It’s been on my mind to write about this for a while, but I was waiting for the right trigger in current events. This week, news has broken that a student at Leeds University has been suspended from her work at the student radio station and investigated by the Students’ Union for, allegedly, “not acting in a duty of care,” putting the “health and safety” of members at risk, not “upholding the values” of Leeds Student Radio and the Student Union, and “bringing the reputation of the University, the [Student Union, or Leeds Student Radio] into disrepute.”
I’d already had some online contact with Connie Shaw, as she seemed to me to be a very impressive young woman who has been treated quite outrageously by her university and I sent her a message to that effect; her situation has now been reported in the mainstream media, so many more people are aware of what has happened to her. Connie was interrogated by the Union about her “gender critical views” (which are protected in law) and it seems pretty clear that the apparent complaints about her “conduct” arise from the fact that she has launched a podcast on which she interviewed Graham Linehan, Andrew Gold and Charlie Bentley-Astor; these are all people who have had personal experiences and/or hold views that do not align with the prevailing narrative on a typical university campus these days, so Connie has found herself in a whole heap of trouble. Unfortunately for Leeds, Connie is not somebody to be pushed around or silenced and her predicament has now been highlighted in the national press.
I wish my recollections were clearer for the situation I wish to contrast this with, but when I was at university I really was not involved with Union politics. I made sure to vote for representatives, as I have always believed that voting is important. One of the things that has driven me absolutely wild over the many years that I have spent signed up to various Unions is that the average member rarely votes. The number of conversations I have had with people who bemoan the fact that their Union committee is dominated by political zealots at the same time as admitting that they don’t bother to vote makes me want to bash my head against the wall. I will point out until the end times that the reason why so many Unions are dominated by representatives with extreme or bizarre views is because people with extreme or bizarre views get off their butts and run for office, and people who support those views get off their butts and vote for them. The problem is rarely the extreme or bizarre views themselves (which are not held by the vast majority of Union members), it is the apathy of the majority which allows them to thrive. So, yes, I always voted. My only other involvement was I acted as a volunteer for the Nightline service, a telephone support line manned by students and modelled on the service run by the Samaritans. But that was it. I didn’t go to hustings and I wasn’t involved with the day-to-day drama of Union politics.
Despite my lack of involvement, even I managed to hear about the fact that we had a Nazi on campus in 1992. “Nazi” is an over-used word these days and Connie Shaw has joked about being called “a Nazi” by those who disagree with her. It is beyond doubt that, in the current climate, this ridiculous insult is regularly rolled out by people on the political left when they don’t like what somebody else is saying. But this was university in 1992: there were no websites, no chat rooms, no social media, no hashtags and no mobile phones. We used to leave a note on our doors to tell friends where to find us. These were different times in every sense: I recall hearing another student making an openly homophobic remark about one of our lecturers within earshot of dozens of students (and the lecturer himself), and I was the only one to call him out on it. Even when I did so, nobody else backed me up. And again, when I say “homophobic” I really mean it: “Better keep your backs to the wall, lads” was what he actually said as the poor man walked past. Yeah, I know. This was how the world was in those days and believe me when I say that very, very few people were willing to step in and say something. At 19 years old I was already one of them and I’m proud of that.
So, the concept of labelling anyone who failed to meet the exacting liberal standards of a certain kind of Guardian journalist “a Nazi” had very much not taken off in 1992. Quite the contrary. Yet rumours abounded that we had a genuine, bona fide Nazi on campus and he was causing trouble. I first became aware of the situation when I heard that this self-confessed Nazi had applied to speak publicly at a Union meeting and lots of people were very upset about it. From what I could gather, there was a lobby of students pushing that he should be disallowed: nobody wanted to hear what he had to say and why should we have to put up with his revolting opinions being platformed and aired in our own Union? I had a considerable amount of sympathy with this view and understood the strength of reaction that his application to speak had sparked. However, after much discussion, everyone accepted that under the rules of the Union – of which this student was a member – Nazi Boy had the right to speak. Lots of people were very unhappy about it, but those were the rules.
On the day after the event, I spoke to one or two people who were present at the meeting when it happened. Apparently, the guy stood up and said his piece. Nobody shouted him down, because the decision had been made that under the rules he was allowed to speak. However, by the same token, nobody was interested in listening. His speech was not good: it was not articulate, it was not rational and it was, of course, offensive. After he sat down, nobody applauded. The meeting moved on. That was the sum total of his impact: zero. Following what turned out to be quite the non-event, the student in question did not last the year on campus: he left after a few months, and was quickly forgotten.
I am agog as to how quickly we have shifted from a committee of students in 1992, who reasoned that the right to free speech must prevail above all else – even if that meant sitting on their hands and grinding their teeth while the worst of all views were shared publicly – to so many of them believing that nobody has the right to say anything that might challenge a prevailing social narrative in 2024. Here’s the thing, kiddos – when you let people speak, they reveal the truth about themselves and their views. If those views are insane, offensive or irrelevant, perhaps it is all to the good that they are exposed for what they are. If I’m honest, I’m still not sure whether it truly was the right decision to allow a Nazi to speak in the Union, but I believe that the scenario is worth recalling and I applaud the Union committee of 1992 who believed that the agreed democratic process was what mattered most, despite the pressure that they were under to ban the guy from speaking.
We have moved from a situation in which the youngest of people were capable of grasping the dangers of curbing free speech in even the most challenging of circumstances, to one in which students refuse to even entertain a narrative which may jar with their own. Quite how these young people navigate their way through the world I struggle to understand. What a terrifying and dangerous place it must seem, when you cannot cope even with hearing some politely-spoken words you disagree with. It seems to be a frequent occurrence in many universities now, with students either refusing to platform certain speakers or protesting their very presence when they do appear. I defend anyone’s right to protest, but it seems to me that this important right is now exploited by people who simply do not wish to allow others to speak freely. Ask any student who protested the appearance of Kathleen Stock at the Oxford Union what their purpose was and I am quite sure that they will happily tell you that they wanted to drown her out, as they believed that her views were hateful.
Perhaps some students are terrified of any alternative narrative because deep down they are actually afraid that they might be persuaded by it. What if I start to believe what the other side has to say? Yet surely it says very little for the strength of anyone’s convictions if they are genuinely terrified of a conversation. I guess if you lack all moral fibre and courage then it’s easier to scream until you can no longer hear the other speaker. In that way, you also get to drown out the niggling voice inside your head: the voice that says maybe – just maybe – you’re the bad guy.
