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Modern British History

Did the Feminist Challenge Actually Shake Up the Print Press in 1969? Press Representations of Women in the Run-up to Women’s Lib

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The late 1960s were a turbulent time of rapid change; the mini skirt was the height of fashion, affluence was on the up yet women fighting for their liberation were criticised and mothers who worked were regarded with contempt.[1] Similar themes persist today and, despite progress, over half a century later full equality has not been achieved. Women still do not have equal pay in many professions and the press and media continue to treat men and women differently.

The Way, July 1969. Courtesy of the TCU Library Collections ©. http://www.unionhistory.info/equalpay/display.php?irn=811&QueryPage=advsearch.php (Accessed 15 March 2020).

1969 was a decisive year for second-wave feminism; protests were beginning and women were claiming political and social agency in Britain. These years laid the key groundwork for the historically influential feminism of the 1970s. The print press, although now competing with TV, continued to have high levels of readership, and thus heavily influenced and manipulated public opinion. This made the press vital in shaping responses to early feminism.

On the 18 May 1969, one thousand men and women assembled and marched for equal pay in Trafalgar Square. The newspaper reports on this were hugely varied. The Daily Mirror covered it in detail, describing placards labelled ‘Equal Pay for Work of Equal Value’, but it certainly did not express outward support for the marchers.[2] The elite press typically published short, disengaged reports, ignoring the issues behind the protests.

The Observer neglected to even comment on the 18 May demonstration. Meanwhile the Daily Mail criticised the women for not carrying their own banners, commenting that ‘it takes MEN to carry those banners’. It went on to mock the women who retreated inside ‘to sort matters out in a more traditionally feminine way – over a cup of tea.’[3] Feminist activism like this seldom made the front pages and was rarely taken seriously. There was undoubtedly variety between publications and even within them, but these publications had substantial impact on popular perceptions of feminism.

The British press not only tended to reject this early second-wave feminism but also outlined conflicting notions of femininity. On one hand women were expected to exemplify the perfect sexless housewife and thus were relegated to the domestic sphere. Meanwhile Page Three sexualised and objectified the female body, often disguising itself behind female sexual liberation, not dissimilar to the “sexual liberation” found in the underground press. All the while the newsrooms and the hard news reports remained male dominated.

The maternal, domestic, sexless woman was isolated to the ‘Woman’s Page’ of the elite press and popular press; bombarded by adverts for domestic appliances, makeup and all things intrinsically ‘feminine’. The national press presumed women to have no interest in the hard news stories and excluded them from the “serious” business of the public and political realms. Many of the elite papers virtually disregarded women’s issues and neglected to report on women’s news stories.

Female protests were often demeaned or not reported on at all. For example, when reporting on a strike in January 1969, the Guardian published a very small article titled ‘Another strike by women’.[4] In this vein, female activism was perceived as an inconvenience, a nuisance, a phase that would pass. This sort of reporting trivialised the women’s movement in Britain and diminished the prominence of their activism.

Articles that did question women’s position in society were limited to one-off opinion pieces written by women rather than a sustained effort to support feminist policies. In broadsheets such as The Times, where almost half of the paper was dedicated to ‘Times Business News’ and a singular page was aimed at women, it is hard to see any truly positive responses to women’s liberation. Even in a Times article, endorsing women’s work, it was assumed this work could only be part-time so as to allow women to maintain their ‘domestic commitments’.[5]

The popular press encouraged the domestic woman but also flaunted young women or ‘girls’ for the male gaze. The Daily Mail encouraged sexual rivalry amongst women, describing the ‘jungle warfare of sexual cut and thrust’ they competed in.[6] Their reporting supported the idea that women existed to please men; a notion that was replicated across student papers and the underground press. Once the 1970s and the sexual revolution hit the sexualisation of women continued to rise, now under the guise of sexual freedom. Page Three emerged and the Sun even published a long statement addressing their portrayal of women: ‘The Sun, like most of its readers, likes pretty girls. And if they’re as pretty as today’s Birthday Suit girl, 20-year-old Stephanie Rahn of Munich, who cares whether they’re dressed or not?’.

Degrading, though not explicit language, plastered the pages of the tabloids, and women remained subordinate in the newsrooms too. Women were typically limited to writing soft news articles, women’s pages and advice columns, perhaps the odd opinion piece if they were lucky! The underground press defined themselves as liberal spaces but their newsrooms were certainly not. Marsha Rowe worked for Oz and recalled women being limited in the newsrooms; ‘however alternative our life style might be, we still did the domestic duties for men and children at home.’[7] Almost all news publications, bar the feminist press, were male dominated and thus many sexist attitudes remained. In fact this did not change for many years; the Sun did not get its first female editor until 2003 and even then she did very little to change reporting on women and did not touch Page Three.

Oz Magazine, no. 31, November 1970, p. 2. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Oz-31-p2.jpg (Accessed 15 March 2020).

Undoubtedly second-wave feminism and all of its work was successful; it saw huge political progress and encouraged women to observe their own oppression. However we cannot disregard the importance of the national press. It is typical for historians to seek transformations, particularly within gender studies, but perhaps identifying the continuities is just as important. Our battle has certainly not been won and there is still much continuity in press representations of women. The growth of social media has seen a continued obsession with female appearance and women’s sexuality remains a fairly taboo subject. Equal Pay remains a prominent issue, even fifty years after it was brought to the forefront of the political agenda and feminism is regularly considered a dirty word. The powers of the press can never be underestimated and the new social media giants are not all that dissimilar from the 1960s press. It may be a different decade but many of the issues women faced then persist today.

