When asked to write a foreword for a book on Transitional Safeguarding, I was initially cautious. I expressed as much to two of the co-authors, Dez Holmes and Professor Christine Cocker. The three of us were sitting on a picnic bench outside the EuSARF Conference 2023, where much discussion had taken place on this very theme.
‘To be honest I’m not really a fan of the term Transitional Safeguarding,’ I said.
Much to my surprise, Dez apologised.
‘What for?’ I asked. ‘It's not as if you invented it, is it?’
‘Actually, yes,’ she said, and I felt the ground beneath me open up. ‘But I welcome any challenge!’
At this point, I realised I could not back-peddle my way out. So I outlined my concerns directly.
‘Children in contact with social care experience enough instability as it is,’ I said. ‘I mean, how would you feel if your environment, family life, and the services you rely on were described as transient? Wouldn't it make you feel anxious?’ Both agreed.
‘You should put that in the foreword!’ they said in unison.
Within the first few pages of reading this book, it was clear my assumptions were false. Transitional Safeguarding (excellently outlined in Chapters 2 and 7) is entirely at odds with placing children on the proverbial conveyor belt towards the cliff edge of care. In fact, it advocates for more, not less support during the critical crossover years between childhood and adulthood. If you are reading this with a view to streamlining services, you may as well stop here.
Practice and policy are culpable for shoe-horning young people's voices as an afterthought. But what makes this book so refreshing – so needed – is that co-production is the golden thread running from cover to cover. Young people are the researchers at the heart, not just the periphery.
Transitional Safeguarding is at once ambitious – advocating for entire system change underscored by relational, evidenceinformed, and rights-based support – while being grounded in the realities of austerity, the cost-of-living crisis, and a postpandemic landscape.