Labour has big questions to answer on education

Until there is a clear political answer to Cameron's offer of state schools that look like private ones, Labour isn’t seriously in the business of debating education policy.

One of the most memorable lines in David Cameron’s speech to the Conservative conference yesterday was this peculiar boast: “I’m not here to defend privilege, I’m here to spread it.”

It was an arresting assertion that didn’t seem quite to say what it wanted to. Privilege can only be usefully defined in reference to those denied access to it. A measure of exclusion is integral to the concept, so it cannot be universal. I don’t think the Prime Minister intended to say that he planned to hoist a few more people into the ranks of an impenetrable elite.

What he was trying to say, judging by the context, was that he would like everyone to enjoy an education of the standard that is today considered a rare privilege. A less memorable line that makes sense of the argument came a little earlier in an extended passage on Academies and Free Schools. Cameron described his plan for “millions of children sent to independent schools - independent schools, in the state sector.”

It is worth reading the education section of the speech in full (the text is here) because it contains an argument that is central to the Conservatives’ next election campaign and deeply challenging to Labour.

When you strip out some of the gratuitous union-bashing and snide digs at a 1970s caricature of the left-leaning educational establishment, you are left with an important political calculation. It is that parents are attracted to the idea of Academies and Free Schools because they think they will equip children with the kind of education, skills and confidence that private schooling has traditionally offered, only free of charge. This proposition is central to the Conservative pitch to “aspirational voters”. It assumes that the reason a small minority of people educate their kids privately is because they want to purchase a head start in life for their offspring. It assumes also that many of the rest would gladly acquire the same service but don’t because they can’t afford it. In broad political terms, those seem like pretty sound assumptions.

There are of course people who could pay school fees but choose not to educate their children privately. Some have access to brilliant state schools (often having paid the equivalent of school fees in a house price premium for the desirable catchment area.) Some consider it a point of principle to send their children to the local state school.

There is plenty of evidence showing that family background is a better indicator of future success for children than type of schooling. There is a strong case to be made that says mixing children from all walks of life in comprehensive schools is good for society and good for the individual child’s character and learning. That is pretty much the case that Ed Miliband made in his own conference speech when he advertised at length his attendance at the local inner-London comp. This was also, of course, meant as an implicit rebuke to the rarefied world of Eton College, where the Prime Minister was to be imagined in effete isolation from the gritty realities of urban Britain. (The differently rarefied world of Miliband’s upbringing at the heart of a liberal left intelligentsia is another story.)

There is a great danger for the Labour party in conflating disdain for the kind of school that David Cameron attended with the education policy he is overseeing; to think, in other words, that because many Tories are posh, their education policy is willfully and vindictively exclusive. Academies and Free Schools are state schools. The former evolved from Labour party policy, which was developed not out of some craven or treasonous urge to smuggle Conservative ideology into the party but because the Blair government had found the limits to what could be achieved in terms of raising standards in struggling schools by simply giving them money.

There are plenty of interesting arguments to be had about the merits and failings of Academies and Free Schools in both theory and practice. Does the exercise of parental choice really work as a lever for driving up standards? Does the creation of a “quasi-market” for schools somehow degrade the concept of a universal, state education? Do new admissions policies permit discreet or explicit selection by cultural, religious or ethnic characteristics and thus damage community cohesion? Does cutting back the role of local authorities diminish democratic accountability? Does Michael Gove’s model award too much central power to the Secretary of State? Etc.

But before Labour gets too bogged down in those issues, it needs a clear political response to the basic retail offer that David Cameron spelled out yesterday: the trappings of a private school, available to anyone, funded by the state.

Plainly, every academy is not going to turn into a local Eton or Winchester. Few will come close for fairly obvious reasons to do with money. The whole experiment might turn out to be an epic disaster. But in the meantime it would be naïve of the opposition to deny that the concept of a free, private-style school just around the corner is attractive to all kinds of voters – whether you call them “the squeezed middle” or “aspirational” or just plain “parents”.

Does Labour think that Cameron's offer of state schools that look like private ones is merely unrealistic or inherently despicable? Is it the ends of Michael Gove’s revolution that the opposition rejects or the means? Does it want to compete for political ownership of academies or will it gladly see them re-branded as a Conservative idea? Until there are clear answers to those questions, Labour isn’t seriously in the business of debating education policy, which will be a problem come the next election.

 

David Cameron holds out a microphone at City of London Academy in Southwark. Photograph: Getty Images

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

Getty
Show Hide image

Misogynoir: How social media abuse exposes longstanding prejudices against black women

After decades as an MP, Diane Abbott finally spoke out about the racist and sexist abuse she faces. But she's not alone. 

“Which STD will end your miserable life?” “This is why monkeys don’t belong here.” “I hope you get lynched”. These are just some of the many messages Seyi Akiwowo, a Labour councillor in Newham, told me she has been sent over the past three weeks. Akiwowo has received reams of violent and racist abuse after a video of her suggesting former empires pay reparations to countries they once colonised (and whose resources they still continue to plunder) went viral. She doesn’t expect everyone to agree with her, she said, but people seem to think they’re entitled to hurl abuse at her because she’s a black woman.

