FROM THE EDITOR
Invocations of the ‘90s movie Groundhog Day are overbaked, but at CSW towers it’s easy to feel like Bill Murray’s jaded weatherman Phil, reliving the same experience day in, day out.
While Phil is eternally doomed to report on the incomprehensible squeaks coming out of the film’s titular rodent, we are eternally doomed to report on the incomprehensible squeaks coming out of ministers and their anonymous “allies”.
The latest noises were from the new minister for government efficiency, Jacob Rees-Mogg, who used a Times interview to question the worth of civil servants and gleefully hint at job cuts to come.
This kind of rhetoric from ministers has always been insulting, but what makes it particularly depressing today is how many civil servants are in real danger of burnout through overwork.
Throughout the pandemic, they have run themselves ragged to keep public services going. The vast majority of officials care hugely about their work, which itself is a common factor in burnout.
Too often, employees are told to deal with extreme stress by devoting more time to self-care. But psychologist Dr Justin Henderson argues that work environments, not individual workers, are the greatest contributor to burnout. “It is salt on the wounds of [...] people who are struggling to suggest that the problem is that they are not doing enough yoga,” he has written.
Of course individuals must look after themselves, but it’s high time government leaders examined the cultural and organisational factors that lead to burnout in the first place.
One senior official CSW spoke to believes the recent three-year spending review could hold part of the answer. “There should be a lot more certainty about how the civil service can run itself now,” he says. “We’ve been working hand to mouth year in, year out. And people don’t really think about the impact of that, because, on the whole, civil servants have secure jobs. But in terms of being able to plan and resource properly, this is really important.”
With departmental allocations being agreed right now, the onus is on perm secs to ensure their departments have clear plans in place.
“The pandemic has meant endless uncertainty for two years,” the senior official says. “Actually, if you can now say to a department: ‘These are our priorities up to the next election,’ that will really help people.”
The civil service must also call time on the expectation that officials will simply put in hours of unpaid overtime each week.
Achieving this will mean ruthlessly deprioritising. But, as our contact points out, this is exactly what happens in the allocations process after a spending review.
“You’ve worked out what your priorities are, your secretary of state has decided what they want to spend their money on. So why are you doing all these other things that there’s no money to fund?” Statutory requirements must be met, he continues, “but there shouldn’t be all sorts of adhoc programmes going on.”
There will be hurdles: individuals will fight for projects they’ve been running; junior ministers don’t always follow what a secretary of state decides. But these are not insurmountable if perm secs demonstrate firm leadership. Doing so will allow staff to focus on the things that matter and, crucially, keep them safe from burnout.
As for those cabinet ministers who think now is a good moment to traduce the officials employed to serve them, they – like the groundhog after he’s made his rodential pronouncements about the weather – can get back in their box.