In Defence of Faith Schools

Writing in York Vision, Michael Cooper compellingly argues against the continuation of faith schooling. In his piece, he suggests that faith schools are detrimental to wider society on the basis that they actively promote an arbitrary form of discrimination, while also preventing the next generation of young people from integrating with their surrounding communities. In a time when divisions based on race and religion have become discomfortingly wider, this is certainly not an unreasonable proposition.

Are faith schools really such a menace to society? If you watched Richard Dawkins documentary (in which the aforementioned article takes most of its examples), then you might think so. And while I agree that Dawkins brings to light many problems with faith based education such as the lack of official accountability, its simplistic analysis largely reduces both the academic and social value that such institutions have.

Using a Muslim teacher’s lack of belief in evolution, one part of Dawkins’ documentary was carefully curated in a way that presented faith schools as centres of indoctrination, in which religious orthodoxy was placed before the ‘objective’ model of education taught at secular schools. Yet such theatricality similarly excersises ideology under the guise of education, positing the idea that schooling is simply a linear process- in which a teacher dumps ‘facts’ onto students, expected to absorb and later regurgitate it. Unfortunately, many schools across the country work like this. However, I’d argue that the large number of good faith schools acknowledge the diversity of opinion and views held by their pupils and wider society, so while teachers may hold their own opinions concerning issues like evolution or the ‘big bang theory’, they will also teach alternate views, whether from other faiths or derived by secular science. To teachers like Erfana Bora, this type of teaching not only allows for a larger breadth of knowledge, but also encourages a greater degree of acceptance, tolerance and lively debate which are supposedly absent in faith schools.

What of the accusations of religious indoctrination? I’d argue that rather than encouraging radicalization, separation or fundamentalism, faith schools are a useful institution in which such checks can be made. Here lies a fundamental difference between a standardized ‘faith school’ and the Saturday/Sunday religious schools that I attended during my childhood; while the latter requires no formal teacher training or adherence to a regulated curriculum, the former are often not subject to such lax monitoring. A report commissioned by the Institute of Public Policy Research (IPPR) in 2011 (pdf) indicated that the majority of Muslim religious schools had staff officially trained by teachers, performing to either a ‘good’ or ‘excellent’ standard, while also promoting inclusive, tolerant values. While some anomalies did exist, it indicates a need for deeper regulation and background checks, rather than a total denouncement and abolition of faith schools. Further, I’m sure we’d be far more comfortable with qualified and trusted Imams teaching the true tenants of Islam rather than other groups tied to more vicious, ideological agendas. After all, the radicalization of the Woolwich attackers or July 7th bombers were not linked to Islamic faith schools, but rather vigilante groups skilled in exploiting vulnerability. In this sense, abolishing faith schools will actually do little in tackling the societal rifts that supposedly precede such atrocities.

Finally, what about the accusation of child abuse? Both Dawkins and the philosopher A.C Grayling argue that forcing children into a system of education based on the beliefs of their parents is a form of coercion. As a secularist and humanist myself, I sympathise with this, in the belief that all young people require the space and intellectual development in order to reach their own conclusions in terms of belief. However, it should be noted that choice works both ways, and we reach a fairly contentious point in removing a parents’ right to choose what type of education is best for their child. Take this in other, non-religious contexts; would it be just as righteous to question a parent’s right to educate their children privately? What about home-schooling, or in institutions teaching in foreign languages? While some might argue that these models don’t lend themselves to ideological parameters, what they do indicate is the diversity by which parents are otherwise assumed to hold direct responsibility over the education of a child. In that case, don’t religious parents- who believe that religious education is the most likely route in which their children can lead happier lives, have both the right and responsibility to ensure this future for their child, despite the criticisms of secular observers?

While I commend Cooper for his insightful analysis, I can’t help but think that his overall argument is somewhat short sighted. While I certainly do not feel that religious schools are flawless, I do believe they contribute not only to wider society, but also to the array of choices parents may make when it comes to education. And if we are truly wary of ideology seeping into our education system, surely a uniform, one-for-all model of primary and secondary educational establishments is a far less desirable replacement.

We Should Intervene If We Suspect Domestic Abuse

telegraph.co.uk

You see a well-known husband and wife outside a London café. The husband clutches his wife’s neck tightly with one hand, while holding a cigarette in the other. The wife is visibly distressed and in tears, leaving the restraint after the incident. Would you intervene?

You might have recognize this scenario, as a reference to celebrity couple Charles Saatchi and Nigella Lawson, the former whose public display of violence has recently made national headlines. And while Lawson involuntarily becomes the poster figure to highlight domestic abuse, it seems that Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg has also landed in hot water, finding himself conveyed by both Tory and Labour figures as misogyny incarnate. When asked whether he would have intervened on his radio show last Thursday, Clegg replied;

“I don’t know whether that was just a fleeting thing…or…I’m at a loss to be able to put myself in to that position without knowing exactly.” As a result of this hesitation, he was criticised for both his lack of leadership, and a failure to “understand domestic violence toward women”.

