that when a user types it on the terminal as part of
the procedure for getting access, the computer can recognise and
accept it. That part would not be too hard to breach, simply by
trying out a few common names in the reasonable expectation that
the computer would 'recognise' one of them . The next part,
however, is to type in a secret password, selected by the user
during the original authorisation process, and known only to the
user and the computer. An authorised user is encouraged to
change password at regular intervals. Someone trying to get
access by experimenting with different names and passwords is cut
off after a few unsuccessful tries, and the computer records from
which terminal these attempts came .
Once a user has gained access, two different forms of entry
come into operation. Minimum use is 'read only ', which means
that information can be received from the computer, but no files
can be introduced, altered or deleted. The more powerful access is
'read and amend', and while all social worker users would expect a
 Computing in One Social Services Department 47

'read only' authorisation, usually only one person (probably a

senior clerical officer) in each office can 'amend' . The computer
notes all attempts to change files, so these can be traced back if
anything odd occurs. To avoid accidental (or malicious!) deleting,
all deleted files are not destroyed, but transferred to an archive. In
the long term some total deletion will have to be considered, for
political and ethical reasons if nothing else, but that has not yet
been faced .
Two further user limitations are possible, one to restrict the
range of files which a particular user can see, and the other
requiring personal collection for anyone who wants a print of an
entry rather than a screen display.
Even with these controls there will still be a lot of authorised
users in a large social services department, so a great deal depends
on the standard of behaviour these people adopt. An authorised
user can easily become a misuser. The Social Services has issued
a Code of Practice (and acknowledges a debt to the local Health
Authority for some of it). This goes through the system in some
detail, explaining its uses, and spelling out specific misuses .
Attached to it is a set of Security Rules , making the obvious
practical points which will be familiar to all holders of credit
cards. Every user is then required to sign an undertaking that the
Code of Practice and Security Rules have been read and
understood, and will be observed . A separate Code and undertak-
ing applies to anyone wanting printed information, though in any
event this must have prior approval from HQ .
Misuse , or, in the terms of the Code, 'disallowed purposes',
takes two forms . There is a general statement defining as
disallowed anything not specifically allowed in the Code or
approved by the Director. Then there is a specific assertion that
'No access to and use of data is allowed where exploitation by
commercial or industrial organisations could occur' (Code of
Practice, para. 4).
A more complex section concerns 'indirect users'. The problem
is not composite statistical information, but personal data about
clients , presumably collected under the auspices of professional
confidentiality. Depending on the seniority of the member of staff
giving authorisation this can, in some circumstances, be handed
out to other departments of the local authority, other social
services departments or welfare agencies, or external organisa-
48 Computers in Social Work

tions for research purposes. The intention is quite clearly to

conform to traditional practices of sharing information (in case
conferences, for example), but it looks more controversial and
open to abuse when written out. It is a practice which social
workers might prefer not to see formally acknowledged .

Comment

As was stated in the Introduction, Hampshire's system has not

been described because it is necessarily the most modern in a social
services department. Some others have established more compre-
hensive files, or moved further into the new dimension of personal
computing. Yet Hampshire does offer some lessons gained from
experience, and some guidelines to good practice. The difficulties
tend to have centred around the task of getting a computer system
set up or expanded without causing too much confusion or
creating too many inaccuracies. The lesson from this may have to
do with the value of gradual, step-by-step implementation,
though even here the reality of teething troubles has to be faced. A
further lesson is clearly that an 'off-line' system has very limited
uses, and many disadvantages. A harder experience to evaluate is
the continuing use of a computer belonging to another depart-
ment , rather than becoming more 'purpose designed'. This may
have been the only way, of course, given the history of financial
stringency.
There are several guidelines to good practice. The Social
Services have enjoyed a continuity of managerial commitment to
the development of the system, as well as continuity in certain vital
personnel to carry it through. The system, despite earlier criticism
of its appearance, is logical, coherent and fast becoming compre-
hensive for all purposes except for details of client-worker
interactions. It has moved away from a selective approach, and
hence overcome the risks of distortion in a system where part of
the agency information is on the computer and available for staff,
while part is off and less easily accessible. The system has
blossomed simultaneously with the decision to involve front-line
staff in its planning. This may not be cause and effect, but the
creative stimulus of wide discussion is very apparent to the
outsider. The particular arrangement of consultation and plan-
 Computing in One Social Services Department 49

ning, via DISP and its sub-groups, is a framework for continuing

development. Some social services departments have opted to
implement a computer system following the commissioned report
of an outside consultant, and this carries risks of a scheme which
shows insufficient knowledge of the agency's way of running, and
does not command staff support. Hampshire's approach has had
the opposite impact, and generated a lot of commitment from
principal area officers and other senior staff. Future policy is
aimed to avoid computer developments being distinct from other
activities, and instead to see them as an integrated part of overall
agency plans. Finally, although the Social Services has created a
massive client file, and thereby raised all the fundamental issues
about data banks, its organisational response to security, through
the Security Rules and Code of Practice, reflect a thoroughly
practical attempt to minimise risks of abuse.
4

Computers in Social Work

Practice

The previous chapter described the computer system of one social

services department. It was called a 'Management Information
System', and in its early phase operated as such; but it gradually
expanded its accessibility so that it became physically available to
social workers, and at the same time began to offer useful
functions for front-line staff. This chapter looks further at
computer uses among social workers and others in direct contact
with clients. It excludes future uses (which are considered in
Chapter 8) and confines itself to schemes already in operation,
albeit in some cases experimentally. One assumption made in this
chapter is that if a function is available to social workers the
equipment needed to take advantage of it is also there and usable .
In practice this is not always the case, especially where the agency
is dependent on sharing someone else's computer. In Hampshire,
for example, the files are not available at weekends to the
emergency duty staff because the computer is closed down. In
most local authorities outposted and sub-office workers are
unlikely to be able to use a computer or terminal without the
inconvenience of travelling to it. It is an important difference
between management and front-line staff that the latter tend to be
much more dispersed. Indeed, the developing policy of 'commun-
ity social work' could well have the result of spreading practition-
ers into still smaller clusters . Put another way, there would be
considerable capital cost in giving all social workers the same ease
of access as managers, and where a piece of equipment is only
likely to be used for a tiny part of its capacity, the cost may not be
justifiable. This raises issues which will be taken up in Chapter 7.
For the present access is taken for granted.
 Computers in Social Work Practice 51

The history of computers in social work practice is more recent

and more complex than developments in management. Social
service managers have always had the advantage of sharing needs
with colleagues in other settings, and this has given great impetus
to computerised management systems. Social work does share
needs with some other groups (doctors, for example), but there is
not an extensive linking of social workers and others into the sort
of large coherent potential user-group which would command
attention from computer system designers. Social work applica-
tions have, therefore, tended to emerge in a more fragmented and
segmented way, with a much bigger role for locally produced
experiments and individual efforts . As a result of starting out at a
later stage relative to technical developments, many social work
computer pioneers have designed with micro-computers in mind .
Indeed social work practice applications may well not need the
large capacity of a mainframe system , and the home computer or
small office machine is cheaper. In a wider sense the economic
factor might have become important if there had been a major
thrust in computerised practice schemes , but the small range of
developments has limited the pressure placed on budgets for
computer purchases.
While starting later has given some advantages, in the bigger
range of equipment available, and perhaps the greater familiarity
with computing, there have been disadvantages. Within the social
services computing has tended to be seen at times as the province
of the managers, and as will be argued in Chapter 6 there is a view
of computing as a tool of control. Hence some of the 'approved'
efforts to develop practice programs have come as carefully
considered arms to existing management systems . This is not
necessarily a helpful jumping off point, and 'there has not been
complete user satisfaction with the operation of these multi-
purpose systems' (Chapman, 1976, p. 5).
A further significant difference in the experiences of managers
and practitioners has been the absence, for the latter, ofany events
comparable in their impact to the formation of social services
departments and then local government reorganisation. Both of
these presented managers with an increase in the scale of agency
activities of such dimensions that many (especially in the bigger
departments) could see computing as the only way to cope.
Nothing has been done to social workers to direct their attention
so explicitly towards new technologies.
52 Computers in Social Work

Much the most persistent contrast over the last decade,

however, has been in attitudes towards computer uses. For
managers any political and ethical dilemmas have been strongly
countered by the knowledge that computers had a clear and
undeniable value in aiding the management task . There has been
no such certainty for practitioners. Useful applications to social
work practice would need arguing and demonstrating, and if there
is a prima facie case it is against rather than for computing - in
that the idea of using a computer in work with clients does seem to
interfere in the worker -client relationship, and to make imper-
sonal what is one of the most personal of jobs. In consequence
computing has not had a smooth passage among social workers,
who have both exposed the difficulty of incorporating such
activity into the social work task, and paid greater attention to
wider issues, especially concerning confidentiality and client
rights. In the view of some (for example, Tutt, 1983), social
workers have used these genuine concerns as grounds for digging
in their toes, and taking on a more comprehensive resistance to
computers.
The core argument among managers for using computers was a
simple one: 'we have a problem: computer technology offers a
solution: let's get together'. In social work practice the arguments
have had to be more sophisticated. Hoshino suggests that social
workers must accept the implications of 'the emergence of "the
personal social services" as a distinct and increasingly important
system of social welfare, one in which the social work profession
plays a pivotal role' (Hoshino, 1982, p. 5). The implication he
wishes to see acknowledged is, in general terms, the need for
efficiency, with computers as necessary aids. He links this
argument to the observation that social workers will be letting
down their colleagues in other service professions (in law,
medicine and education) if the computer is ignored.
Other points have nudged social workers in the same direction,
either explicitly or by implication. Rees, for example, discusses the
element of irrationality in the way caseloads are handled, noting
the impact of the personal preferences of social workers on the
allocation of clients, and the difficulties of coping with workload
management while under pressure. He concludes that in some
circumstances 'social workers felt that the responsibility for
finding remedies was not theirs', while, when facing 'problems of
 Computers in Social Work Practice 53

people in whom they were very interested, they used their time
creatively and worked at producing solutions even though none
seems obvious' (Rees, 1978, p. 104). What he is doing is posing a
major question-mark over the objectivity and efficiency of
workload management at the level of front-line teams, and
implying the need for something more rational, or at least for
recognition of the irrationality. Payne, in a study of area teams,
takes up a similar theme, when discussing the importance of
improving skills in information management (Payne, 1979). He
draws attention to reports on social work tragedies, in which
social services departments are criticised for an inadequate
exploration of basic information. While this is just one aspect of
workload management, the problem appears to span more
widely . Stevenson notes this, and offers pointers to a solution:

there is clear evidence that many social workers have not found ways
of 'managing' their work in the face of competing and conflicting
demands and uncertainties about goals. What seems to be needed,
therefore, is support which combines the subtler aspects of profes-
sional development, includingawarenessof the part one's feelings and
attitudes play in the way caseloads are 'managed' with more formal
methods. . .. (HMSO, 1978, para. 13.23).

The idea of establishing a balanced mixture in social work

practice of professional judgement and a dependable structured
framework is one approach to handling a caseload efficiently. The
role for the computer becomes to aid the functioning of the
'dependable structured framework' , a task which involves helping
to iron out the eccentricities of professional judgement, plug gaps
left by fallible human memories, and contribute to a balanced
overview of the workload. The argument clearly stops short of
interfering with social work performances, aiming primarily at
using computers to make the work, both of individual and team,
more effective.
If the computer can aid effectiveness, can it make a further
contribution by saving time on some tasks? The prospect that a
positive answer can be given forms another part of the overall
argument. The social worker's job is made up of a diverse mixture
of activities, ranging from direct face-to-face meetings with
54 Computers in Social Work

clients, through to a cluster of repetitive 'office' chores . The

computer, in so far as it offers a more mechanised and streamlined
approach, can help reduce the time spent on the mundane, and
release the social worker to do the 'real' job.
Social workers have an information base in the case-file, and
they give much attention to recording, reviewing, revising,
updating, assessing, prognosticating and drawing conclusions
from this file. Each client is unique, and each case-file will
therefore be different in content to all others. But it is just as
predictably similar in structure to others. The same contrast can
be made about social work practice. The process of social work
requires the worker to establish some sort of relationship with the
client, which in turn serves the purpose of helping to clarify a
predicament and suggest ways of handling it. The circumstances
of the client will be unique, as will be the precise nature of the
relationship which the social worker establishes. Yet the
predicament is likely to be one which that worker, or the worker's
team, has met before, and the procedures adopted may derive
from a form of approach (a precedent, a well-used theory or just
plain habit) which has also been employed on many previous
occasions . All that is being argued here is that our traditional
commitment to the uniqueness of the client and the client-worker
relationship represents a generalisation which can usefully be
analysed to establish exactly what is and is not unique. The
moment it becomes possible to accept the utility of such approa-
ches as comparing like with like, or looking back to see what was
done in similar circumstances in the past, or checking what seems
to have worked and not worked when the same sort of problem
has been encountered before, then a role has been found for the
computer.
These, then, are some of the arguments which have been
advanced to give a little forward shove to computing in social
work practice . What, in practical terms, has actually happened?
The rest of this chapter will seek an answer, and will separate the
response into three sections. These will look , in turn, at the
extension into practice of centralised information systems, the use
of computers for functions involving calculations, like benefits
entitlements, and finally computer uses in assessment and treat-
ment.
 Computers in Social Work Practice 55

Information systems and practice

In the previous chapter, and indeed through most of the book so

far, computing in the personal social services is equated with the
use of an information system, to store, present and analyse the
agency 's supply of data. The emphasis is on the files, client and
resource , and on the speed with which they can be shuffled around
to produce individual and composite information. Social services
managers seem to have been content to promote a comprehensive
and efficient system of this type because it meets most of their
needs. For social workers also there is a lot to be gained from an
information system, but its value is limited . The point has already
been made that a centralised computer filing scheme would have
difficulty incorporating the minutiae ofcase-files, so forcing social
workers either to accept the inconvenience of a dual computer-
manual system, or to make a radical reappraisal of the part
recording plays in social work (worth thinking about?). If the
computer files are not on-line they have little to offer front-line
staff, whatever their contents, though there may be uses for locally
based managers.
What then has been set up so far for social workers through
information systems? The LAMSAC survey (LAMSAC, 1982)
suggested that applications to date only constituted comprehen-
sive information systems in a minority of cases, while the majority
showed quite a variety in the segments of data on computer file.
Child-care and boarding-out records were the most popular,
followed by care registers for specific client groups. Home-help
provision and services offered through the Chronically Sick and
Disabled Persons Act had also been put on computer by some
authorities. LAMSAC found that the future plans of many social
services departments included extending into more comprehen-
sive client-record systems, and in the time since the survey it is
reasonable to assume that this has occurred. The survey is less
clear about the comprehensiveness of resource files, but it is highly
likely that client records will include all allocations of aids and
services.
An accessible on-line system has several specific uses for social
workers. In many social services departments it is now possible,
when a person is referred to an area team (less often if the referral
56 Computers in Social Work

is directed somewhere else), to find out if the agency has had any
previous contact. When there has been contact the office where it
occurred would be identified, and any social worker to whom the
case was allocated. In most instances an outline history of
contacts would be kept, listing also when and what resources the
client had received. A status record would indicate whether the
existing file was open or closed, and possibly the name of any
person or office to be contacted in the event of are-referral.
In addition to basic factual information, any system which
identifies particular risk factors (of child abuse, for example) will
draw attention to them. It should also be able to point to aliases
and linked files (such as for other members of the same family),
and to call up the names of possibly useful people, such as the GP.
If a voluntary agency has been involved, or some particular
person has taken an interest, this will be available.
In short, a reasonable central information system will provide a
helpful summary of facts , some bits of background material,
known risks, people to contact and services already provided. In a
comprehensive system it is safe to assume that if the person is not
on the computer file then it is a new referral, though many
agencies have not yet got themselves set up to ensure this with
certainty. Furthermore, the on-line system makes it possible to get
this material very quickly , at the time the referral is received, and
usually (out-of-hours referrals are the most frequent exception)
before any action has to be taken. All of this is an important
advance on manual systems, which are usually confined to data on
the limited number of files held in the local office. At the same time
there is the important limitation of a lack of depth in the computer
file, and usually the complete absence of any qualitative material,
such as would aid counselling. If a client is known elsewhere the
social worker is forced into the cumbersome task of chasing up
staff and files from another office, or doing without a conven-
tional case-history, or starting a new one .
Computer files of agency resources are usually set up to contain
descriptive information about residential and day-care facilities in
the agency, which in many instances extends to include a range of
other data, on foster parents, voluntary services, private facilities
and so forth. The emphasis is very much on tangible resources,
places where it may be possible for a client to go, for a day, week or
life. Sometimes the information goes a bit further, to identify what
 Computers in Social Work Practice 57

aids are available, and from where. The type of information sets
the parameters of the resource : what it does, what sort of users it
takes, age and sex, catchment area , number of places, charges,
dates, durations - the sort of preliminary material a social worker
needs, but which those who have been around for a while will
already have in their heads .
These kinds of files are much more likely to be created so that
the agency can run off annual returns or quick counts of day-care
places for elderly mentally confused ex-managers, than to help a
social worker in this descriptive sense (except of course the new
worker). Resource files only start to become useful when they take
on one or both of two characteristics, and these have become
available in some agencies. One is the extension of the information
on file to the point where it includes material that is not routinely
in a social worker's head. This may mean real depth oflocal data,
or moving into regional and national resources. In practice social
services departments are not keen to offer information which
might incite staff to press for costly out-of-area resources, so local
information has had more attention . For example, Whaley (1983)
has pioneered a Community Information Directory for the
Caradon Area of Cornwall Social Services Department, which
already contains entries of approaching 800 resources. The data
can be searched as a body , or segmented into different categories
of resource, or parish in which it is available. Whaley, who is a
field social worker, developed this file under the impetus of
'personal frustration at finding such information when requiring
it and . . . my inability to organise such information in a personal
collection or an efficient manual office system' (p.24).
The other extension of resource files which has shown itself to
be of real value to social workers concerns the recording of
currently available facilities, in terms of vacancies in residential or
day-care settings, in IT groups (whatever IT means to you!), of
foster parents or other scarce provisions. Some resources are in
such demand that at the first sniff of a vacancy social workers
descend like vultures to snap it up, and any attempt to put it on a
computer file would inevitably be retrospective. As a result some
agencies are trying to introduce a sense of order and rationality to
the allocation of scarce facilities, by making sure that competing
demands for them are properly balanced through such as a formal
allocation meeting. To make this work, all those staff who might
58 Computers in Social Work

want to request a resource for a client have to be given

information about vacancies, on a time scale which gives them the
opportunity to apply. This can be part of the information related
to specific resources on a computer file, or as part of a changing
list of 'current vacancies'.
In some resource files there is, additionally or alternatively, a
more broadly based scope to survey available resources, to aid a
social worker who is wanting to review a range of possibilities for
a client. These data can include a note of waiting lists, where they
are kept, or an indication of when and how frequently facilities of
various types come up. However , this is edging near to the limits
of current experiments and into future developments.
In client and resource files some flexible space can be reserved
for random non-standardised entries, in the sense that what goes
into these spaces is unique to each client or resource (i.e. it is not
designed for composite analysis). This is a long way from
accommodating a lot of detail, but it permits the brief qualitative
or even evaluative comment -like the ability to note on the file of
an old people's home that it is 'Good with grumpy men' -literally
just a few words . The Hampshire system can offer this, as can
some of the more widely available schemes like SOSCIS and
PROBIS.
There are just a few developments which are extending the
managerial output of the information system in a helpful way for
social workers. This primarily involves making the conventional
annual returns and statistical analyses available for each area or
work team separately. The local team is therefore offered much
the same data-base for the management of its own workload as
senior managers have for the whole agency. The value for social
workers is that it gives them a basis for scrutinising and
responding to directives from above , and making a contribution
to the negotiations which lead to policy and executive decisions .
The extension and refinement of information systems in
personal social service agencies is a continuing process , and in
some areas the change is fast. If social workers are to get good
value in the near future the reader will need to be able to comment,
with accuracy, that the last few pages have been overtaken by
events. Developments of existing systems are more likely to have
positive spin-offs for social workers than negative ones, and the
faster the change the more the practitioner is likely to benefit,
 Computers in Social Work Practice 59

because change will involve moving outwards from a narrow

managerial preoccupation. Estimating the next few years is not
easy. The LAMSAC survey is pessimistic, noting that two items of
particular interest to practitioners, information directories and
area records, came at the bottom of a priority scale in the context
of general support for the development of a computer package for
social services departments (LAM SAC, 1982, para. 6). On the
other hand the pace of technological development creates a
certain impetus to dash along and keep in touch.

