Mishal Husain is an award-winning journalist, author, and broadcaster. She was a household name at the BBC for over two decades, working as the broadcaster’s Washington Correspondent and as a presenter on Radio 4’s Today Programme for eleven years. Husain is now Editor at Large at Bloomberg Weekend, and recently launched her first podcast series, The Mishal Husain Show, where she interviews world leaders, business titans, and cultural icons.

Husain describes her Muslim faith as an integral part of her identity, as well as her work as a journalist. She delivered this year’s Romanes Lecture at the University of Oxford, by invitation of the Vice-Chancellor. During the lecture, Husain tied her faith and ancestry to the history of empire, questions of identity, and the search for reason. She talked of ‘searching for light’, which she said is found beyond the headlines – in history and forgotten texts.

Cherwell sat down with Husain whilst she was in Oxford. In between dress rehearsals and touring the Schwarzman Centre, we discussed the theme of her lecture; her career in journalism, and the changing landscape of the news media – from tapes and print, to tweets and reels.

Cherwell: Maybe we could start by talking about the theme of your lecture: ‘Empire, Identity, and the Search for Reason’. What inspired this?

Husain: My starting point was seeing that the first Romanes Lecture was given in 1892, because that date rang a bell with me straight away. The reason was that when I was researching my family story, Broken Threads, I had noted 1892 as being the general election that brought the first Asian MP to the House of Commons, Dadabhai Naoroji, and the fact that this lecture was first delivered in that year by Gladstone, who was, you know, Naoroji was one of his MPs, I just thought: “Oh, what a wonderful bit of serendipity. This date actually means something to me.” And, of course, when you’re asked to give a lecture as prestigious as this, you also feel the pressure to say something that is ideally unique, but certainly meaningful.

I thought, “my professional life as a journalist is why I’ve been asked to do this”. I also have researched the impact of empire on families like mine, both the establishment of the British Empire and the way it came to an end. And when I thought about 1892, I thought this was a moment – the first Asian MP was elected to the House of Commons, this was an imperial subject who ends up being a legislator for the Empire. This is a moment when East and West come together. From there, I started to search for other examples where East and West come together, really challenging the divisions that we’ve seen for many generations, but which feel particularly current now. And that’s why the final part of my lecture is essentially on Islam and Muslims and some of the underappreciated, if not unknown, ways that Islam and Muslims have either influenced this country, or are linked to this country and its culture in perhaps unexpected ways. That’s why I look at architecture and poetry; reason and insight in the Quran; the world wars; and Muslims in the Renaissance. 

I wanted to say something that reflected who I am, both who I am as a journalist, and my heritage, particularly the Muslim part of my heritage. The fact is, that particular community is underrepresented in my profession of journalism.

Cherwell: One thing that particularly stood out to me is this idea of identity, and the importance of understanding one another’s identities better. You call, in particular, for reason as a response to misinformation, and I was wondering what the best way is, in your view, of tackling misinformation, and who do you think should be responsible for this – is it journalists, politicians, or perhaps day-to-day users of social media?

Husain: I feel the responsibility to arm yourself with knowledge is part of your duty as a citizen. There is, certainly in relation to Islam and Muslims, I think, a lot of casual misinformation. People’s opinions are formed without either much access to knowledge, or interest in proper knowledge, and that’s why there are numerous myths circulating. There’s no doubt, also, that there are cultural practices and there are individual actions and difficult issues that we should never shy away from discussing. I’m not trying to suggest that there are any areas of public life that should go undebated. I’m arguing for proper discussion. I’ve chosen to focus on what I call, in my lecture, ‘the five points of light’, because I think there’s a lack of bedrock knowledge. I think we’re very keen to see divisions rather than common threads. That’s the message I wanted to get at in this lecture. And I hope what I say offers less discussed points or points of new insight.

Cherwell: On the point of division – one of the things that you’ve, no doubt, seen as a journalist is that the way we consume the news is changing. There’s huge gaps between generations and how we engage with the news. To a lot of young people, or some young people at least, the news is something that old people do. Social media has become a priority. Meanwhile, older generations continue to consume these more traditional kinds of news. What would you say to these young people who say, “Oh, the news is something for older people.” Why does the news matter?