Izzy Larsen is a final-year History undergraduate at the University of Sheffield. She completed the Sheffield Undergraduate Research Experience (SURE) researching the relationship between women and the press. She focused on 1969 as a decisive year for the feminist movement in Britain and explored how the national press responded to this emerging movement. Her research also considers how many of these issues persist for contemporary women in Britain and across the globe.

Cover Image: Women’s March, London, 21 January 2017. Courtesy of Nessie Spencer – Freaks&Gigs Photographie. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Women’s_March_London_(32993174595).jpg (Accessed 18 March 2020).

[1] Birmingham Daily Post, 23 April 1969, p. 25.

[2]Daily Mirror, 19 May 1969, p. 32.

[3] Daily Mail, 19 May 1969, p. 11.

[4] The Guardian, 10 January 1969, p. 18.

[5] The Times, 1 January 1969, p. 5.

[6] Daily Mail, 2 January 1969, p. 6.

[7] M. Rowe, ‘Spare Rib and the Underground Press’, The British Library. https://www.bl.uk/spare-rib/articles/spare-rib-and-the-underground-press (Accessed 15 March 2020).

 

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The Cato Street Conspiracy, 1820

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In the early evening of 23 February 1820, some twenty men assembled in a small hayloft above a stable in Cato Street, off the Edgware Road in London. They were led by Arthur Thistlewood, a well-known militant follower of the radical doctrines of Thomas Spence; the majority of the other men were destitute tradesmen from England, Scotland and Ireland. Joining their ranks was the Jamaican-born William Davidson. The hayloft had been converted into the ramshackle headquarters of a revolutionary conspiracy to assassinate the British Cabinet, who were believed to be dining in nearby Grosvenor Square.

The conspirators were driven by a thirst for vengeance for the ‘Peterloo massacre’ the previous summer, when a peaceful political rally calling for parliamentary reform was charged by the Manchester Yeomanry, killing eighteen and injuring over 700 people. Thistlewood was also enthused by the brutal assassination of Charles Ferdinard, the heir to the French throne, in Paris, ten days before the fated gathering in Cato Street. Ferdinard was stabbed on leaving an opera house in Paris by Louis Pierre Louvel, a fanatical Bonapartist who craved nothing less than the eradication of the Bourbon monarchy. Thistlewood was newly invigorated on hearing of Louvel’s deed, believing that the time had come to strike against aristocratic and monarchical rule in Britain.

The Cato Street conspirators conceived an even more audacious action than the assassination of Ferdinard. After gathering at Cato Street to collect weapons (mostly pikes, swords and homemade guns), the revolutionary band intended to walk the short distance to the home of Lord Harrowby, the President of the Privy Council, the host for the Cabinet’s dinner. It was to be the ministers’ final meal: the conspirators planned to kill everyone in the dining room who held a position in government, with decapitation reserved for the two most loathed ministers, the Home Secretary, Viscount Sidmouth, and the Foreign Secretary, Lord Castlereagh. Their heads were to be mounted on spikes and paraded ghoulishly in public as befitted traitors to the ‘People’.

Following the tyrannicide, the revolutionaries planned to seize symbolic buildings and establish a provisional government. On hearing the news of the death of the Cabinet and reading the declaration of the new government that promised a new dispensation based on the emancipation of the people, they believed that radicals in the capital would join the conspirators en masse, which in turn would trigger a national rising. Eighteen-twenty was to be the year of the British Republic.

The conspirators were, however, betrayed. There was no dinner for the Cabinet in Grosvenor Square that night; unbeknown to Thistlewood and his followers, they had been set up by an agent provocateur, George Edwards, who had infiltrated the conspiracy. The hated Lord Sidmouth authorised the publication of the false notice of the Cabinet dinner to lure out the conspiracy from the shadows.

As the conspirators prepared for their mission, the Bow Street Runners (an ancestor of the Metropolitan Police) charged into the stable on Cato Street. The scene was chaotic, as the Runners frantically climbed up a ladder to the hayloft. The candles were extinguished by the conspirators as they attempted to escape; as fighting broke out in the darkness, Thistlewood fatally stabbed an officer. With the assistance of army troops, the revolutionaries were eventually rounded up and arrested. The Cato Street conspiracy was over.

Justice was swiftly dealt out to the ring leaders. Eleven men were tried at the Old Bailey in April: five were exiled to Australia for life; one served a prison sentence; and five, including Thistlewood, were hanged on 1 May. The hangman held up their severed heads to the gathered crowd, denouncing the condemned men as traitors to the Crown.

The legacy of the Cato Street conspiracy is a mixed one. Most radicals denounced the conspiracy and its aims once the plot became public. With the passing of the generations, Thistlewood and his band of revolutionaries were not claimed by any radical tradition, in the same way that nineteenth- and twentieth-century Irish republicans venerated past figures associated with violent struggle, such as Theobald Wolfe Tone and Robert Emmet. Given the absence of a coherent revolutionary tradition in modern Britain (as opposed to Ireland), the Cato Street conspiracy does not quite ‘fit’ into a neatly defined historical narrative that emphasises peaceful and constitutional radical political reform.