Computers as calculators

There are a number of tasks undertaken by social workers which

require calculations to be made of a precise kind. This may be to
work out an elderly person's eligibility for a residential home, or
who is the ' nearest relative' for the purposes of a compulsory
admission under the 1983 Mental Health Act, or the sequence of
events to be followed in observing the boarding-out regulations.
What characterises all of these is that they have a mechanistic
component, of working out a score or following a fixed path; they
are unvarying repetitive processes, and social workers have to go
through some of them quite frequently. Much the most complex
and frequently needed process of this kind involves helping clients
assess their potential eligibility or check their actual assessment
for welfare benefits.
Several computer systems for welfare benefits assessment are
under development or on trial, though at present there is no fully
operational problem-free version which is also comprehensive.
They have proved harder to develop in practice than their
designers anticipated. Most are designed to use on micro -com-
puters, but several social services departments are planning
terminal-to-mainframe schemes.
The social security provisions of the UK are so complicated
that any method of working out individual entitlements is likely to
be error-prone. Many DHSS assessments, just like Inland Re-
venue tax assessments, are regularly successfully challenged. No
computer scheme can be put on a pedestal and operate perfectly in
this sector, but Whaley (1983, p. 14) suggests four advantages of
computing:
60 Computers in Social Work

I. Although it may take a long time to obtain and feed into the
computer all the information it needs before making an assess-
ment, the calculation itself can be done rapidly and immediately.
2. No errors of calculation. This, however , may be a simplistic
view, for though the computer will calculate correctly, it will use
the data it is fed by the claimant and the calculation formula given
by the programmer. These are the places where mistakes are
likely.
3. The highest optimum level of benefit can be calculated, by
taking into account possible choices in the wayan assessment is
handled.
4. A printed version of the data fed in and the calculations
made can be provided, and this is useful for comparing with the
official assessment, and as a basis for appeal.

Two computer systems for calculating welfare-benefit en-

titlements have by now received long trials , and acted as pioneers
for a blossoming of developments. Both aim to be comprehensive
in the benefits covered , so include central government and local
authority provisions - family income supplement, supplementary
benefit, disability benefits and health service prescription exemp-
tions, as well as rent and rate rebates, free school meals and other
educational benefits. The system designed by Nigel Murray of
Surrey University was tried out in Brighton before being taken
over by DHSS for a more extensive trial. It is set up for direct use
by a potential claimant, unaided. Gareth Morgan's version,
initially at the Llanrumney (Cardiff) Citizens' Advice Bureau, and
later at other CABx, involves the claimant passing material to a
member of staff, who then puts it into the computer. The process
for the user, in both of these and all subsequent systems, is for the
user to answer a large number of questions, many of an intimate
personal nature, and some needing information to be brought
along to the session (on precise earnings over the last few months
for the family, for example). This can take anything up to an hour
to enter through the computer's keyboard, and then a calculation
is offered, with a printed copy.
The experiments were not totally successful, and although they
took place in 1982, we still await a definitive welfare benefits
programme. Hence there have been numerous further trials of
different systems, but none have gained a solid foothold. There
 Computers in Social Work Practice 61

are several problems. The most apparent one for the potential
claimant is that however 'user-friendly' the computers try to be
they come across as asking interminable and sometimes plain
stupid questions. Lynes, in a review of the two early systems,
comments: 'The main requirement is stamina. I watched a
disabled single man patiently working through questions such as
'Do you suffer from ulcerative colitis?" but finally losing patience
when asked to declare his income from child-minding.' (Lynes,
1982, p.424.) The trouble is that computers cannot adapt
themselves, as a human interviewer can, to the person sitting at the
keyboard; so all questions have to be asked and answered,
however irrelevent they may be, and there is no way of discrimin-
ating, so that questions can be acknowledged as particularly
intrusive, or pointless but unavoidable. Even so a study of 398
people who tried the DHSS experiment suggested that a substan-
tial majority (85 per cent) preferred a computer to a DHSS officer,
while fewer (58 per cent) would rather have benefits assessed by
the machine than by a social worker. The main reason for the
preference was that the computer did not keep people waiting for
attention (Ebstein, 1984).
Other weaknesses are less visible, but in some ways more serious
because they affect the accuracy and relevance of the calculation.
The real difficulties for the computer, especially with supplemen-
tary benefit, stem from discretion and the definition of terms. The
official with the power to grant a benefit may well have some
limited range of choice, and will also have to decide whether the
circumstances of a particular application meet the criteria for
eligibility, in a context in which the criteria are not themselves
precise. Social workers will know of many instances (with
attendance allowances, for example) when the facts look to justify
a benefit, but it has been refused . Computers like to calculate on
certainties, and have great difficulty coping with tentative data or
a hazy basis for making a calculation. It is no help to a claimant to
be told 'You may qualify for a benefit, but then again you may
not' .
Local variations in benefits can also be troublesome, and any
welfare benefits package developed for widespread use will need a
running-in phase to accommodate to local authority practices as
well as any possibilities from local voluntary and charitable
sources .
62 Computers in Social Work

All of these problems showed up in early trials, and more recent

developments have tried to overcome them by a less ambitious set
of aims. This has involved either being less comprehensive, and
instead concentrating on specific benefits, or moving away from
the idea of precise calculation towards a more tentative approach.
The former can be useful in relation to isolated benefits, or where
the claimant has a possible choice of which benefit to seek, and
wants guidance on the best approach. Its big weakness is that it
can no longer claim to offer an overall comment on benefits
eligibility. The alternative approach (which was anticipated in the
DHSS trial) leads either to a slight adjustment in language (you
'may' rather than you 'do' qualify for a benefit) while retaining an
estimate of the amount, or to the abandonment of the calculation
of the precise benefit, and simply a suggestion that it might be
worth applying for such and such benefits.
Efforts are continuing to find an acceptable system, and also to
see what can be done with low-cost equipment, especially the
readily available home computers. A recent package of this kind
which provoked DHSS interest has been written by Professor
Jarman of the St Mary's Hospital Medical School, on the
justification that so many patients visiting general practitioners
'were under stress because they were hard up - single parents,
some of the elderly, people like that' (The Times, 14 May 1984).
The need for an effective benefits assessment package is wide-
spread and pressing, but it has proved surprisingly difficult to
deliver. The Greater London Council has sponsored a newsletter
(Computanews) to circulate the latest information about develop-
ments .
There is a sting in the tail. However successful a computer
program may be at making accurate assessments, it is not in itself
a solution 'to the problem of low take up any more than means
testing is a solution to the problem of poverty' (Adler and du Feu,
1977, p.445). That may be something of an overstatement,
particularly if a home computer program can be made widely
available and run in privacy; but it does counter the dubious claim
in the review of Jarman's system that: 'If widely adopted, it could
lead to many more claims.' (The Times, 14 March 1984.) Lynes, a
veteran welfare rights campaigner, is both cautious: 'This is a field
in which white elephants can be expensive' - and sceptical, in view
of 'the advantage human beings have over computers when it
 Computers in Social Work Practice 63

comes to sorting out misunderstandings. Computers may be all

right for dating, but they'd be hopeless at marriage guidance.'
(Lynes, 1982, p. 424.)

Computers in client assessment and treatment

This will be a sketchy section for the simple reason that there is not
a great deal to report from current practice, and a more coherent
analysis of what should be possible will be held over to Chapter 8.
It is likely, particularly in the US, that many programs are at
present being written and tried out, but few have been described
for a wider audience. The explosion is happening, but few of the
bits have yet fallen to earth for the student to pick up and analyse .
The first developments have been in using the computer as an
aid to assessment processes . This has tended to take one of two
forms. Hoshino notes that in the US some agencies 'have
developed systems in which workers directly enter data on clients
through terminals and retrieve information for such porposes as
preparing court reports and child placements' (Hoshino, 1982,
p. 8.) The extension of the scope of information stores to make
detailed case material available has already been discussed , with
the conclusion that in this country the initial structuring of such
systems for managerial functions has been an inhibitor. In
general, therefore, only the bare bones of factual data could
currently be obtained from a computer for use in a report or
assessment of an individual client, and this is probably not worth
the effort of the social worker. If the worker has to go through a
conventional file for some material, why not get it all from this
source? The issue is one ofcomprehensiveness, and a computer wil
come into its own when all the recorded data for a report can be
got from it, and better still when they can be copied straight into
the report in the place and format indicated by the social worker.
Some modern information systems are beginning to get near to
this potential. There are two needs. One , already discussed, is the
ability to store detail on the computer (i.e. the equivalent of a
conventional case-file). The other is the ability to be able to
retrieve that data in a clear and readable way (not in some form of
obscure coding) , and then link them to the abilities of such as a
word-processor for slotting bits of data or whole paragraphs into
the right position of a report. Systems like PROBIS look as
64 Computers in Social Work

though they could well have this scope , for extending to take on
more detail and for linking (the jargon phrase is 'export - import')
the data-base to a good presentation program, like one for word-
processing. PROBIS is appropriate to mention here because it is
designed for the Probation Service, and that service in turn uses a
form of report which is particularly suitable for computing. The
point about social inquiry reports for the Court is that while they
do not have the rigidity of filling in a form, they do need to contain
some basic factual material and do have broad standardisation in
structure, length and type of content. Computers love standardis-
ation.
Computers are also fast, and another use in assessment is where
their speed facilitates an otherwise difficult task . Social workers
will have regular experience of circumstances in which they are
forced to make a skimpy assessment (especially the initial one ofa
new referral) when they are fully aware that there is much more
detail and complexity to unearth, given time. Pressures of work
and shortage of staff time lead to half-informed guesses rather
than well-documented decisions , and some of the more difficult
forms of assessment may have to be put aside altogether. An
illustration of this is the difficult social/psychological/medical
task with an elderly client of deciding whether a particular form of
behaviour reflects depression or the onset of dementia. The
symptoms can be similar, but the treatment is different, so careful
assessment is needed. But the process of assessment is time-
consuming and difficult. A micro-computer-aided program has
been developed at University College Hospital in London, which
both speeds up the process of collecting assessment data and
prints an analysis of the findings. Furthermore it is considered to
be easier and more acceptable to both staff and client than the
previous method (The Guardian, 28 June 1984).
Another context in which manual assessment becomes difficult
is one in which the worker needs to record a series of observations,
of individual, family or group behaviour. A problem here is the
practical one of being able to record observations quickly and
systematically enough, even with the help of prepared charts.
Several computer programs can now cope with this, some of them
on small portable micro-computers which can be rested on the lap
like a note-pad. Each form of behaviour to be observed is given a
code number or letter, and when it begins the observer presses that
 Computers in Social Work Practice 65

button on the keyboard. Pressing the button again indicate s the

end of the beha viour, and as well as printing all the ob servations
the computer can offer an analysis which time s the duration of
each of them, and put s them in seq uence so th at they can be
cons idered in conjunction with other event s in the same pha se.
It should be said th at altho ugh these development s are relevant
to social workers, the y are essentially multi-disciplinary efforts,
with psychologists and doctors play ing a leading role. Members of
the se two professions perhaps ha ve more routine involvement
(and ma ybe are more comfortable?) with structured processes, of
a kind which can more easily be seen in computing term s. A third
group, educationalists, need to be acknowledged for their con-
tribution to some developments in training processes. These are
well-established in general education, and are already becoming
widespread in special education, which is the point of overlap for
social workers. Leaving aside whether involvement in such things
as remedial learning, literacy campaigns or home econo mics
teaching is appropriate for social workers as part of their own
task, the availability and usefulne ss of these computer-aided
services opens up the range of treatment opportunities. The
contribution the computer can make is in its facility to display
information in an attractive and useful way, to go at the learner's
pace , and respond to the learner's efforts with pr aise and
encouragement. It is imperson al equipment with a per son al touch,
offering what Seddon calls an 'electronic handshake if we get it
right!' (Seddon, 1983, p. 66).
An aid to treatment which is already offered in some social
services departments, and can be as conveniently handled on the
centralising large computers as on the small local ones, is a kind of
diary reminder service. An ob viou s application is where law or
agency decision requires contact with a client at specified
intervals, and the computer can send reminders to a social worker
of contacts coming due . An equally easy extension allows the
social worker to feed into the computer the data to permit a series
of future reminders (appointments, anniversaries and so forth).
As a final point in this chapter it is perhaps appropriate to
discuss one controversial aid to decision-making which has its
origins well before computers came on the scene. The use of
empirical data has long been established in the social sciences as a
basis for drawing general conclusions and making inferences
66 Computers in Social Work

about trends. The data stored in computer information systems

constitute the empirical base, and is already widely used in
management to aid projections of future service and resource
needs. In some areas it is also making a contribution to more
localised planning of how resources are deployed and social
workers' time used. The more controversial aspect is the use of this
material not just to project composite future circumstances, but
predict outcomes and 'best' services in individual cases. There is a
long history to work on prediction (Trasler, 1960; Parker, 1966),
and grounds for taking it seriously, but its use with computers
brings it into the general argument about the dehumanising
impact of modern technology (to be discussed in a later chapter).
There is some current use, for example in using computer-stored
records of past experiences to aid matching a child to a potential
foster parent, but it barely scratches the surface of what is
possible .
5
Hands on the Computer

Computing is only just beginning to come into consideration as a

subject for the curricula of basic training courses in social work
and social servicing, and it follows that many staff of the agencies
will have no computing knowledge or experience. However , an
increasing number will have encountered a computer in some
context, and it is relevant to ask whether these contacts have
helped or hindered, encouraged or deterred potential users in the
personal social services.
Leaving aside the peripheral aspects - computerised bills and
word-processed letters from Readers ' Digest or the Consumers'
Association assuring us that we may have won a fortune - it is
television and the home computer which feature most often. For
many years the computer in television was confined to the
occasional documentary programme and the much more frequent
thriller series, in which it represented the technological miracle,
incomprehensible but magical, massive and visually stunning, a
vital weapon in the fight against international crime. The more
adventurous ones had a mind and will of their own , and a soft
voice to convey their messages. There was a snippet of truth in this
picture. Early computers were massive, and they did have
whirring disks, flashing lights and arrays of control panels . This
was the presentation format of the 1960s, but because it has such
visual attractions television has tended to keep with it, and this has
created a gulf in comprehension between the computer of fiction
and the computer of reality.
Regular attention to computing in the media coincided with the
upsurge of interest in home computing and the development of
computer studies in schools . In this context the computer becomes
68 Computers in Social Work

something quite different - small, rather insignificant to look at ,

much like a typewriter to use and with less glamour and mystery.
While it can be used for serio us purposes it is mainly for game s,
which require speed of thought combined with manual dexterity,
and keep the kids quiet for hours on end until the novelty wears
off.
The presentation of the more serious side, whether in education
or business, tend s to serve as a deterrent to those who feel
themselves to be 'outsiders'. A part of the computer revolution is
the development of a new educational curriculum in schools,
which renders obsolete some of the learning of adult generations;
ju st as fundamental have been new forms of business practice. The
impact is to make adults, even those who consider themselves to
be numerate, feel like outdated, and perhaps soon to be unwanted,
members of society . The media adds insult to injury by emphasis-
ing the smugness of the computer-wise, their insight, foresight and
general superiority.
This is an overstated picture, because it ignores the large
numbers who neither know nor care about computers. At the
same time it focuses on some of the dilemmas of computer
integration into society. In a different context from this book the
breadth of the issues could be discussed, with social workers
appearing as citizens in a wider community, and as one small cog
in the machinery of state. Within the present remit it is sufficient to
note the ' image' of the computer as it is presented to social
workers, and the problems which arise from it. There is the unreal
gap in comprehension between the flashy big machines and the
little home computers which creates confusion and denies the
reality of technological closeness; then comes the association from
the beginning of big computers with militaristic and criminal
activities, which serves to pose fundamental political questions
about the way these inaccessible machines are used; and there is
the persistent suggestion that the lack of computer knowledge
implies a major gap in personal capacities, which, coupled to the
mysticism described in an earlier chapter, serves to create
resentment and distancing. There emerges, for social workers and
the rest of us, a practical and psychological polarisation between,
on the one hand, the excitement of living through an era of
tremendous technological growth, and feeling part of it, and in
contrast the insecurity, powerlessness and irritation at being made
 Hands on the Computer 69

to feel obsolete and out in the cold . The next chapter looks at the
way these broad issues have been interpreted and argued within
the personal social services. The remainder of this chapter has the
more restricted aim of joining the attitudes and feelings discussed
above to a range of practical aspects of being a computer user.

Fearof trying

Conversations with social workers about using computers lead

regularly to a couple of comments: 'I can't do it because I'm not
numerate' and 'If I used the computer I'd be sure to put a jinx on
it.' Both suggest a mixture of personal reluctance and insecurity,
lack of knowledge, and a hint at two more substantial arguments
for keeping a distance. The fear of being innumerate and therefore
a computer duffer is genuine but misplaced, yet it does move
towards the important question of what new skills and knowledge
a social worker must have in order to become a computer user .
The idea of putting a jinx on a piece ofequipment may presuppose
all sorts of assumptions about personal magnetism or ability to
mess things up, or a record of 'incidents', but it may also link up
with the observation that computers have not yet established a
good record of accuracy and reliability .
The Shorter Oxford Dictionary defines 'compute' as to count or
determine by calculation, so it is not surprising that the very label
'computer' conjures up mathematics and the need for a user to be
'good with figures' . The early history of computers reinforced this
view to the extent that it has been difficult in the last decade to
combat the entrenched prejudice that computers are limited in this
way. The author had sporadic contacts with mainframe com-
puters from the late 1960s, and laid hands on a micro in 1977,
noting pompously at the time that it helped not just to be and feel
numerate, but that training in symbolic logic was also handy.
Even if such a remark was valid at the time, it has little relevance
today, except to a small group of specialist programmers.
The numeracy view perhaps continues because there is enough
understanding around to realise that computers do function
arithmetically, regardless of the way they communicate with us.
Even worse, they do not function on the conventional decimal
system of figures, but in some more mystical way reflected by
70 Computers in Social Work

words like 'Boolean' and 'hex ' . The vital point for the social
worker to hang on to is that it really is the form ofcommunication
which matters and not what goes on inside the computer's guts .
Numeracy or mathematical knowledge is relevant only as an aid
to some background understanding. It is not essential.
Staying for a while with this background, it may be helpful to
know that computers make use of a binary system. Whereas our
normal (decimal) system of figures employs ten separate symbols ,
the binary system uses only two, the digits 0 and I (in the jargon
binary digits are labelled 'bits'). Most school children can count in
binary, but that is not grounds for insecurity. The important point
is that because binary contains only the two digits it can be
translated into electrical terms as current on - current off. Any
decimal number can be expressed in binary and stated within the
computer by turning on a current for' I' and turning it off for '0' .
Similarly any letter can be given a corresponding code in binary
and conveyed in the same way. Virtually all computers handle
figures and letters (called alphanumeric'), and many can offer
pictures (graphics) .
It would be an impossible task for social workers if everything
had to be translated into binary code before it could be put into (or
received from) the computer, but of course computers have a
built-in capacity to convert from the language of the user into
binary and back again. Most users will not be aware that any
conversion is taking place, but it is useful to have the background
information for two reasons. First it draws attention to the fact
that words can be handled as easily as figures; and, second, it
indicates an important area of development in computer tech-
nology, to make the conversion technique increasingly sensitive to
ordinary written language, and eventually to the spoken word.
The wider issue raised by fears of poor numeracy concerns the
skills which are needed to use a computer, and what extra is being
required of a social worker. The necessary starting-point to this
discussion is to distinguish the generic from the specific definition
of 'use'. In its wider form the use of a computer may involve some
knowledge of the insides ofthe equipment as well as techniques for
giving the computer a sequence of instructions. This latter is
programming. Before a computer can be used to record, recall,
alter or in any way process information, it has to be programmed.
That is to say it has to be told, logically and in a language it can
 Hands on the Computer 71

understand, how to receive the information and what to do with it.