Husain: Well, the news is evolving, and I’ve grown up in what we certainly think of, and see. as traditional news media. I’ve spent most of my career at the BBC, and often that’s called ‘legacy media’ nowadays, usually pejoratively. I’ve seen the whole trajectory of the technological revolution in news. When I joined Bloomberg, and then the BBC, tape was still cut by an actual TV editor. You would take the tape which had come in from the agencies, which had been recorded in-house, and you’d physically run with it to an edit suite, and a videotape editor would cut a 10 second headline for you. So the idea that you’d ever have a device in your own hand which you could film an entire documentary on, or you could go live around the world on, was just nonsensical to me when I was your age. I’ve seen a whole technological transformation. But I certainly think traditional media really has both moved with social media, and has also been massively challenged by it. 

I’m launching a podcast, and I think what podcasting has done to the world of information has been revolutionary. I’m now moving into that phase of my professional life. Although the podcast is also going to be filmed, and is going to be on YouTube, and social media. So I think the media of the future is going to have to straddle all these dimensions.

Someone who set out today to have exactly my trajectory, I think would be a very unwise path to go down. That route is not there anymore. I suspect now that if you were setting out as a young producer in a newsroom, as I was in the 90s, what platforms your work goes on would, 10 years down the line, be a bit unknown. TikTok, for example, has come out of nowhere as a news source, as well as a source of other kinds of information. So I think it’s really hard to predict what the landscape is going to be a decade down the line. 

But I do believe that good content travels, and I think my core philosophy as a journalist is to do good work in whatever the medium, and for your principles and who you are as a journalist, not to change, because I think that is transferable. I was at the BBC, and as everyone knows the BBC has a certain kind of framework of impartiality. I’m in a different news organisation now with its own set of editorial standards, but who I am as a person hasn’t changed. I am as committed to fairness and accuracy at Bloomberg as I was at the BBC, and I think that’s the zone which every journalist or aspiring journalist needs to be in. They need to ask themselves: “What kind of journalist or content maker do I want to be?” And then you have to find the vehicle or the employer or the platform that fits what you want to do, but equally, be prepared to pivot.

Cherwell: You talked briefly at the start about representation in journalism, and I guess that brings up two things: ‘representation’ in terms of how certain groups in our society, in our country, are portrayed, and also ‘representation’ in terms of who journalists are, who the media is. What more could we be doing to improve representation in the media? 

Husain: My podcast, The Mishal Husain Show, is going to be in-depth conversations with newsmakers, or ideas people, or cultural figures. And I think what I’m really trying to get at there is something of the lost art of conversation, the lost art of the long form interview. Obviously things get clipped up and shared in different ways, but I also really hope that a really good conversation is the kind of thing you can really immerse yourself in. But look, representation of all kinds in newsrooms is really important. I’ve been around so many tables where people will spot stories. Either they’ll spot stories which no one else has spotted and you need that. Or they’ll say “no one’s thought about this particular angle on a running story”. Journalism is still a very middle class profession and you might do a story on something like prepayment meters, and you look around a room and realise, actually, there are very few of your colleagues who know what it’s like to pay for your utilities in that way. 

So that’s one thing, I think that representation is just really important. You can’t do the best work unless you have enough input from a diverse range of sources. But you also need to have the kind of culture where people can speak up. And I think that’s probably harder to do, because journalism is the kind of profession where the louder voices can command a room. So as editors, as managers, to create the kind of culture where, the person who’s got a thought running through the back of their mind and would really like to say it but feels intimidated, can do so, is such an important thing to do. I think this is often the underappreciated part of representation. It’s not just sitting around the table, but it’s feeling that you’ve got a voice in that particular editorial meeting – you’re not going to be rubbished, you’re not going to be made to feel small. 

And of course some newsrooms, some news providers, they’ve got a very particular axe to grind, and they’re not going to be interested in that. But that’s not the kind of place that I’m ever really going to want to work. So that’s not my world. My world is one where I want to feel that different voices have a say, and I want to be challenged by my colleagues, as well as by people watching and listening, because I think ultimately it makes you better at what you do. The harder you have to think about your process and your product – your output – then the better it is likely to be. That’s also what I’m arguing for in the lecture: you know, there’s a long tradition within Islam of an emphasis on reason and insight and thinking, and that’s one of the under-appreciated and little known aspects of the faith. So I feel like how I am as a journalist is linked to my heritage and my upbringing, as well as the places I’ve worked and the people who’ve influenced me professionally.

Cherwell: I know we’re short on time, but can I ask one very quick question: on your very last broadcast of The Today Programme you chose a song, Daydream Believer by the Monkees. Why did you choose it?

Husain: You know, no one’s asked me that, Conor, it’s very good. Why did I choose it? I think I knew I wanted to have music. And then, of course, there’s the question of what will it be? It’s then very hard because you think “people are going to analyse this”. It’s a bit like desert island discs, although there’s only one song.