It is, perhaps, for this reason that the significance of the plot is overlooked in (or even entirely missing from) many accounts of the early decades of nineteenth-century Britain. While the plot can be (and often is) dismissed as an act of lunacy, such a perspective overlooks the depth of hostility among radicals towards the government in the years immediately following the end of the Napoleonic Wars, especially in the aftermath of Peterloo. The refusal to treat the conspiracy seriously also means that historians can easily miss the international revolutionary networks that surrounded the ringleaders. The men who gathered in the hayloft on Cato Street in February 1820 did not trigger an insurrection against Britain’s aristocratic masters, but this was not necessarily a certainty, especially in the context of spiralling revolutionary fervour in Europe.

Making sense of the Cato Street conspiracy is a difficult but rewarding challenge. This is why the recent publication of an edited volume of essays that emerged from a conference on the conspiracy held at the University of Sheffield in 2017 is so welcome: as the book reveals, there is much to be said about this almost forgotten plot, from the conspirators’ Caribbean connections to lives of the exiled rebels in Australia. The Cato Street Conspiracy: Plotting, Counter-Intelligence and the Revolutionary Tradition in Britain and Ireland, edited by Jason McElligott and Martin Conboy, illuminates many aspects of the foiled plan and its wider significance.

With the bicentenary of the conspiracy, it is perhaps time to reconsider Britain’s complicated radical past, warts and all. The transition to democracy was not as linear and peaceful as it retrospectively appeared.

Colin Reid is a Lecturer in Modern British and Irish History at the University of Sheffield. His research interests lie in exploring the political, cultural and intellectual mentalities at the heart of the British-Irish dilemma from the French Revolution to the Northern Ireland ‘Troubles’.

Cover image: The arrest of the Cato Street Conspirators, 1820.

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Old Prejudices, New Debates: J.A. Hobson and Anti-Semitism

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“It is, of course, disconcerting, perhaps even surprising, for those who expect anti-Semites to fit a certain character type, and to emerge from a certain place on the extreme right-wing of the ideological spectrum, to find what appears to be a strain of anti-Semitism in the writings of this otherwise humane, left-leaning social theorist.”[1]

The quote above is from an analysis of the works of the late 19th and early 20th social theorist and ‘economic heretic’ John Atkinson Hobson which evaluated whether it is fair to label him an anti-Semite, and the nature and the extent of his anti-Semitic statements.[2]

Similar questions recently resurfaced, sparked by a column in The Times that focused on how in 2011 Jeremy Corbyn provided a foreword for a reprint of Hobson’s Imperialism: A Study (1902). Hobson’s analysis of the underlying dynamics of imperialism garnered widespread attention upon its release, and over the following decades it became a key work in the anti-imperialist canon. Indeed, its influence stretched from liberals to Bolsheviks.[3] It thus seems unsurprising that Corbyn – a self-identified anti-imperialist – would lend his support to the book.

However, the focus of The Times piece was a specific passage in Imperialism – and other lengthier sections in Hobson’s wider corpus – that suggest an anti-Semitic mindset.[4] This material was brought to attention to support the long-running claim that Jeremy Corbyn and sections of the Labour Party are either anti-Semitic or at least ignorant or uncaring about the manner in which anti-Semitic tropes are reproduced by some on the left, often as part of critiques such as of the societally detrimental impacts of the financial sector or the Israel and Palestine conflict. The case of Hobson provides some useful parallels.

Fittingly, much of the current debate between historians unfolded in the pages of the Guardian, a newspaper Hobson had been closely linked to.[5] He became a close confidante of the newspaper’s longstanding editor C.P. Scott, acted as the Guardian’s correspondent during the Boer War, and continued to contribute articles over the following decades, as well as regularly being sought for advice by members of the editorial team.

Hobson, C.P. and L.T. Hobhouse – the liberal sociologist – were also key figures in the emergence of the New Liberalism at the end of the 19th century. This was an attempt to go beyond the classical liberalism of the Victorian period, redefining the state as a means of enabling greater freedom and individual agency by mitigating the destructive effects of poverty and unequal opportunity.[6] Their efforts played a key role in helping lay the foundations for the socially progressive policies of David Lloyd George and forged ties between many New Liberals and the social democrats and socialists of the Labour Party, which eventually resulted in the post-Second World War welfare state. Aside from his influential analysis of imperialism, Hobson also provided key contributions such as the concept of a ‘living wage’ and his theory of underconsumption.

An op ed in the Guardian criticised Corbyn for providing the foreword to Imperialism without denouncing its anti-Semitic passages and Hobson’s similar statements in other works, while Miles Taylor argued that “antisemitism is inseparable from [Hobson’s] attack on imperialism”. Robert Saunders argued that Hobson was “viciously anti-Semitic”, and that although we should not ignore this aspect of Hobson’s thought “it may be possible to detach his more valuable insights from the anti-Semitic poison coursing through them”.