There are several programming 'languages' in common use, mo st
of which are recognisably English (or American). Perhaps the
best-known is BASIC (Beginners All-purpose Symbolic Instruc-
tion Code).
While the advent ofless obscure languages may make program-
ming easier for the layman, nevertheless the task of writing a
program and checking it for all possible flaws (de-bugging)
rema ins too specialised and time-consuming for the social worker
to tackle. In practice programs are usuall y bought off the shelf(as
software packages) or written on the spot by specialist program-
mers. Hence the relationship between programmer and social
worker becomes important if the program is to do its job properly,
and this will be picked up later in the chapter.
The narrower definition of 'user' and the one which applies
specifically to social workers involves no more than following a set
of instructions about getting the equipment to work, and then
employing a program written by someone else to do the required
task. The 'keying-in' process to Hampshire's computer, described
in Chapter 3, is an example. This book is another, a little different ,
because it is being written and stored on a micro-computer. The
process is to turn on the power to computer and TV screen
(sometimes to a printer as well if it is going to be used), slot in a
small cartridge containing the program and another blank
cartridge to record whatever is written, and then type 'Lrun
mdvl .Llloot' (which stands for 'load and run a program on a
cartridge in microdrive number I answering to the name of Boot').
The program is, in this case, a word-processing one called Quill,
which has a start-up sequence called Boot. It could easily be used
to take a client case-file. These initial instructions are on paper,
and all later ones appear on the screen . The only skill needed is to
be able to use a keyboard which looks and behaves like a
typewriter. The most modern programs will even make that easier
by correcting spelling mistakes automatically, and having a
special key called 'Help' for anyone who wants a bit of guidance.
It would be wrong to underestimate the importance of the
typing skill, especially given the hard work needed to develop
from a two-fingered amateur into a professional keyboard
operator. Many social workers with computer access react to this
by using clerical staff to do the work on the terminal. But it is
72 Computers in Social Work

neither an obscure nor an incomprehensible skill , and it is not the

sort to provoke fearfulness.
The conviction that a person has a jinx on them whenever it
comes to using something like a computer is not so easy to
counter. In one sense it is set up as a self-fulfilling prophesy. In
another it has a 'folklore' quality to it, in the same conceptual
parameters as sod's law, or the belief that the moment you get into
a bath the phone will ring. It is difficult to give it any scientific
credence, and the claimant may be saying no more than: 'I have no
hands and five left feet when it comes to this kind of activity, so
give me a miss.' Leaving aside (but not necessarily dismissing)
arguments about personal electricity, or poltergeists or the like, a
jinx is more likely to be a reflection of a lack of self-confidence
than anything else.
The computer, however, stimulates these kinds of fears that
people may have a jinx on them, by its occasional erratic
behaviour. Within social services departments it is common to
find the local authority computer with a reputation for being
error-prone or unreliable. The next chapter will consider the
impact of inaccuracy on the usefulness of computers in social
work practice. At this point it is worth drawing together the three
likely causes of something going wrong. The first is a fault in the
machinery itself. Computers have established a deserved reputa-
tion for reliability as electronic units, and larger ones are routinely
put through a maintenance sequence. However, big systems, with
a lot of equipment, linking numerous terminals, have a lot of bits
which can go wrong. More importantly the communication links
of computer to terminals are usually dependent on fallible British
Telecom lines, at the mercy of marauding excavators or low-flying
wire-cutters. The second is a flaw in the program. One of the
pleasures of a computer buff, coming face to face with a new
program, is to try to make it collapse, by exposing some error in its
structure. The point has been made earlier that the establishment
of a new program has both an initial writing phase and a
subsequent de-bugging one. Some de-bugging can be done in
advance, but ironing out all the flaws usually only follows
extensive operational trials. If errors are tiny and of no con-
sequence, or simply reflect odd quirks which the user gets
accustomed to handling, nothing may be done, but it is normal
practice to provide refined and corrected 'upgraded' versions of a
program throughout its operational life.
 Hands on the Computer 73

A user may often feel responsible if something of this sort goes

wrong, and indeed may have made the wrong keyboard entry
which led to it. But the user certainly should not accept any blame.
If a program cannot cope with a user who makes a mess of
carrying out instructions it is a bad program.
In contrast the third area of faults does derive clearly from the
user (not you, of course, but some other earlier user!), and is the
'garbage in - garbage out' sequence. While a modern computer
may be able to check and correct spelling, or draw attention to
clearly inappropriate entries, it cannot tell true from false
information. Indeed 'true' and false' are meaningless concepts for
the computer, unless it is instructed precisely how to tell the
difference; all information is accepted at face value , and handed
back to later users on the same basis . While this does not indicate
any relevant skills for computer users, it does illuminate some
virtues, and focus on the crucial point at which information is
entered. At this stage the user needs to be systematic, careful and
thoroughly diligent in checking and editing all entries before
confirming their passage to a data-file. Later users have little
choice but to trust the accuracy of the person who first entered the
information.

Social workers and programmers

It is a regular comment from social workers that they have no

opportunity to understand computer specialists because they
never meet, so a myth grows up that computers are run by a kind
of subterranean species who speak an alien tongue and rarely
emerge to see what is happening in the real world. Ifwe wish to be
precise then it is one group of computer staff who are particularly
important, containing those who design and write the programs for
the personal social services. It is here that social workers should
look for some mutual understanding, and some communication.
The origins of difficulties have already been touched on :
computers have become surrounded by the mystique of jargon
and abbreviation, social workers have their own capacity to be
incomprehensible to outsiders, and there are few people who have
the training and experience to span the gulf. It is not quite as bad
as two groups each speaking a different language, but commun-
ication requires a conscious effort to de-mystify and 'secularise'
74 Computers in Social Work

both the written and spoken word. There are man y reasons why
specialist languages grow up , but perhaps three are worth
considering here. One is to provide a means of handling new
notions and new ' things' . This is especially important in the
development of new sciences and technologies, and much of
difficulty with computerese is that it contains labels of this kind ,
for new types of equipment, components, systems and processes.
While some developments require additions to language, there
are others which are not new at all, or perhaps only new in
emphasis. That is to say the label for an established concept or
process, or item of equipment, takes on an element of novelty or a
nuance of meaning which leads to the specialist usage becoming
different from the lay understanding. Social work is riddled with
examples. Supervision, relationship, contract, referral, allocation
- all are words in common everyday usage which also have a
distinctive meaning in social work. Disk is another illustration.
Originating from 'discus' , a flat round object, it became in 1888,
according to The Shorter Oxford Dictionary , 'a phonograph or
gramophone record '. Ask a computer buff today and the
definition will be something like 'a means of storing computer
data', probably with some added comments about floppy and
hard disks. The problem is not so much the wish to be able to
identify items and ideas which have a special meaning in
computing or social work. This is a necessary part of developing a
subject area. The real trouble comes from opting to use words
which are already known and used in everyday language, because
the result is to stir up confusion for the outsider.
The third reason for setting up a specialist language which is
relevant to this context is to enable shorter and faster communica-
tion within the specialist group. Sometimes this consists of initials
or shortened versions of straightforward labels - RAM for
Random Access Memory, MIS for Management Information
System , or NFA for No Fixed Abode. Occasionally it becomes
more complex, as shorthand for sophisticated concepts or proces-
ses which would otherwise take many sentences to describe and
define. Here we have the generic labels - psychopath, EMI
(Elderly Mentally Infirm), multi-tasking (where a computer does
several jobs simultaneously) - which are confusing to the outsider
because of their lack of precision, and open to controversy and
variable use among insiders. Given time, the unique and specific
 Hands on the Computer 75

abbreviations can be learned, but we have a capacity to pick on the

same abbreviaitons to mean wholly different things. The example
ofIT was mentioned in Chapter I, and it is not the onl y one. Social
workers can confuse themselves with APO as Assistant Principal
Officer or Adult Placement Officer, and the rest of the population
by using TA as Transactional Anal ysis rather than Territorial
Army. In computing there is a respectable specialised connotation
to POKE.
Is there justification for specialised languages in computing and
social work? The an swer in part has to be that some new labels are
unavoidable, and many abbreviations are extremely useful. On
the other hand there is a degree of irresponsibility in the way some
terms have been allowed to take on a special meaning while they
continue to be used differently by the rest of society. Although on
the surface there is perhaps more jargon and use of abbreviation in
computing than in social work, the regular snorts of complaint
coming from social workers about their computer colleagues do
tend to suggest a pot being blacked by a decidely tarnished kettle .
There has been a genuine need for new labels in computing to
reflect the technological developments, and a substantial attempt
has been made to educate wider readers in the meaning of
computing terms. Many books and journals on computing
include a glossar y of terms or a beginner's guide (for example the
monthly magazine Personal Computer World has a regular feature
called ' Newcomers Start Here ', which explains both jargon and
the basic principles ofcomputing). In contrast social workers have
made little effort to clear up their own use of jargon, or try to
explain it to others.
There appears to be no way of avoiding the difficult first step in
communication between social workers and computer staff,
which is to gain an understanding of each other's language. Once
through the language barrier however, what will be found? Will it
be a discovery of kindred spirits, or a more profound realisation of
differences? What are the points of contact and of disparity? Any
attempt to answer these questions would be both highly
speculative and beg all sorts of supplementary queries. Yet there
are some points worth making.
Perhaps the most fundamental distancing characteristic is likely
to derive from the tasks of working with computers and working
with people. Designing and writing a computer program is a
76 Computers in Social Work

precise activity . A program can become enormously complex , and

behave with great flexibility, but it must be structured with
exactness and written accurately to the last item of punctuation.
Flexibility rests on a platform of precision and predictability.
Terms like 'being pragmatic', 'making an intuitive response' or
'reacting to an emergency' have no place in the job of computer
programming. Nor can a program function with 'loose ends'. The
creative skill ofa programmer is being able to conceive ofand hold
on to a network of steps and paths, all going somewhere definite
and all precisely linked to each other. It is a bit like being able to
take in a complex road map, with its main roads, bypasses,
country lanes, diversions, stopping points, road works and dead
ends, to see clearly where each track is going and all the alternative
possibilities for getting from one place to another.
Social work is in many ways a total contrast. Ifprogramming is
an attempt to achieve flexibility through precise structuring, social
work is often an attempt to establish some sort of structure and
coherence out of the chaotic and unpredictable. Far from needing
the kind of mind which can work logically from step to step
(though that may be what we all profess to do!), social workers
need the mental and emotional agility to cope with wholly
unexpected and illogical events. More than that, they then have to
put together all these loose ends , unanswered questions, seemingly
unrelated events and conflicting attitudes into an assessment, a
rational explanation and a plan for treatment.
Here , however, is where the tide turns. In one sense social
workers are very different from computer programmers, doing a
job in dramatically different circumstances, and needing different
skills and temperaments. Yet there are some similarities, and they
are quite fundamental ones. The task for the social worker in
trying to take hold of the history and dynamics of a client , to get
them into some sort of perspective and shape, and relate them to
the purpose of social servicing, has parallels with the program-
mer's need to draw together the diverse strands of raw material in
a way which allows a desired range of analysis and conclusion to
result.
The crux of this argument is that in their work both program-
mers and social workers are concerned with forms of flow-
charting. In computing, a flow-chart 'is simply a method of
assisting the programmer to layout, in a visual, two-dimensional
 Hands on the Computer 77

format, ideas on how to organise a sequence of steps or events

necessary to solve a problem by a computer' (Hunt and Shelley,
1979, p.52). The 'sequence of steps ' is rather more than just a
series of links in a chain because each one indicates some type of
activity. In addition to beginning and end-points there are three
'activities'. One is a request to feed in some information; the
second a call to take specific action; and the third is a path-finding
choice from alternative routes. In computer programming each of
these activities is represented visually by a differently shaped link,
and the flow-charting process is part of the planning stage of the
overall task.
The similarity to some aspects of social work should be getting
clearer, and may become more so by offering an illustration. A
published set of guidelines for 'Child ren at Risk' (Leake, 1984)
incorporates a flow-chart as an outline reference guide , and the
first three steps are examples of the activities listed above. The first
is a request for 'Information/observation about a possible abuse',
and this leads to the second step, a path-finding question 'Is child
on Register?' The choices are ' Yes' or ' No', and both lead to a
request for action, in the former 'Contact key worker' and the
latter 'Contact social services, police or NSPCC'. The chart
continues to a variety of concluding points (care proceedings,
voluntary supervision, prosecution or no further action), but
already the full range of different activities has been encountered.
One development of this argument will be pursued in Chapter 7,
which will suggest that because there are comparable processes in
the tasks of social work and computing, there is potential for using
computers within sociai work practice. The ojective at this stage,
however, is the more limited one of demonstrating that there is
common ground in the way social workers and programmers
approach their work, and the sort of common ground that would
promote mutual understanding. A vital issue for the future is
whether that in itself will be sufficient to enable social workers to
realise the full potential of computing, and communicate their
needs to computer staff. It is certainly going to be important to
avoid institutionalising the position of social workers in the front
line and computer staff in the back room, and instead promote
regular dialogue.
This chapter started from the premiss that social workers not
only had to know something about the things computers can and
78 Computers in Social Work

cannot do , but also had to be encouraged and enabled to become

users. It went on to argue a number of points - that there is a
difference between programming a computer and using one ; that
numeracy is not important; that the necessary skills are more in
the field of typing than anything else; that there is a problem of
jargon on both sides which needs to be tackled; and that there is a
basis for communication between social workers and computer
people. Coming to some understanding on these points does not
of itself provide the case for becoming a user, but it does clear
away some of the impediments. The next stage is to look at other
impediments, primarily of an ethical and political kind. Providing
the social worker can be persuaded over that hurdle, then the
prospect for really getting involved with the new technology will
rest firmly on establishing just what the computer has to offer for
social work . Will the computer settle down as not much more than
a management tool , with some uses in social work, but of the kind
that can be easily and conveniently left to clerical staff (a
recognisable situation in many area offices at present); or can it
become an integrated part of social work practice?
6

The Rights and Wrongs of

Computing

This is a complex subject. In the first place the arguments involve

computers, but are not wholly about them . Some of the major
issues are more correctly seen as about communication networks.
Other topics have more diffuse origins, but are conveniently hung
on to the peg of computing. Still more are based on the growth of
computing as a symptom rather than a cause of social and
political developments. The subject is also one which has a history
of provoking strongly polarised views, from the enthusiast
galloping along with the torrent of technological progress (for
example, C. Evans, 1979) to the pessimist who sees in computing
all the signs of social decay and destruction (such as George,
1977).
There are several tiers of argument. At the most general level
is the view that the computer is one of a number of inventions
which we could well do without, and should abandon. This is an
opinion which is not frequently encountered solely in relation to
computing, but can be found in a wider philosophy along with
such as nuclear fusion or industrial activities which cause serious
illnesses and pollution. Much more common is the modified view
that if computing is to be tolerated it must fit into an acceptable
social, ethical and political framework for the functioning of our
society.
The contrasting attitudes at this level tend to be less concerned
with issues of right and wrong than with pragmatic assessments of
what would be possible and impossible if we did not use
computers. The argument is likely to suggest that, although there
may be some unpleasant aspects to computing (as well as to the
80 Computers in Social Work

other components of Information Technology), the truth is that

we can no longer do without it. Already we are dependent on
computers to cope with the scale of activity needed to run large
industrial societies, or even the size of community which makes
up a modern city. The supporter can produce a long list of basic
services which would collapse without the storage and processing
abilities of computers, allied to telecommunication networks.
A somewhat more specific spectrum of views ranges around
calculations and speculations about the impact of computing on
our society . One of the early studies of this subject (Rose, 1969)
suggested five serious problems which would go hand in hand
with the rise of computing. The one which has perhaps become
most widely apparent is the move towards dehumanising society,
especially with the switch from personal communication to
machine-produced circulars with no more than a veneer of
individuality. Closely linked would be a tendency towards over-
systematising many aspects of life, so reducing our capacity to
cope with diversity. There would, Rose argued, be a sort of
contamination of society by the structured and rigid systems of
computing, so that communities would function and be described
in more technological terms. Alongside the social drift would
come the new elite, the technologists who knew about and
controlled computer systems. Finally this knowledge and access
available to the new elite would create great possibilities for strong
centralised political control, especially as vast data banks of
personal information were built up.
The alternative view might be to accept a good deal of Rose's
vision , much of which can now be observed to have happened, but
to challenge the assumption that such changes are necessarily for
the worse. Computers have after all brought enormous benefits in
helping us to do things which were becoming too difficult to
handle in any other way (like knowing the size and make-up of our
communities), and more creatively have enabled a scrutiny of our
lives which has uncovered vitally important knowledge (such as
the relationship between smoking and cancer). With these kinds of
benefits, who should quibble over a few disadvantages?
The sort of person who might have a dusty answer to that
question could well be unemployed. In the early years ofcomputer
developments a direct and simplistic relationship was asserted
between computing and job levels. If a computer could do a task
(usually a clerical one) more quickly, effectively and cheaply than
 The Rights and Wrongs 0.( Computing 81

people, the computer would be used and the people would lose
their jobs. With the benefit of experience the picture which
emerges is more complex. Where jobs have been lost to computers
in clerical settings, new ones, albeit fewer, have been created to
handle word-processors and other new equipment. Computers
have, however, spread well beyond clerical employment scenes,
and their use to control robots (in car production, for example)
suggests a more conscious attempt to displace the labour force .
Fry acknowledges the probability of 'significant numbers of
former machine operators becoming redundant' (Fry, 1978,
p.176).
This stark and damaging relationship would perhaps have
retained its place as one of the major issues of the second half of
the twentieth century except for two factors . One has been the
world recession, which has resulted in so much unemployment
that it has ceased to be possible to pinpoint that which is directly
caused by computer applications. This is noticeable in social
services departments where general austerity measures have led to
a variety of posts being scrapped or frozen, and concealed the
specific impact of computerisation. It is also a relevant observa-
tion that our personal service agencies have not yet ventured far
into computing, and so have still to face the pressure on jobs from
that source. The second factor is an agonising ambivalence
provoked by the knowledge that job losses are countered by major
gains in productivity, which offers scope for a more attractive life-
style for all of us. For the moment, however, the policies and
methods for a fairer distribution of the spoils of computer
exploitation have not been worked out, and the more attractive
life-style remains a fantasy for society as a whole.
A further tier of debate draws the computer into the context of
specific applications. Accepting the existence and utility of the
new technology, is it possible and sensible to clarify those sectors
in which its use is desirable and those where it is not? Essentially
the issue here is concerned with using the computer in ways which
invade individual privacy and threaten civil irghts, even indirectly.
Within this argument there are a number of sectors in which the
computer is an acknowledged asset - in controlling equipment,
helping to plan production lines, working out salaries and many
others - but there are also 'no go' areas. Controversy surrounds
any computer activity which involves collecting personal informa-
tion about members of the community, with or without their
82 Computers in Social Work

knowledge and approval. It affects the principle of collecting this

sort of data, the way it is stored, the extent to which it is made
available to others and the way it is used.
It is at this stage of the debate that social workers' fears are
really aroused. The collection of personal information is an
integral part of the social work task, and it is social workers
themselves who do most of the collecting . Gathering information
to help in planning treatment or services has long been an
acceptable activity, providing it is suitably hedged around with
controls, and carried out in line with professional standards.
Getting personal data for the computer is a very different matter,
and raises issues which have not as yet been properly thrashed out.
A survey of publications on computing in social work concluded
that: 'The most recurrent and the most specific concern raised in
the literature involved the issue of confidentiality. The general
concern was that the very existence of computerised information
posed a serious threat to privacy.' (Boyd, Hylton and Price, 1978,
p.370.)
It is not the intention of this chapter to continue skimming over
the broad span of arguments, but to set the context and then focus
on issues which are likely to be particularly sensitive to social
workers . From their viewpoint in the information system social
workers can look towards their managers, to the agency and to the
wider network of governmental organisations. In this direction
they will see issues of accountability, control and centralisation.
They can also look outwards towards society, and specifically at
their clients, and here they will see the concerns for privacy ,
confidentiality and respect for individuals. There remains an inner
view towards the practices and standards of each worker, which
both pinpoints the way traditional activities are handled, like
recording and the relationships established with clients, and
queries the response made to pressures from new technologies.
Each of these perspectives will be looked at in more detail.

