Less faith, but more faith-schools

What lies behind the seemingly inexorable spread of religious-based education?

The new school year will see the launch of a crop of state-funded "free schools", several of them with a religious dimension. The British Humanist Association has launched a new fundraising campaign to support opposition to the spread of faith schools. In a message to supporters Polly Toynbee, who is apparently still president following the A.C. Grayling debacle earlier this summer, bemoaned the fact that there are already around 7,000 faith schools in England and Wales, including nearly a fifth of secondary schools. She described the advent of the free schools as "a growing threat" to mainstream education in this country.

Faith schools are gaining more control over their curricula, which they now entirely set themselves. Those that cannot currently discriminate in their admissions criteria are often gaining the ability to do so. And teachers at Academies and Free Schools are not required to hold qualified teacher status.

This renaissance of faith schools is a paradox in what continues to be one of the least religously observant countries in the world. Until a few years ago, church schools (as they were then called) were largely peripheral to the education debate. The overwhelming majority were (and are) Anglican and most of the rest Roman Catholic. They were generally primary schools. They were successful and over-subscribed, but were not expanding and attracted little interest from politicians of any party. Their existence was a legacy of history - of the time, before universal state education, when church-run schools usually offered the only education available.

All that has changed. Both the last Labour government (especially under Tony Blair) and the present Coalition have been vocal in their support of faith schools, and have legislated to encourage their spread. Even before the introduction this year of free schools, we have seen new denominational schools being built and even former "bog-standard" comprehensives taken over by church authorities and re-invented as faith academies. In some cases, children who might previously have expected to attend their local school are being turned away because they have not been baptised, or because their parents are unable to convince the religiously appointed (and religiously accountable) teachers and governors that they are sufficiently rigorous in church attendance.

For the quality of a child's education, and their life-chances thereafter, to be dependent on the religiosity of their parents, and for this blatant discrimination to be sanctioned by the state, is alarming. For it to be occurring in an increasingly secular society, where most people are indifferent to religion, is almost incomprehensible. What, exactly, is going on?

Two very different trends underpin the modern expansion in faith-based schooling. One derives from church schools' reputation for promoting discipline and good exam results. David Blunkett once expressed a desire to "bottle" their recipe for success. For middle-class parents who can't afford, or who are ideologically opposed to, private education, such schools present an attractive option. Thus they become ever-more desirable, more over-subscribed and more dominated by middle-class families who have the time and determination to do what is necessary to get their children into them. While the "faith" label has become a brand marker of quality, the appeal of these schools has little or nothing to do with religion as such.

Instead, church schools have come to embody the twin desiderata of education ministers: higher standards and greater parental choice. That in itself might be enough to explain their expansion. But there's another factor at play, too, which is the increasing importance of religion in the politics of identity and multiculturalism. The most obvious manifestation of this has been the demand by non-Christian religious groups to open their own faith schools. To many, this seems only fair: once you accept the principle of religions running schools it looks discriminatory to restrict the right to one or two churches. There are well-established Jewish schools, and in the past decade state-supported Muslim, Hindu and Sikh schools have followed.

These moves have been controversial, with opponents arguing that the new schools encourage the development of a ghettoised society. Education should be about bringing children together, not about segregating and labelling them on the basis of their parents' religion. The existing (and new) schools run by the Church of England have largely escaped this criticism. Yet there have been very few non-Christian faith schools created. There are only eleven state-funded Muslim schools, as opposed to more than four and a half thousand Anglican ones. Moreover, partly because there now exist faith schools for other religions, many church schools have felt entitled to impose stricter religious tests on parents and to make these schools more overtly Christian than they ever used to be.

Most notoriously, this leads some parents to fake religious devotion in order to get their children into a good local school. A friend of mine, an Anglican rector, describes a depressing scene he witnessed when visiting a church where he used to worship before his ordination. At the end of a suspiciously well-attended early morning service, most of the congregation queued up to sign an attendance register. He reported that "a vast extension to the church was built simply to accommodate the influx of parents, barely any of whom turn up once their children are safely in the school."

He doesn't approve, not because he dislikes church involvement in education but because he sees it as an abuse of power by the church, which "simultaneously sits in judgement on parents and families, and encourages hypocrisy among them". It also "degrades the sacraments of Christ's Kingdom by making them entry requirements for something they have nothing to do with."

It is anomalous, certainly, that taxpayers who are not religious - and are not prepared to fake it - should be expected to fund schools that discriminate blatantly on grounds unconnected with education. It makes no more sense than would a school that operated an overt preference for white pupils, or the children of Liberal Democrats, or those whose parents support Manchester United.

