In many ways, as countries around the world hold their breath and hope that they emerge from recession, the most interesting question is whether this crisis has been a mere stalling of the capitalist system, or whether it reveals fundamental flaws in the economic orthodoxies by which we lived until a few years ago.

There seems to be little hope for the latter possibility in any immediate way. What was striking at a political level throughout this global crisis was the failure of the Left to deliver the intellectual coup de grace to the status quo. The best that could be said for them is that Keynesianism, a credo declared dead (at least by Anglo-American policymakers) for the last thirty years was reanimated in groups like the G20 with consensus that fiscal stimuli were a pragmatic response to recession. But this was not a vibrant new idea, it was a desperate rehashing of an old cure that only crudely suited a new problem. What was absent was a rival ideology to step up and lead the bewildered, mass-unemployed citizens of the free-market world out of the desert.

“For many people this is the new anti-capitalist ethic, targeting the profligate consumption that dominates mature capitalist economies”

Perhaps it is the suspicion that many feel towards anything ‘ideological’. In Britain we have had 12 years of a government that strove to be anything but, for fear that it would startle the comfortable middle-classes and drive away the money-makers in the City. So, instead, it might be interesting to look at what ‘ideas’ have emerged, however tentatively, and consider whether they could grow into ideologies of their own to rival, or at least contest, the capitalist behemoth that even as I write appears to be reviving across the globe (except, that is, in Britain).

Add financial crisis to environmental crisis and you get many vociferous calls for ‘sustainability’. For many people this is the new anti-capitalist ethic, targeting the profligate consumption that dominates mature capitalist economies in America and Europe, calling for a radical overhaul of our way of life, championing a return to the ‘good life’ of simple and ecologically sound consumption. Is this an ideology? I think a plausible case can be made; a set of ideas can be extrapolated from the basic impulse of sustainability that has the potential to form the basis for a political, social, and economic system.

There is a swathe of the electorate articulate enough and organised enough to campaign for such an ideology – a new moralism could form the rump of this movement, claiming that consuming less is a duty we have to the planet and to each other. It may even subsume parts of old ideologies that have been effectively homeless in the last few decades: social justice, equality, and an idea of freedom that is not based upon our role as consumers.

“Those who argue for sustainable-living too often do so from the privileged position of material comfort”

I do not believe that this will emerge as a popular political force in the years ahead, politics and people do not work like that. It sounds wonderful in practice, the realisation of a “steady-state” economy unshackled from the need to produce more to maintain its own viability. But no one has presented a realistic vision (much less an economically-sound blueprint) for how this would work; some have tried, including Thomas Malthus’s fear-mongering about population growth and J.K. Galbraith’s model in ‘The Affluent Society’. But essential to sustainabilism (if we can call it that) is a limiting principle, one that puts ceilings on earnings, on profit, and some would argue on innovation.

Mass-consumption capitalism may be epitomised by tanker-loads of plastic toys shipped from China to Pound Land, but it has also been the driving force behind the iPod, the laptop computer, the mobile phone, and myriad products which have revolutionised our lives from communication to culture. Those who argue for sustainable-living too often do so from the privileged position of material comfort; it is a curiously upper-middle class aspiration, to conspicuously consume less, and it is easy to doubt how enthusiastic even these people would be when it came to the hard choices of what to give up (the flight to Mauritius, the MacBook Air, the espresso maker?).

Capitalism has indeed shown itself to be in need of rebalancing over the last few years, away from arcane finance and oil, towards social justice and addressing the needs of the many not the wants of the few. But in truth, there is little hope for the world if the innovative force of capitalist production cannot turn its profit-seeking impetus towards making greener cars, planes and power sources. The poor, in developed and developing countries alike, will not and should not be willing to forgo the trappings of progress just because those with abundance think that it is vulgar to go on consuming as we do now; unless we harness the innovation, we are faced with more than a Tom-and-Barbara style back to basics, we face increasing poverty and a handicap in the fight against disastrous climate change.

Have you ever reflected on why you chose to go to university? Have you ever felt the need to justify this choice? To the evergreen undergraduate, as the student loan burns a hole in your pocket and images of partying like it’s ‘Animal House’ abound in your mind, the decision may seem like a no-brainer. For the mainstream media, though, the appeal of higher education is not the hedonism and house parties, nor even an enthusiasm for a chosen subject, but the holy grail of (brace yourselves) ‘the graduate premium’. It is upon this mast that the current government has pinned its policies on tuition fees for, and on increased participation in, higher education. The graduate premium is the metric by which politicians sell the value of a degree. They argue that the nation’s young should be pouring money into the laps of our red-bricks and Russell Groups because the average graduate earns £160,000 more over the course of her lifetime than the non-graduate. Such is the pull of the graduate premium – ‘a projection of future higher earning potential related to the types of job and future career paths which are open to graduates’. Not quite the rhetorical flourish you heaped upon your UCAS personal statements to prove your enthusiasm and ambition, is it?