Donald Sassoon and Tristram Hunt stated that it was reductive to frame Hobson’s work through the lens of anti-Semitism, arguing that such passages only constituted a tiny segment of his written output and were marginal to his wider arguments. Moreover, it was pointed out that many at the time shared such views – spanning both the right and the left.[7] Abigail Green argued that the anti-Semitic passages deserve to be foregrounded precisely because of this wider cultural context.

Although anti-Semitism was deeply embedded in right-wing politics, it was also entrenched in sections of the left and the Labour movement. It was also present among fellow ‘economic heretics’ that are hard to categorise such as Major Douglas and those that supported his ‘Social Credit’ programme, and prominent critic of the gold standard Arthur Kitson.[8] Many of these groups and individuals reproduced and fixated on anti-Semitic ideas more often as time passed.[9]

As the two most in-depth assessments of Hobson’s possible anti-Semitism have shown, Hobson did not conform to the typical model of the anti-Semite,[10] and, contrary to many others at the time, his prejudice appears to have lessened and eventually disappeared from his later work. Allett suggests the pivotal moment was the Boer War and the understanding of intolerance Hobson gained from his analysis of jingoism.[11]

However, Hobson’s turn away from anti-Semitism did not result in him publicly denouncing it.[12] Moreover, although Hobson became an ardent opponent of Nazism, his championing of economic explanations for its emergence only served to help obscure the anti-Semitism that lay at the heart of the ideology.[13]

The example of Hobson shows that it is possible to expunge problematic and harmful tropes from otherwise vital analyses. But it also demonstrates that this is not enough. Prejudice and harmful scapegoating need to be resisted, and personal failings on such matters should be acknowledged.

Geoffrey Alderman has convincingly argued that Corbyn is not an anti-Semite, pointing to his long history of supporting Jewish communal initiatives. Rather, Corbyn’s anti-Zionism and his antipathy towards imperialism and the financial sector likely explain his lack of effort to tackle anti-Semitism.

Important critiques are undermined when they are infiltrated by anti-Semitic tropes, prejudice and conspiracism, as the cases of Hobson, Kitson, Douglas and many others demonstrate. Allowing such ideas to propagate is unacceptable, and combating them is especially vital during periods of rising intolerance such as the early 20th century and, indeed, today. Hobson should not be defined by the anti-Semitic content in his earlier works. But the insights to be gained from exploring his relationship to the wider patterns of prejudice of his time should not be neglected either.

Aaron Ackerley is an Associate Tutor at the University of Sheffield. He recently completed his Wolfson Foundation funded PhD thesis at Sheffield, titled Economic Ideas in the Interwar British Daily Press. It examines the contention that knowledge is power by analysing the specific ways in which economic ideas were created, reformulated, and transmitted by journalists. You can find him on Twitter @AaronAckerley.

[1] J. Allett, ‘New Liberalism, Old Prejudices: J.A. Hobson and the “Jewish Question”’, Jewish Social Studies, 49.2 (1987), p. 99.

[2] The designation ‘economic heretic’ is taken from Hobson’s autobiography, and signifies the radical nature of many of ideas. Although he had aspirations to become an economist, Hobson was shunned by the academic economics community because of his criticisms of orthodox approaches.

[3] It was especially influential among liberals that took a pro-Boer stance during the Boer War. Lenin and Trotsky were both impressed by Hobson’s analysis. T. Brewer, Marxist Theories of Imperialism: A Critical Survey (2nd edn, London, 1990), ch. 4.

[4] The offending passages are indeed damning. The key section in Imperialism is only a few lines long, but reproduced the long-standing idea of a Jewish financial conspiracy with its talk of “men of a single and peculiar race, who have behind them many centuries of financial experience”. Hobson’s analysis had been influenced by his time spent in South Africa, and his book on the Boer War from two years prior contained more extensive denunciations of Jewish financiers and businessmen and even more prejudicial language, such as referring to Jewish financiers as “parasites”. J.A. Hobson, Imperialism: A Study (London, 1902), p. 64; J.A. Hobson, The War in South Africa: Its Causes and Effects (London, 1900), p. 69. As will be discussed, Hobson’s earlier work is where nearly all of the anti-Semitic tropes he reproduced are to be found, with such ideas largely disappearing from this later writings.

[5] Although this had been when it was still called the Manchester Guardian.

[6] Such an approach is now often labelled Social Liberalism, to differentiate it from Socialism.

[7] It is worth mentioning that eugenics also had supporters across the political spectrum at this time – including many on the left – and there was often a direct link between eugenicist and anti-Semitic beliefs stemming from pseudoscientific racial science.

[8] R.D. Boyce, British Capitalism and the Crossroads (Cambridge, 1987), 64; J. Stingel, Social Discredit: Anti-Semitism, Social Credit, and the Jewish Response (Montreal, 2000).

[9] See, for example, how the anti-Semitism and the idea of a Jewish financial conspiracy went from being only appearing in passing to being a central concern in the work of Arthur Kitson. A. Kitson, The Money Problem (London, 1903); A. Kitson, A Fraudulent Standard: An Exposure of the Fraudulent Character of Our Monetary Standard with Suggestions for the Establishment of an Invariable Unit of Value (London, 1917).

