(CNB Comment feature published 17/4/13)
Margaret Thatcher’s death on 8th April continues to provoke reactions from the Oxford student community. Whilst one student arranged a protest at her funeral, others attended memorials in honour of the former Prime Minister. Reactions have been seen from both ends of the political spectrum, with particular debate sparked by the cost of the funeral.
Thatcher’s funeral was held on Wednesday at St. Paul’s Cathedral. She was accorded a ceremonial service with full military honours. Big Ben fell silent throughout the service. More than 700 members of the armed forces took part at an estimated cost of over £10 million, though no exact figures have been released.
The cost of the funeral to the state has angered some Oxford students. Luke Buckley, a Wadham graduate student thought the cost was “an affront to democracy, and to freedom.”
“Irrespective of her rule, the simple fact that she is so divisive should denyher a lavish state funded ceremony at a time when we’re removing very basic and for that reason utterly essential benefits from terribly disabled children, a consequence of her policies,” he said.
Others also expressed their ire at the nature of the funeral. Dominic Francis, a student at Ruskin College, an independent educational establishment in Headington, organised for people to turn their backs on the coffin as it entered the Cathedral. He said that this was “in protest to the state funding of the funeral of Margaret Thatcher.” He expressed his preference for a private funeral, and commented that when mourners “hold a state-funded, large ceremony like that, they open themselves up to public criticism.”
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On the other hand, Stephanie Cherrill, President of the Oxford University
Conservative Association, has criticised Francis’ protest, describing it as
“disrespectful.” She told Cherwell that the protest was “at the very least not as distasteful as the death parties.” She added that the government should contribute for the funeral, commenting “Funding of security for the funeral is unfortunately necessary due to the massive security risk posed by extremist groups on the day; considering the government’s spending what it otherwise spends in 90 seconds on this funeral I don’t think it’s that problematic to have some contribution from the state towards the cost of her funeral.”
Cherrill has also announced that the first Port and Policy of term will be dedicated to Thatcher. Other students have also criticised Francis’ protest. One first year historian at Magdalen commented, “Dominic Francis sounds like a real twat. Funerals are for mourners, and those who do not wish to participate should be civilised enough to stay away. No body is forcing them to attend.
“I don’t really see what Francis thinks he will achieve other than getting his name in the paper. Surely he should be mature enough to be able to disagree with what Mrs Thatcher thought and did in life without trying to disrupt her family and admirers saying their last farewell.”
It is not only those on the left who have criticised the cost of the funeral.
OUCA Secretary Henry Tonks has also spoken out against it. He commented that it was “sheer effrontery for Mrs Thatcher to be so honoured when Clement Attlee, inarguably the most transformative and beneficial prime minister of post-war Britain, was not.”
The “death parties” held across the country in celebration of Thatcher’s
death have been criticised by the Oxford University Labour Party. Alexander Graham, OULC Co-Chair, said to Cherwell, “While supporting everyone’s right to free speech, OULC does not condone the holding of tasteless death parties for Baroness Thatcher, whether held in Oxford or elsewhere.”
“Even those who disagree most vehemently with her actions should understand that she is a human being and therefore entitled to some basic dignity, at the very least for the sake of her grieving family.”
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Aside from differing reactions to Thatcher’s official funeral, some students sought to pay their respects in Oxford. Jim Everett, a psychology graduate student at Corpus Christi College, arranged a service for Thatcher for those who wouldn’t be able to attend the official funeral in London. In an email to Corpus JCR, he told fellow students he would “be paying some respects privately for about 10-15 minutes in the chapel at 10.30 on Weds 17th April. No service or anything, just going to spend the time praying for Baroness Thatcher and contemplating her legacy.”
He also added “I’m sure I don’t need to say this, but those of a more socialist bent who plan on having a ‘death party’, if you could spare the Chapel for these fifteen mins for those who do want to pay their respects, that’d be great.”
However he later retracted the invitation amid fears that it had been
misconstrued as a “memorial service”. He asserted that there would be “no words or discussion about Thatcher – just silent worship”.
Henry Tonks emphasized that “Jim’s invitation was a gesture of Christian good faith, and not a political statement, and it is unfair if people see it as the latter”. Everett also described himself as “not a Thatcherite”.
