Oldknow Academy, one of the Birmingham Schools under inquiry. Photo: Getty
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In the so-called “Trojan horse” debacle, Birmingham schools have become Gove’s sacrificial lamb

The problem in these schools is not an issue of radicalisation.

Are there problems in some of the schools at the centre of the so-called “Trojan horse” debacle? Certainly there are.

Having spoken at length with various members of the community in Birmingham, there are undeniable concerns among certain – yes, including Muslim – students and parents pertaining to a narrow interpretation of Islam being enforced within some schools. There are also allegations of mismanagement, nepotism and of the misuse of funds. The detail of these issues is likely to emerge in upcoming reports.

But what the problem is not, is an issue of radicalisation. Rather, attempts to link the problems to radicalisation reflect an expansion of the counter-terrorism agenda to the policing of socially conservative views among some Muslims and the effects of this policy are likely to be disastrous.

The entire affair has been worrying on many levels, not least in the language used to report the story. Several outlets have referred to a “Muslim plot” – would that be all Muslims plotting to take over our schools? The uncritically regurgitated term “Trojan horse”, a term widely employed by the far-right, while the Times ran a headline “Gove told to launch dawn raids on schools”, with the implicit suggestion that the schools were being raided for terrorism-related activities. The man at the centre of it all, Michael Gove, opted for dehumanising imagery in his call to “drain the swamp“ in reference to the Muslim community – a swamp which, if one accepts the analogy, would be harbouring the crocodiles. None of this can or should be understood outside of the rise in support for the xenophobic UKIP or a rise in racism. There is a broader climate in which both the media and politicians operate and feigning ignorance of it doesn’t mitigate the reception of this terminology.

The narrative, despite denials to the contrary, has been that schools have been infiltrated by extremists who are at risk of radicalising Muslim children. The remedy? “Prevent” teaching, as recommended by Ofsted, in order to inoculate them. As if by virtue of being Muslim, children should be assessed as potential terrorists who require early intervention to stop them jumping on the conveyor belt of violence. There couldn’t be any more damning indictment of this government’s engagement with communities than its choice to identify individuals on the basis of a reified conception of their identity, rather than as multifaceted citizens. These children are Muslim, but that doesn’t mean they’re potential radicals, despite what the demonising front cover of the Spectator might suggest. They’re also brummies, British and Asian and African, they’re football fans and aspiring entrepreneurs. The lens which brands them a potential “risk” is itself a grave threat to social cohesion.

Underlying this stigmatising view of Muslim identity is the assumption that the source of radicalisation is a given interpretation of Islam which has widespread enough traction within our society, that it could be openly taught within several schools, with the complicity of parents, students and officials. It’s also an insight into a flawed counter-terrorism strategy, the so-called conveyor belt theory, which assumes that socially conservative views can represent the first step on a broader path to terrorism. In fact, studies suggest that a strong religious identity is an important bulwark against the risk of radicalisation. The profile of the 7/7 bombers, politically radicalised by the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan but otherwise not particularly devout, alleged to have been smoking cannabis and drinking alcohol – suggests a far more complex understanding of radicalisation is required. A perfect illustration of this confusion is the classic scene in the cult film Four Lions when the police raid the house of the devout, big-bearded brother of the true terrorist, Riz Ahmed’s character, rather than his and his Lion King-watching, clean-shaven, “modern” family. In so doing, they like Gove and his allies, confuse illiberal, conservative religious views with extremism, itself usually a very modern reinterpretation of Islam.

Meanwhile, the neo-conservative voices within the Tory party continue to push an unsubstantiated view of radicalisation. In July 2010, a leaked government memo concluded that it was wrong “to regard radicalisation in this country as a linear ‘conveyor belt’ moving from grievance, through radicalisation, to violence…”. Although foreign policy isn’t the only catalyst for terrorism, in her evidence to the Chilcot inquiry, the former head of MI5 Eliza Manningham-Buller said that the invasion of Iraq had radicalised a new generation of young British Muslims, highlighting the centrality of conflicts abroad in the motivations of extremists. Ultimately the journey to terrorism is a complex one which cannot be easily situated on a neat continuum. Despite this, Gove has been pressing ahead for a crackdown on nonviolent, as well as violent, “extremists”, a strategy which in its current form involves casting the net so wide as to try and encompass entire communities, alienating and stigmatising whole sections of society in the process.

I have no interest in defending some of the practices reported in these schools. I think music and drama should remain on the curriculum. I think trips abroad cannot implicitly exclude any students. And I think vetting speakers who address children is essential. But I will not accept that the over-reach of a number of zealous governors, who advocate a socially conservative view of Islam in their schools, represents a threat requiring a national existential soul search and a crackdown on all Muslims.

What this affair does indicate is the failure of the application of neo-liberal “laissez-faire” principles to education. On the subject of academies, Gove spoke of giving schools more freedom, specifically by ensuring they could opt out of the type of supervision previously guaranteed by local authority control. Academies and free schools give communities the power to define their own curriculum and ethos and yet when we consider that ethos to be at odds with our educational ideals, we denounce those who are merely making use of provisions made available through this policy. This is where a brouhaha over the shortening of days during Ramadan for example, or of the cancelling of tombola and raffles in schools with an overwhelmingly Muslim student body, is less evidence of a nefarious plot than of anti-Muslim prejudice. Academies and free schools have been given the sort of autonomy which allows them to do exactly this.

And this is also why there is an issue of double standards. Politicians have been at pains to claim this is not a Muslim issue. The truth is, there are many indications that even before any reports had been compiled, the DoE were treating any problems found within these schools through the lens of counter-terrorism, rather than an internal educational concern. The decision to appoint the head of the inquiry into 7/7, Peter Clarke, to investigate and give repeated warnings of an “extremist plot”, even when Birmingham council had themselves dismissed the anonymous letter as a fabrication, set the tone. What should have been evaluated as the likely pitfalls of an ill thought through educational scheme, has been painted as a stealth takeover by radicals. The message this sends to Muslims is loud and clear – your participation in the public sphere will be afforded intense scrutiny and any suggestion that your moral values might be influencing your work risks you being branded an extremist. One Muslim governor of an “outstanding” rated school in east London told me: “I always thought engaging with public institutions was a good thing. After all this, I worry that saying I’m a governor and a Muslim will evoke suspicion about my ‘agenda’.”

As someone educated in the French educational system, I cannot wrap my head around the idea of allowing different communities to define their own notion of education. Education is a critical tool of socialisation: it imbues us as citizens with a sense of our national identity and priorities, and it cements a shared narrative of common purpose. It is precisely this socialising experience which fosters a sense of collective values and ideals, however disputed their ultimate definition may be. Government failures in providing a streamlined educational framework which would ensure all children receive an education to standards we as a society deem beneficial, are what is truly to blame here. A truly liberal society accepts the right to voice illiberal views. It might however, not wish to create the conditions for them to devise their own curriculums and run publicly-funded schools.

But the real tragedy here is the damage done to community relations, to trust and to the willingness of Muslims to engage in a system which seemingly paints the participation of the devout as a part of a stealth takeover. After years of telling Muslims to engage in public institutions, the damage caused by the government’s hawkish mischaracterisation of this issue will reverberate in years to come.

Myriam Francois-Cerrah is a freelance journalist and broadcaster (France, Middle East and North Africa, Islam) and a DPhil candidate in Middle Eastern studies at Oxford University.

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How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism