When Ernest Ravenstein published his 'laws of migration' in 1885, he illustrated his findings with a series of maps. Most of the maps show where internal migrants in the United Kingdom lived: these included maps of 'the national element', 'the Irish element', 'the Scotch element' and 'the English element'. Ravenstein drew attention to the gender dimension of migration in 1885, suggesting that there were differences in the likelihood of migration and in the distance migrated between men and women. This chapter shows how Censuses may be used, in Ireland and elsewhere, to highlight situations where people's experiences and opportunities may be restricted or limited because of their status as immigrants. In Ireland, the Census offers three possible identifiers of migrancy. These are nationality, place of birth and living outside Ireland for at least a year. In general, records of migrant stock are more comprehensive than records of migrant flows.

The book concludes with some summary insights offered by the editors and Nat O’Connor, who was responsible for setting out the international and comparative context of Irish FOI legislation in the first chapter. In his initial contextual chapter, Nat suggested that FOI legislation typically follows one of two alternative implementation types: a narrow and primarily administrative Introduction interpretation that is focused on citizens’ access to personal records; or a broader and much more substantive interpretation, which sees FOI as but one building block in the creation of a more open and transparent system of governance. The chapter draws together the evidence presented by the various contributors – pointing out the evidence that exists for both the narrower and broader interpretations of FOI in Ireland. On balance, it is fair to conclude that thus far the Irish FOI regime is closer to the former, narrower, interpretation of FOI than the latter, broader prescription for open government. Whether this is a stage in the evolution of Irish FOI, or the intended end point, is a judgement left to the reader.

Examines the response made to FOI legislation in the Oireachtas and suggests that FOI is but one move towards a more functional and developed system of open government in Ireland. Highlighting that public trust in government is paramount for a flourishing democracy, the chapter examines the relationship between the Houses of the Oireachtas, the public and the media in terms of developing public confidence in government. The chapter argues that this is predicated on citizens being more knowledgeable about how the political system works, and examines the ways in which the Houses of the Oireachtas, as well as the media, have responded to the Irish FOI regime. The main contention of the chapter is that Oireachtas efforts to inform citizens about the political system and processes do not have the same level of impact or resources as are available to the media. Bearing this in mind, the chapter concludes that many positive efforts to develop public trust in parliament are routinely undermined by an excessively single-minded use of FOI by journalists keen to make a headline.

This final concluding chapter will offer a summary of the central arguments of the book. The Second World War did not rupture the seams of youth justice. Residential ‘reform’ institutions that dated back to the 1860s and a juvenile court system that was founded in 1908 provided the basis for official responses until around 1970. The dominance of penal-welfarism, as a strategy and set of practices, which reflected the belief that juvenile delinquents could be ‘saved’ and converted into productive ‘citizens’, continued into the 1940s and 1950s. There was no clear agreement on the meaning of penal-welfarism that was shared across occupations. Rather, penal-welfarism is best viewed as spectrum across which individuals positioned themselves. Transformations were apparent in ideas about discipline and authority, as models grounded in hierarchy and deference were gradually replaced with an emphasis on participatory democracy and ‘rights’ rather than ‘duty’. Whilst an ethical shift towards the pursuit of individualism emphasized self-determination for young people, this was accompanied by an apparent tightening of restrictions on young people’s use of space.

This chapter examines the methods, styles and approaches used by police officers – who were on the frontline of the decision-making process – in their dealings with children and young people in post-war Britain. It examines two key areas of debate – the role of Juvenile Liaison Schemes and the legitimacy of physical force as a disciplinary tool – to highlight points of co-operation and conflict between the police and other agencies. Because of their role as law enforcers, police officers were often associated with a ‘justice’ orientation to young offenders that was contrasted with the conflicting ‘welfare’ orientation of social workers. These approaches were stereotyped within occupational cultures, as well as in broader media coverage, as a dichotomy of ‘hard’ and soft’. This chapter demonstrates, however, that both were present within the repertoires of policing, forming a continuum of responses rather than polar opposites.

Since the Second World War there has been an almost perpetual wave of public anxiety, rhetoric and debate about youth and crime in Britain. Historical research has much to contribute to current debates in reminding us that the problem of youth and crime is neither ‘new’ nor an indicator of a society that has gone off the rails. The relationship between law, order and young people cannot be reduced to the simplistic descriptions and categories that have all too frequently been invoked to talk about it. This introductory chapter lays out the theoretical and empirical scope of the book, offering an overview of themes and debates as well as source materials (which include criminal justice statistics, criminological research, court records and film). Drawing on David Garland’s work, the concept of ‘penal-welfarism’ is introduced and explained.

Across the post-war period crimes against the person remained a tiny minority of charges for which juveniles were brought before the British courts. Yet, at the same time, there was a series of ‘moral panics’ linking male youth with criminal gangs, violence and offensive weapons, and depicting teenagers – particularly those who adopted sub-cultural styles of dress – as lawless and uncontrollable. Clearly the discrepancy between comparatively low levels of reported youth violence and high levels of social anxiety requires investigation. Nevertheless there was a noticeable increase in reported incidents of violence. Using case studies of Manchester and Dundee, this chapter shows how beliefs about violence shaped police and magistrates’ responses, led to the demonisation of some young people, and heightened tensions and resentments.