A 689-mile drive from Whitehall could take you to many places. You could venture across Europe and reach the wonders of Bern or the bustle of Berlin. Alternatively, you could visit the place I call home: Dunnet Head, mainland Britain’s most northerly point.
It may be hard for some to imagine what life is like so far north. Indeed, it might be easier to imagine life in Bern or Berlin. In the past, I’ve used proximity to the nearest McDonald’s to demonstrate the level of socio-economic seclusion my community faces. Despite there being over 1,300 McDonald’s restaurants in the UK, my pilgrimage to get a Big Mac involves driving the equivalent distance of London to Birmingham. It’s fair to say that my Deliveroo orders rarely arrive warm.
Cold Big Macs aside, there is a deeper issue here. This same distance separates me and my community from the things that really matter. If you live in my part of the country, you will have to make a 200-mile trip to access basic services and opportunities, whether that’s attending a routine hospital appointment or accessing basic sports facilities or a college course. While some of this is part and parcel of our geography, some of it is down to the structures of government, which weren’t built to listen to people in remote communities or to tackle the issues that matter to us.
In my fragile community, I grew up watching a demographic collapse as the local economy endured a downturn and levels of depopulation rose. I felt a deep sense of injustice watching my loved ones move miles away, and was saddened to think that I too would one day need to leave the place I called home. What was more frustrating was feeling unheard by the system that stood to represent my community. I saw how, increasingly, decisions were being made far away by people who couldn’t even place my region on a map, let alone understand its needs.
So I did what all rational primary school kids do: I invited a local government delegation around for coffee to express my feelings. In hindsight, I probably should have told my parents first. But it helped me to understand the situation more clearly. For the first time, I understood that the players in our government weren’t bad people but that they worked in a structure that inhibited meaningful, systemic change. What’s more, they seemed to be completely devoid of hope. They were lost in a system that not only wasn’t fit for purpose but lacked any sense of accountability, yet alone responsibility. Their outlook was somewhat harrowing.
Meanwhile, I felt something quite different: a fusion of heightened hope and anger. If I didn’t have hope and if I didn’t act, who would? So, I pulled on every lever I had at my disposal. At 15 years of age, I became (probably?) the UK’s youngest adviser to government organisations. I spent most of my spare time advocating to ministers and civil servants about the need to restructure decision-making and listen to communities. This meant doing whatever I could to contribute to the future of government: sitting on advisory boards, talking a lot, attending events and trying to build links between grassroots groups and decision makers by supporting the likes of the Rural Parliament. When I wasn’t doing this, you’d find me talking to the MoD about estate strategies, supporting economic development bids or talking levelling up with the Cabinet Office. After all, it wasn’t just my community that was on the periphery of government. Many places and demographics experience this same issue.
“Your work is only as good as the information you have – so get out there and find the people behind the data”
Now 19, I’m leading Act with Purpose, a non-profit that supports organisations to become more purposeful and builds cross-sectoral coalitions for social change. In my view, purpose is the precious lubricant in our systems that either makes things tick over harmoniously or – if it’s not there – grind to a halt. At a Cabinet Office away day, I used social value in procurement as an example of where we get purpose wrong. The directive had good intentions, but in reality it pushed out SMEs who lacked the capacity to demonstrate social value. As a result, we saw large, centrally based companies win contracts, which led to the offshoring of any social value created.
But increasingly, government is getting it right when it comes to purpose. Places for Growth is a good example of this. I have also been really inspired by leaders like David Foley (director of public bodies, Cabinet Office) who are changing the way government interacts with its stakeholders. The bottom line is that government is messy, and it often lacks purpose. As a result, it often doesn’t deliver meaningful change, and it doesn’t hear what our communities have to say. My simple plea to you is this: have purpose in what you do. Your work, the decisions you make and the advice you give as a civil servant is only as good as the information you have. So, get out there and find the people behind the data. Get into communities across our country, dissect emerging issues, test your policies, and most of all, listen and connect.
As I embark on my journey home from a government meeting, with a pretty grim Big Mac slumped next to my laptop, I still cling on to my child-like hope. We might not be able to bring McDonald’s closer to me, but we can bring the things that really matter closer to me, and closer to everyone else in this nation. We can connect the forces of tangible decision making to communities. We can do better.
Innes Morgan is the founder of Act with Purpose, a community of organisations committed to acting as a force for good. To find out more email hello@actwithpurpose.org