A first year English student at St Catherine’s told Cherwell they were ‘not sure how Thatcher’s legacy can be remembered in a way that’s not political unless you knew her personally’. Although political stances towards Thatcher’s death and her legacy have differed greatly across the University, one student attacked the media’s use of vocabulary. Anthony Collins, former editor of Cherwell, commented that the adjective “divisive” used to describe Thatcher is one “lazily attached by most of the media, and I hope Cherwell doesn’t fall into the same trap.” He described her as making “the country and the world more harmonious, not more divisive”.
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Charlotte Cooper-Beglin attends a “Thatcher’s dead” party
Don’t tell the Daily Mail: I went to a “Thatcher’s dead” party. It was a blast.
Going to a party organised by an anarchist club, I’d had doubts. Whatever my dim views of Thatcher, a night out celebrating death does jar.
These doubts dissolve as I walk through the door. I can’t speak for the rest of the country, but at this party there is champagne, bunting, dancing and a huge sound system; but, crucially, there is no hate.
We are not using the anonymity of the internet to fire bile at those who will be hurt by it, and there are no hints of violence or thuggery. In fact it’s a night embodying hope: different generations coming together, from those who suffered at Thatcher’s hands to teenagers for whom she is a memory. They are not celebrating death but their shared commitment to co-operation, compassion and respect, and their opposition to what Thatcher represented. Right-wing press and politicians condemned these celebrations as full of ‘hatred’. In fact, their use of hatred as a political weapon, directed against welfare claimants to divide the country, means shows of solidarity are all too necessary.
My friend sums it up for me: “You know this isn’t really a party. It’s a protest. And the best kind of each always blur into the other.”
Xin Fan delves into Cherwell’s archive and digs out past coverage of Thatcher in power
The Iron Lady’s rise passed without much comment in Oxford. Cherwell’s
1979 election editorial weakly endorsed Labour. “We are not deciding The Future of Society as We Know It,” we judged. The effects of Thatcher’s policies, meanwhile, were harder to ignore. During her 1982 war in the Falklands, the Sunprinted its notorious ‘Gotcha’ headline, provoking bans in at least six JCRs. Descriptions of the tabloid ranged from “sick”, “offensive”, to “makes the Cherwell look competent”. No love lost from the Sun: “We don’t give two pins what they do”.
The 1984 miners’ strike also stirred emotions: JCRs split over donations to a strike support fund. A poll by Cherwell noted that actions didn’t quite match words – 42% said they were pro-strike, and 52% against it; few students, though, actually gave money. Oxford had a “general aura of apathy”, we observed. Keener students, though, bussed north to join the pickets.
Occasionally, the worlds of Mrs T and Oxford collided. Unemployment broke 3 million in February 1983 – the same month in which she visited her old Oxford college, Somerville, where a bust of her was unveiled. Somerville JCR voted to protest. Some thought this rude. “Ridiculous,” others retorted, “she’s being rude to over 3.5 million people.” Another said, “I thought only African dictators unveiled busts of themselves.” Cherwell’s opinion pages supported the right to “boo and hiss at the biggest baddie of them all”. Somerville’s principal denounced the “uncivilized” protest, bizarrely declaring, “If any eggs are thrown I’m very nifty on my feet and I will get in their way. I will remember for a very long time if you spoil my best dress.”
Oxford v Maggie came to a head in 1985, when academics voted more than 2 to 1 not to award her an honorary doctorate – the first Oxonian PM ever snubbed. “This Lady is for Spurning,” cried Cherwell’s front page. Protests against her outside All Souls in 1984 had led to student arrests and investi-gations into police conduct. “After six years of Tory rule and Thatcher’s blud-geons, isn’t it the very height of insensitivity to want to honour her now?” we asked. Several dons described the vote as “silly” and “petulant”; many, however, were fuming over higher education cuts. “There is a time to re-spect tradition and a time to subvert it. This is a time to subvert it,” said one.
Maggie, then, wasn’t a hit with most Oxford students. But apathy exists in all ages. Protest against her ebbed and flowed. Cherwell summed up the feel-ing in a 1990 editorial, just after she left office. “Thatcher was never so much of a mother figure as a detested aunt the kind who would tread on our little toes with her thigh boots and bring us coal for Christmas.” And thus our verdict. “Was she really as bad as we’ve all said time and again? The answer, of course, is Yes, and Probably Worse.”