[10] Colin Holmes perceptively analysed how central anti-Semitism was to Hobson’s thought, and concluded that although much of his earlier work did essentialise Jewish people and reproduced conspiracy theories about ‘Jew power’ in a manner similar to widespread discourses at the time, overall “it would be dangerous to regard Hobson as prejudiced against Jews in the classical sense; the indications are that he did not possess a hostility towards them which was central to the economy of his psyche”. C. Holmes, ‘J.A. Hobson and the Jews’, in C. Holmes (ed.), Immigrants and Minorities in British Society (London, 1978), p. 144; Allett, ‘New Liberalism, Old Prejudices’.

[11]  As he states: “Hobson’s rethinking of the “Jewish Question” most likely came about as a result of his scrutinizing of the operation of prejudice in others. By trying to penetrate the mind of the Jingoist, Hobson appears to have gained fresh insight into his own prejudicial ways of thinking, as well as a new appreciation of the predicament of his victim, having suffered rude handling at several public meetings when trying to present his minority “pro-Boer” case.” Allett, ‘New Liberalism, Old Prejudices’, p. 110. However, it has also been pointed out that Hobson did slip back into using the same anti-Semitic tropes on at least one occasion when discussing financiers, in his 1931 book God and Mammon. W. Brustein, L. Roberts, The Socialism of Fools?: Leftist Origins of Modern Anti-Semitism (Cambridge, 2015), p. 185.

[12] Nor did he revise the offending passages in his earlier works in subsequent print editions.

[13] Allett, ‘New Liberalism, Old Prejudices’, p. 112.

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Free Trade Brexit: Think Tanks and Pressure Groups in Modern British Politics

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The role of opaquely-funded, right-wing think tanks, pressure groups, and lobby groups in the Brexit saga has been foregrounded recently. This is partially due to the surprisingly central role the Jacob Rees-Mogg-fronted European Research Group (ERG) has come to attain in the lead up to the original date for Britain leaving the EU and calls to revoke Article 50.[1] The longer history of such groups in British politics is underappreciated, however.

Think tanks and pressure groups played a role in the Leave campaign, though their influence is impossible to evaluate. Their efforts were only one part of the much wider array of forces presenting the Leave case and attempting to convince the electorate.[2] Aside from politicians and political parties – such as anti-EU Tory backbenchers, UKIP, and a smattering of Labour Lexit campaigners – sections of the British media, especially the tabloid press, also played a central role.[3] .

However, it is by defining how the withdrawal agreement should be managed, and the direction of Britain afterwards once outside of EU, that think tanks and pressure groups have been most influential. Different groups see Brexit as providing an opportunity for the radical overhaul of British society. Lexit advocates see it as an opportunity to reform Britain on more social democratic – or even socialist – grounds.

This, however, is wildly utopian. Unsurprisingly, the debate about how to reshape Britain post-Brexit among Leavers has come to be dominated by right-wing – often free market – voices, such as think tanks like the Institute of Economic Affairs and the Adam Smith Institute that are ideologically close, and often directly linked, to leading Brexiteers.[4] They see Brexit as a means of escaping EU regulations, enabling their ideal small-state, free trade Britain. This often joins with nationalist concerns. Some can even be plausibly described as nostalgic for empire: seeking Commonwealth nations as replacement trade partners is an obvious example. Such concerns are central to many in UKIP and the Conservatives, exemplified by Jacob Rees-Mogg having attended the annual dinner of the Traditional Britain Group, an organisation with a history of hard-line nationalism that veers into racism.[5]

Small groups focused on thrashing out policy, engaging in propaganda, and allowing politicians and ideological allies to interact have always been a feature of politics. Ginger groups, parliamentary committees, and dining and debating societies have been central to modern British politics.[6] But the growth of think tanks and similar organisations led to new, more professionalised forms. More funding can be directed at promoting certain causes, allowing teams of researchers and campaigners to be employed full time to both craft policies and political rhetoric and to build and maintain political and media networks to spread their ideas.

There was a boom after World War II. Right-wing think tanks and industry groups began to grow in number and influence as part of a ‘counterrevolution’ aimed at reversing the post-war Labour government’s social democratic reforms which had ushered in Keynesianism, a mixed economy, and the welfare state.

However, such groups began to emerge decades prior. The early twentieth century struggle between free trade and protectionism was a key moment, and an instance of political conflict with interesting resonances with Brexit.

It began in earnest with Joseph Chamberlain’s Tariff Reform campaign, championing imperial preference.[7] In one sense this was the opposite of Brexit, calling for Britain to become more closely enmeshed in an economic union, rather than leaving one. However, like with Brexit, there was also a deeper cultural aspect. Whereas those promoting Brexit value British identity and want to avoid becoming more politically and culturally tied to wider Europe, many proponents of imperial preference saw it as a way to rebuild a shared identity between imperial nations, particularly with the white-majority Dominions that had been granted political autonomy.

Chamberlain founded the Tariff Reform League in 1903,[8] and there were a number of industry groups which pushed for protectionism such as the Empire Development Union (EDU) and the Empire Industries Association (EIA). The Conservative politician Leo Amery played a key role, helping set up and manage the Imperial Fund, which covertly financed a range of organisations including the Trade Union Tariff Reform League.[9]

Free traders had their own organisations, such as the Free Trade Union. Whether they were decisive in nurturing popular support for free trade, or conversely a manifestation of popular feeling, Britain at the opening of the twentieth century has convincingly been described as having been a ‘Free Trade Nation’. Some of those involved in these efforts would go on to play key roles in setting up post-war free market think tanks and industry pressure groups such as Aims in Industry.