The particular intensity of misogyny directed at black women is so commonplace that it was given a name by academic Moya Bailey: misogynoir. This was highlighted recently when Diane Abbott, the country’s first and most-well known black woman MP and current shadow Home secretary, spoke out about the violent messages she’s received and continues to receive. The messages are so serious that Abbott’s staff often fear for her safety. There is an implicit point in abuse like this: women of colour, in particular black women, should know their place. If they dare to share their opinions, they’ll be attacked for it.

There is no shortage of evidence to show women of colour are sent racist and sexist messages for simply having an opinion or being in the public eye, but there is a dearth of meaningful responses. “I don’t see social media companies or government leaders doing enough to rectify the issue,” said Akiwowo, who has reported some of the abuse she’s received. Chi Onwurah, shadow minister for Business, Innovation and Skills, agreed. “The advice from social media experts is not to feed the trolls, but that vacates the public space for them," she said. But ignoring abuse is a non-solution. Although Onwurah notes the police and media giants are beginning to take this abuse seriously, not enough is being done.

Akiwowo has conversations with young women of colour who become less sure they want to go into politics after seeing the way people like Abbott have been treated. It’s an unsurprising reaction. Kate Osamor, shadow secretary of state for International Development, argued no one should have to deal with the kind of vitriol Abbott does. It’s well documented that the ease and anonymity of social media platforms like Twitter and Facebook have changed the nature of communication – and for politicians, this means more abuse, at a faster pace and at all hours of the day. Social media, Onwurah said, has given abuse a “new lease of life”. There needs to be a concerted effort to stop people from using these platforms to spout their odious views.

But there is another layer to understanding misogyny and racism in public life. The rapid and anonymous, yet public, nature of social media has shone a light on what women of colour already know to be a reality. Dawn Butler MP, who has previously described racism as the House of Commons’ “dirty little secret”, told me “of course” she has experienced racism and sexism in Parliament: “What surprises me is when other people are surprised”. Perhaps that’s because there’s an unwillingness to realise or really grapple the pervasiveness of misogynoir.

“Sometimes it takes a lot of effort to get someone to understand the discriminatory nature of peoples’ actions,” Butler explained. “That itself is demoralising and exhausting.” After 30 years of racist and sexist treatment, it was only when Abbott highlighted the visceral abuse she experiences that politicians and commentators were willing to speak out in her support. Even then, there seemed to be little recognition of how deep this ran. In recent years, the Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn has been ridiculed for having a relationship with her in the 70s, as if a black woman’s sexuality is both intriguing and laughable; people regularly imply she’s incompetent, despite having been in Parliament for three decades and at the last general election increasing her majority by a staggering amount; she has even been derided by her own colleagues. Those Labour MPs who began the hashtag #PrayforDiane when she was off work because of illness spoke to a form of bullying that wouldn’t be acceptable in most workplaces.

These supposedly less obvious forms of racism and sexism are largely downplayed or seen as unrelated to discrimination. They might be understood through what influential scholar Stuart Hall called the “grammar of race”. Different from overtly racist comments, Hall says there’s a form of racism that’s “inferential”; naturalised representations of people - whether factual or fictional - have “racist premises and propositions inscribed in them as a set of unquestioned assumptions”. Alongside the racist insults hurled at black women politicians like Abbott, there’s a set of racialised tropes that rely on sexualisation or derision to undermine these women.

The streams of abuse on social media aren’t the only barrier people of colour – and women in particular – face when they think about getting into politics. “I don’t think there’s a shortage of people in the black community who put themselves forward to stand for office, you only have to look at when positions come up the list of people that go for the position,” Claudia Webbe, a councillor and member of Labour's ruling body the National Executive Committee told me. As one of the few black women to hold such a position in the history of the Labour party, she knows from her extensive career how the system works. “I think there is both a problem of unfair selection and a problem of BME [black and minority ethnic] people sustaining the course." Conscious and unconscious racial and gender bias means politics are, like other areas of work in the UK, more difficult to get into if you’re a woman of colour.

“The way white women respond to the way black women are treated is integral,” Osamor says, “They are part of the solution”. White women also face venomous and low-lying forms of sexism that are often overlooked, but at times the solidarity given to them is conditional for women of colour. In a leaked letter to The Guardian, Abbott’s staff criticised the police for not acting on death threats, while similar messages sent to Anna Soubry MP resulted in arrest. When the mainstream left talks about women, it usually means white women. This implicitly turns the experiences of women of colour into an afterthought.

The systematic discrimination against women of colour, and its erasure or addendum-like quality, stems from the colonial racial order. In the days of the British empire, white women were ranked as superior to colonised Asian and African women who were at different times seen as overly sexualised or unfeminine. Black women were at the bottom of this hierarchy. Women of colour were essentially discounted as real women. Recognising this does not equate to pitting white women and women of colour against each other. It is simply a case of recognising the fact that there is a distinct issue of racial abuse.

The online abuse women of colour, and black women specifically, is an issue that needs to be highlighted and dealt with. But there are other more insidious ways that racism and sexism manifest themselves in everyday political life, which should not be overlooked. “Thirty years ago I entered parliament to try and be the change I wanted to see,” Abbott wrote. “Despite the personal attacks and the online abuse, that struggle continues.” That struggle must be a collective one.

Maya Goodfellow researches race and racism in Britain. She is a staff writer at LabourList.