Power and thecomputer

'Information, whether computer processed or not, is an ins-

trument of control, whether of program or, directly or indirectly,
of staff.' (Hoshino, 1982, p.8.) The relationship between the
possession of information (or education) and power is as old a
 The Rights and Wrongs of Computing 83

theme as is political philosophy itself, and it has always been

acknowledged that the more comprehensive the information
becomes, the greater the potential for using it as a tool of control.
The computer has not , therefore, created a new relationship;
instead it has brought an existing one nearer to realisation . Before
computers a major impediment to the extension of information
systems was their tendency to get so cumbersome as to be of
limited use. What the computer has done is to reinforce the
capacity to hold vast quantities of data, and added (along with
communication techniques) the ability to link together and cross-
reference individual items, and to do this, as well as general
retrieval, very fast.
The Introduction to this book made the point that computing
came into personal social service agencies in the first instance as a
management tool , to facilitate a range of useful tasks connected
broadly with service planning and accountability to central
government and local committees. As the story of Hampshire
Social Services Department indicates (Chapter 3) the man-
agement team sought an information system which would make
policy implementation and resource deployment a more rational
process; at the same time more effective (because better informed)
arguments could be made to DHSS and the Social Services
Committee. A result of this development, possibly not anticipated
or intended, has been to increase the accountability of managers
to their Civil Service and political masters. By making more
information available, managers have opened themselves to more
scrutiny from above .
In the early years of social services departments it is doubtful if
there was a widespread understanding that what was happening
to managers could be extended down the hierarchy. Early
information systems were neither thorough nor comprehensive
enough to offer much potential, and pressure from tighter control
of resources had not yet built up. But by the middle of the 1970s a
clearer picture of the scope for controlling social work was
emerging. The 1970swere described for social work as 'The Age of
Accountability' (Briar, 1973, p. 2), and the point was made that:
'The significance of computer technology to the ordinary agency
lies in its potential for integrating the processes of evaluation with
delivery of services, thus increasing agency accountability.'
(Hoshino and McDonald, 1975, p. 10.)
Any resistance which might have grown among management to
84 Computers in Social Work

becoming more accountable was mitigated by the undoubted

value to them of output from the computer information system .
As has already been suggested (and will be again in the next
chapter) the value of computers for social workers is far from
clearly established, and indeed certain features of the way they
have been introduced to computing have not been encouraging.
The initial contact for most will have been to provide management
information, without, at that stage , any expectation of benefiting
themselves . Later, as the information system became more
sophi sticated, and hence of more potential use to the practitioner,
two rather threatening aspects became apparent. One was that the
computer could be, and given the economic context was being,
used to implement restraints on professional activities with
resource implications. An analysis of team workloads, and the
range of tasks being carried out, could be used to indicate areas of
high and low priority, and allow managers both to direct and
monitor social work performance. Closely allied to this, and the
second threat, is the ability to use the computer to monitor the
performance of individual members of staff.
A manager might well be tempted to ask why 'when computer
processed data are used by management for worker performance
evaluation, the information constitutes a threat to front-line staff'
(Hoshino, 1982, p. 8). After all, it is sound managerial practice to
keep this controlling hand on the behaviour of employees. The
problem with such a view is that it shows considerable ignorance
of the history of social work and the way it is practised. Much
social work has grown up as a response to emergencies, or needs
which require prompt attention, without scope for prior man-
agerial debate. The traditional basis of social work has been the
establishment of the sort of relationship with clients which
facilitated intimate discussion, detailed assessment and co-opera-
tion over treatment. That is to say a close relationship, and one in
which the social worker exercises a lot of discretion. There is a
dimension of confidentiality, which will be taken up later, and
again a difficulty about relating back to management via a
computer or any other information system. These aspects of social
work practice have long been recognised , and their retention was
supported in the Barclay Report (Barclay, 1982, especially
chapter 9), but they do not always seem to find a place in
management attitudes, perhaps because they are rarely encoun-
 The Rights and Wrongs of Computing 85

tered in a wider sphere of large organisations. It is part of a system

in which social workers are too often perceived as no more than
skilled employees , while the task they undertake requires much of
the autonomy enjoyed by a professional (for further discussion see
Glastonbury, Cooper and Hawkins, 1983, chapter 9).
As information systems become more comprehensive and
centralised, there is a movement in the location of data which
affects convenience of access. With traditional case-files, as with
computer files, there will be a range of staff, both practitioners
and managers included, who have authorised access. However the
physical location of traditional files has made them easy to look at
for the immediate group of social workers and supervisors, but
less convenient for more senior man agers , possibly involving a
journey. Without any change in authorisation, the switched
location of computer files tips the balance of ease of access more
towards the management group, and so offers more incentive or
temptation to oversee front-line activity . There is a very thin line
between having the knowledge which is appropriate for effective
management, and going over the top into material which draws
the manager to interfere in the detailed provision of services.
After asserting that 'Control of machinery and its operation is
also a political question' Sharron (1984, p. 14)goes on to raise the
issue of the cost of computing. Expenditure is incurred both
through running costs and capital investment, and represents a
diversion of resources away from other activities. As long as
computing is kept at a basic level those 'other resources' are likely
to be manual information systems, but once into the realm of
expensive and sophisticated computer hardware there is a pos-
sibility that funds to pay for it will be drawn from service sectors .
The question can then be asked about how many social workers,
home helps, places in old people's homes or in-service training
courses is it worth sacrificing in order to pay for the development
of computing? This may be dismissed as a silly question, but it
provokes several observations. There is very little indication as yet
that agencies have looked beyond the attractiveness and utility of
the tasks computers can undertake into a more rigorous cost-
benefit analysis , except in the limited context of comparing
computing with traditional manual information systems. Social
workers with a bent towards collecting social histories are
regularly accused of gathering more data than they can ever use;
86 Computers in Social Work

the same may well be true of the more grandiose computer

information stores .
The history of computer developments in social services
departments, as adjuncts of management, may well have aided an
improvement in managerial productivity. At the same time the
'capitalisation' of management has made more stark the gulf
between the support systems available at headquarters and those
in front-line offices. The Barclay Committee (Barclay, 1982,
paras 9.46-8) drew attention to the poverty of clerical and other
supportive aids to practice, and it can be argued that this has
lowered both the morale and output of social workers. While,
therefore, it may be crude and simplistic to talk about having to
choose between spending money on a social worker or a
computer, it is wholly relevant to suggest that practice groups may
be more in need of investment in support services than their
managers. It adds insult to injury for many social workers, a
predominantly female group, that in the context of this spending
on electronic gadgetry the managerial 'haves' are primarily male,
so reinforcing their domination of the personal social services.

Rightsandthecomputer

'With the advent of computers two main points seem to arise. One
is the question of what should be private to the individual, which is
essentially a political question. The other is . . . security of
information . .. which is a largely technical question.' (Brier and
Robinson, 1974, p. 277.) The latter has already received comment,
and a strong argument can be made to the effect that the agencies
have done as much as they can to guarantee that the technical
aspects of security have been overcome. We are a long way along
the road to eliminating the risk of accidental breaches of
confidence, and effective password systems are in operation. The
largest remaining area of concern on the technical side of security
is to an extent outside agency control. It lies in the links between
computers, the 'most vulnerable part of any system' (Ben Knox,
The Times, 17 July 1984), which wiII most commonly in this
country be British Telecom lines. Using this route to get access to a
computer (caIIed 'hacking') is a favourite game of the most
knowledgeable computer enthusiasts, though it is more often used
 The Rights and Wrongs of Computing 87

to find some usable computer space than extract data (because

getting into a computer is a first stage; accessing a file on that
computer is a further task). This may be hard to stop, but it can be
tracked down, as long as agencies are willing to invest in this kind
of detection. A more useful preventive measure is to change
aspects of the security system at frequent intervals, and certainly
when a member of staff with detailed knowledge of the prevailing
system leaves. Knox argues that going to an employee with a
grudge against the employer is 'the most common and perhaps
most worrying method by which information is obtained' (Knox,
The Times, 7 August 1984).
The real issue remains, therefore, the political one, as has been
made clear in the debate over Data Protection. Does the political
will exist to establish boundaries to data banks, and strictly
enforced limitations on their uses? Will political decisions be
based on expedience and the comparative strength of vested
interests, or on a firm assertion of ethical values? Will the
resources allocated to enforcing security be sufficient to tackle
both the harder criminal aspects, such as computer fraud, and the
larger and more shadowy area ofillicit access to personal data? An
initial reaction to the Data Protection Act 1984 is that it will
confirm a lack of political will and secure a victory for vested
interests. There have been attempts dating back to 1961 to
legislate against the abuse of personal information, but the Act
which finally became law in the summer of 1984 is concerned less
to inhibit the passage of personal material and more to conform to
EEC regulations, thereby lubricating the flow of computer data
across member countries. The Act sets boundaries for gathering
and using personal data, asserts the principle of everyone having
access to his or her own file, and requires all holders of stores of
such data to register with a Registrar, appointed by the Home
Secretary. Each holder must both keep to the general terms of the
Act, and to the specific particulars of data sources and uses which
form part of the application to register.
The snail-like pace to legislation is matched by the length of
time permitted for the Home Secretary, Registrar and data
holders to get themselves organised, and it is likely to be well into
1987 before there is any enforcement of breaches of the Act. Even
then they will take the form of raps on the knuckles from the
Registrar, rather than decisive action. Yet the real weakness of the
88 Computers in Social Work

Act, and a gaping hole in personal data protection, lies in the

exemptions. There are total exemptions from registration (such as
for mailing lists, or files classed as official secrets), exceptions to
the right of access to one's own file, and limits to confidentiality.
We are denied access to our own files if they are deemed to be
serving a purpose connected with law and order (so we cannot find
out about such possible contents as false accusations of illegal
behaviour), or can broadly be labelled as legally privileged. It is
left to the Secretary of State to decide on the principle and
conditions of client access to social work files. We may think that
the information in those files is confidential (except, that is, to
what may be a long list of registered recipients), but it must be
disclosed if requested in the interests of national security , law
enforcement or revenue purposes, or if ordered by a court.
The position is highly polarised. On one side are ranged the
police and other forces of law and order (possibly including the
military), whose task in preventive policing and large-scale social
control is made much easier if continually up-dated information is
available about anyone who might conceivably be a 'risk' .
Hanging on to their coat-tails are an assorted collection of
businesses involved in advertising, marketing, debt-collecting,
vetting credit-worthiness and so forth , who are prepared to pay
large sums and sometimes get into illicit activities in order to lay
hands on computer data. Support is also likely from governmen-
tal bodies wanting to check for tax dodgers, false benefit claims,
unreported house alterations which might breach planning re-
gulations or alter rateable values, eND activists .. . the list is
endless.
At the other pole is a grouping of those with a concern or
responsibility for civil rights, and a range of professionals whose
work has traditionally required them to be on the receiving end of
personal information. The fear for many of these people is that the
deluge of technological innovation has exposed information
sources to exploitation before the risk was fully realised and closed
off. This in turn has allowed traditional attitudes towards the
confidentiality of personal data to be pushed aside and replaced
by newer precedents which set much wider and freer access. In
short, professionals and civil rights activists were caught on the
hop , hustled out of step by the pace of growth in computing and
communicating.
 The Rights and Wrongs of Computing 89

The issue in civil rights is the continuing one of protecting the

individual against the invasion of government and organisations.
To that extent the threat posed by computers represents nothing
new, except in its scope and dynamics. Similar fears about the
effects of gathering information in standardised forms have been
expressed about many systems of organisation and administra-
tion, especially bureaucracy. As Harrington states: 'Bureaucracy
is the only way to co-ordinate the complex functions of a modern
economy and society. . . . Yet it is also an enormous potential
source of arbitrary, impersonal power which folds, bends, spin-
dles and mutilates individuals but keeps IBM cards immaculate'
(quoted in George , 1977, preface). The mere enlargement of
organisations is itself a threat to privacy, and the merger of small
welfare agencies into social services departments had the effect of
increasing the number of those with authorised access to any
individual file.
George (1977, chapter 3) has enlarged on the concept of
'information pollution' as a way of analysing the abuse of
personal data, and drawing attention to the distorting sequences
through which information is put from the point of its initial
gathering through to its application for some organisational
purpose. The data themselves may contain inaccuracy, which is
then embedded so firmly in data stores as to be irremovable. The
numerous steps in data handling, the tendency to twist it until it
can be fitted into one of a restricted range of categories and the
attempt to use it in quite different ways from that in which it was
collected - all serve to pollute the quality of the material. The
pollution is then spread around by all those firms and government
agencies who make use of the files .
In his assessment of the trends in information abuse, George
suggests a number of stages, starting with the spreading around of
fairly trivial data, like people's addresses , which we have now
grown to accept. The next stage reflects both the growing
comprehensiveness of the data, and thoroughness of its distribu-
tion, all of which indicates a clear invasion of individual privacy.
The final stage sees the gap closed between intrusiveness and
interference , so that computerised information becomes the basis
for ordering individual lives. Despite the belated efforts to provide
some sort of data protection legislation (which could still become
as much a charter for exploitation as for protection) the evidence
90 Computers in Social Work

appears to suggest that we are already well into the middle stage,
and beginning to edge towards the final one. There is considerable
circumstantial support for the view that much information
collected through statutory processes (such as Censuses) or given
by the individual in confidence (for example, in a request for a
bank loan) finds its way to organisations who wish to use it for
business purposes. The Registrar-General has sold Census
material. At the time of writing (summer 1984) a major bank is
being accused in the media of leaking private financial informa-
tion, and the Consumers' Association (May and July 1984) is
concerned that a credit card company is getting personal transac-
tions muddled.
In most circumstances the person who offers information 'in
confidence' will have a wholly unreal picture of what happens to
it, who has legitimate access, where it will be passed or the uses to
which it will be put. Despite some limited individual rights , most
of us are equally vague about what is in the file. Indeed many
people may not have provided information at all, and a file will
only contain data obtained from second-hand sources, with the
risks of hearsay and guilt by association.
The issue of confidentiality takes on added nuances for the
professional (doctor, social worker), community confidante
(priest) or anyone else (bank manager, employer) whose work
inevitably calls for gathering personal information. Such people
may in the past have been able to see themselves as the sole
repositories of the confidence, but the pressure is on them to
become (whether from conviction, money, lack of thought,
accident , legal requirement or simply by turning a blind eye) the
first links in a chain of data collection and management. Focusing
specifically on the social worker, the problem is not entirely new.
Social workers have always retained discretion under certain
circumstances to pass on information about clients, and have not
necessarily had client sanction to do this. There are well-establi-
shed procedures, perhaps most obviously case conferences, where
information is offered for discussion and decision to other staff of
the agency as well as other agencies. The legitimate possibilities
for passing data were touched on in Chapter 3 when looking at
Hampshire Social Services Department's rules of conduct for
using computer files, and it was suggested that social workers
might feel a little more inclined to question this arrangement when
 The Rights and Wrongs of Computing 91

it is formally spelled out rather than just allowed to happen. The

exercise of discretion seems to be more open to individual
professional judgement than a written statement of policy, and so
more acceptable to the worker.
A problem which has been exacerbated by the new technology
is that once an information chain is started it is very difficult to
bring it to an end or change it, and those who forged the first links
rapidly lose an y control over the process . Information is like
money - once you hand it to someone else it is no longer yours ,
and all you can be reasonably sure about is that a little bit ofit may
be saved, but most will be passed on and eventually go into general
circulation.
There is certainly a difference in scale - only data on selected
individuals will be handed out at a case conference, in contrast to
the massive blocks of material in the dealings discussed earlier -
but legitimate practices are far from leak-proof. Part of the
difficulty lies in the absence of a generally accepted code of
conduct, so that although a social worker may be scrupulously
careful about giving information away, the recipients could be
operating a quite different code , and feel rather freer about using
information in their hands.

Social work standards andthe computer

A review of published comments about the threat the computer

poses to standards of social work performance unearths a number
of sturdy views. Professor Tutt is reported (Community Care, 10
February 1983, p.6) to have argued that 'The sacred cow of
confidentiality and privacy is not a defence for old ways of
working', and pressed social workers to take a more positive and
creative view of computing. A more frequently stated view,
however, upholds a greater respect for traditional practices:
'Unless clients and social workers alike can be guaranteed
adequate measures to ensure a similar level of privacy as
previously existed, the client-worker relationship may be under-
mined.' (Powell, 1980, p. 17.) Sharron takes the argument a stage
further, suggesting that 'practice will also tend to become more
standardised and social work by strict objectives will inevitably,
for better or worse, become the order of the day' (1984, p. 14).
92 Computers in Social Work

Many aspects of this debate have already received an airing -

the threat that the computer will increase breaches of confiden-
tiality from a dribble to a deluge, and that control of information
could be used to inhibit the flexibility of practice - but the question
remains as to whether standards of practice will be put at risk. The
recurring themes are confidentiality, the client-worker relation-
ship and professional discretion, and it may be helpful to
summarise the attitudes of those who are fearful of the computer's
future role.
As for confidentiality, it is not total at present, but leaks are
small and containable: the computer will take the personal social
services into an entirely different league, with huge transfers of
private data, by accident, illicit behaviour or conscious decision.
If the social worker is to be part of a network of data-gathering, a
contributor to data banks, then it will no longer be possible to talk
intimately and privately to clients. The relationship will therefore
be affected, and will become more formal and guarded. It will be
harder to provide good assessments , and the trusting and co-
operative relationship which is at the root of effective counselling
will be wiped out. The utility of the relationship will be further
reduced by the ability of a computer-informed management to
interfere in traditional areas of discretion, so damaging the
credibility of the pactitioner and adding rigidity to the process.
The core of this viewpoint is recording. Ifdata are not recorded,
or are held on files which are inaccessible to all but the social
worker, the threat to social work practice is removed . Without
records , whether they are loose-leaf files or a computer store, there
would be little risk of either large- or small-scale abuse of
information. Why are records so vulnerable? One reason is that
social workers have already lost a sense of clarity about the use of
them, and have permitted them to serve so many diverse purposes.
A selection might include:

- reminding the social worker of the progress of a case

- recording services and resources offered
- offering notes for professional supervision
- providing evidence for reviewing worker performance
- giving a basis for looking at overall workloads
- acting as a handover document for a new worker
- covering the staff in the event of an inquiry.
 The Rights and Wrongs of Computing 93

This list is not comprehensive, and includes only uses made by

the worker, the immediate team and the professional supervisor.
Still more precedents include using traditional files for man-
agement and research purposes, broadly along the same lines as a
computer file might be used. Further trends may well involve
operiing records to clients, and that event would be more effective
than computerisation in forcing a reappraisal of the content and
use of files.
The point being made is that for decades records have served
multiple purposes, going far beyond what would be sanctioned
solely on grounds of relevance to the client - worker relationship
and the social work task. Indeed anyone who has looked at a
sample of traditional files is quite likely to have found a shambles,
a wad of papers without apparent structure, order or purpose. The
computer should not be used as a scapegoat for the mess we have
got into over case files.
It is possible to pass an equally sceptical eye over some aspects
of the client-worker relationship, which has been put under great
pressure by increasing agency workloads, and the temptation to
use time-saving methods of social work intervention. The re-
lationship is an aspect of traditional forms of practice which
presupposed sufficient time in each interview and in the duration
of the client-worker contact to allow intimacy to develop . With
some of the more time-limited approaches the social worker may
still pay lip-service to a relationship, but it runs the risk of being
artifical and forced. Given the proportion of very brief contacts in
many area offices, especially with intake work , it is scarcely
possible to pretend at a relationship. Instant social work like
instant coffee is definitely not the real thing, and it is appropriate
to ask precisely what computing is supposed to be putting under
threat.
Fears that computer information systems might be used by
managers to facilitate easier interference in front-line activities are
perhaps more firmly based. Many managers are themselves ex-
practitioners, liable to maudling nostalgia about the good old
days of working with clients (and forgetting the bad pay and long
hours!) . The temptation is there to use any means of keeping in
touch with the trenches from the safety of a managerial armchair.
More importantly there are sound management arguments for
using whatever tools are available to ensure that the agency works
94 Computers in Social Work

properly to policy and plan . The existence of social worker

discretion to act within flexible boundaries rather than to precise
regulations is a source of much frustration for the manager who is
wanting to keep a tight hold on the way the agency functions. The
fat volumes of procedural guidelines for social workers are a
visible sign.
These last few paragraphs have been intentionally provocative,
in order to make clear the risk of hiding behind the computer and
blaming it for weaknesses which have their origins elsewhere,
whether in the behaviour of social workers or their managers.
Furthermore, a distinction needs to be made between the impact
of decisions about the way the personal social services will
function in the future, and changes which will be caused by
computers. It is very likely that knowledge about the sorts of tasks
the computer can aid will influence the decisions which are made,
but the computer is the tool not the handyman. The decisions will
be made in the context of politics and administration, both of
which social workers can influence if they get their act together.
Computers can do a lot of jobs, some helpful, others a hindrance
to social workers. Control of the computer is vital.

