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Writing on the evils of racism is fairly easy – one can assume with relative certainty that most of those who read it will agree with it, whilst there is little risk involved socially or professionally to those who do so. Which is good, since racism is wrong, and must forever be denounced, lest it creep back in through lack of watchfulness on the part of those who thought they had defeated it.
However, writing in defence of those who have been wholesale denounced as racist is a little trickier. In what follows, I hope folk take this as it is intended to be – an honest attempt at trying to grapple with the difficult questions we must all face, on an issue that is in one sense very clear cut (racism is wrong) but at other times rather more difficult to disentangle (people who say x are racist).
This blog first took seed when I noticed this post by @Samfr on Twitter:
In Cornwall. At a cafe in which people are actually debating whether saying “chinky” is racist. This doesn’t happen in North London.
— Sam Freedman (@Samfr) December 21, 2014
For what it’s worth, I don’t think Sam was falling for the temptation, into which so many fall prey, to point mockingly at the rustics whilst lauding the perceived multicultural and tolerant London. Rather, he was identifying an occurrence that neatly illustrates the grey area over which so many in the commentariat would blithely march in their single-minded determination to head for the moral high ground – in reality, where certainty exists for some, debate and disagreement exists for others.
Not that certainty, and strong denunciation, is always a bad thing – after all, shame and social censorship is a long established way of ensuring members of a society uphold its moral norms. However it is tinged with danger as ratcheting up the rhetoric can entrench attitudes, leading one side to think it monopolises tolerance whilst the other grows more and more resentful and willing to contravene precisely those codes in response. It is one thing to tell Joe Bloggs we ought not use certain words because of the harm they can cause – it is quite another to tell him that his mother and father, grandparents and siblings are all racists, because they use a word Joe thought everybody used, and certainly not with any intended racist connotation. If our recent political history tells us anything, it is that such an approach drives essentially good folk away from the mainstream and toward those with more malign intent.
Besides which, allowing one side to think they own this debate might just mean we miss the evils of racism when it lurks in precisely those places where we would last expect to find it. Liberals might think their noisy denunciations make them impervious to accusations of racism – in reality they have their own charges to answer.
And now for the difficult bit.
My childhood was split between army camps all over Britain, old Lancashire (Salford) and North Yorkshire/County Durham (Stockton-on-Tees). Speaking to a teacher colleague, who grew up in an entirely different part of the country, we were discussing the latest UKIP fiasco and went through the words we used as kids which we would never consider using, or endorsing, or condoning today. And, in truth, it was appalling. Words long since abandoned, and thankfully so, were just a normal part of our lives. They may make us wince now, but not then. They were the norm, used by adults and kids alike. Part of this might have merely reflected our backgrounds (‘northern, respectable working class’) but more likely it spoke of our time as children of the 80s and 90s. And I’d wager that, if we felt able to be honest, most of us would admit to the same.
Some examples. Well, when I was a kid, it was standard for any show of tears to be greeted with the phrase ‘don’t be a poofter,’ meaning stop showing emotion and being ‘soft.’ I vividly remember being in junior school, where a group of us were perplexed as to why one of our number had just been told off for calling someone a ‘spas[tic].’ I remember a colleague of my father’s in the army was called ‘Midnight’ and introduced himself as such. I remember the word ‘paki’ was common currency, less so as an insult, but more often to refer to the ‘paki shop’. Indeed, when I took my Indian heritage then-girlfriend (now wife) to first meet the family, one older relative (whose identity I shall keep concealed) asked us ‘would you nip to the paki shop [in which this relative worked] and get us some flyers?’ Flyers, for those unaware, were tubes of liquorice with sherbert in the middle. About thirty seconds later, the blood drained from this person’s face as they realised what they had said and apologised profusely – the language was racist, but the person really was not.
And I could go on, and on, and on. Granddads and generally older male relatives are particularly rich sources for examples – perhaps unsurprising, certainly according to this article here, painting older, northern males as being particular culprits – but I could include examples from male and female, teachers and professionals, sports clubs and public figures, tv shows and celebrities. Indeed, recent years have been particularly plentiful in the ‘gaffe’ department, particularly from football culture (itself often associated with the working class male) – be it Joey Barton’s apparent sexism, or Robbie Fowler’s taunting of Graeme le Saux, or Alan Hansen referring to ‘coloured’ players, or Jose Mourinho’s use of homophobic language (though, to illustrate the point I am trying to make, using a word that still features in one of the most popular Christmas songs of all time).