Upon these sturdy foundations of higher education policy, cracks have appeared. Graduate job vacancies have this year fallen by 28%, student debts may top £20,000 for the class of 2009, yet Vice-Chancellors are demanding more from your pocket. What’s more, apparently your degrees are worthless anyway! According to a recent article in The Times, ‘the economic returns for the average male arts graduate are negligible’ with ‘an earnings premium as low as £35,000′. The Spectator website hosts a report, gloomily entitled ‘Introducing the Recession Generation’, that goes further, stating that in the past ‘that number has even fallen into negative territory – meaning that the average school leaver could earn more than the average arts graduate’. These figures beg the question: why bother with such fruitless degrees at all?
I propose to ask a more important question: what is it that we really value about arts and humanities degrees? In the midst of this political and media storm, the most significant qualities of such courses are being ignored. Current concerns in the national media are no doubt fuelled by the staggering levels of debt-ridden graduates struggling to find work. As worrying as this is, it should not be accepted that the only value of a degree is the literal, economic meaning of the term.

Taking a degree is, of course, a significant financial commitment, and one which you would hope to pay off. To this extent, the graduate premium ought to be a factor in our valuation of degree subjects, but it is only a part of the whole. In the debate over university funding we are confronted by issues such as who or what should finance both students and higher education institutions, and whether there ought to be a flat rate of fees for courses and institutions of varying quality (however measured). These are complex and highly contested debates, and as the impact of the recession is felt by families and institutions alike, they will come increasingly under scrutiny. Nevertheless, if we are to attain some measure of clarity and consensus we must attempt to identify all of the fundamental benefits of higher education, and not just the tangible and financial.

“The value of non-vocational arts and humanities subjects cannot be quantified simply by the pay slip the student receives upon entering the ‘real world'”

The value of non-vocational arts and humanities subjects cannot be quantified simply by the pay slip the student receives upon entering the ‘real world’. The study of arts and humanities engender skills often acquired indirectly. These involve the functional ability to engage with alien cultures or cultural products, to research efficiently, analyse logically, and present arguments coherently. It involves discursive, intersubjective, and reflective modes of knowledge and communication which contribute to how our society ought to operate. Above all, though, we must acknowledge the intrinsic value of the subject matter. Aesthetic pleasure and cultural understanding are important resources for human achievement, the benefits of which are enjoyed not just by the individual student but by the wider community with which he or she engages.

“We must do away with the officious and misleading language of the graduate premium and articulate the more cerebral benefits of higher education”

We must recognise both the instrumental and fundamental values of higher education. If policy and commentary continue to focus on the former, I fear we would be neglecting the cultural qualities which only arts and humanities degrees can offer. This would be a regrettable extension of a contemporary tendency to promote and pursue ends and outcomes to the detriment of means and processes, resulting in an obsession with targets in policy and education. In order to avoid such a slide, we must do away with the officious and misleading language of the graduate premium and articulate the more cerebral benefits of higher education. While the pound in your pocket is important, it is the matter in your mind that provides a premium for all.

In the days that led up to Nick Griffin’s appearance on Question Time, the British public were snowed under by a blizzard of comment and pontification, from a huge variety of political and social commentators. Their arguments broadly ranged from plain, out-spoken outrage that the BBC were providing such a divisive and offensive individual this kind of stage on which to strut, to hopes that Griffin’s ideas, when exposed to the full glare of public scrutiny, would be laid bare as the manipulative, racist poison that they are.

“Because the policies of the main parties are often predicated on winning the support of crucial middle class groups, a political vacuum has been left in many of our poorest Northern cities; a vacuum into which the BNP have happily rushed”

However, as David Dimbleby, Nick Griffin and the other panel guests took to the Question Time set, an important principle was at stake; the notion that our democracy is strong enough to defeat the BNP’s brand of fascism all by itself.
Moreover, the censorship or exclusion of Griffin’s party would only leave those people who voted for them feeling an even greater sense of isolation and disillusionment. And it was this very dislocation from modern British society and mainstream politics that caused many white, working class, northern voters to support the BNP in the first place. Because the policies of the main parties are often predicated on winning the support of crucial middle class groups, a political vacuum has been left in many of our poorest Northern cities; a vacuum into which the BNP have happily rushed. To attempt to silence the BNP would simply deepen the disharmony in these communities. So, the way to defeat the BNP, is the same way any British political party is defeated; by engaging them on the issues, and speaking to the concerns of their supporters. The concerns of their supporters are not, fundamentally, immigration or racial hatred, but rather social and economic stagnation, a sense that they don’t get a ‘fair deal’ in modern Britain, and a growing resentment towards those groups who appear to be succeeding at their expense.

“If the government has not seen fit to stop the BNP from spreading its message, then why should the BBC?”

How these concerns are addressed, through policy and presentation, is a matter for the mainstream political parties, and an urgent one. However, i

n the absence of a coherent strategy to improve the lot of Britain’s white, northern working class on the part of the political mainstream,

it is not the BBC’s job to defeat, or silence, the BNP for them. Therefore it was hypocritical and wrongheaded of mainstream political figures to criticise the BBC for allowing Griffin to appear on the programme. The BBC’s role is to reflect British society through its programming and, like it or not, the BNP does represent an admittedly small part of modern Britain. Moreover, it was unfair of Labour, Conservative and Liberal Democrat politicians to expect the BBC to go so much further than any of their parties or the government have gone before, and actively censor the BNP. If the government has not seen fit to stop the BNP from spreading its message, than why should the BBC?