Elections fought over free trade vs protectionism resulted in Conservative electoral defeats in 1906 and 1923, but the protectionist pressure groups continued their efforts, while large sections of the press heavily pushed the policy.[10] By 1932, imperial preference was introduced at the Ottawa Conference. Whether the electorate had been swayed is hard to say as opinion polls had not yet been introduced and there was no referendum.[11] Yet politicians who favoured the policy believed – or could claim – they now had a mandate.

After Ottawa, groups such as the EDU and EIA rolled back their activities. The future course of action was relatively straightforward and decided directly by the executive.

Brexit is different. Only a stark choice between Remain and Leave was offered in the referendum, even though the possibilities for what happens after are much more open-ended. This has allowed right-wing political groups that had campaigned for Leave to assume an influential position.[12] This is not surprising given the rise in importance of such organisations, their close links to most of the leading Brexiteers, and the increasing impact of ‘dark money’ over politics.

Patriotic and free trade ideologies are combined in the Brexit visions of the most prominent Leavers. Somewhat ironically, it seems the two opposing sides of the free trade versus (imperial) patriotism struggle which led to the rise of the modern think tank and pressure group in Britain are now fused, and pushing for the same outcome.

Aaron Ackerley is an Associate Tutor at the University of Sheffield. He recently completed his Wolfson Foundation funded PhD thesis at Sheffield, titled Economic Ideas in the Interwar British Daily Press. It examines the contention that knowledge is power by analysing the specific ways in which economic ideas were created, reformulated, and transmitted by journalists. You can find him on Twitter @AaronAckerley.

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[1] This would put on hold, or even provide the possibility of cancelling, Brexit. The ERG is a Parliamentary research support group, consisting of a group of Conservative MPs which have used hundreds of thousands of pounds of tax payers’ money to fund its activities. However, it fits into a wider pattern of opacity that is the feature of many think tanks and pressure groups, with the ERG refusing to publicly reveal its membership list. There are also questions concerning its wider sources of funding, and many of its leading figures are closely connected to prominent right-wing free tanks and pressure groups.

[2] One of the more contentious elements have been claims of foreign interference in the referendum campaign, both state-backed as in the case of Russian propaganda and by private interests such as the US billionaire Robert Mercer. The latter has cultivated his own network of think tanks and alternative media companies, as well having financed Cambridge Analytica, the data analytics firm implicated in the breaking of electoral law.

[3] Tabloid newspapers such as the Daily Mail and the Daily Express were powerful champions of Leave, and decades of anti-EU stories featuring in their pages, many often being grossly inaccurate, helped lay the foundation for the Leave victory. The circulation of these titles has been steadily decreasing, which led some commentators to suggest their power was waning, but even aside from influencing their own readerships these titles helped set the wider media agenda, such as coverage across the BBC and especially the influential Today show on BBC Radio 4.

[4] For example, Rees-Mogg was one of the most high-profile champions of the Institute of Economic Affair’s post-Brexit policy plan.

[5] Mogg later said he regretted attending, but the fact he was trading on similar rhetoric and operating in linked networks led to his participation in the first place.

[6] This covers parliamentary committees and affiliated societies that are still important such as the Conservative 1922 Committee or the Labour Fabian Society, as well institutions that were more influential in earlier decades such as the Liberal Reform Society and cross-party dining and debating clubs such as Grillion’s, or imperialist groups such as the Coefficients and the Compatriots Club.

[7] This meant the erection of a protective tariff wall around the British Empire, designed to foster intra-imperial trade at the expense of non-Empire nations.

[8] The proprietors of newly founded popular daily newspapers such as the Daily Mail’s Alfred Harmsworth (later Lord Northcliffe) and the Daily Express’s Arthur Pearson became members.

[9] Amery also created a state agency, the Empire Marketing Board, which launched large-scale initiatives aimed at urging consumers to buy Empire goods, utilising poster campaigns and films.

[10] Most notable was the Daily Express, acquired by Lord Beaverbrook in 1916.

[11] Though in the preceding years some opponents had called for one, such as the liberal, free trade supporting newspaper the Manchester Guardian. ‘Books of the Day’, Manchester Guardian, 17 Jul 1930, 7.

[12] These groups are better able to promote their plans about how to reshape Britain’s post-Brexit future as many opponents of Brexit are focused on calling for a second vote.

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Thirty Years of the Fatwa

Rushdie

In late 1988, Muslim protestors in Bolton and Bradford, two poor and ethnically divided northern hotspots, were encouraged by television reporters to burn Salman Rushdie’s allegedly blasphemous novel The Satanic Verses. Soon afterwards, on 14 February 1989, the Ayatollah Khomeini’s fatwa against Rushdie and his publishers had dramatic impact in the UK, as well as on global geopolitics. Thirty years ago today, Iran cut its diplomatic ties with Britain in the course of the controversy. Following Rushdie’s ‘bloody Valentine’, the spotlight fell on Muslims. Previously they had been a virtually invisible minority group in Britain, subsumed within the broader category of ‘Asians’.