Some proposals

This chapter has not attempted to offer a balanced view of the

politics of computing. The case for the computer - primarily the
near impossibility of doing without it - has been stated, but much
more attention has been paid to the other side of the argument, the
fears and reservations expressed about where the new technology
is leading us. The reason for this is embedded in the sound social
work principle of taking account of initial preoccupations, in
order to make space for a more reflective approach. It is clear that
before the full potential of the computer can be realised, in a form
which is helpful to social work practice, an acceptable context has
to be set to take account of genuine fears and reservations.
Several efforts have been made , both in the setting of comput-
ing and in social work . Brier and Robinson (1974, p. 279) suggest
five stages to a code for data processing, primarily drawn from the
ethics of social science research. Their sequence starts by asserting
initial confidentiality, which is then reinforced by checking all
 The Rights and Wrongs of Computing 95

data to remo ve identity marks, such as name s and addresses, and

replacing them with coded alternatives. Points 3 and 4 sta te who
shall have the necessar y information to interpret the codes (in
research only the researcher), and stress the importance of
formally considering all aspects of individual protection before
publishing. The final point draws attention to the further need for
individual protection if raw data are to be made available to
another researcher.
Within social work NALGO is prepared to wait and see, noting
some of the advantages of new technology, but also expressing
some concerns and concluding that 'experience is varied'
(NALGO, 1984, p. 52). The British Association of Social Workers
has produced a sequence of project group reports and policy
statements (1972, 1975, 1980, 1983) related to proper conduct and
standards in social work, which do not tackle computing head-on,
but offer a sound framework for so doing. In particular the project
group report on 'Effective and Ethical Recording' lists 96
recommendations (pp. 46-55) which seek to sort out the muddle
of record systems as well as spell out the ethical and practical
requirements in collecting, storing, accessing and using personal
data.
Trying to draw together aspects both of social work and
computing, as discussed in this chapter, a number of proposals
can be suggested as a contribution to getting computers fully and
properly used in social work :

1. The establishment of a legal framework covering bulk data

distribution and use should be based solidly on a recognition of
civil rights, rather than on the practices and precedents of
particular segments of society. At present it appears that the law
will be much too influenced by vested interests, particularly those
of the police and other forces oflaw and order. However, much of
the debate on data protection has tended to consist of small
groups claiming special priviledges for themselves, whether it is
the police wanting access to everything, or doctors, priests and
social workers wanting unique protection. The difficulty in this
kind of discussion is that, in their own context, everyone is right. A
more effective approach may be to look upon personal informa-
tion less as something which must automatically be shared with a
policeman or treated as a social worker's secret, and more as the
96 Computers in Social Work

possession of the individual who is the subject of it.

2. Whatever laws are passed, they are likely to need filling out
with a code of conduct, both to guide those with access to data,
and to save the whole subject becoming enmeshed in legal action
and precedent. Such a code needs to extend well beyond social
work, certainly far enough to include the network of direct
contacts with other agencies, and the more peripheral links in
information chains . Some form of Data Protection Panel would
be needed to enforce the code and deal with misconduct, possibly
with a right of appeal to such a panel from individual subjects of
information (such as social work clients have in Holland).
3. In order to cope with the tendency for chains of data to be
formed , it is important to have both clear statements of the
circumstances in which data may cross an agency boundary (such
as Hampshire has), and contracts with potential recipient agencies
defining the limits on their use of material passed to them.
4. Some controls should be established over the format and
procedures for data transfers from one computer source to
another. This is to avoid the temptation to do what comes
conveniently, which is to open a computer link from one source to
another, rather than transfer a specified item of data as a single
transaction. An open computer link is almost certain to result in
more data, probably about different people, being transferred
than was intended.
5. Consideration should be given to the whole interrelationship
between computers and communication networks. Too often it is
taken for granted that computer networks are more desirable than
self-contained computers. The point is that a self-contained
computer is much less open to abuse because it cannot be accessed
from another computer via the network line. There needs to be
some way of assessing the case for joining a network, based on an
estimate of uses and risks. Tighter procedures could also be
introduced for turning off the network link except when it is in
authorised use, instead of leaving an open connection.
6. The location of personal information in a social work agency
has always been in the social workers' office. The implication of
developing a comprehensive computer system is that data will be
relocated at agency headquarters instead of or in addition to the
front-line siting. The need for this should be carefully assessed.
The requirements of management are for anonymous aggregate
 The Rights and Wrongs of Computing. 97

data, broken down by team, perhaps by worker, but not by named

client. In the early years of computing the best way to do this was
to use the centralised computer, which inevitably led to the data
store being at headquarters. The state of technology now makes it
feasible for data stores to be held in the traditional location, at the
front-line , which is the only place where there is a justified access
to the full details of individual files. This proposal, which is a
fundamental one, is that computer case-files should be held only
in front-line offices, under the professional control of the social
workers whose clients are on those files. Aggregate data should be
provided to headquarters for statistical, monitoring and planning
purposes. The only centralised file should be of names and the
office of case-file location, to permit new referrals to be checked
for previous contacts and services. The effect of this proposal
would be to return responsibility for client information to the
social worker and the immediate team . The proposal does not
apply to resource files, such as information about residential and
day-care settings, which seems likely to continue to need central-
ised handling.

Most of the above proposals are of a general nature, but the last
one is central to social work, and without its implementation the
future for the computer in practice settings is limited. Either social
workers will keep it at as great a distance as possible, because it is
out of their control, or they will give it resigned acceptance as the
holder of the 'formal' information system, while maintaining an
'informal' system for genuine use.
7

Computers and the Daily

Life of Social Workers

This chapter follows a similar line to the previous one, in that it

continues to give an airing to the reservations social workers may
have about allowing computers into their work . Several of the
same themes will surface, but instead of looking at them from a
political or ethical viewpoint, the focus will move to the way they
impinge on the day-to-day tasks of the social worker. The bro ad
aim of the chapter is to discuss the background and seek a
response to two questions a social worker might feel inclined to
pose: 'Wh at effect will the computer have on my job?' and 'What' s
in it for me?' It is probably most helpful to think of these questions
as shrouded in overtones of suspiciousness and a little cynicism,
because they do reflect fears about what will happen to direct
work with clients, about the extra chores that will emerge and
about what might be called the 'interfering computer'.
Throughout the chapter some views expressed by social
workers will be stated, and these are drawn from informal
discussions with practising front-line workers who, on a ratio of
about two to one, are involved with a computerised information
system. On one point they were all agreed - the forward march of
computing is inevitable, and no Canutish actions will stop it. The
task , therefore, is not to oppose it, but to accommodate and
harness it as effectively as possible . Even so, the topic remains an
unreal one unless certain premises are accepted. There will need to
be solutions to the political issues discussed in the last chapter. In
the absence of satisfactory arrangements about, for example , data
protection, social work is either likely to go through a period of
discontent and disarray, or be forced to change into something
rather different, probably towards an explicit social policing role.
 Computers and the Daily Life of Social Workers 99

The discussion to follow assumes that social work will keep most
of the characteristics it currently has, and in particular that it will
continue as a helping profession based on the consent of clients
rather than compulsion, on scope for flexible responses at the
front-line and on the guarantee of confidential client - worker
relationships.
The other range of assumptions are of a more mundane,
practical kind, though perhaps less certain of becoming reality in
the near future . They concern the availability of the physical
resources for social workers to draw upon. It will be of no use
discussing the impact of computers on practice, or (as Chapter 8
does) postulating the diverse jobs the computer could do, if the
equipment is not there in front of the social workers. It is
important to be clear about this. At present most social workers
will either have no direct contact with computers in their work, or
will be able to use a terminal, possibly a micro-computer, which is
shared with several other staff. The limit of ambition for many
social services departments is a terminal or two in each area office,
where , if current experience is anything to go by, most 'hands on'
jobs will be done by a member of the clerical staff. This will
certainly achieve some useful outcomes, but it is not the level of
equipping which will be needed for practice uses. For any real
extension of computing into social work a keyboard and screen
(probably also some localised storage capacity like a disk drive)
will need to be as accessible as a telephone, and each team will
want a printer. In effect this means either a terminal or a micro-
computer for each social worker; otherwise the advantage of
convenience will ensure the survival of traditional ways of doing
the job, with the computer slotting in occasionally if it happens to
be free. Social workers cannot do their chores properly if they
have to spend time in a queue for access to a terminal or wait for a
clear screen before they can check a point in a client's file. The
arguments presented earlier about the advantages to managers of
going on-line and having immediate computer access, are even
more important in front-line activity, with its component of
emergencies, clients in the waiting-room and demands for instant
information, advice and aid . In short, if computers are to move
into social work practice, there have got to be enough of them
around, and that means many more than we have or plan to have
at present.
100 Computers in Social Work

The attitude of management in the personal social services will

be crucial to the future of computing in social work practice.
While many social services departments have been able to launch
into computing on the cheap, by tailoring a limited system to take
advantage of spare computer capacity in the local authority,
developments are expensive . The more sophisticated the system
becomes, even if it remains primarily for managerial uses, the
greater is the need to purchase computer terminals and other
peripherals, perhaps to get computers as well. A push into social
work practice would have major resource implications. Social
workers have traditionally received little captial investment to
support their activities, and it will need strong and effective
arguments from managements to their committees to get backing
for a change. It is highly unlikely that any arguments will lead to
the necessary spending unless there are tangible expectations for
greater front-line productivity.
A further sign of managerial good faith will be needed to reverse
the trend of information control, as was discussed in the last
chapter, to re-establish professional responsibility for case-files. A
worrying aspect of the extent to which data-management proces-
ses have already been used to alter practice is the way some
essentially social work tasks have changed purpose. An illustra-
tion is the reception of clients by an intake team or a duty social
worker. Traditionally and professionally this is part of the task of
assessing client needs and beginning to establish a relationship.
More recently reception of new clients has been as much
concerned with straightforward data collection. Indeed a com-
puter journal has described the purpose of the referral system in
Hillingdon as 'to provide senior management with details of what
kinds of people visited the department for social work help, the
kinds of problems they faced and, in broad terms, what kind of
help they had been given' (Hayman, 1980, p. 87).
All social work processes which involve collecting information
of the kind needed in the agency data bank are at risk of being put
under pressure to change to suit the convenience of central
storage. The minimum change is to set up a standardised format
for the data, so that it can fit the structure of the computer
program. To be more precise the computer will (as programmed
for a management information system) receive material in a
prearranged sequence, and each individual item will have to be
 Computers and the Daily Life of Social Workers 101

sta ted or categorised in a specific way. One way to do this is for the
social worker to conduct a con vent ional interview, say a reception
interview, as part of the process of assessment, and then extract
from that the information wanted for the computer. The trouble
with this approach is that the computing becomes an extra chore,
so the temptation , both for busy social workers and their
managers, is to tr y doubling up . The data format for the computer
then features in the interview, become s a determinant of the way
the interview is conducted, and can serve as a kind of qu estion-
naire to be filled in. At some point the whole process swings from a
social work interview to a data collection interview, a nd th is
implies differences in content, sequence and interviewing tech-
nique . A detailed US study of just this aspect concludes that 'The
largest single obstacle to implementation of the [computer] system
was finding a way to collect data about case activity.' (Phillips,
Dim sdale and Taft, 1982, p. 135.) Unfortunately the authors see
the issue primarily from the viewpoint of the manager s and
computer staff, presenting the social workers as having no
ju stifiable grounds for their resistance, other th an that a new
system would expo se their traditional inefficiency.
The important factor to pursue is that the computer provides
temptation and pressure to change social work practices, coming
both from managers and the practitioners themselves, and often
aimed at greater con venience and speed. Some aspect s of the
chan ge may be welcome , as ways of tackling known weaknesses in
pr actice. Included here might be the mo ve towards a more
structured approach to recording, and the improvement of case-
files. Other pressure s ma y be unwelcome but tran sitory, to do with
the particular problems of getting a computer system under way -
de-bugging the program s, coping with backlogs, commissioning
the equipment, finding staff and other resources to cope with the
new tasks, and generally handling teething difficulties . Perhaps
the biggest problem here ha s stemmed from coping with the
inaccuracies emerging from starter systems (though it is some-
thing of an act of faith to equ ate inaccuracy with teething troubles
and no more!) More worrying are what LaMendola calls ' the
occurrence of unintended or unanticipated consequences'
(LaMendola, 1982, p. 52). He advocates a thorough planning
phase to minimi se risks of this sort, but acknowledges that there
will still be a place for surprises. Some may be helpful , like that
102 Computers in Social Work

clients may find computers easier to 'talk to' than real people,
other less desirable, like social workers abandoning interactions
with colleagues in favour of communing with the terminal. Two
unwanted consequences (from a social work viewpoint) have,
however, been widely anticipated, and these will now be con -
sidered .

The dehumanising computer

The argument has already been rehearsed. In essence it is that the

computer is a machine; substitute a machine for a social worker or
put one between the worker and client and the system becomes
impersonal and automated. The client ceases to receive a personal
service, and the client's circumstances are no longer treated as
unique and special. The social worker becomes no more than a
service dispenser, and the client-worker relationship, which is the
bed-rock of counselling, is lost.
Three comments have been made in earlier chapters on this
subject. First, the issue is not solely concerned with the nature of
the computer as a piece of equipment, but with the way it is used.
As machines go, the computer is extraordinarily flexible. Second,
the computer will not replace the social worker, or force its way
between worker and client, unless a political decision is made to
that effect. The relationship of computer to social worker is not
like, say, that of car to horse and cart, a more modern device
taking over from an obsolete one . By the time computers can be
designed to replace the social worker virtually all work in society
will have been taken over by them, and that is the stuff of science
fiction. Third, social workers have already compromised on issues
of principle and modified their behaviour to suit current work
pressures, and nothing is achieved by blaming the computer
unfairly. In particular the idea of social work being about a
gradually developing relationship with a client, involving a single
social worker, has been badly damaged by creations such as intake
teams , long-term teams, short-term teams, any arrangements
which chop up the overall contact with a client into a series of
segments .
What does or can the computer do to dehumanise social work?
 Computers and the Daily Life of Social Workers 103

It may be helpful to consider this question in four different

scenanos:

- the computer in the background, for information

- the computer on the social worker's desk, as an aid
- the computer for clients to handle
- the computer as bearer of instructions.

The minimal use of the computer, as a background source of

information for the social worker, drawing on a management
information system, reflects the realistic position of many front-
line staff. The most frequent uses are for client and resource
checks, and a majority of social workers appear to welcome this
facility. The computer is not likely to be on the social worker's
desk, or in any spot where it would be visible during a meeting
with a client, so it does not intrude physically . Nevertheless by
confining a computer to a management information system there
is a risk that it will inhibit the flexibility of social work processes in
the way mentioned earlier; that is by tempting or pushing the
practitioner into organising client contacts to fit the format of the
data system. The risk is present both in providing and drawing on
data. In the former the social worker will soon grow familiar with
the items of material requested for the computer, and may get into
the habit of collecting them from the client regardless of the
appropriateness of the circumstances. Perhaps a more concealed
risk is on the other side of the coin , of getting out of the habit of
collecting some information, however useful it might be, if it is not
needed for the computer. The social worker is therefore tempted
to fall into the trap of standardisation, and where time has to be
given to providing data for the computer it can be at the price of
failing to keep traditional files as detailed and topical as would be
helpful. In short the social worker can get bad habits from the
computer, and become slack about the alternative form of
recording.
Using computer data can have a similar impact. Just as
information is entered in a standardised form and sequence , so it is
presented back . If it becomes more convenient to call up a
computer display than to fetch and search a folder , the social
worker can get to accept and work within the limitations of the
computer file. Two points are relevant here. Computer filesdo not
104 Computers in Social Work

have to be limited to outline information: they can be designed to

hold comprehensive material, but in the context of a management
information system such detail is not needed, and simply clutters
the computer. Further, client data does not have to be standar-
dised unless it is wholly or partly to be used for aggregate analysis
- statistical tables, for example. While this is an important
managerial function, it is not much wanted by social workers, who
on most occasions will want data about specific individuals.
The minimum system, in which social workers are peripheral
users of a management information system , is more likely to
dehumanise practice than having a more substantial involvement
with computers. The reason is that the more social workers use
computers, the more programs will be made available with their
needs in mind . This is already well illustrated in the small number
of applications for offering direct help to the treatment process.
For example, the Community Information Project, while stressing
the practical difficulties of getting the program to work with the
desired level ofsophistication, suggests that 'computers are ideally
suited to providing personalised advice about welfare benefits
entitlement' (Community Information Project, Computanews,
1984). Note the assertion that the computer can do a personalised
job, in circumstances where a social worker may only be
competent to make general comments, albeit with personal
charm. The distinction is between the medium and the message - a
personal message from the impersonal medium that is the
computer, or the reverse from the social worker. If the computer is
allowed to be around while the 'relationship' is happening, and be
used as a social worker's aid, then both medium and message can
be personal.
The variety of experiments to get a good welfare rights system
cross the boundary between the computer as an aid and the
computer as a tool to be used directly by the client. Some schemes
have tended to take the view that an intermediary is necessary,
whether a specialist or someone such as a social worker, who will
have enough experience of the system to know how to feed in the
required data correctly (the essence of a welfare rights programme
is that a great deal of material has to be provided to the computer
before any answers can be given). The client responds to a human
face, and is protected from the technological deterrent of having
to work the equipment. This is seen both as more 'user-friendly'
 Computers and the Daily Life of Social Workers 105

and a means of making the task easier for the claimant. On the
other hand the DHSS trial (see Chapter 4) offered claimants direct
access to a keyboard, and in that way a semblance of privacy was
maintained while personal financial information was keyed in.
This direct use of the computer can still be linked with social work
contact, partly to help those who find it difficult to do the job
themselves, and partly to discuss and counsel how the client can
respond to the computer output.
The development of both of these kinds of approach, possibly
as alternatives from which the client can choose, does not in any
substantial way dehumanise the client-worker relationship, or
the wider client -agency service contact. In some circumstances
the computer will aid the effectiveness of the service being offered
to the client, contributing both to the quality of the relationship
and the client's satisfaction.
A genuine fear for some social workers is contained in the final
scenario, in which the computer becomes the instantly available
communication link between front-line worker and HQ manager.
Furthermore the fear is that if the equipment is installed, for
whatever creative and helpful purpose, control will be its ultimate
use. The scene is one which has the social worker feeding data into
the central bank instantly, as they are gathered, with a manager or
a programmed computer at the receiving end sending back
instructions as to what action should be taken next. The social
worker becomes not much more than an intermediary between the
electronically equipped manager and the client, except for the
purposes of taking whatever unpleasantness the client may feel
about the interaction. It is certainly the stuff of nightmares,
especially if the imagination leads a little further along the line of
technological development to the point where the computer
terminal is also a microphone transmitting a client-worker
interview straight back to the centre.
Although there has to be more dependence on conviction than
evidence, it is highly unlikely that such a situation could ever come
about. To start with it has to be put in its technological context,
for by the time the knowledge and equipment are available for
that kind of activity, we shall be in a different world. Many oflife's
activities will be computerised, clients may use a terminal to
contact their social worker and the face-to-face aspect of many
jobs may have vanished. There will not be a unique and isolated
106 Computers in Social Work

technological path leading solely to tormented social workers!