The easy response here would be the ahistorical and hysterical – to denounce everyone as bigoted and refuse to try and understand what is going on here. But in reality, what is actually playing out is time itself, and the ways in which conventions and etiquette shift with it. And that change is rarely universal, let alone uniform. In other words, times change, and oftentimes for the better, but it changes at different paces in different places, and sometimes folk get caught on the wrong side of that step change. Nigel Farage may well get be greeted with howls of disgust when ruminating on use of the word ‘chinky’, but the awkward truth is that until very recently, certainly well into my adulthood, that was (and in some places no doubt still is) the standard word used to describe a Chinese take-away (though in Lancashire it tended to sway between that and ‘chinee’). If Dave Whelan’s comments show anything, it is (probably) not that he is racist, but that he was formed in a society that used racist language – perhaps some of it with racist intent, but for the vast majority not so. Racism did and in places does exist, and must be challenged forcefully – but we need a more nuanced litmus test than what words somebody chooses to use, which makes it easy for racists to escape detection and non-racists to be unwittingly caught up in something they had neither intended nor suspected. Or, as Simon Danczuk has said:
//platform.twitter.com/widgets.jsAnd this is the thing – despite all those terrible examples I cited earlier, I always knew racism was wrong. We all did. And can honestly say that we did not see those with a different colour skin as essentially different. And yet we used racist language. And were not at all unusual in that. We were children (and adults) of the time, in a country that was changing and in many ways has changed for the better (except for derogatory terms for the traveller community, attitudes and language toward whom are terrible but which we rarely challenge with the same gusto).
Maybe, then, hidden away amongst the angry words and insults is actually a social and political reality of two nations, ‘between whom there is no intercourse and no sympathy; who are as ignorant of each other’s habits, thoughts, and feelings, as if they were dwellers in different zones, or inhabitants of different planets.’ When those two cultures collide, they see things about each other they don’t like. The outrage of the culture industry at use of certain terms demonstrates a lack of awareness that, for many people, these are common currency. What is obvious in Haringey might not be so obvious Hartlepool. And if the two nations theory is true, then why would it be obvious? Lack of awareness and understanding at the attitudes and thoughts of the other can clearly swing both ways.
The story here, then, is as much one of a dominant culture being appalled by the habits and attitudes still ingrained (and long thought erased) in the less dominant. Those attitudes and that language will, in time, change – lest those who would expunge succeed in only entrenching them further.
Throughout the country, beyond particular urban strongholds, Labour is in a perilous position. The natural advantages so long enjoyed in certain areas have made it presumptuous, whilst electoral security has rendered safe constituencies the fiefdoms of (often incoming) architects and guardians of the progressive, liberal- left project. As such, Labour has become sluggish, but also detached – in all too many places it has failed to hold its voice at the heart of the communities from which it originally sprung.
This presents a problem in the face of the new political realities before us. Put simply, Labour is in no position to fight UKIP in its heartlands. Or even to speak with authenticity to that social and cultural angst from which UKIP is siphoning support. Our initial reaction, to disregard UKIP as a Tory problem, has left us vulnerable as the roots of revolt have crept into lands once occupied by the left – we did not conceive that we might need to build an alternative offer of our own.
Alas, the penny has dropped, and the response has been typical of a party that does not accept the legitimacy of that which it seeks to combat – when we listen, it has been the job of those who are part of the problem to provide diagnosis and solution; when we speak, it has been in tones of that which is being rejected.
Thus Labour has too easily condemned itself as part of the problem it is claiming to solve. Worse, it often does not have the resources or the rootedness to even imagine that there exists a legitimate alternative. For all our talk of reconnecting with the disaffected, one cannot help but wonder how many in the formal organisation of our party have the capacity to recognise the extent of this cultural deficit – the once rich chorus of the Labour tradition has long turned to a shrill, castigating shriek. At root this is a culture clash, and there has been little sign that those with their hands on the levers are willing to budge.
So Labour is poorly placed to fight UKIP. It needs a different voice, which presents a problem to a party that has spent so long rooting out difference. The critique-free liberalism that has delivered the party to its current predicament must now accept challenges to its narrative – doubts over its ability or willingness to do so remain.
Yet the picture is not as bleak as it might be. For all the homogeneity of the professional arm of the party, the Labour tradition nonetheless has within its heritage precisely this alternative voice. It still exists as a cultural phenomenon, in the hearts and minds of many a Labour voter, and many more an ex-Labour voter, and indeed in many an activist feeling increasingly alienated within the changing landscape of the local associations they helped build. By a rule of thumb, this might well be more economically to the left – it is certainly more socially conservative. Either way, it can naturally articulate a legitimate Labour vision of society that not only pitches for that sizable band which is deserting us for UKIP, but can do so in a way that is more wholesome and hopeful than anything UKIP – with its misanthropy and its myth-peddling – has to say.