I think it’s because it starts with the 6 o’clock alarm. So I thought the very beginning of it was for someone who’d been in that early morning world, or that very early morning world, because it was a 3 a.m. alarm, not a 6 o’clock alarm. I felt that worked, and I also really wanted something upbeat and joyful. But I had a few different options on the go, and in the end I settled on that one. I only expected it to run as a little blast. But then my colleagues at Today decided they wanted the whole 3 minutes. I feel like I sent the nation off with a whole load of music that day.

I did think hard about how to say goodbye, because it’s a programme with a unique place in national life, and I was part of it for 11 years. Someone told me the other day that they cried during my enduring goodbye. I was so touched by that – that’s not the only person who said it to me. I thought “how wonderful – this is about the power of audio to reach out and connect you to people who you’d never otherwise meet”. I was very touched by that.

“I have a strongly-rooted faith that my gender and my sexuality is part of who I am and part of what God created, and that therefore is part of what I bring to my ministry.”

The recent election of the new Archbishop of Canterbury, Dame Sarah Mullaly, was front-page news, as she became the first ever woman to hold the post. But the fact that she was beaten to the accolade of being the first female Archbishop in the UK is less well known. The election of the Archbishop of Wales, Cherry Vann, in July 2025 placed her name in the history books, not only as the first woman to be elected as Archbishop in the UK, but the first woman in the global Anglican Church to be in a civil partnership with a woman. Cherwell sat down for a conversation with the Archbishop of Wales, who will be officially ‘enthroned’ on 8th November 2025, to talk about the issues surrounding her appointment, her education, her ministry, and the Church’s approach to politics.

With Oxford’s rich choral and chapel traditions, the Archbishop Cherry understands the depth that music can bring out of buildings made for worship. She seems to wisely carry forward her experiences from her past into her ministry, and understands the impact that Oxford’s chapels can have – as welfare facilitators and for artistic expression. “Music speaks to the heart. You don’t have to analyse it or explain it. It just gets you. It engages emotions and the deep worlds of spirituality in often surprising and unexpected ways. It can get to you in a way that rational thought can actually keep at bay.”

The Archbishop’s story, though, is much more complex than simply where she studied – it is, in fact, layered with complications about who she is as a person. Unsurprisingly, her election has been met with discussion, opposition and division. The Church of Nigeria has formally severed ties with the Anglican Province of Wales as a result: “We must not allow culture or modern wisdom to dilute the authority of Scripture. These trends must be resisted,” Archbishop Ndukuba, the head of the Nigerian Church, has said in response to the election.

Given the Church’s fraught history with ‘modern’ ideals, this strong reaction does not seem startling. But her approach to this misalignment is one of maturity and trust. She told Cherwell: “The Church in Wales knew as well as I did that electing me was going to cause issues. But, when God calls, then you don’t say no, and they discerned that. I discerned that. And here I am.”

The Archbishop Cherry Vann admits that the variety of countries that Anglicanism represents are so diverse that it is often very difficult for people to come to terms with such broad differences. She explained how it was the context of the Church in Wales that made her election possible. The Nigerian church, alongside other churches across the world, have to fight for their credibility, which is not the case for Anglicanism in the UK. Her profound hope is that they are able to come to terms with their differences, and find relation within their shared humanity: “These people have never met me. They don’t know my ministry, my history, they don’t know what I’ve brought to the diocese, what difference I’ve made. They just focus on one thing.”

Despite her realisation that these differences might never be resolved, she is determined to not let that limit the impact of her election: “My primary drive at the heart of my ministry is to reach out to those on the margins and those who struggle with the issues that I seem to be a conductor, a lightning rod for. Not to stay apart, but actually to go towards and to try and establish a relationship where we can actually talk.”

Archbishop Cherry’s sexuality seems to come between people’s understanding of God’s word and their understanding of her humanity. But the levels of tolerance do not just vary across seas. The Church in Wales has a more progressive stance than the Church of England, allowing blessings for same-sex couples since 2021 and with discussions in progress on same-sex marriage in church. Nonetheless, the appointment of a lesbian Archbishop marks an historic milestone. Its impact on attitudes toward the LGBTQ+ community remains to be seen, but for those long forced to navigate the divide between sexuality and faith, this is a powerful step toward visibility and belonging within the Church.

“It’s been amazing for them to see somebody like me in this role. It’s very empowering and hopeful and inspiring for them and that’s great. I think for the church, it’s signalled something really quite remarkable that it’s been able to happen at all. I don’t think you can underestimate the impact that has.”