More realistically, at least for the foreseeable future, the cost
would be prohibitive, and it requires an extraordinary amount of
cynicism to believe that political approval would be given.
Returning to the question - will the computer dehumanise
social work? - the answer is that much depends on the attitudes of
social workers. Keep the computer at arm's length and the task of
feeding into the management information system may be de-
humanising for worker and client. Create increasing demands for
specific practice uses and the computer offers the potential for
improving the quality of the service and even, at times, making it
more personal.

Extra work, productivity andthe computer

One social worker described the current uses of computers in the

personal social services as 'wasting everyone's time'. It is certainly
a prevalent view that the computer does represent extra work for
the social worker, with health risks (Whaley, 1983, p. 16) and
inadequate returns. How real is the assertion that there is more
work involved? If so, what does the computer offer by way of
greater productivity?
The suggestion has already been made that there are two major
areas of extra work . One is transitory, and is the process of setting
up a computer system, taking in the backlog of data, trying to get
them accurate and de-bugging the programs. 'Transitory' is an
elastic concept, which in a complex system may mean as much as
five years. But the other more fundamental cause lies in the
creation of dual information systems, one computerised, one
manual. The base-line for all social work agencies is a manual
system, in which the enormous bulk of material is contained in
individual client files. Each of these is likely to contain factual
items, a history of events, a record of contacts with the agency
staff and use of agency resources and a range of analytical
comments, from full assessments and reviews to occasional
remarks on a scrap of paper. Drawn from these files will be
summarising material, usually in the form of a card index
containing some basic facts , which in turn are the source of
statistical compilations.
 Computers and the Daily Life of Social Workers 107

In practice the starting-point for computer systems in the

personal social services has been the card index, and not the bulk
of raw material in case-files. The reasons are clear enough - the
card index was small enough to be manageable, contained the
right sort of data (facts) and offered all that was needed for
statistical returns. There is no tradition of managers being
interested in the minutiae of case-files, unless there is a tragedy or
a scandal. Furthermore the early management systems wanted
enough accuracy for composite statistics, which meant that
occasional errors were not a problem (a 'swings and roundabouts'
self-correction was assumed). Precision in each individual file was
not a high priority target, and indeed only becomes vital as social
worker uses increase.
The combined picture, therefore, is of two systems with
different base-lines, structures, contents, uses and objectives, and
it becomes very easy to conclude that an agency needs both. If this
view is accepted - as it has been almost universally, at least for the
present - the upstart computer system shows up clearly as an
additional dimension to the workload. In so far as social workers
have to provide information for the computer, it makes an extra
job for them. To the extent that the same information is held on
both manual and computer files there is duplication, but that is
the price of having tailor-made systems both for managers and
practitioners.
This is the simplistic part of the analysis, from which the 'extra
work' assertion arises . Yet there are more complex and devious
paths. It is clear that social workers who have been involved for
some time with the dual system have begun to compensate for the
additional work by making use of the computer system for their
own purposes. In part this is the process ofgetting the computer to
do things which are helpful to the social work task, like checking
for what is known of a new referral or calculating a client's Social
Security entitlements. In this way the additional work leads to a
better quality of outcome and possible also a greater quantitative
productivity.
There is also compensation for social workers in that they can
use their own power point in the computer system to influence the
actions of managers. This is a theme developed in detail by Dery in
his study of welfare agencies in California (1981). The scene Dery
describes is on a larger scale, but has some parallels with a social
108 Computers in Social Wark

services department, and the computer story is about efforts to set

up a statewide information system, to monitor, co-ordinate and
control activities in the smaller areas, the counties. He found that
'Almost anything recorded by the computer is controlled manual-
ly by workers. Workers keep track of caseloads, changes in
eligibility status, renewal dates, and so does the computer.
Though a central feature of the system is the automatic grant
computation, workers compute the grants manually. Workers
keep manual controls as if the computer did not exist. .. .'
(pp. 175-6).
In California the computer system was not trusted or used by
workers because it was inaccurate: the workers knew it was
inaccurate because they had made it so. Once it is realised that
social workers do not have to depend on computer information,
but can continue to keep their own , and that managerial uses will
include determining staffing and resource levels according to what
they are told about workloads, it becomes a temptation to feed the
system with the messages field staff would like managers to have.
This is not difficult because man agers are wholly dependent on
social workers for the raw material of agency activities. Clients
can be categorised as having needs which put them into a high
priority group, when in reality they are not; cases can be kept open
on the computer files when they have been closed; or casual
inquiries can be recorded as genuine referrals. Dery quotes a
Californian manager as allowing for 'fudge', and saying: 'They
always come with high figures knowing that I'll cut around 10% '
(p.l77).
There is no evidence that British social workers have yet started
to behave in a similar way, but it may be sensible to keep such
prospects in mind if dual data systems are to become a long-term
feature. The message is that social workers can gain some
recompense for the extra work, perhaps even welcome it, because
of the influence it gives them . By a careful selection of entries to
the computer system a favourable image can be presented of the
nature and vlume of work undertaken; and by the tactical
exclusion of some material a degree of confidentiality can be
ensured. This becomes the 'only way in which they [the social
wcrkers] retain channels of evocation which they could control on
their own terms' (Dery, p. 210). Furthermore, once it comes to be
recognised that built-in inaccuracy is endemic to computer
 Computers and the Daily Life of Social Workers 109

information systems, then a political point is made, because the

errors which would make it unusable as a source of data for social
work practice also makes it unreliable as personal information for
any other users, whether inside or outside the agency .
The picture is not a very happy one . A dual system is costly on
resources and staff time, and runs the risk of institutionalising
distorted social worker -management communications. The
alternative is a return to a single system , either by abandoning
computing (probably unthinkable) or by moving to a totally
computerised arrangement. Some aspects of a unitary approach
have already been mentioned - the implication for capital
expenditure of equipping social work offices, the need to change
the structure of the programs to make them more suitable for
individualised material, and the political dimension of data
control and confidentiality. The history of computing in our
personal social services has given systems the characteristics
appropriate to their initial aims and uses, which is standardisation
geared to producing composite analysis. If a social services
department is to establish a computer system to replace rather
than superimpose itself on the manual arrangements, it will need
to be based firmly on the characteristics of social work recording
schemes. That is to say, each computer client file will need to
contain much the same material as do the traditional case-files
and card indexes. Most of it will therefore be unique, non-
standardised social history, assessment, review, contacts and so
forth, and a small part will be factual material suited to composite
working.
Moving in this direction has many more implications. The
storage capacity of the agency 's computing resources will need to
be increased substantially, though bearing in mind the political
arguments this would involve a number of separate small
computers rather than a single large centralised one . The
programs would need to be redesigned away from their statistical
origins (one of the very earliest client information systems used
SPSS - Statistical Package for the Social Sciences) towards a
much more fluid and flexible form of storage and display, with
good search facilities so that the social worker can skim through
the file easily, straight language rather than codes, easy entry at
any point and some facilities to give it an edge over traditional
files. Extra space would be needed in social work offices for desk-
110 Computers in Social Work

top computers or terminals, but much room currently used for

storing folders would be vacated. The most likely way client files
would be stored is on disks, probably the smaller floppy ones ,
about the size of a 45 r.p.m. record. One floppy disk would hold at
least two substantial case files in all their detail , possibly more, so
overall office space needs for files would be much less than at
present. While there would need to be a central file equivalent to a
card index, and probably also a single resource store, to permit
client checks, there is no reason why detailed case material should
be available outside each social work office. This would involve
preparing, updating and preserving computer files in the local
office, and so have implications for the sort of work done by
clerical staff. Certainly there would have to be some investment in
training, but the extent of tasks would not justify any fall in
clerical employment.
It is easier to present the case for and against a dual system than
a single computer system because we have experience of the
former, whereas the latter remains in the realm of future
possibilities, with some inevitable surprises and unforeseen snags.
The reader may well be sensible to retain a degree of cynicism, but
may also have to keep an awareness of the rolling band-wagon
impact of computing on modern industrial society . A historical
overview does suggest that the dual system into which most
agencies have entered is a first stage, a modification of traditional
approaches and part of an organic progress to new arrangements.
It is, therefore, a passing phase which may move slowly, but is
nevertheless gradually makingway for the next stage. On the basis
ofexperience to date the question - Does computerisation work in
our personal social services? - gets a mixed answer. The theory of
computing may be logical and predictable, but reality throws up
teething problems, unexpected snags, extra work, limits to the
usefulness of computer output and some very tricky issues of
principle. Yet discussions with social workers suggested that while
many shared these frustrations and reservations, especially a
suspicion about threats to confidentiality, most of those who had
the opportunity to use a computer system welcomed it, and a
small majority considered it to be helpful for social workers as well
as managers. Even if the only facility currently available for the
practitioner is to check on clients and resources, this is seen as a
 Computers and the Daily Life of Social Workers III

big advance on the old system of ringing around numerous offices

in an attempt to pick up bits of information.
The experience for social workers to date is one of contributing
to a management information system, and getting a few useful
goodies in return. The big expansion in benefits for the prac-
titioner is for the future, and not necessarily the distant future . A
lot will depend on whether the money and will is there to give
social work practice a boost. The technical potential already
exists, and the next chapter will suggest what could be offered in
the next few years.
8
Keying in Social Work
Practice

This chapter is not intended as speculation - whether about

political and economic developments - or about technological
progress . Rather it aims to set out realistic pro spects for the next
few years - up to the end of the 1880s - or, if economic
circumstances continue to apply a brake, into the 1990s. General
developments in computing will have a useful impact on the
economic situation, because there is no reason to predict an end to
cheaper equipment. In relation to their capabilities computers
have fallen massively in price, perhaps by as mueh as a factor of 10
times over the last decade . The reasons are a mixture of
technological and production factors - ever more efficient
processing circuits , smaller size needing less raw materials, the
benefits of mass production and substantial competition between
manufacturers.
Peripheral gadgets - printers, disk drives, screens, modems and
so forth - have become cheaper, but to a lesser extent. It is a little
misleading to give actual prices, but at present (mid-1984) a useful
micro-computer with printer, screen and disk drive can be bought
for less than £2000, while £20 000 will cover a linked system for six
social workers, each having a keyboard and screen, with shared
storage and printer. Prices continue to fall, but local authorities
are not necessarily good at getting best value for money in their
computer purchasing. They tend to have long-standing relation-
ships with traditional computer manufacturer/suppliers, and the
equipment of firms like IBM is more expensive than equivalents
from other companies. The major world producers of computer
equipment are America and Japan, but there is a British industry
(such as ICL , Sinclair and Acorn), so a 'Buy British' policy is
possible.
 Keying in Social Work Practice I 13

As well as getting cheaper, computers are smaller and much

more powerful than their predecessors, and this is another trend
likely to continue. The size of equipment is already well within a
scale appropriate to sitting on without wholly taking up a desk
top , and portable sets are coming on to the market. The next few
years will probably see quite a development of portable, battery-
driven equipment, including some that can be plugged into or even
fitted in a car. This will give social workers the capacity to carry
file data around, make entries at short notice and do tasks like
welfare benefits assessments on home visits.
The extra power of computers is partly a straightforward
matter of more memory capacity, and partly an increase in
internal flexibility. This latter in particular is a useful development
because it can further the process of making the computer more
approachable. Achieving more 'user-friendliness' is primarily the
result of internal programming, which in turn demands more of
the memory capacity. If more memory is used for internal
purposes, less is available for the user to fill with such as case-files.
Any development which increases overall memory (even ifit is an
issue solely for smaller computers) will aid the quantitative
storage needs of social workers. Greater power will also show as
faster work, though processing speeds are already so speedy that
many people would not notice the difference.
A problem which manufacturers have not yet tackled is that of
the incompatibility of different makes and models of computers.
Japanese micro-computer makers have announced the intention
of ensuring that programs written and run on one type of machine
can be used on others, but for the most part machines are not
capable of handling material generated on different sorts of
equipment. This could become a nuisance, especially as industry
has a poor record of coming to grips with this kind of issue - note
how many decades it has taken to standardise even something as
basic as a mains electric plug. It may not affect social workers, but
it could if, for example, someone starts doing an assessment on the
office computer and then wants to finish it in the evening on the
home computer.
Home computers represent an effective and growing opportun-
ity for social workers to acclimatise to computing. Several of those
who were asked for their views on computers had home ex-
perience, and a large majority had children who used computers at
school, spouses who used them at work, or both. The wider
114 Computers in Social Work

community context of computing experiences, especially through

schools , is likely to serve as a helpful environment for develop-
ments in the personal social services. This will be reinforced by the
extent to which professionals from other services - doctors,
solicitors and teachers, for example - are incorporating computer
processes into their own activities. Indeed, in a few years it will be
the social work office without computing facilities that will stand
out as unusual and unprogressive.
The extension of computing into social work practice will not
be the result of a revolutionary new approach. It is important to
keep in mind that the basis of practice usage is the same as for
management, and that is a dependable and up-to-date client
information store. Most (though not all) developments will have
their origins in the client files, backed up by resource files. Most of
the suggestions from social workers about the new computer
services they would like to see were enlargements and refinements
of the existing systems, with a particular emphasis on easing the
administrative load of front-line staff. In a survey of social
workers in Cornwall the question 'What do workers see as
potential areas for computerisation?' provoked answers about
setting up community resource files (including the private and
voluntary sectors), getting more detailed and topical information
about the availability of resources and using the computer to help
with 'procedures' (Whaley, 1983, pp . 34-5). The remainder of the
chapter will follow through these and other ideas for the
immediate future.

Individual case-files

It has already been pointed out that there is no technical difficulty

about transferring the entire contents of a case-file to the
computer, and this is the essential first step for further develop-
ments. Quite literally this means that what currently goes into a
folder- forms, reports, notes, reviews, all of it - is entered through
a keyboard and stored on (probably) a small floppy disk . To the
extent to which manual files are handwritten there will be
additional typing work. Diagrams (such as a body outline
showing injury points for a victim of child abuse) can be included.
There may be some advantages in having a specially written
 Keying in Social Work Practice 115

program to do these tasks, but there are already numerous 'off-

the-shelf micro-computer packages which would be suitable for a
trial, mostly involving word-processing activity.
Once the client file is on computer there are two clear routes to
considering what can be done next. One is to look at the program
that is being used, to see what useful facilities it offers. The second
is to note the uses of traditional manual files, to see how far the
computerised version can match or improve on them,
Obviously a purpose-written program can be structured to do a
range of tasks, but a conventional word-processing package from
the local computer shop will be far from useless. Just about the
cheapest on the market is the program being used for this book, so
the illustration which follows is from the lower end of the
sophistication range.
The program is called Quill , and it functions on a Sinclair QL
computer. All entries are typed in through a conventional
typewriter keyboard, and simultanously displayed on a screen
(either a standard TV or a higher resolution monitor, which gives
a clearer picture) . Once material is entered it can be stored for
future use on small cartridges, less common than floppy disks, but
doing the same kind of job. The cartridges simply slot into the
computer, and each one will hold about 15000 words. Clear
instructions on how to use the program can be shown on the
screen at any time, so if a social worker wants to make an entry
rather than leave it to a clerical colleague, there is no difficulty.
Files can be structured in the computer in a variety of ways to
suit whatever the social worker or agency prefers. Documents can
be entered in any order and shuffled around at will, and each can
be identified by label, title, page number or document number.
Draft material, such as the first version ofa report, can be typed in
and then revised, corrected and licked into shape, using a number
of facilities for editing. Material can be added or deleted at any
time .
An existing file is loaded into the computer from a cartridge,
and any part of it can be displayed. This can be done by scrolling
through to have a quick view of the whole file, stopping as desired,
instructing the computer to display a particular page (a table of
contents can list what is on each page), or , if the user is not sure
where to look, asking the computer to find any document where a
particular label (a name, for example) occurs . In short the
116 Computers in Social Work

program will do the equivalent of checking through a manual file,

to review various bits or find specific entrie s. On the assumption
that a printer is connected, a copy of the whole file or any
particular document can be run off.
In addition Quill has a couple more useful skills. If, for example ,
a social worker has to produce a report, for a panel meeting or the
Court, and wishes to incorporate chunks from documents on the
file, then this can be done without writing them all out again. The
edit facility can be used to help compose the report, slotting in
phrases, sentences or paragraphs from other parts of the file. Then
a computer command called 'Design' allows the social worker to
print out the report in a variety of formats, as a letter, on whatever
sizes of paper can be got into the printer or on a form . Pieces can
be incorporated from more than one file, and two files can be
merged, if the need ever arises .
These are the abilities of a mass-produced package which is
included in the price of a £400 home computer. Even at this
primitive level there are advantages over manual files. If we now
move on to look at how we have or would like to use manual files,
a range of new possibilities emerge which the computer can be
programmed to handle. Part of the job of the social worker is to
establish a structure of contacts with clients, whether resulting
from casual arrangements, specific contracting or legally required
supervision. The source of reminders for this work is the record on
file and the social worker's diary, though some offices also have
timetabling aids. The job may be done in a haphazard way, as and
when the pressures of work permit, or it may be more carefully
planned to take in both timetabling and such other factors as
travel patterns. Computers can be programmed so that as soon as
they are turned on in the morning they display any visits or
contacts the social worker is required to make in this context. The
computer can list those due today, or during the week or those
overdue, and can go on nagging until it is told that a chore has
been done. Indeed, there is nothing to stop a computer doing what
BL have done for those who get into a car and forget to put on a
seat belt - give a smooth-tongued message about it. The computer
can easily give reminders for any regularly repeated task, or, once
the data are entered, draw attention to any special features, such
as birthdays. It will send birthday cards to all clients if the worker
wants!
 Keying in Social Work Practice II?