This offer, which up until now has remained in the background, a loose coalition, informal and ultimately unloved (despite early signs of interest), is perhaps best articulated by the group now given the moniker ‘Blue Labour.’
Yet substantial obstacles block its advancement. Even if the Labour hierarchy were to accept the need for diversity, party infrastructure is hostile enough to its delivery that those who might just provide it will rarely break through to the front line. The party has become an echo chamber – it would require something drastic for those with another tale to tell to walk the gauntlet and come through successfully on the other side. Or, as I have written previously,
‘To exacerbate the problem, engagement with the party on a local level too often offers little opportunity for the excluded: the arteries are clogged up. Those that Labour recognise they have alienated are not the kind of people who tend to advance through the party, either by selection or appointment. Those who are opposed to the traditional views of what is in effect the Labour dalit class generally are the kind of people who advance through the party, both by selection and appointment… [so] the old grassroots might well be socially conservative, but it is highly unlikely that any such individual would gain any position that would allow such views to be honestly represented, whilst those who expend such effort in shouting them down regularly do so. As such, even in the event of recognition of this representation deficit, there is unlikely to be any concerted action to address it – it remains a fact to be confronted that it was/is during the ‘diversity years’ that the Labour Party has become so very ideologically narrow.’
Perhaps, then, the UKIP moment presents an opportunity. If Labour has within its tradition the ability to respond to UKIP, if there exists within the party a group already articulating this alternative, if that articulation currently finds little direct representation because of structural barriers to advancement – might part of our solution lie in giving Blue Labour a more formal voice? Can an affiliate grouping be created which would assist Blue Labour in getting its message to the front line? Might direct intervention be justified?
It has long been the paradox of Blue Labour, and the postliberal movement which it represents, that for all its reverence of institutions it has yet to form an effective one of its own. Perhaps it has lacked the incentive, or the support, or indeed the will.
Well, times have changed. The answer to the ‘Purple Revolution’ might just be a bit red and a bit blue. Which means the Labour Party needs Blue Labour, just as Blue Labour needs the Labour Party. It is time to formalise that union.
But it needs to be built on firm foundations. What they know, they need to know well. So that, measured in terms of breadth, perhaps our pupils should study less. Since this might help them know more. Which is precisely the case for slow teaching.
Below are the outline notes of a paper I gave at the Blue Labour conference at the University of Nottingham yesterday, on what Blue Labour can offer education.
Set against personal struggles, moral confusion and fragmentation of knowledge, the noble goals of scholarship and education, founded on the unity of truth and in service of the person and the community, become an especially powerful instrument of hope (Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI,2008)
Other articles which might interest:
The thought never occurs that such a project might ever be needed again. Not because the knowledge will disappear in a flurry of ashes as libraries burn to the ground, but because it might lie as dust, itself the sign of neglect, forgotten in plain sight, a relic that disintegrates through lack of curiosity from a modern day Eloi who have decided there are more important things to pursue.
And a casual reminder to those who don’t of why they really should.
I have a child in school. In Reception class to be more precise. I also have three other pre-school children. And, God willing, who knows what else the future might bring.
And so, as I send my child off to school each morning, the hope and emotion I feel is that of a parent, not a professional. I want the best for my kids. We all do. It’s only natural.
What does this mean?
Well, it means I want a qualified teacher standing in front of her. A teacher who is not so exhausted from the excess demands of the job that they have not had time to plan lessons properly. A teacher who has the time to look at her work and tell her what is good about it, and tell her how it could be even better. A teacher who is not so creaking with workload that the intangibles which really do shape an education are not forever competing with an almighty focus on the measurables which can distort so much. A teacher with the time and freedom to talk to my child, to cherish her, to help her flourish, to keep her steady as she makes her first steps in this complex and sometimes confusing world. And to educate her. To make her cleverer. To open doors for her and give her the confidence and grounding to walk through them. Not a number on a progress sheet, but a person. A human person. A beautiful soul.
Teachers, on the whole, really are heroes. My child’s teacher certainly is. But it is often in spite of the demands of this system, or wearily in the face of it, rather than because of it. This is as true for secondary as it is for primary.
An education system that alleviated these conflicts would be a better education system. And if striking is one way of trying to bring about those improvements, then so be it.
Which means that I’m striking for my kids. And I’m also on strike for yours.
And I’ll stand proud in doing it.
And for those who have chosen to cross the picket line, just one question: who are you really doing it for?