id="ulink_3dbe9a76-22dd-58fa-b937-ef29a3002fa1">A further, insightful, aspect of Titmuss’s character comes in a review of his second collection of essays, Commitment to Welfare, published in 1968. The reviewer was Donald MacRae, Professor of Sociology at the LSE. This was a sharp, although not unfriendly, critique, returned to in Chapter 20. But for present purposes what is important is that MacRae distinguished between what he called the ‘Roundheads’ of Social Administration and the ‘Cavaliers’ of Sociology.28 This notion of Titmuss as an ascetic, serious-minded individual devoted to his work has much to commend it, and was one which he himself promoted. And although on one level an apparently flippant comment, MacRae’s distinction between the two fields hints at the tensions between their respective departments. Such tensions notwithstanding, Titmuss came to be highly regarded at the School, both as an academic and as someone called upon to play a part in its governance. The latter suggests a political player, not an El-Greco saint. Famously, another LSE colleague, the conservative political philosopher Michael Oakeshott, described him as a ‘snake in saint’s clothing’.29
Titmuss also had his own, very human, foibles. His daughter, Ann, attended Haberdashers’ Aske’s school, which she disliked.30 As Titmuss’s personnel files show, this was supported by an educational grant from the LSE which continued when Ann went to Somerville College, Oxford. In the first instance, the award was of £50 per annum, the present-day equivalent of more than £1500. The same files reveal, too, that however hostile Titmuss was to private insurance companies, he always made sure his own occupational pension was up to the mark.31 These were exactly the sort of occupational ‘extras’ available to middle class professionals which Titmuss would critique in works like The Social Division of Welfare, although it might be argued that he would have been foolish to turn them down. Titmuss was not above meals in West End clubs, nor in helping aristocratic ladies with their charitable activities. And, on the domestic front, Oakley records that it was Kay who did all the work, including child care.32 Titmuss was hardly the only man to play a limited domestic role in mid-twentieth century Britain, but again this sits uneasily with his progressive, egalitarian, pronouncements.
In his working life Titmuss, although supportive, as noted, nonetheless had an inner circle of male colleagues – notably Abel-Smith and, initially at least, Townsend. And what started off as a joke on Abel-Smith’s part, that Titmuss was ‘God’, appears to have been taken more seriously by other department members. He had his acolytes. In the context of the LSE more broadly, two events were especially distressing to him, and further illustrate aspects of his personality. The first was his dispute with some female social work tutors in the mid-1950s. Titmuss undoubtedly had strong working relationships, and relationships of mutual respect, with certain female academics and public figures. Notable among these were the social scientists Barbara Wootton and Dorothy Wedderburn, both of whom had made their way in academic life in difficult circumstances, given that it was then an overwhelmingly male-dominated preserve. The hierarchical and gender-biased nature of British academic life forms an important backdrop to Titmuss’s LSE career, and it is revealing that some have reported that he was supportive of female colleagues.33 Nonetheless, Titmuss undeniably had serious issues with certain social work staff. Was the underlying issue here his attitude to women, his own insecurities, or was it just another example of the departmental politicking common in academic life?
The second series of events which particularly upset Titmuss at the LSE were ‘The Troubles’ of the late 1960s. Initially, these concerned the controversial choice of a new director, chosen by a selection committee which included Titmuss. The disruption spread, amid accusations of left-wing troublemaking, leading at one point to the LSE’s closure. The broader context was student activism over issues such as the Vietnam War, and apartheid South Africa. Titmuss was a vigorous opponent of racial discrimination, and critical of American intervention in Vietnam. Indeed, in certain respects he was a typical member of the post-war liberal-left intellectual elite. The point, though, was that he stayed loyal to the School and its leadership, and continued to hold classes throughout the disruption and shutdown. Such loyalty did not necessarily, as some have suggested, represent a move to the political right. Rather, it might be argued that it showed personal courage, and an unwillingness to follow fashion.
This biography does not attempt to cover every aspect of Titmuss’s life, or to catalogue, far less analyse, every item he published, committee he sat on, or event he attended. Although his personal life is not ignored, it has been dealt with at some length by Oakley. Rather, the volume seeks to place Titmuss’s life in its political, policy, and academic contexts, and to evaluate him in that light. This is not unreasonable, not least because of Titmuss’s own obsession, to put it mildly, with his work, and the almost unbelievably punishing schedule to which he submitted himself throughout his adult life.
To give a further flavour of this, and simply to call attention to some of his activities during his last decade, Titmuss was a member of the Royal Commission on Medical Education, and of various race relations bodies. In 1967 he joined the Supplementary Benefits Commission (SBC), becoming deputy chairman the following year, a post he retained until his death. Along with colleagues including David Donnison, Robert Pinker, and Garth Plowman, Titmuss was on the Editorial Committee of the Journal of Social Policy, founded in 1972 as a publication of the Social Administration Association (later, Social Policy Association).34 In 1964 his friend Peter Shore, then at the Labour Party Research Department, asked him to comment on a draft paper, the ultimate outcome of which was the establishment of the Open University.35 In autumn 1965, meanwhile, Titmuss received a letter from Tony Crosland, Labour’s Secretary of State for Education and Science. Crosland had heard that Titmuss was to serve on the newly created Social Science Research Council (SSRC). In a hand-written addition, Crosland noted that he was ‘very pleased that you are doing something for us in this Dept.’.36 The LSE’s director, in a memorandum to the appropriate LSE committee, commented that Titmuss, along with the anthropologist Raymond Firth and the statistician Claus Moser, had agreed to serve on the SSRC, and strongly recommended that this be duly endorsed. It was in both the national interest and the ‘interests of the School’ that the three professors take up their posts.37 Titmuss only served on the council for around a year (the appointment had been for three years), almost certainly because of the volume of his other commitments.38 Nonetheless, the original invitation was a clear indicator of his standing.
More obscurely, although reflecting his broader social concerns, Titmuss agreed to sponsor the Concord Films Council, a body dedicated to using film to promote peace ‘and particularly to relate massive arms expenditure to the needs of the under-privileged and underfed peoples of the world’. Other sponsors included the playwright Arnold Wesker and the journalist Ritchie Calder.39 Of course, on occasion Titmuss turned down requests. One of the more implausible came in 1963 from Bishop Thomas Craske who told him that the Church of England was investigating why young men did not come forward for ordination. ‘It would help us greatly’, the Bishop wrote, ‘if you could, in the light of your own experience and conversations with young men, let us have your views on the subject.’ The non-believer Titmuss declined on the grounds of insufficient knowledge.