An initial phase in any work with a client is to undertake an

assessment. Sometimes this is a unique process which requires a
deal of thought and weighing up evidence before coming to
conclusions and recommendations. On the other hand the
assessment may be a rather more formalised chore, either becau se
the agency has established a standardised procedure, or because a
somewhat mechanistic aspect is present. This refers to the sorts of
assessments which involve the use of priority scales, schedules for
aids or point counts. Many social workers already spend a lot of
time using formalised assessment procedures, and, because they
are generally quicker to do than less structured approaches, they
are becoming more common. An example is the assessment of an
applicant for Part III accommodation, in which a known range of
specific factors about the client and his/her circumstances is used
to aid a recommendation, and where the conclusion is often about
which category of priority to designate. Another illustration is the
assessment of handicapped people, to establish a weighting which
then features in the calculation of staffing needs in houses, hostel s
and training centres. Any form of assessment which is standar-
dised and leads to a grading or points score relating to eligibility
for a service can be handled through the computer both compre-
hensively and accurately. In the longer run, after trials , it should
be possible for more complex assessments, like risk measurement,
to be aided in the same way.
This is done by putting into the computer the process of
assessment, along with weightings, special factors and any other
nuances. As was explained in Chapter 5 when discussing the
activities of programmers, the task begins by converting the
assessment sequence into a flow chart which moves through all
possible channels, takes in the required data and leads to end-
points, in this context to recommendations. This is then rewritten
as a computer program, with built-in gaps to be filled with
information about the individual client being assessed . These gaps
can be filled either by drawing the information direct from the
client's computer file, or by asking questions on the screen for the
user to type in the answers. In this application the computer is
making calculations. It has been told to give greater weight or a
higher score to one answer as compared to other possibilities, and
it does so. Thus the computer may be told that in an application
for housing for a homeless family a single parent with two children
118 Computers in Social Work

gets a higher score than a couple with one child, and it calculates
and recommends accordingly. The computer is not , and will not
for a few years, be able to make comparisons with how other cases
have been treated, or draw interferences from other data which
have passed through its memory. That is to say, it will not
recommend that Mrs Smith is given a Part III place because Mrs
Jones, who got one a couple of months ago , was in similar
circumstances. This kind of potential is in the realms of artificial
intelligence, which is currently under technological development,
and will be touched on in the next chapter.
It is important to stress as well, both in relation to assessment
and what comes later about decision-making, that the computer is
not trying to challenge or take over the social worker's judgement.
The computer will only do what it is told. There is a risk here, in
that someone else could be doing the telling (a manager, for
example) , and this brings us back to the political situation.
Leaving that aside, because it has already been discussed, the
social worker can always decide not to use the computer, or can
disregard the computer's recommendations. Perhaps the social
worker should have reasonable grounds for making that choice ,
but the computer's word is not inviolable.
A computerised client filecan be used in much the same way as a
manual file to provide the social worker with the information
needed for making decisions . The computer can be programmed
to go further, by drawing the worker's attention to salient features
of the case, and by feeding in relevant material drawn from a wider
data-base. In outline the traditional process of making decisions
about, say, a treatment plan, is to collect relevant information
through the assessment, and then draw on professionaljudgement
and experience to sort it all out. Other contributions mayor may
not come - through negotiations with the client , discussions with
the team leader , studying theory or looking at research into the
subject. The imperfections of the real world will also provoke a
check on the availability of resources, an attempt to get approval,
if needed , from on high and an evaluation of the client's ability to
make reasonable use of the proposed counsels or services. The
decisions which emerge may be the result of much agonising or
widespread discussion, in a case conference for instance, or may
be reached in an easy way. Computers can help by offering
confirmation of the simple, and giving much-needed support for
the really difficult decisions .
 Key ing in Social Work Practice 119

One level of support stems from the way the computer can be
asked to handle the subject client file. Particularly if the file is a
large one the worker needs to be able to extract vital bits, rather
than trying to 'contain' the whole contents. The computer can
help with this by being programmed to pull out sections which
have been identified in the past as important (like ' tabbing' a
manual file), or are requested by the user as the focus of a search .
This sort of search says to the computer - go through the file and
pull out all those documents where a particular word or phrase
(say, for example, ' violent behaviour') is mentioned .
Alternatively the computer can be made to interact in an
informative way with the social worker, by feeding it what
Schoech and Schkade call 'Conversational software that allows
the user a dialogue with the data base in familiar logic and
language' (1980, p. 567). The salient information then comes
forward on a question-and-answer basis, and within the confines
of a limited vocabulary for questions from the worker the
technology exists to voice rather than type them .
While the client file will form the core data-base for decision-
making, there is a long and sometimes controversial history of
trying to broaden the framework. Social workers do this natural-
ly, every time they draw on experience . Others have tried to be
more structured in offering comparative information about the
way things worked out in other similar circumstances. The
sensitive aspect of this approach concerns the formal use of an
empirical method to collect data in format and volume so as to
permit projections to be made, and in particular predictions about
what decisions stand the best prospects of leading to successful
outcomes. It is when the prediction runs counter to the social
worker's own judgement that trouble starts, and arguments are
made about the dangers ofallowing systems of this kind to replace
professional expertise. Earlier a soothing response was given, that
if the social worker felt like it, the 'outside' recommendation could
be ignored. There is a rather less compromising and more accurate
retort when it comes to empirically proven predictive methods - if
they can be shown to be more accurate than professional
judgement in a sample of instances, they should take precedence.
Professional judgement is not infallible.
Computers are well suited to be harnessed to this kind of
activity. They are best at searching and sorting large quantities of
material, and picking out the required items. They can be
120 Computers in Social Work

programmed to draw on a vast data-base to pick out similarities

between cases, note the range of decisions which were made, and
give a follow-up on the outcome of those decisions, if and when
they were implemented. The computer can be passive or intrusive
in doing this job. Schoech and Schkade's paper about a Decision
Support System (DSS) in a child welfare agency leaves the
initiative firmly with the social worker: 'The essential function of a
DSS is to enhance the judgement of the decision maker at all
stages of problem solving by allowing easy query of highly flexible
and well managed groups of data pertinent to the situation.'
(p. 568.) It is arguable that if the computer has information which
really ought to be taken into account - perhaps something the
social worker does not know about - it should be thrust forward
and not wait to be requested.
Once individual client information is linked to a broader data-
base (which might be taken to be the total office caseload) as an
aid to decision-making, then one further computing activity
becomes feasible. This is outcome evaluation. A computer can be
asked to cross-reference data in numerous ways. These can
include checking back on initial objectives to see how far they have
been achieved , or to see what progress has been made in treatment
(for example, goals or set tasks) initiated by the social worker.
Moving outside the subject client's file, several more general
outcomes can be measured, such as how often a recommended
course of action can in practice be implemented, and if not why
not; or how often, according to a designated set of criteria, a
particular treatment is successful. In this way the computer could
fill an important gap in social work knowledge, and do so
routinely and continuously.

Composite data analysis

Already a number of developments originating from individual

files have spilled over into composite material, perhaps containing
the total office or team workload. For some agencies it is talking
about the present rather than the future to note that a computer
can do for a local office what it does for the agency - provide
cumulative (usually statistical) analysis of the range of activities
carried out by the office staff. There is not much that needs to be
said about this, because it is in essence a small-scale version of a
 Keying in Social Work Practice 121

management information system . A relatively minor move for-

ward , however, opens up an additional dimension, in that it can
offer the individual social worker the opportunity to look at
aspects of caseload management. Procedures already exist, some
computerised, to indicate caseload sizes, drawing on complex
weighting arrangements. These could be extended to incorporate
a more dynamic element , such as the rate of turnover of clients,
variations in anticipated work pressures, week by week, on the
basis of known commitments and a contingency allocation for
emergencies, or the most time-saving way of timetabling a set of
tasks . An interactive program could also be written to aid a
caseload review, such as that devised by Vickery (1977), or to
monitor structured sequences with individual clients, such as task-
setting, and relate then to a theoretical base. So the computer can
help the thorny problem, a regular pain in the backside for social
work students, of integrating theory and practice! The way the
computer would do this is to have stored a model of a structured
process , like a task-centred program or a behavioural sequence , as
a basis for commenting on the use of such approaches with
specific clients. Comments could be evaluative ('you're doing well
so far') , time-keeping ('you won't finish in the three months you
set yourself unless you speed up'), nagging ('you won 't get your
mentally handicapped client to clean his teeth on his own if you
keep helping him') or theoretical ('you say your client wants to
skip one task and go onto the next, but Reid says on this
subject . ...'). In this usage the computer can help the social
worker to handle a caseload more efficiently and reflectively, and
in so doing extend the worker's horizons beyond a preoccupation
with the immediate pressures.
A further potential for the computer is to help trainee social
workers, by making use of the computer's ability to contain and
manipulate client information. It is not a big step to use such a
program framework as the basis for setting up simulated material
for use in training. One of the weaknesses ofsocial work training is
that the students go into practice placements, especially the first
one, with insufficient preparation, and without their tutors or
supervisors knowing whether it is safe to let them loose on clients .
This is not a reflection on efforts to prepare students, which may
be extensive, so much as on the gap between the detailed reality of
the placement and the more general academic framework of the
course syllabus. Many training courses already use video and
122 Computers in Social Work

other equipment to provide realistic illustration , facil itate simula-

tion exercises or give back to students an impression of how they
tackle the job. Computers can reinforce this, and an example is
offered by Smith, Parmar and Paget (1980), who have experimen-
ted on a simulated reception interview with 'Elsie' . The setting for
the student is: ' Yo u are duty social worker in a general hospital
with a waiting-room full of people. The receptionist reports a
middle-aged woman is asking to see the social worker.' (p .496.)
The student has to decide what to do, and the computerised Elsie
is programmed with enough flexibility to respond to the student.

Resource files

These are already a feature of many management information

systems,and the initial round of new developments is likely to take
the form of extending the data-base. In this context 'resource' has
a broad definition, spanning from budgets, through places in
residential and day-care centres, to foster parents, stocks of
stationery and training opportunities. A paper from the chairman
of the Hampshire DISP group on Personal Computing (himself a
team leader in the area office) lists fifteen possible micro-com-
puter applications, of which eight are for resource files (Hardman,
1984).
A comment made earlier supported the view that resource files
would generally need to be centralised, covering the whole agency.
The reason is that many resources are not solely at the disposal of
a single office, and often need careful allocation among competing
demands. There are, however, purely localised resources, and it is
a matter of convenience whether they are held separately and
locally or merged with general files. Unlike client records, the issue
here is less fraught because confidentiality is not so vital. For
organisational purposes some categorisation of an extended
resource information system is feasible:

1. Resources serving the whole agency, and covered by an

agency-wide allocation procedure. This will include residential
homes, day-care and training centres, and some specialised
facilities.
 Keying in Social Work Practice 123

2. a. Agency resources or budgets which can only be used with

approval from HQ.
b. Out-of-agency resources, also needing sanction from HQ .
Normally this will only contain items which have to be paid for.
3. Resources which are allocated to local areas (usually
annually), but subject to ceilings on use. This may include budgets
for telephones or aids and adaptations.
4. Resources for staff development, again usually centrally
allocated, by management or a training section.
5. Community services and resources developed directly by
the agency , such as foster parents, potential adoptive parents and
adult placements.
6. Agency services which are normally handled at the local
level, for example home helps and intermediate treatment
facilities.
7. Resources belonging to or shared with other statutory
agencies in the area, and used in the context of multi-disciplinary
activity.
8. Private and voluntary resources, both local and regional.
This could range from lists of individual volunteers who can be
called on when needed , through to private nursing homes and
voluntary service agencies .
9. Emergency resources. This might include the well-known
emergency services and also resources which can be called on for
special or unusual emergencies - the 24-hour-a-day plumber,
temporary overnight shelter or duty dentist. This is a file which
could be shared with other agencies .
10. A resource data-base for meeting requests for information
and advice about the personal social services, other components
of the welfare state, voluntary services or local resources. This is
potentially a file which could be shared and stretched almost
endlessly.
II. Support service resources, such as stationery, office equip-
ment, furniture and so forth . The file could also include informa-
tion on service contracts, guarantees, when overhauls become due
and when items were bought or might need replacing.
12. Current and capital budgets for the agency, including
estimates and projections. Proposals for agency developments,
with papers for discussion. Committee agendas and minutes, with
comparable information about management team meetings.
124 Computers in Social Work

Current research and field trials, and developments in front-line

settings. In short, this would be an internal communication file
which would move beyond lists of resources into plans and ideas
about future resource developments.

This list is not exhaustive, but it is long and varied enough to show
that there is enormous scope for growth in information about
agency and other local resources. The next question concerns
what, from a social worker's angle, should be on these files. Much
of this is obvious - size, location, purpose, preferred users, general
and special characteristics, rules for use, procedures for getting
access and so forth . A social worker will need the computer file to
be able to display all the information pertinent to assessing the
appropriateness of the resource for a particular client or circum-
stance. There are a couple of more sensitive aspects. One concerns
qualitative material. There are many resources used by social
workers which will be evaluated less through factual description
and more by 'feel', atmosphere or staff personality. A regularly
occurring example is when a worker is trying to find a foster home
or a residential place, and is wanting to match foster parents or
residential staff to the client. Should the computer file stick to
facts and figures, or should it include a wider range of material,
some of it more subjective? This is one facet of resource computing
which does raise issues of confidentiality, and there may be a
justifiable policy decision to exclude such information simply to
avoid having to shroud the whole file in secrecy. On the other
hand atmospheric and personality comments are as important in
relation to the resource as they are about the client, and computers
can handle restricted access segments to a file. Even so this begs
the question of the impact on an agency of comments, sometimes
critical ones, about members of staff being placed on file and
viewed by other staff. We are prepared to do it about people on the
fringes (like foster parents), but draw the line at salaried
colleagues. Are we pussy-footing, or is it good ethics?
A more acute difficulty stems from the imbalance between
demand and supply of many resources, which in practical terms
means that too often a resource is fully used, and when a vacancy
occurs the social worker has to be persuasive and sharp to get hold
of it. Waiting lists cope with some of these problems, but workers
will be well aware that queues are there to be jumped; in any event
 Keying in Social Work Practice 125

very scarce places in residential and day-care settings are not

usually filled simply by reference to a waiting list - a case has to be
made for each applicant. How can the computer help here? In the
first place the computer can do nothing unless its files are kept up
to date, but if they are it can be used to communicate opportun-
ities about scarce resources to social workers. It can also be used to
advertise underused resources (if there are such things!) . Both of
these are simply a matter of getting on to the resource file that a
vacancy exists, when it came up, when it will be filled and whether
any special factors will apply. Obviously it is no use entering the
vacancy so late that it has already been filled.
This is about as far as existing computerised resource files have
developed, but it only goes part way to solving the problem
because it still leaves the social worker, or someone else in the
office, the chore of scouring the whole file to see if any spaces have
been notified . In practice resource files tend to be by-passed and
other ways are found to get the latest news. A simple proce ss to
overcome this is to use the computer in much the same way as was
suggested for reminders about client contacts the social worker
should be making. Every morning, as the computer is switched on ,
it is programmed to make an automatic run through the resource
data and display any changes, or note solely those changes which
indicate a vacancy. The implication for the other end of the
computer, where the resource file is created, is that changes must
be entered with as much frequency. A slightly more flexible
approach would be to display changes as and when they are
entered, so that whenever a social worker's screen is not being
used for something else, the latest state of resources is shown.
A rather more fundamental use for the computer is to alter the
sequence of events . For example, in seeking a place in an old
people 's home for an elderly client, the social worker starts by
building up a picture of the client, to aid the initial decision, and to
narrow down the type of home that would be suitable. At about
the same time a formal application is likely to be prepared, not
necessarily for a specific place so much as to establish general
eligibility. The social worker then has to keep checking vacancies
and decide, on each occasion, whether to push forward that client
for the selection panel or whatever allocation process is used. At
the other end of the scene an old people 's home finds itself with a
vacancy, which is then notified , and the procedure to fill it is
126 Computers in Social Work

initiated. The staff of the home are unlikely to get the opportunity
to state in detail the sort of person they would like, though they
may have a negative power of veto over any proposed person who
they considered unsuitable. An alternative computerised sequence
could be for the social worker to do the initial assessment and
check on eligibility as before, and then to enter client particulars
on the computer, along with a statement of the type of resources
being sought. At the other end when a vacancy occurs in a home
the staff initiate notification to the computer, along with a
description of who they would find best suited to fill it. Two routes
then open up. Either a member of staff (residential, HQ or
whoever is designated) can look at client profiles, link them to the
details of the vacancy and invite a number of clients' names to go
forward. Or the computer can take the two sets of data, client
profiles and resource vacancy description, undertake matching
and suggest suitable placements.
The illustration is about residential care, but the processes
discussed have a much wider relevance, including placements in
the community. Indeed the idea of circulating a client profile has
already been put into practice in the way some agencies advertise
for foster parents. An important point to keep in mind about the
role of the computer is that it can be programmed to undertake
matching (it already has a somewhat dubious record in computer
dating!), and without necessarily using its recommendations the
procedure allows suggestions to be drawn to the social worker's
attention.

Repetitive tasks and calculations

The subject areas intended to be covered by this title are some

administrative chores, especially form-filling; some of the more
standardised aspects of work with clients, like Part III assess-
ments ; and tasks involving complex calculations, like benefits
eligibility. Much has already been said on these topics, and this
section aims at little more than drawing together earlier com-
ments.
Some aspects are not contentious, and computerisation would
be widely accepted. This would certainly include a speedier means
of form-filling. Social work offices tend to be full of forms,
 Keying in Social Work Pract ice 127

application forms, notification forms, forms about forms , all of

them printed on paper and waiting to be filled in. Almost all of
them are not filled from or iginal data, but by extracting bits from
existing sources, commonly the client file. The computer could
gobble up this kind of task. It could contain in store copie s of all
forms with reference numbers for identification, either with the
potential to have the form itself printed if needed, or so that it
knows what answers have to go where on the form . This latter
opens up the option of putting a blank form in the printer and
telling the computer to fill it in. Given the computer's ability to
search for and cross-reference information, it would be able to
draw from its data sources the material to fill in the required form,
either for transmission to the printer, or direct visual passage to
anywhere else on the computer network. If the data are not
available on file to answer a particular question on the form then
the computer can display a request for help .
Another welcomed ability is in handling welfare benefits
assessments. Experience to date has shown that this is not as easy a
task as was first thought, but the next few years will undoubtedly
see the problems overcome. The difficulties stem in part from the
complexities of the welfare benefits system itself, and the
challenge they present to the programmer. More persistent
trouble is likely to ari se from continual changes to the system and
areas of discretion. In theory changes are not difficult to handle. If
the sums to be paid out for specific benefit s are increased or the
detailed rules for eligibility are altered, the program can be
suitably modified. In practice if changes come too thick and fast
the program will spend a lot of time out of commission while
alterations are being written and de-bugged. The welfare benefits
system is not stable enough for easy computing.
The use of discretion, for example, over whether or not a
particular set of circumstances constitute eligibility, does not fit
comfortably into the computer. Precedent can be incorporated,
providing it has something of the status ofa new rule, as it tends to
in legal practice; but arbitrariness is a different matter. All the
computer can do then is to note the boundaries within which
decisions are made, and suggest alternative calculations along the
lines of - if decision A is taken then the benefit payable will be . ..
but if the decision is B then the benefit will be less or nothing at all.
The computer could be helpful, through its ability to review
128 Computers in Social Work

previous comparable situations, in suggesting when an appeal

against a decision would be justifiable.
If social workers are happy about a computer helping with
welfare benefits calculations then it is likely to be because they feel
unable or unwilling to do the job themselves. Some will say they
haven't the skill, knowledge or numeracy, while others may assert
that it is not a proper social work task. In theory there is no real
difference between the process of checking benefits eligibility and
Part III eligibility - both are calculations based on facts, with a
component ofjudgement. Why then are social workers likely to be
so content to use the computer for the former and so suspicious
about a similar approach to the latter? Is it solely that one is
impossibly complex to handle manually, but not the other?
There is an issue here about what decisions are so crucially a
matter of professional judgement that they should not be handled
in any other way. The solution is beyond the scope of this book,
though it is appropriate to make the mischevous suggestion that
social workers may be willing to abandon the principle if the job
itself is too complicated or tedious. Why can one client's material
living standards be left to the computer, while another's must get
individual personal attention? Is it perhaps not an issue of
principle at all, but instead a matter of using the computer as and
when it demonstrates its utility? Whatever the position, it needs to
be noted that any computer which can handle the vast size,
complexity and fluctuations of the welfare benefits scene would
have no difficulty with smaller repetitive jobs like home-help
eligibility, or identifying the nearest relative under the terms of the
1983 Mental Health Act (the author has written a program to do
this), or ensuring that all necessary steps have been taken in
handling a child abuse referral. Within the state of current
technology any process which is standardised enough to be
expressible as a flow chart can be dealt with on a computer.
A similar area of social work activity involves the use of
standardised tests or measurements, where again structured
processes are being employed to achieve a desired end . Once more
there is possible professional controversy over the value of such
activities (like IQ tests); but once more they are, if wanted, suitable
for computing.
 Keying in Social Work Practice 129

