THE open-ended national debate on education has begun, yet ministers demand inclusion and equality, the continuation of education as a public service and linking schools and communities - wrapped around with the intention of integrating children’s services. Little room for manoeuvre there.

The only principle common to Jim Callaghan’s “great debate” speech of 1976 is “linking schools and communities”, by which he meant using schools to provide fodder for industry and commerce rather than teaching life skills. A document, Purposes of Scottish Education, has been produced by MSPs. So where can Darren and Amanda Doe put in their tuppenceworth?

Cathy Jamieson, the Education Minister, considers social inclusion to be the most vital principle, and disturbingly suggests that she is excluded by an indeterminate establishment conglomerate which dislikes her speech and her working class origins. The class card does not play well in Scotland. Scratch anyone two generations deep and they are off the back of a plough.

The problem for many people of goodwill is in knowing what the phrase means. Schools as one big happy family make a warm thought but reality is so deflating. England has social inclusion departments and social exclusion teachers. They deal with the less fortunate such as those shunted about in care, those listed for adoption and clinically unhappy young people. Two examples of social inclusion are worth examining.

The first was bringing Roman Catholic schools into the fold. Contrary to popular belief, the Education (Scotland) Act of 1918 applied to all schools that had been excluded from the state system. About 65 per cent were Catholic and the others included Church of Scotland, a range of dissenters, humanist groups unwilling to accept certain obligations and a few who were just bloody-minded, all classed as “voluntary”. Seekers after truth may consult numerous files in the Scottish Record Office where hundreds of people and organisations made their points to the then Secretary of State, Robert Munro; others from seceding groups made their point to the Prime Minister. The Catholics were best organised, perhaps with a specimen letter from the hierarchy where all submissions used the phrase ” . . . the character of our Catholic schools”. Ethos was not yet in vogue. The conclusion? Social inclusion is difficult.

An example of social inclusion on a smaller scale is that of the thalidomide children. In Scotland, the edict went out to integrate them. A pilot group was selected and one authority agreed to participate.

Teachers explained to the receiving classes that they should be kind to the new pupils. At morning break the thalidomide pupils were force fed sweets, chocolate and biscuits from all the host group, and were sick for the rest of the day. When parents saw the deformed children, their edict went in to ministers: “We do not want our children to have to associate with these monsters.” Social inclusion is complex.

Finally we have the pleas for integration of everything with the adjective “social” in front of it. France took it to extremes. The corporative ideas abolished by the Revolution were reinstated by a decree in 1808 creating the University of France and all educational groups were made a single group under central control.

Napoleon liked the idea, and decided to be in charge. His successors did likewise. It seems most integrationists are potential power seekers. Mission statement: you cannot have social inclusion by compulsion.

Ian Morris is a former chief inspector of schools.