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Why I joined the protest at the Churchill-themed Blighty Café

We chose to question the narrative of history by simply quoting words which Churchill used himself.

At a glance, Blighty Café appears to be another one of those trendy and sophisticated coffee shops that offer the terribly appealing combination of tasteful beverages, off-beat music and the inviting aroma of freshly-baked sourdough bread. As a university student living in the area, of course, I couldn’t resist. Sounds perfect, right? Except, sitting in the mock air-raid shelter, drinking my flat white, I couldn’t help but feel ever more uncomfortable.

Blighty Café is located in North London and is not your average hipster café; Churchill memorabilia abounds, the outside area is modelled as a Second World War air-raid shelter, and there is even a life size model of Churchill so you can sip your coffee in the company of the revered wartime leader. Harmless? Chic? Unfortunately, the more I thought about it, the more I felt that it was deeply disrespectful to glorify Winston Churchill, without mentioning those who truly suffered at the hands of colonial rule.

Being of mixed Pakistani and English descent, colonial history has always been very close to home, and uncovering the horrors of British imperialism was a deeply upsetting experience. Churchill cannot be disentangled from this bloody colonial history. His instrumental involvement in the Bengal famine, his blasé attitude towards South African concentration camps and declarations such as “the Aryan stock is bound to triumph” have understandably lead me to question his heroism. With all this in mind, when my flatmate invited me to attend a surprise performance protesting against the café’s decor, I felt my presence would be justified.

“CHURCHILL WAS A RACIST!” Fifteen of us visited the packed-out Blighty Café on a windy Saturday morning. A silence fell amongst the customers as we recited Churchill’s racist outbursts; people were listening quite intently. Our performance lasted no more than five minutes. There was surprisingly (or perhaps unsurprisingly) little friction; except for one member of the cafe’s staff shouting at us as we left: “Churchill fought for all of our freedom!” I felt such a response rather confusing after we had just quoted Churchill as saying: “I hate Indians. They are a beastly people with a beastly religion.” I pondered on the man’s retort on the way home; yes, Churchill did fight for all of our freedom, but he also hated South Asians and said that they followed a beastly religion. Should I then be content with businesses in my local area celebrating his legacy?

The coverage of the protest by The Sun and The Daily Mail in the days following our performance have triggered a racist backlash, with one member of the group singled out for character assassination. We might have intended to make people feel a bit uncomfortable, but at the end of the day it was a peaceful protest. Rather than personal attacks, the newspapers could engage in a debate about our historical narratives. The coverage also noted that, like many young people, some of our group supported Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn. Yet we did not choose to involve Corbyn in our performance, and of course he is entitled to his own opinion on these matters.

On the café’s website, it is stated: “Blighty’s mission is to make the world a closer place by celebrating and improving the relationships between the people and nations of the 52 members of the commonwealth.” That sounds wonderful. I just don’t believe that glorifying figures of history with racist views is the right way to do so. The owner of the café told The Sun that Churchill did “some racist and ignorant things” but his flaws “showed he was human”. If I could ask the café owner to do one thing, it would be to read more into the darker side of Churchill’s legacy, and its effects on colonised people.

We chose to question the narrative of history by simply quoting words which Churchill used himself. It seems ludicrous that the press are so keen to shut us down. One has to ask whether they are silencing a group of students or the words of Churchill which they would rather forget.

The Blighty Café did not respond to a request for comment, but the owner has written an article about his establishment here

Neville Chamberlain returns from meeting Hitler in September 1938. Credit: DAILY HERALD ARCHIVE/SSPL/GETTY IMAGES
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Did Neville Chamberlain create the conditions for the RAF to win the Battle of Britain?

The wartime prime minister has long been reviled as the arch appeaser of Hitler and Nazism.

Flying through blue sky towards London, the Luftwaffe crews were in a confident mood. It was 15 September 1940 and their commanders had told them that, after weeks of intensive combat, the RAF was all but beaten. Even when the first British fighter planes appeared on the horizon, they remained dismissive of the threat. “Here come those last 50 Spitfires,” sneered one pilot of a Dornier DO-17 bomber. But complacency soon turned to fear. Badly misled about the strength of Britain’s defences, the Luftwaffe suffered heavy losses at the hands of Fighter Command. That day marked a decisive defeat for Germany. Hopes of achieving air superiority were extinguished. On 17 September Hitler issued a formal directive postponing indefinitely his plan to mount an invasion of Britain.

The resonance of the Battle of Britain is all the more powerful today, given that this month marks the centenary of the RAF’s foundation. Created in April 1918 through a merger of the Royal Flying Corps and the Royal Naval Air Service, the force came into being largely as a result of political pressure for an effective response to German bomber and Zeppelin attacks on southern England. More than two decades later, against a much deadlier aerial threat from Germany, the RAF had its “finest hour”, as Winston Churchill famously said. The name of Churchill will feature heavily in the RAF centenary commemorations. But in contrast, that of his predecessor in No 10, Neville Chamberlain, is likely to be either ignored or disparaged. Where Churchill is seen as the architect of salvation, Chamberlain is considered to have brought Britain to the brink of disaster.