General trends

The previous sections have suggested ways in which the computer

could encroach into social work practice, quite quickly if the
money is found for equipment and programmers. None of the
applications are beyond widely available technology. The social
worker reader may have been excited by the prospects, but may
(more likely?) have found them distasteful and threatening.
Certainly the hope has been that the reader would turn back and
think again about the broader political and ethical context within
which these developments might take place, because cumulatively
their impact on the social worker could be substantial.
As soon as computers are installed, and pressure or temptation
builds up to use them, the whole of social work practice risks
lurching towards a more structured and standardised approach to
tasks. Certain activities will feel easier because they are on the
same wavelength as the computer, in the same way that some
views and actions already come more willingly because they are
known to command management approval. In contrast, ju st as a
social worker will hesitate, and perhaps feel some stress , before
acting in a way which challenges agency policy or practice, so will
going against the computer become a source of controversy. The
so rts of qualities to be lost in this process are much like those
threatened by the extension of bureaucracy - individual flair,
intuition, imagination and experimentation (see Glastonbury,
Cooper and Hawkins, 1983, chapter 3, for further discussion in
relation to bureaucracy). Certain established methods of social
work intervention - such as behaviourism - will also be suppor-
ted , while others will fit less comfortably. As a general comment, it
seems likely that increased computerisation will support the trend
to favour the shorter-term and more controllable methods of
using social worker time .
Much will depend on how the computer is pushed on to the
scene. The nightmare for social workers, as already mentioned
and dismissed, is that the computer will become the tool through
which managers establish ever-present control over the minutiae
of day-to-day work. This. is the 'Is Big Brother Watching You?'
fear (see Powell, 1980). Yet if that is too extravagant an
expectation, there are risks of more subtle moves in the same
direction, not necessarily towards direct managerial control so
130 Computers in Social Work

much as towards an atmosphere in which the computer rules. At

root will be the extent to which the social worker's computer
comes to be seen as the depository of what is right, both in the
sense of what is professionally correct and agency approved .
Some scenes come to mind . A harassed team leader is approached
by an inexperienced social worker for help in deciding on a course
of action: 'Sorry. I haven't got time to go into it. Go and see what
the computer suggests.' An edict goes round the office to the effect
that 'Well-proven guidelines for handling child abuse cases are
contained in the computer. Any social worker who wishes to act in
a way which runs counter to the guidelines must place a memo on
file explaining the reasons for this decision.' These risks are
minimised if the computer can be fully and firmly incorporated
into the framework of professional judgement, so that a part of
that judgement concerns when to use and when not to use the
computer. In the past new technology has intervened (like tape
recorders), and have been integrated by some, ignored by others.
Social workers have not been very good at latching on to new
gadgets, but until the right political decisions have been made
there may be good sense in treating computer developments
circumspectly. Resistance may well be needed to get a reasonable
sense of pacing into computerisation, unless the economic climate
continues to do the job. A feature of the technological revolution
is precisely that it has been a revolution with an extremely fast rate
of development and innovation. In any widespread sense com-
puter applications have fallen well behind technical potential, and
this has probably been necessary to protect society from the
upheaval of too fast a rate of change.
How will change affect the social worker? In the debate about
the possible role ofcomputers in reducing employment, the choice
in social work has been to see two stark extremes. Either the
computer will replace the social worker, and social service -like
the telephone and other public services before it - will push
computers into the front line. Or the computer will take all those
boring repetitive jobs away from social workers and leave them
free to concentrate on the really important and difficult tasks,
which can only be handled with traditional social work skills.
Speculating between these poles would be delving into fantasy,
and in any event the computer is hardly likely to be in a position to
take over for decades to come. The more immediate issue arises
 Keying in Social Work Practice 131

from the ability the computer already has to do humble tasks, and
perhaps as a result increase the proportion of a social worker's
time spent on 'difficult' activities and client contacts. We know
that these aspects of the job can be stressful, and that 'burn-out' is
a concept applicable to social work practice. We suspect, but have
little precise data, that routine tasks need to be interspersed with
client contacts, in order to help the social worker cope with the
stressful content of the role. If there is a balance here it will be
important to monitor the impact of the computer to ensure that
the balance is not tipped in a damaging direction . More time to
spend with clients may only be desirable and sensible from the
viewpoint of those who do not have to see clients at all, or have
relatively unstressful jobs.
In conclusion this chapter will draw on one of the few
documented experiments into the computer's role in social work
practice, in order to reiterate a view stated several times already:
'Computer applications if left solely to managers will primarily
serve the needs of managers. If the applications are to become a
tool for caseworkers, caseworkers must become involved in the
agency's computerization efforts from the very beginning.'
(Schoech and Schkade, 1980, p.573.)
9
The Robot Social Worker

Abels tells a story about Mrs X and the social work computer. She
comes to the office asking for aid, gives some information and a
few moments later gets a calculation of her benefits entitlement.
Shortly afterwards the cheque pops out of a slot. Mrs X has also
talked about personal problems, and the computer recommends
that she join a group starting the next day . At the same time
reports of previous contacts with the client are pouring in from all
round the country, with printed copies for any human staff who
may be in the office. During the group meeting Mrs X is asked to
keep her hand on a plate on the arm of her chair, so that a
computer can read and analyse her electrical impulses . And so it
goes on, until Mrs X finishes up with a regular cheque, support,
satisfaction and a job. When asked how she felt about being
counselled by a computer she said: 'I thought there was a social
worker at the other end of that machine typing answers.' (Abels,
1972, pp. 5-6.)
This is the fantasy of the enthusiast, that the computer can be so
human-like that the client is fooled. It is the dream of R2D2 and
C3PO, robots with a heart and mind, and the touching attractive-
ness ofemotion and fallibility. But does it bear any resemblance to
what might happen in the future? The idea of a visible robot, in the
sense of a tin social worker or a benevolent Dalek, can be ignored.
There is no purpose for it, and the computer shop front will be the
keyboard, microphone or slot to receive and dispense documents.
There will still be office staff (humans that is!), more in the
background, and the client of the future might not expect to see
any of them, except possibly a receptionist. We can certainly
expect the computer to encroach more and more between the
 The Robot Social Worker 133

client and worker, but not necessarily to replace the traditional

relationship. To some extent the computer may protect the social
worker, who will be able to hide behind it when an unwanted client
is reported in the waiting-room, and exercise some choice about
whom to see and when . This need be no cause of guilt because by
the time it happens we shall all be used to dealing with computers,
almost wherever we go . Banks are already showing the way, with
Cashpoint centres and the like. The important factor, however, is
not that the computer will have more success in becoming human-
like, but that it will do certain tasks more reliably and quickly than
humans.
In discussing the future of computers we are covering commun-
ications as well as computing, and what has been written so far in
this chapter is mainly about the former. Indeed C. Evans (1979)
feels we should look even more widely, to see what broader world
circumstances will influence the priorities in computer develop-
ments. He cites as an example (in Chapter 8) the potential
computers have to respond to world shortages of wood pulp by
dispensing altogether with the printed word . After all, the entire
reading needed for a social work qualifying course could be
accommodated on a few computer memory chips. It is very
difficult to judge how far such predictions are pure fantasy, and if
not, just how they would impinge on social work.
One important argument developed by C. Evans (chapter 9),
and repeated in public statements by Sir Clive Sinclair, is that
those professions which have thrived by surrounding themselves
with mystifying jargon and exclusive procedures will decline. We
shall not, they argue, need to go to solicitors to get enlightenment
on the law, or architects to get a range of possible designs for a
home extension. The computer will call up mass-media services to
do it all for us, while we recline in an armchair. Social work is
much less at risk here . In the first place it is a profession which has
made strenuous efforts through the 1970s and 1980s to dispense
with mystification, despite its flirtation with systems theory. More
importantly, it is a profession which deals less in facts and
knowledge and more in helping to overcome human distress. So
many social work skills are beyond the capacity of computers,
even into the distant future.
The computer will continue to improve on its ways of
enhancing social work practice, helping to make it more efficient
134 Computers in Social Work

and dependable. In particular we can look for a focus on the

outcomes of different forms of intervention, through a growing
sophistication in predictive techniques, and the development of
projections. This latter refers to the prospect that the computer
will be able to analyse a client's assessment data, and then project
the likely results of a range of possible interventions. The
projected scenarios could be used by worker or client to aid
decision-making. Trying to work out the best choice from a
number of options is a game we all play, and one which becomes
vitally important when major life decisions are involved , like
whether or not to take a child into care . With its grasp of client
information and history, combined with a knowledge of present
and probable future resources, as well as portraits of foster
parents and residential staff, the computer will have a sound
database. Add to this an ability to analyse the outcomes of many
previous situations of a similar kind, and the computer begins to
have a broader frame of reference than the social worker. Throw
in the possibility that the worker is feeling tired , under pressure
and generally fed up, and the client might actually prefer to have
the computer suggest some solutions.
Another certainty for the future is that we shall all have to
change our understanding of AI. The A = Artificial can remain,
but I for Insemination must be abandoned in favour of I = In-
telligence. The next generation of computers - that is, the
computers for the 1990s - will boast artificial intelligence . In
essence AI will reflect an ability to break out of certain frontiers
limiting computer functioning; in practice it will, for many years ,
mean no more than stretching those boundaries a little . At present
one set of boundaries controls data going into the computer.
Regardless of how smooth and easy the communication becomes ,
the modern computer can only take in what it is formally given.
We have to make entries. We cannot leave the computer to pick up
its own material, though we can tell it how, once it has received
information, to keep what is useful and discard what is not. One
aspect of AI is to get beyond the need to make an entry to the
computer, and conceptually this is the equivalent of endowing the
machine with senses, both to see and hear (touch and smell as
well?), and to interpret what it perceives. The first stage of any
development in this direction is likely to be to give the computer
the ability to absorb whatever data come into its orbit, to be
 The Robot Social Worker 135

considered and sorted later. We already have applications of this

principle, for example with video cameras on motorways, filming
randomly for later analysis to see if any offence shows up . This is
part of the Big Brother image, but it presupposes a lot oflittle men
in a back room going through the pictures for the tell-tale bits . It is
hardly machine intelligence, and not likely to become so until the
computer can, in this illustration, identify the snippets of be-
haviour which are against the law.
Social work already seems to be too weighed down with
information, so a development which gathers still more may not
be welcomed . However, there are some possible applications. The
computer could, for example, listen in to an interview, record it in
full, and then provide a summary. Certainly the ability to receive
through a microphone rather than a keyboard will give much
more flexibility for data intake. It will also of course engender
much greater suspicion and distrust of the computer as a snooper.
The other boundaries of computing relate to the way data is
used, once it is stored. Again there will not be any development
which gives the computer an independent intelligence to work on
this material, but there can be much more complex programming.
The current frontier which is central to this aspect of AI is that a
computer can only do what it is told . It cannot use initiative or
decide to disobey - these are nonsensical concepts in computing.
Closely allied is another boundary: that the computer can only be
told to do certain things. It can be told to sort, search, do complex
mathematics, draw pictures, but it cannot be told to use its
imagination or its common sense. It hasn't got any . The initial
phase in the development of AI in this context is likely to be
extending the range of requests that can be made and acted on,
and specifically to make it possible to give rather more general
instructions than is the case at present. An illustration might
clarify the point. Let us take a detailed computerised social history
of a client who has been on the books for many years, and who has
a long record of overdosing. Suppose we want to know if the
incidents are showing any seasonal pattern, perhaps related to
anniversaries. In the reasonably near future we should be able to
say (or type) to the computer that we want the file searched for any
reference to the words 'suicide' or 'overdose', and a print out of
such references, with the sentence in which they appear and the
date. We can also get hypotheses like the possible link to
136 Computers in Social Work

anniversaries checked out. We may get an accurate response, but

because we have had to give precise instructions we may end up
with some false incidents, for example because the computer has
picked up a discussion on suicide rather than a report of an event.
We may also miss some event s because we have not asked for
other possible wordings, like 'taking a bottle of aspirin ' . The move
into AI might help us to get a more useful response because we will
be able to ask the computer in a more general way to search
through for events involving taking an overdose. Instead of asking
the computer to recognise words (often called ' key' words) we can
ask it to recognise key ideas .
'Similarity' is another concept which the development of AI
may help. At present, as far as the computer is concerned,
similarity has either to be defined as 'the same as', or the
characteristics which amount to similarity have to be precisely
entered. We are asking the computer to use the notion of similarity
when , for example, we want it to search the files for previous
experiences similar to a case we are trying to resolve at present.
The hope for AI is that it will be able to get the computer a little
nearer to our own attitude to similarity when we are drawing on
our experience, or looking around for comparisons. In practice
our minds look not just for total similarity, but also for
approximations or selected point of comparison. Furthermore we
can then draw inferences from these approximations, and inferen-
ces are much more flexible than calculations. AI is very much
concerned with the ability of the computer to infer. For example,
tell a computer that a middle-aged single woman has been living
for many years with an elderly dependent parent, and the
computer will duly record it. Tell a social worker, and the prospect
is there of inferring that perhaps the woman has endured
deprivations and made many personal sacrifices. This is a rather
simplistic inference, which certainly underrates the intelligence of
the social worker, but it does serve to focus on the lack of
intelligence of the computer. Yet even if AI gives us a little
computer ability to infer, it is most unlikely to be of much value to
social work practice. Inference is a major and complex skill in
social work, primarily concerned with the ability to see between
the lines and below the surface, to distinguish the superficial from
the profound . This is not within the scope of computers.
Leaving AI there is one further practical impact of information
 The Robot Social Worker 137

technology on social workers and many others which should be

noted . Specifically it relates to developments in communications
which are already beginning to make it possible for people to work
from home . 'Going to the office', indeed the office itself, may be
nearing the end of its life. Instead people will stay at home to
work , preferably in some desirable rural spot, and, in the jargon
'telecommute', A report about its growth in America says that
'there's a seductiveness about it that seems irresistible and the
signs are that it is heading for Britain' (Chris Rowley, The Times, I
May 1984). No doubt the first beneficiaries will be managers, who
can work at home because their entire job would otherwise be in
an office block. Social workers, who have to make home visits,
and be on hand to see people, could not take such advantage.
However, social work began from home, and the first social
workers did not have an office to go to . Many old child care
officers and NSPCC workers will be able to recall from personal
experience the filing cabinet and telephone in the front room.
Change the cabinet for a computer terminal and the picture is
much the same .
Is there a final word for social workers? Should it be of
reassurance that the inevitable growth of computation will have
primarily beneficial effects? Or should it be a warning to man the
barricades, but be ready to face defeat? Who knows! One thing is
certain, and that is that social workers will gain in proportion to
their efforts now to influence the way the new technology is
introduced. As Abels wrote prophetically in 1972: ' If we can
determine some of the criteria for using computers in our work
and develop a system of values for its use, the computer itself may
be able to help us decide when to use it and when to use real
people' (p. I I). It is inconceivable that the problems which clients
bring to social workers could ever be sorted out in the total
absence of 'real people', simply because their solution requires a
sensitivity and perceptiveness which no computer could ever
attain. The vital position to secure is that social workers playa full
part in making policies and decisions about when and how to use
computers in our personal social services.
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Index

Abels, P. I, 137 history 21 - 2

artificial intelligence 134-6 installation and trial (including
program de-bugging)
Babbage, Charles 21 30-2,72- 3
Barcla y, P. M. 84, 86 intelligence 16- 17
Boyd, L. H. (with Hylton and investment cost s 99-100, 109,
Price) 82 112,116
Briar, S. 83 mainframe and micro 12-13,26
Brier, A. P. (with Robinson) 86 memory 14-15,113
BURISA 20 on-line/off-line 14,25 ,40 - 2,
43-5,48,55
centr al processing unit (CPU) II , overseeing social workers 37.
14 100-1
Chapman, R.L. 51 peripherals 11 -12,14-15
Code of Practice 46-9,91 planned use 28-30
Computanews 62, 104 political and ethical
computer information (files, data attitudes 79-82,88 ,94-7
store s) 26-7,38 -9,44,55 -9, programs and programmers
89,96 -7 30-2,70 -1 ,73 -8,115 -16
computers shared and self-contained
causing unemployment 80- 1 25- 27
and civil rights 81- 2, 86- 90, as source of power 82-6
94-7 training for social workers 32,
communication with 15-16, 45,67 ,121 -2
70-1,73 -8 user-friendl iness 15,42,45, 63,
confidentiality 37-8,89-91 113
(see a/so confidentiality, confidentiality 92-4 (see a/so
security) computer confidentiality,
definition 10-13,113 security)
development in social services
departments 22-8,34 -46 Data Protection Act 1984 87- 8
fallibility 44, 72, 107- 8 Derby shire, M. E. 24
functions 17,59-66,119 -20 Dery , D. 4,7, 107, 108
 Index 143

Eason , M. 26 NALGO 19
Ebstein, J. 61 new techn ology see information
Evans, C. 11 ,19, 79 techn ology
Evan s, W. 41,42,133
Parker, R. A. 66
Fry,T.F. 10, 81 Pascoe, N. 23
Payne, M. 53
George, F. H. 79, 89 Personal Comp uter World 75
GIGO (garbage in- garbage Phillips, B. A. (with Dimsdale and
out ) 17,31 ,73 Taft ) 101
Gla stonbury, B. (with Cooper and Powell, F. 9 1, 129
Hawkins ) 85, 129 PROBIS 26-7,58,63-4
Goldberg, E. M. (with Warburton)
39 Rees, S. J. 52, 53
Gruber, M. 19 Rose, M. 80
Guardian , The 64 Rowley, C. 137

Hampshire Social Services Sainsbury, E. E. 23

Department 3-4, 14, Schoech, D.: with Arangio 24;
Chapter 3 passim, 50, 58, 71, withSchkade 119,120 ,1 31:
83, 90, 122 with Schkade and Mayers 24
Hayman , M. 100 security 46 - 8, 89- 91
Healey, M. 9,10,21 Seddon, M. 65
Ho shino , G . 28,52,63, 82, 84: Sharron, H. 85,9 1
with McDonald 83 Smith, N. J. (with Parmar and
Paget) 102
information technology 13,79 - 82 social services dep artm ents, growth
of computing in 22- 8 (see also
Kno x, B. 86, 87 Hampshire Social Serivices
Department)
LaMendola, W. 28, 101 social workers
LAM SAC 3, 20,24,25 , 28, 55, 59 attitudes to computing 18- 20,
Leake , A. 77 22,51 - 2,67-73,91 -4,
Lewin, D. 10 110-11
Lovelace, Lad y A. 16 computer uses 55-66
Lynes, T. 61,62 history of computing 18, 22 - 8,
42,51
management information systems impact of computers on 91-4,
(MIS) 4,38-40 102-11
managers in social work services knowledge for computing
accountability 83-4 69-73
att itudes to computers 22-5 need to understand computer
reason s for using computers staff 73-8
22-5,52 participation in computer policy
uses of computers 24-5,35 -6, formation and
38-46 implementation 41-3,
manual administrative 48-9
systems 23- 4, 28- 9, 35- 7, potential computer uses 58- 9,
45, 56, 107- 11 114-31 ,132-4
144 Index

social workers (cont.) Trasler, G . B. 66

requirements from computers Tutt, N. 52,91
94-7
social work information systems Vickery, A. 121
and records 42-6,63,92 -3,
96-7,109 - I 1,114 -26 Ward , D. 40
SOSCIS 26-28,58 welfare benefits assessments
Stevenson, O. 53 59-62,104 -5
Whaley, C. 57,59,106,114
telecommunications 2 Wilshire, S. E. 38,39
Times. The 62