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"You become traumatised yourself": Interview with award-winning social worker John Leavy

The Twickenham building where John Leavy works is an intimidating place at first glance. Its plain walls and clocktower dwarf the Thai restaurant next door, and the opaque windows suggest it is deserted.

In fact, it houses Leavy’s employer Achieving For Children, which provides social services to children and families across three London boroughs, including Kingston. Luckily for those families, the interior is far more inviting. The lighting is warm, a small table is covered in toys and games, and posters encourage you to reach out for support with everything from ADHD to drug addiction.

John Leavy at Achieving For Children's offices in Twickenham. Photo: Emma Curzon

Ask for that support, and you might be directed towards Leavy, sixty years old with a fondness for reading, gardening and long walks. Clad in a maroon jumper and dark green spectacles, he cuts a friendly but unassuming figure. Yet in 2021, he stood out enough for his senior managers to nominate him for a Mental Health Social Worker of the Year Award (from the Social Worker of the Year Awards, a charity which celebrates outstanding practitioners and teams currently working in England). Then, in November 2021, the judging panel declared him the winner – much, it should be said, to his surprise.

“I genuinely did not expect it at all,” he says, Irish accent coming through even though he’s lived in England since his early twenties. Still, he checked into the online awards ceremony anyway. “I watched it for 10 minutes, and my name came up! So that was nice.”

It’s a fittingly simple reflection from someone who’s reluctant to “blow my own trumpet”. He’s also quick to set boundaries, refusing to discuss his private life in detail. It’s nothing personal, he insists, but in the world of child protection not everyone has good intentions.

What he will say is that he grew up in a large and “relatively comfortable” family. But Ireland in the 1970s and ‘80s was, for him at least, a conservative and restrictive place. “You had to sort of fit into a certain mindset, and I don’t think I did.” (He won’t say why.)

After a brief career in hotel management – superficial and full of snobbery, apparently – he started working at a hostel for homeless men. At the same time, he was studying social sciences at the University of Westminster, and volunteering with HIV charity the Terrence Higgins Trust – a varied, non-stop schedule that would become something of a lifelong habit. After further studies at Kingston University, he qualified as a social worker, later specialising to become an approved mental health professional.

Leavy is at his most open, in fact, when he talks about his work. He gives the impression that he could chat for hours about everything from his small, close-knit team to the process of helping families who are referred to them. Incidentally, he’s aware of the “legitimate fear” some have of social workers, but stresses that ‘help’ doesn’t mean taking children into care at the first sign of trouble. “We’re all trying to keep families together,” he insists.

As he talks, there’s a clear hope that anyone listening will look past the clichés, and see his clients as human beings. For instance, he’s keen to note that none of us are immune to mental health problems. “That’s my philosophy, anyway. You can’t get through life without a bit of a wobble.” If that wobble interferes with someone’s parenting, that’s where he comes in – but from a place of understanding, rather than judgement. “It’s about letting the parents tell their story, and giving them the time to tell their point of view.”

Besides, as he matter-of-factly says, “You’re more likely to get cooperation when you treat someone with respect. It’s not rocket science.”

For many, it’s also not rocket science that those who support the vulnerable should be funded accordingly. Yet over the years austerity and Covid-19 have chipped away at social services, leaving them chronically under-resourced. In many areas this has in fact led to more children being taken into care, because councils lack early intervention funds and cannot help until problems reach crisis point.

Leavy, however, takes a more nuanced approach. “This may be a bit controversial,” he warns. “We do need more services. That’s without question.” And he concedes that cuts have been frequent. “But other things have got better. I find a lot of the time that the services are there, but the client can’t access them.” Different teams, he says, are too compartmentalised, so someone with multiple problems can find themselves being constantly passed around. “So where does the person fit in? Where do you start?”

And for social workers, it’s crucial to know where to start because of just how badly it can end. In 2020, six-year-old Arthur Labinjo-Hughes and 16-month-old Star Hobson both died at the hands of their stepmothers. As usual, anger was directed at the social workers who missed the sustained and vicious abuse. Yet they were likely grappling with an already-struggling system which the pandemic has left near breaking point. Social workers themselves have raised concerns about the lack of in-person visits during lockdown. They couldn’t smell alcohol through a computer screen, be sure that conversations were private, or properly check for signs that a child was being abused.

Even cases that don’t end in tragedy can have a lasting impact. “Over the years,” Leavy says, carefully, “it can build up and build up, so you become traumatised yourself. If that’s not too strong a word.” (It’s not: a 2007 study found that secondary traumatic stress, when you become traumatised by others’ experiences, is common among social workers.) “But there’s things that will never leave me.” Support from therapists has helped – as has realising that the worst thoughts and feelings can be managed, even if they never truly go away.

Yet his enthusiasm remains as strong as ever, to the point that the thought of retiring barely seems to have occurred. “There’s always something new coming up,” he explains. “I like to keep my mind fresh and practice fresh, which means constantly training and developing.”

“I’ll keep on going until I probably drop,” he adds, quite cheerfully.

For all Leavy’s optimism as he passionately discusses his life’s work, it’s clear that his isn’t a job to take on lightly. With all the challenges that social workers can face, it’s no wonder that a large number leave after just a few years. It’s a desperately sad situation, when so many people need help.

But instead of blaming those social workers, maybe we should ask: what needs to change so that they can properly do their jobs, and aren’t worn down until they quit?

Meanwhile Leavy, awards or no awards, intends to keep going for as long as he’s needed.

“It’s dynamic,” he says of his day-to-day life. “It’s constantly moving. The whole thing, the way you work. Can’t stand still. Even if you wanted to.”