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Is defeat in Stoke the beginning of the end for Paul Nuttall?

The Ukip leader was his party's unity candidate. But after his defeat in Stoke, the old divisions are beginning to show again

In a speech to Ukip’s spring conference in Bolton on February 17, the party’s once and probably future leader Nigel Farage laid down the gauntlet for his successor, Paul Nuttall. Stoke’s by-election was “fundamental” to the future of the party – and Nuttall had to win.
 
One week on, Nuttall has failed that test miserably and thrown the fundamental questions hanging over Ukip’s future into harsh relief. 

For all his bullish talk of supplanting Labour in its industrial heartlands, the Ukip leader only managed to increase the party’s vote share by 2.2 percentage points on 2015. This paltry increase came despite Stoke’s 70 per cent Brexit majority, and a media narrative that was, until the revelations around Nuttall and Hillsborough, talking the party’s chances up.
 
So what now for Nuttall? There is, for the time being, little chance of him resigning – and, in truth, few inside Ukip expected him to win. Nuttall was relying on two well-rehearsed lines as get-out-of-jail free cards very early on in the campaign. 

The first was that the seat was a lowly 72 on Ukip’s target list. The second was that he had been leader of party whose image had been tarnished by infighting both figurative and literal for all of 12 weeks – the real work of his project had yet to begin. 

The chances of that project ever succeeding were modest at the very best. After yesterday’s defeat, it looks even more unlikely. Nuttall had originally stated his intention to run in the likely by-election in Leigh, Greater Manchester, when Andy Burnham wins the Greater Manchester metro mayoralty as is expected in May (Wigan, the borough of which Leigh is part, voted 64 per cent for Brexit).

If he goes ahead and stands – which he may well do – he will have to overturn a Labour majority of over 14,000. That, even before the unedifying row over the veracity of his Hillsborough recollections, was always going to be a big challenge. If he goes for it and loses, his leadership – predicated as it is on his supposed ability to win votes in the north - will be dead in the water. 

Nuttall is not entirely to blame, but he is a big part of Ukip’s problem. I visited Stoke the day before The Guardian published its initial report on Nuttall’s Hillsborough claims, and even then Nuttall’s campaign manager admitted that he was unlikely to convince the “hard core” of Conservative voters to back him. 

There are manifold reasons for this, but chief among them is that Nuttall, despite his newfound love of tweed, is no Nigel Farage. Not only does he lack his name recognition and box office appeal, but the sad truth is that the Tory voters Ukip need to attract are much less likely to vote for a party led by a Scouser whose platform consists of reassuring working-class voters their NHS and benefits are safe.
 
It is Farage and his allies – most notably the party’s main donor Arron Banks – who hold the most power over Nuttall’s future. Banks, who Nuttall publicly disowned as a non-member after he said he was “sick to death” of people “milking” the Hillsborough disaster, said on the eve of the Stoke poll that Ukip had to “remain radical” if it wanted to keep receiving his money. Farage himself has said the party’s campaign ought to have been “clearer” on immigration. 

Senior party figures are already briefing against Nuttall and his team in the Telegraph, whose proprietors are chummy with the beer-swilling Farage-Banks axis. They deride him for his efforts to turn Ukip into “NiceKip” or “Nukip” in order to appeal to more women voters, and for the heavy-handedness of his pitch to Labour voters (“There were times when I wondered whether I’ve got a purple rosette or a red one on”, one told the paper). 

It is Nuttall’s policy advisers - the anti-Farage awkward squad of Suzanne Evans, MEP Patrick O’Flynn (who famously branded Farage "snarling, thin-skinned and aggressive") and former leadership candidate Lisa Duffy – come in for the harshest criticism. Herein lies the leader's almost impossible task. Despite having pitched to members as a unity candidate, the two sides’ visions for Ukip are irreconcilable – one urges him to emulate Trump (who Nuttall says he would not have voted for), and the other urges a more moderate tack. 

Endorsing his leader on Question Time last night, Ukip’s sole MP Douglas Carswell blamed the legacy of the party’s Tea Party-inspired 2015 general election campaign, which saw Farage complain about foreigners with HIV using the NHS in ITV’s leaders debate, for the party’s poor performance in Stoke. Others, such as MEP Bill Etheridge, say precisely the opposite – that Nuttall must be more like Farage. 

Neither side has yet called for Nuttall’s head. He insists he is “not going anywhere”. With his febrile party no stranger to abortive coup and counter-coup, he is unlikely to be the one who has the final say.