I’d like to say I would act differently. After all, I’ve heard numerous stories regarding disgusting acts of abuse involving members of my own extended family. Yet in the back of my mind, I wonder if I’d have the courage to intervene in such situations, particularly those I’m personally separated from. While it’s certainly easy to make moral judgments while sitting in armchairs (or in this case, behind computer screens), practicing such virtues are another matter entirely.

Statistics gathered by the Home Office indicate that  around 1.2 million women were subject to some form of physical or sexual abuse in the past year. More harrowing was that in all these cases, only 1 in 10 reported them to the police.

From the few victims that have been willing to speak out in public, most had a similar story; partners who would gradually become more abusive as their relationships went on, starting off through verbal and psychological attacks, before becoming more frequently physical. The majority of this abuse would go on behind closed doors, for the protection of the private home not only shields abusers from the public eye- it also renders the victim powerless, ashamed and more often than not, silent.

Certainly, this is challenging to those who suspect these abuses are taking place- something that perpetrators are more than happy to exploit. However, there is a deeper cultural issue at hand; where we exist in a society still heavily rooted in individualism, the concerns of others- particularly in private realms, usually remains a secondary concern. As such, even if we may wish to intervene many of us are likely to second guess our decisions, wondering if it’s really our place to take action in what might be perceived as ‘domestic disputes’. After all, what if our good intentions are met with violent retaliation or worse, denial? How can victims of abuse be helped if they also protect their partners?

The unfortunate outcome of such rationalisations only results in more vulnerable people unable to attain help, especially if unlike Lawson, they are seen as less newsworthy by photographers and tabloid journalists. Indeed, the price of our decision not to intervene in potentially violent domestic disputes only perpetuates the cycle of abuse inflicted onto hundreds, if not thousands of women every year.

The Lawson case is remarkable, purely on the grounds that the photographer did in fact ‘intervene’ in a way where neither party could deny what was taking place. Even as Saatchi attempted to neutralise the situation by accepting a lackluster police caution, making the images of Saatchi’s abuse public allowed for the problem to be highlighted visually, shocking those of us who had only read of such incidents.

But let’s remember the thousands of victims who don’t have photographers following them- whose abusers won’t be publicly shamed into defeat. In fact more likely than not, they will be able to get away with their crimes, even if their partners leave them. Only through creating a social consensus in which the balance between a private life and communal concerns are readdressed, can the resources necessary for the safety victims of abuse be available. While it’s certainly true that local government shouldn't be cutting funding to womens' refuges and domestic abuse charities, confronting the issue begins with a tough acknowledgement; regardless of our hesitance, we should be more willing to intervene if we believe that the most vulnerable in society are being abused or exploited.

While it might be easy to remain in a state of ignorant bliss, disregarding the problem only makes us complicit in the actions of abusers. Lawson’s case makes clear that violent abuse can happen to anyone. Surely with this in mind, it’s all the more important to bring those guilty of such deplorable acts to justice.

Liberation Economics

Hunched in the shadow of his esteemed predecessor last month, British Prime Minister David Cameron boldly asserted that “we are all Thatcherites now”. Far from a political battle cry as some commentators had speculated, the somewhat disregarded importance of the statement actually lay in its ontological development. Though the phrase had previously been developed by former Labour party secretary of state Lord Mandelson, its modern development actually found its roots in one of Thatcher's own ideological parents; the Nobel Prize winning economist, Milton Friedman.

In 1965, Time Magazine had attributed Friedman to the quote, “We are all Keynesians now”. Playing on Harcourt's dictum in 1887 that the Labourer's allotment bill had introduced to first brand of universal socialism, Friedman reacted against President Nixon's decision to withdraw from the Gold Standard. Nixon's move broke the Bretton Woods system established in 1944, suspending the US Dollar's convertibility into gold. Yet rather than a run on the currency, both Nixon and and then Treasury secretary John Conally justified the change through a peculiar language of liberation. Addressing the public, Nixon claimed that the reform would free Americans from the turmoil of consecutive financial crises. By America taking the lead in monetary exchange, it would provide the foundations for a stable, easily controllable system of financial relations across the world.

Yet far from ushering a new model of liberty, Friedman saw this form of government intervention as a form of entrapment. Instead, he preached the gospel of the Chicago School of Economics- which posited a rational, 'value-free' model of economics as a pure science. Channelled through Fleet Street and the BBC,  Friedman's construction of liberty precipitated on an abstract, linear understanding of 'choice' ; Though it was certainly true that economies could be 'controlled', its mechanics would derive from collective consumer actions, in the form of Market Forces. Government had no place in becoming ideological alchemists.