In this post we want to discuss the Rushdie affair in the context of a tide of rising Islamophobia and stereotyping. Since 1989, and accelerating after 9/11, Britain has seen a clash of fundamentalisms between extremism in the name of Islam on the one hand, and Western neoliberalism or state extremism on the other.

The Satanic Verses is about South Asian (mostly Muslim) and other migration to the UK, and the loss of religious faith. It contains a notoriously intangible section in which a character, Gibreel, who is psychotic, has a dream about someone called ‘Mahound’ (an insulting Orientalist term for the Prophet Mohammed). Rushdie, or Gibreel, or Gibreel’s disturbed subconscious, imagines Mahound as a paedophilic libertine who is also a ruthless businessman. Drawing on the now much-discredited satanic verses myth, the narrator suggests that sections of the Qur’an were dictated by the devil.  Prostitutes give themselves names of Mahound’s wives to excite their clients, and these names just happen to be those of the historical spouses of the Prophet Mohammed. There are countless other jabs at Islam, and religion more broadly.

This section of the book caused great offence to many, though not all Muslims. Particularly offended were Muslims who, like Rushdie, hailed from the Indian subcontinent, where the Prophet and his family are held in especially high veneration.  As the controversy spread, the novel was banned in India and burned in demonstrations in the United Kingdom and Pakistan. This culminated with Iran’s Ayatollah Khomeini issuing a fatwa (a legal opinion rather than a binding law) in February 1989 against Rushdie and his publishers. He followed this up by offering a million-pound bounty for the person who could kill Rushdie.

The fatwa was abhorrent and indefensible, but the dominant liberal reaction to the Satanic Verses protests was also questionable. Rushdie was positioned by commentators such as Fay Weldon and Malise Ruthven as one of their own. A pale-skinned, Cambridge-educated exponent of free speech, Rushdie’s Voltairean upholding of debate and democracy was juxtaposed with the supposedly barbaric and alien values of the protestors.

A reductive binary of liberating freedom of expression versus repressive religious culture emerged repeatedly in responses to the controversy by writers, publishers and journalists, as well as members of the cultural commentariat in Britain and elsewhere. Rushdie’s backers typically based their support for him on an absolutist defence of free speech. In this way, they echoed Rushdie’s own self-construction – expressed in essays such as ‘In Good Faith’ and ‘Is Nothing Sacred?’ as well as his 2012 memoir Joseph Anton – as a courageous artist fighting against reactionary forces and speaking truth to power.

The reality was, and remains, much more complex than this. Freedom of speech is not a neutral concept or principle, and religious offence is always shaped by context. The majority of Rushdie’s British Muslim dissenters were far from powerful. Their protest was influenced by their social, racial and religious marginalization, and largely dismissed or vilified by privileged members of a liberal, secular arts establishment.

In the years following the publication of the novel and the subsequent furore, a number of controversies involving a clash between creative freedom and religious offence have grabbed media headlines. In Britain, the staging in 2004 of Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti’s play Behzti at the Birmingham Rep angered some British Sikhs. Then in 2006 small-scale protests erupted in London’s East End in response to the filming there of the adaptation of Monica Ali’s novel Brick Lane. Nearby, in the Netherlands, Theo van Gogh and Ayaan Hirsi Ali’s controversial depiction of Islam in their 2004 film Submission led to van Gogh’s murder. The following year saw global protests erupt in response to the publication of cartoons depicting the Prophet Mohammed in Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten. Meanwhile the Paris-based magazine Charlie Hebdo has been in the eye of a similar storm on several occasions and with devastating consequences.

Responses to these disputes by liberal commentators have remained hamstrung by a black-and-white worldview. Free speech is seen as a transcendental and absolute good, and religion – most often Islam – as censoring and censorious. Yet, there have been glimpses of a more gradated understanding in recent years. In 2015, for example, acclaimed writers including Peter Carey, Taiye Selasi and Michael Ondaatje objected to PEN’s decision to award their Freedom of Expression Courage prize to Charlie Hebdo because of the magazine’s offensive depictions of Muslims and other disenfranchised groups.

It is crucial to reflect on the events of thirty years ago and their legacy to ask how we might move forwards in a context that is deeply divided and plagued by Islamophobia. As Anshuman Mondal shows, any artwork intended for the public domain has a transactional dimension, and speech is a social and communicative act. Thus, creativity isn’t just about self-expression, and freedom of speech might work to forge understanding across differences. We must all recognize that some people are freer to speak than others. Also important, we suggest, is the imperative to speak – and listen – with social responsibility.

Rehana Ahmed is a senior lecturer in postcolonial and contemporary literature at Queen Mary University of London. Her most recent book is Writing British Muslims: Religion, Class and Multiculturalism.

Claire Chambers teaches global literature at the University of York and is the author of four books including Rivers of Ink: Selected Essays.

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PIP, Parity, and the Past: why history matters

L0006105 String galvanometer and human electrocardiogram

Few would deny that living with a mental health condition today often means living with stigma, limited support, or access to services. It has also become recognized that these issues do not affect people living with a physical health condition in the same way, thus leading to calls for ‘parity of esteem’ from charities such as Mind. [1]

Parity of esteem is best understood as valuing mental health equally with physical health, and in 2015 a government taskforce was created to achieve this. [2]

Nonetheless, disparity was recently brought into sharp focus by researchers at the University of York, who revealed significant differences in the allocation of Personal Independence Payment (PIP) to people who have a mental health condition, in comparison to people living with physical health conditions such as diabetes.[3]

PIP was introduced as part of the 2012 Welfare Reform Act, and supports people aged 16 to 64 who are living with long term health conditions or disability. [4]

York researchers cited the “informal observation” of appearance and body language in order to make decisions regarding eligibility as a potential cause of this disparity.