That is not to say that the BBC got it entirely right. When Griffin criticised the corporation for holding the show in cosmopolitan, multi-cultural west London, he was right, although for the wrong reasons. By hosting the show in Shepherd’s Bush, the audience was likely to be made up of people from a large variety of ethnic backgrounds. Of course it can be convincingly argued that it is exactly this kind of audience that Griffin needs to be challenged by as they are the sort of people he and his party have such a problem with. However, as Griffin squirmed, stuttered and sweated his way through the early roasting he received from his fellow panel guests and audience members, his opponents’ celebrations were misplaced. By beating up quite so openly and in an unforgiving manner on him, the audience and guest panellists were simply perpetuating the sense, in the minds of Britain’s white working class, that their views and concerns are ignored and even, at times, derided by the liberal, political mainstream. In short, modern, liberal, multi-cultural Britain gives the white, working classes another good kicking.

Ultimately the BBC’s decision to allow the BNP to appear on Question Time was controversial but correct, their choice of location understandable, but misguided. Hopefully lessons will be learned, not only by the BBC, but by the main political parties as well. Beating the BNP on the issues is the only way of beating the BNP. Refusing to address the issues and concerns of the white, working class supporters of the BNP, and attempts to censor or silence Griffin’s party, will create a ticking time bomb of resentment and disharmony in the towns and cities of Great Britain.

Joseph Ottaway is a Labour Party candidate for Carfax, City Council Elections May 2010

Hopes of Classics teachers around the country were smashed two weeks ago when the Joint Advisory Committee for Qualifications Approval (JACQA) announced its decision to reject proposals made by the Welsh Joint Education Committee (WJEC) for a new, eagerly anticipated Latin exam which sought to reduce the excessive quantities of grammar and rote learning currently involved in the GCSE. The upshot is that Latin GCSE will remain the sole responsibility of one provider, OCR, as it has been since AQA’s decision to abandon the subject for financial reasons in 2006. JACQA makes recommendations to the Secretary of State on the eligibility of qualifications for public funding, and although WJEC’s new Latin exam was approved by Ofqual, the body which accredits and regulates examinations in England, their proposals will simply not be viable without the all-important funding that a specialist subject such as Latin requires.

“The OCR exam suits a very particular candidate at a very particular school, but few could claim with any degree of honesty that it meets the needs of all learners”

The decision has caused an uproar in the classics community, and rightly so. The OCR exam suits a very particular candidate at a very particular school, but few could claim with any degree of honesty that it meets the needs of all learners. One problem is that it requires knowledge of excessive quantities of grammar, to the point that there is almost no new grammatical content at AS and A2. Why not spread the grammar points evenly across GCSE, AS and A2? In modern languages such as French the subjunctive is not learned until AS, so why is it in the Latin GCSE? Why couldn’t the notoriously difficult ablative absolute and indirect statement await the attention of the most committed and able Latinists at AS and A2 level? Selective schools with ample on-timetable Latin provision may be able to enthuse students about those constructions, but comprehensive schools offering Latin in their lunch hour must wave goodbye each year to hundreds of able students this way. Studies by the University of Durham have conclusively proven that Latin is the hardest GCSE: that is because we insist on making it the hardest.

“The Latin literature examination tell us everything about how good a child’s memory is, and nothing about what they have actually got out of the literature they have read”

The literature aspect of the OCR exam is also highly flawed. Children are effectively forced to learn 200 lines of English translation by rote. Those who don’t are simply at a disadvant

age, so

in reality, everyone does. I did. My peers did. The children at the school where I’m teaching do. What sort of way is this to foster a love of literature? What sort of way is this to test an aptitude for it? Children not only have to translate the literature (a futile exercise when their language skills are already tested, arguably to a point of excess, in the language papers which account for 50% of their total mark) but are required to recall literature that isn’t even on the page. In English literature this is not a requirement until A2 level. Such a test tells us everything about how good a child’s memory is, and nothing about what they have actually got out of the Latin literature they have read. WJEC proposed to turn this round entirely by offering the full text and vocabulary on the exam, shifting the focus of the test to the actual analysis of literature, a much more demanding skill; one which is sought after and highly prized by leading universities, and one which is infinitely more illuminating with respect to students’ abilities.

The distinct lack of choice in the examination of Latin at GCSE level and beyond is hugely unrepresentative of the many different approaches to teaching the subject in different schools across the country, and simply does not cater for the many different learning needs of its students. Somewhat ironically, the reason given by JACQA for declining to recommend funding for the new specification was that “insufficient evidence was given that learner needs cannot be met by the existing provision”. The president of the JACT council, Thomas Harrison, commented that he found this reasoning “perverse”. If, like me, you are inclined to agree, then e-mail your thoughts urgently to [email protected] with a copy to [email protected]. You can also join the Facebook group ‘JACQA is ablatively absolutely scandalous’.