More interesting, was that this philosophy had been moulded in the century of ideology. The shaping of 'positivist economics', with its supposedly value-free, subjectivist assertions, physically manifested into anything but. The emergence of individualistic ideas into the public sphere, such as those of Fredrich Hayek and John Nash allowed for the development of a new type of policy making- one which Mrs. Thatcher adopted and eventually built her legacy on. Upon winning the 1979 general election, Thatcher echoed Friedman in perpetuating the importance of Economic liberty. While previous Labour and Conservative governments had perceived the economy as a means of distributing resources and organising society, she would set the animal spirits free; market forces would determine the the outcomes of social problems, ultimately freeing individuals of government interference.

This paradigm shift has had its consequences; since Thatcher, the gap between the rich and the poor has widened dramatically, and for those in the 'middle', living conditions and future prospects are bleaker than ever before. Such people would be hard pressed to identify themselves as 'Thatcherites'. At the same time, our politics has been paralysed in this Friedman inspired rhetoric, with even the Labour party making a redundant case for state interventions. Indeed, despite its social consequences, the positivist economic model has become embedded into the ideological fabric of modern liberal discourse, with the continued argument that market forces are the most 'efficient'  method for distributing social justice.

For the most part, we are not 'Thatcherites'. But what is seemingly clear, is that we are all trapped by a form of Thatcherism which won't be dying any time soon. 

Don't Buy Into UKIP's Tea Party Politics

Does anyone remember the ‘Tea Party’ coup that befell the Obama administration in 2010? A recap : The US economy was performing horribly, Obama’s stimulus package had failed to produce it’s expected short term effects and the Democrats hadn’t shown much of the reforming tenacity they had promised in 2008. The result? Obama lost control of Congress, and the thumping majority held by the Democrats had all but diluted. Instead, the US was left with a new cohort of Republican candidates, directed and funded by an ideologically radical ‘Tea Party’. That movement, which claimed its intention to ‘restore’ constitutional values through reforming the Republican Party, then went on to lose the 2012 election by a considerable margin.

It seems that something remarkably similar is now happening on our shores. UKIP’s victory in the local council elections last month continue to send cold shivers to the Tory party. Now, backbench revolts aren’t anything new. Historically, both Conservatives and Labour have had to deal with their own rebellious MPs, especially Gordon Brown, whose premiership saw the highest level of party rebellions- including a fair amount of planned coups, in post-war political history.

Backbench, inter-party disputes are for the most part, easy to deal with. What David Cameron currently faces is a different beast entirely; while sustaining attacks from both his party and the press, one thing he can’t seem to quell is who’s pulling the strings. Enter UK politics’ own mad hatter, Nigel Farage – a charismatic, but ineffectual troll turned Machiavellian whose stated ambition is to stage an ideological coup of the Conservative party. Which means spending less time with the dwindling number of ‘progressive Cameronites’ and more time chatting to disenchanted Tory voters. Farage, just like many of the Tea Party Patriots, has found that the most effective way to talk to a disenchanted grassroots is by personally relating politics to their lives, even if that means overstating the effects of an EU exit, immigration freeze and… that’s pretty much it. With a pint and a ciggie, that type of soft power might give Joseph Nye a run for his money.

Following the Tea Party, Farage’s strategy has reaped its short term gains. In the US, the new right-wing radicals helped build the foundations of the GOP’s 2012 strategy. Similarly in Britain, UKIP seem to be determining the shape of the Tories come 2015, only vocalised through the mouthpiece of former Tory beasts, Nigel Lawson and Michael Portillo. In the most recent debacle over the Same Sex Marriage Bill, where less than half of his backbenchers supported him, the Prime Minister is facing even more criticism for supposedly prioritising “socialist” policies. To the Tory old guard and their activists, many of whom belong to an older generation, returning to a morality politics anchored in tradition offers the clearest route to electoral salvation. It’s the same sort of principle that guided John Major’s “Back to Basics” ethos, only this time guided by mischievous political phantoms, rather than party sleaze.

General elections are a completely separate kettle of fish – not simply because of its national focus, but also that the British public are less likely to take risks in voting for radical parties. Though bleeding hearts on both sides make no attempt to hide their contempt for centre politics, it still remains a determining factor for any party wishing to seek office. In addition, the increasing number of young voters- many from diverse social and ethnic backgrounds – demands a reasoned, rational and inclusive politics. While UKIP risk losing their core constituency through changing their flagship policies after their surge, the Tories still have a fair amount of time to claim the centre ground to secure a majority in 2015. Spooked as he might be, Cameron is probably better off staying on course.