Nonetheless, history provides useful insight when attempting to understand how, rather than just why, such disparity between the mental and the physical may emerge in welfare contexts.

This is exemplified by the work of Rhodri Hayward, who traced the emergence and uses of the concept of the ‘unconscious’ in early twentieth century British primary healthcare. [5]

In this comprehensive book, Hayward’s focus on how the unconscious facilitated the interrogation of insurance or compensation claims in the wake of early twentieth-century welfare legislation, is particularly compelling.

Hayward defined the unconscious as the belief that there is “some sort of inner agent which records our experience and organizes its embodiment” which is beyond our control. [6]

In the early twentieth century, the passage of the Workmen’s Compensation Act (1897, 1900, and 1906), and the National Health Insurance Act (1911) offered a new scheme of sick pay and remuneration for the working population of Britain. These welfare policies set in motion significant changes in primary care. In the doctor/patient relationship the interests of the latter changed, as they became a claimant seeking financial compensation or insurance, not just medical treatment.

This legislation thus also stimulated a wave of insurance and compensation claims from the working population. Contemporaries lamented the economic and social implications of this increase, highlighting that a situation had been created where “any experience of sickness was bound up with the possibility of unearned reward.” [7]

The unconscious was vital to navigating and disciplining these complexities, and identifying malingerers. Crucially, the use of this concept allowed claims to be assessed without creating an oppositional relationship between the doctor and the claimant.

Moreover, contemporary medical professionals identified the group of “unconscious malingerers” whose “symptoms may be founded on fact, but are mostly imaginary.” [8] Such claimants continued to seek compensation long since their “real physical disabilities” had disappeared. [9]

Technological developments in electrophysiology facilitated the interrogation of a claim, as by detecting electrical currents produced by the heart, the ‘galvanometer’ was believed to reveal the “unspoken attractions and intentions of an investigative subject.” [10] In becoming quantifiable and measurable, the acceptance and use of the unconscious were solidified.

Hayward also sheds light on the place of the unconscious today, as he suggested that we may now have entered an “age of cosmetic psychiatry”, where psychological health is understood as within our control. [11]

In this new age, we are encouraged to shape our identities through an eclectic package of pharmaceutical and therapeutic treatments such as anti-depressants or mindfulness courses.

If we accept this shift, it is important to question what psychological concepts have or will replace those such as the ‘unconscious’ as a means of understanding the health, characters, and lives of others and ourselves. It is moreover useful to consider how these concepts may operate, discipline, or discriminate in a welfare context, such as a PIP assessment.

In his work, Hayward demonstrated how the unconscious shaped insurance and compensation administration. Married with new language and developing electrophysiological technology, this concept supported the interrogation, investigation, and assessment of claimants, and most importantly, the detection of malingerers. The acceptance and meaning of the unconscious was in turn shaped and reinforced by the language and practice which grew up around it.

By analyzing the use of this concept, Hayward demonstrated that it is possible to grasp why some people were granted insurance or compensation, and why others were not. His contentions and approach are therefore useful when trying to understand the current enduring and damaging disparity between mental and physical health, which has been highlighted by researchers and evidenced in PIP assessments.

Hayward’s work provides us with a useful template to analyse how, and therefore to understand why, people with mental health conditions are currently losing their welfare entitlement to PIP. His contentions should force us to question how current psychological concepts continue to facilitate and shape the decision-making process and outcome for PIP claimants, and whether these concepts have a role to play in disparity.

There are no simple answers to why parity of esteem continues to be so elusive in practice. This blog hopes, however, to have presented some useful tools to begin to ask the right questions.

Kate McAllister is a first year PhD student at the University of Sheffield’s Department of History. Her research is funded by the Wellcome Trust, and aims to contextualise the current parity of esteem agenda, demonstrating that although this concept has shaped policy for over a century, implementing it in practice has recurrently failed. To navigate the complexities of this issue, her thesis focuses on the outbreak of Epidemic Encephalitis in Sheffield during the 1920s and 1930s.

 

[1]https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/your-stories/valuing-mental-and-physical-health-equally/#.XFVyJS10dQI

[2]https://www.england.nhs.uk/mental-health/taskforce/

[3]https://www.theguardian.com/society/2019/jan/22/mentally-ill-people-more-at-risk-losing-benefits-study-shows

[4] https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/2010-to-2015-government-policy-welfare-reform/2010-to-2015-government-policy-welfare-reform

[5]Rhodri Hayward, The Transformation of the Psyche in British Primary Care, 18701970, (London: 2014)

[6]Hayward, Transformation of the Psyche, xi

[7]Hayward, Transformation of the Psyche, p.37

[8]Hayward, The Transformation of the Psyche, p.36

[9] Hayward, Transformation of the Psyche, p.36

[10]Hayward, Transformation of the Psyche, p.42

[11]Hayward, Transformation of the Psyche, p.130

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