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As the Chief Executive of Options for Supported Living, I spend a significant portion of my life navigating the intersection of human rights and local authority processes. It’s a space where the most profound aspirations for a “full life” often collide head-on with the hard machinery of government finance and procurement.
There is one word that consistently grates on my soul, popping up in tender documents and strategy papers like a stubborn weed: “Lot.”
“Lot 1: Supported Living for Learning Disabilities.” “Lot 2: Complex Needs.” “Lot 3: Bootle [or add geography of choice]”
To a procurement person, a “lot” is a convenient way to divide a contract. But to those of us who advocate for the dignity of the people we support, the word is a dehumanising put-down that needs to stay in the auction house and out of social care.
The Language of devaluation
Wolf Wolfensberger taught us that the language we use to describe people isn’t just “semantics.” It shapes how society perceives them and, crucially, how we treat them.
When we categorise, support provided to other people as “lots,” we are subconsciously – or perhaps explicitly – treating people as commodities. The last “lot” I bid for was a collection of pre-owned Lego bricks where the boxes have been lost. By using this word about people, commissioning processes demean those who draw on support and reduce the unique circumstances of individuals to a simplified system of price per unit.
This language also forces organisations to think differently. Frankly, I do not want to ‘bid’ for a ‘lot’ involving people that contribute to our community or may do in the future. I am simply a peer, and Options is here to serve and support others. Yet here I am, in a position of power, preparing another tender and deciding which ‘lots’ to ‘bid’ for, rather than getting to know people and trying to establish whether we can aid someone to live a happy and fulfilling life.
The lack of care in Social Care language.
Last year we had a visit from Tricia Nicholl, who spoke to all of Options’ organisational leaders. She spoke brilliantly about the power of “Gloriously Ordinary Language.” Tricia reminds us that when we hide behind jargon, we lose the human story.
Our own Christine Bithell talks in this podcast about words that make us pause and think. Top of my list might be ‘lot’
Nobody wakes up in the morning and says, “I hope my life is well-managed within Lot 3 of my current framework agreement.” When commissioners use the word “lot,” they are choosing the language of business over the language of the living room. It creates a professional distance that makes it easier to cut costs and harder to see the person. Personally, I want a home, a friend, and a sense of purpose. I want to be treated with dignity and respect. I believe that I share these fundamentals with every other human, whether they access support or not.
The language of citizenship not procurement
Last year, John O’Brien passed away. John was one of the pioneers of what supported living should be and has been a test for everything we do at Options. If you look at John’s framework of “Five Accomplishments” (Presence, Choice, Competence, Respect, and Participation) not one of them is compatible with being part of a “lot.”
- You cannot foster Respect while using language that treats people like inventory.
- You cannot encourage Choice when the very structure of the contract groups people into rigid, impersonal blocks.
- You cannot develop Presence when support staff are at the whim of a process in which they or the people they support have very little agency.
David Hingsburger says that the most powerful thing we [as the wider social services system] can do for disabled people (I would say all people) is to protect their humanity. Using the word “lot” is a subtle but persistent chipping away at that humanity. It signals that the system cares more about the ease of the tender process than the individual identity of the citizen.
From Process to People, from Provider to Partner
Those who have recently heard me speak publicly will know there needs to be a wholesale change in ‘commissioning’. I have been questioning whether commissioning itself is the problem, as it leads us to this commercial, contractual way of thinking.
I understand the pressures of local government. I know the legalities of the Public Contract Regulations. But nowhere in the law does it say we must sacrifice our empathy on the altar of procurement speak.
But let’s assume though we cannot be radical enough to rip up the rule book. How do we make the rule book work better?
My understanding of the new(ish) Procurement Act [2023] is that it was designed to give commissioners more flexibility to move away from rigid, transactional models. We can pursue outcomes that are mutually beneficial for the local authority, the provider, and, most importantly, the person. Herein lies both a better life and cost saving. The two are not exclusive of each other.
For this to happen, the relationship between person, provider and local authority needs to change. Co-production needs to be more than just lip-service; and providers treated as strategic partners rather than procured delivery agencies, especially in new neighbourhood and place-based thinking.
This systemic shift won’t happen if we are still using the language of the auction house. We cannot achieve “strategic partnership” if we are still bidding for “Lot 4.” Real change starts with reframing people within the commissioning process.
At Options, we refuse to see the people we support as anything less than equal citizens. It’s time the language of commissioning caught up with that reality. Let’s leave the “lots” to the car auctions and start talking about people again.
Kev Peacock – Options CEO
What words do you think we should banish from the social care dictionary?