According to the conventional narrative, his cowardly policy of appeasement emboldened Hitler, while his mix of parochialism and thrift left the country ill-prepared for war. In the memorable insult of Lloyd George, he saw “every problem through the wrong end of a municipal drainpipe”.

But this portrayal does Chamberlain a gross historical injustice. For all his undoubted flaws, including his vanity and self-delusion about Hitler, he deserves a large amount of credit for the RAF’s success in 1940. Far from leaving our defences ill-equipped, he was the leader responsible for ensuring that Britain had the planes ready for the titanic struggle against the Luftwaffe. For most of the 1930s, while he was prime minister and chancellor, his decisions provided the funds for the RAF’s expansion and ensured the money was focused on fighters. As he wrote to his sister Ida in July 1940: “If I am personally responsible for deficiencies in tanks and guns, I must equally be responsible for the efficiency of the RAF.”

In the 1930s, Chamberlain had a crucial impact on air policy because he challenged the RAF orthodoxy, which held that its central purpose was to deter a continental enemy by the threat of devastation through strategic bombing. This theory of the so-called knockout blow was known as the “Trenchard doctrine” after the first head of the RAF, Hugh Trenchard, who put all his faith in bombers and believed that fighters were an irrelevance. “The aeroplane is no defence against the aeroplane,” he once said. Even after he departed in 1930, Trenchardism remained in the ascendant until Chamberlain broke its grip.

It must be admitted that he did so partly for fiscal reasons, since one bomber cost as much as four fighters. But he also saw that new technology, particularly the introduction of radar and fast, single-seater, forward-firing monoplanes like the Spitfire and the Hurricane from the mid-1930s, had the potential to transform aerial combat by making bombers far more vulnerable.

Contrary to his quasi-pacifist image, Chamberlain showed a keen interest in the technical details of the new fighters, telling the House of Commons in May 1938 about their record-breaking speeds and their advanced features, such as “engines of unprecedented efficiency” and “variable pitch airscrews”. Indeed, in his enthusiasm for the Spitfire and Hurricane, Chamberlain showed more insight than Churchill, who, as a Tory backbencher, felt that the RAF should be concentrating production on two-seater fighters with rearward-firing turrets. In 1938 Churchill explained: “The urgency for action arises from the fact that the Germans must know we have banked on the forward-shooting, plunging Spitfire, whose attack must most likely resolve itself into a pursuit which, if not instantly effective, exposes the pursuer to destruction.”

Exactly such a plane was being made, though not in the quantities that Churchill wanted. It was called the Boulton-Paul Defiant and proved a disaster in the war, offering little more than target practice for the Luftwaffe.

Fortunately for the RAF, Chamberlain prevailed. Under his leadership, the entire focus of the government’s rearmament programme was on fighter defence. “I have won all along the line,” he wrote triumphantly in 1934 when still chancellor, after he persuaded the RAF and cabinet colleagues to agree an increase in the number of home squadrons.

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Contradicting his reputation for parsimony, Chamberlain poured money into a succession of 13 RAF expansion programmes, while, as prime minister, he approved the construction of a series of aircraft factories, most notably the world’s largest plant at Castle Bromwich in Birmingham, which was meant to produce 1,000 Spitfires by June 1940. By 1939, rearmament was swallowing 21.4 per cent of Britain’s gross national product, a figure that reached 51.7 per cent by 1940. When Chamberlain finally declared war in September 1939, Britain’s aircraft output had overtaken that of Germany’s.

During the war, Labour liked to portray Chamberlain as one of the “guilty men” whose folly had almost resulted in national humiliation. Yet much of his air force rearmament was accomplished in the teeth of ferocious Labour opposition, especially before 1938. As Labour leader between 1932 and 1935, George Lansbury, who was a Christian pacifist, said he would “disband the army and dismiss the RAF”.

The 1938 Munich Agreement was central to the “guilty men” charge sheet against Chamberlain. That is understandable. But apart from the cold reality that there was little public appetite for conflict at the time of Munich, Chamberlain understood that Britain’s aerial defences were still too weak for war. Just before he left Heston airport on 29 September, he received a letter from Sir Charles Bruce-Gardener, the chairman of the Society of British Aircraft Constructors, who privately warned that “if war was declared, the equipment available for the RAF, both in types and numbers, was far below that of the German air force”.

Munich undoubtedly bought Britain time for the RAF to modernise dramatically over the next two years. In autumn 1938 Fighter Command had just 25 squadrons, mostly made up of obsolete biplanes. By the eve of the Battle of Britain, there were 58, most of them Spitfires and Hurricanes. Denis Webb, a manager at the Supermarine company that built the Spitfire, wrote, “Chamberlain’s despised scrap of paper gave us a good return”.

Chamberlain died from cancer in November 1940, but lived long enough to see the victory in the Battle of Britain. 

Leo McKinstry is a biographer and historian

This article first appeared in the 18 April 2018 issue of the New Statesman, Enoch Powell’s revenge