But the Archbishop of Wales is no stranger to dealing with disapproval from her colleagues. In fact, dealing with opposition is a cornerstone of her journey through priesthood. Archbishop Cherry was among the first five women to be ordained priest in the Manchester diocese in 1994, the first year of women’s ordination. In 2008, she became the first woman to become a senior priest in the diocese of Manchester, being elected Archdeacon of Rochdale, and, in 2019, she became the third woman in the history of the Church in Wales to serve as Bishop.

Being among the pioneering women at the front of the battle for women’s leadership in the Church, Archbishop Cherry said that her experience with prejudice and dissent in her early ministry. She was uncertain whether she’d be able to become an ordained priest at the start of her training in 1986, but nevertheless she maintained a posture of confidence that her call would find fulfillment in whatever way possible. “I suppose it cements your sense of call, because you don’t take anything for granted. It’s part of the process of learning to trust, that God knew what God was doing.”

Yet her faith did not erase the uncertainty. She recalled the resistance she encountered in the early years of her ministry, especially from male priests she needed to persuade that this was a step forward for the Church. A defining moment in that experience, she said, was a clergy conference in the Diocese of Manchester.

The Archbishop went on to describe the ways in which male colleagues and priests protested the ordination of women by not engaging and not attending Eucharist at the conference. “It just felt really awful and not Christian – not at all what we should be doing. So there was one occasion I went and sat with them at the meal that night. I think it quite amused them. It was awkward, but I felt it was important to just reach out.”

After the conference, she was motivated to contact those in opposition, and created a group of four men opposed to women’s ordination and four women priests. They met three times a year, and would eat, pray and discuss together. After 20 years of respectful conversation, they’d become “really good friends… it’s been one of the most profound things in shaping me.”

The Archbishop of Wales conveyed that modelling the faith and people’s equality within the church family was vital in respecting each other within church leadership: “I saw that when you work hard at loving somebody who is vehemently opposed to your ministry and you try and work with that, then something quite beautiful can come out of it.”

Women, and their role in church leadership, has so often been underestimated. The Archbishop told Cherwell: “Having been to India and to Africa, it’s made me realise how often women are the glue that hold families together and hold communities together. And I think that’s something important that women bring – this kind of innate desire to keep people together as a family.”

Speaking to Cherwell, the Archbishop reflected on how her early ministry and pioneering has prepared her for the backlash she faces now: “Clearly you can’t hide the fact that you’re a woman. Whereas I spent most of my life in the Church of England hiding the fact that I was gay. I know a lot of other people do hide it out of fear. But coming to Wales has just completely shifted that for me because I was told that it wasn’t an issue, and that I would be welcome.”

Archbishop Cherry linked this to the way in which Wales might feel side-lined and a minority in relation to England, which helps its culture relate to, and be sympathetic towards, other people on the margins, and how she feels welcome to visit parishes with her partner, Wendy. “It says something really quite special about Wales.”

But her sexuality is a new fight, one that Archbishop Cherry realises is a harder issue for people to come to terms with than her gender. She approaches building bridges with those opposed by inhabiting the role as a leader, not a campaigner. Modelling the faith, rather than pushing an agenda is important to her, especially due to the weaponisation of scripture: “I think the role of the Bible and what people perceive is said in the Bible can be used in a way that it couldn’t be used with women. Many people in my diocese are fine, but even those who do struggle I am able to maintain a relationship with.”

Lack of unity is not a problem that is restricted to the church, but is at play in our politics too. ‘Belonging’ is a word that seems obsolete to many, and so Cherwell asked the Archbishop of Wales to comment on the rise of right-wing politics, and the Church’s approach towards divisive rhetoric. She spoke about the Church having a story to tell about inclusion and God’s love for everybody, which needs to be told louder and more often. People are dissatisfied and feel excluded by politicians, governments and social norms, and they look for somewhere to give them a voice: “I think Nigel Farage has played clever on that and has accumulated all the discontented people and actually given voice to their anger. But he’s clearly got momentum, and I think everybody’s running scared as to how to counter it.”

The Archbishop emphasised that we need to create a space where everyone feels they have agency and value, and to work with governments to ensure their work doesn’t exacerbate divides, but is actually working for those who feel excluded: “I think we have to be very clear that a society that tolerates exclusion, never mind extremism, is a divided society and therefore, by nature is an unhealthy society… we have to speak out. And I think we’ve been too timid and apologetic.”

But this is not to say that the Church is without its own issues. Alongside major safeguarding issues in the past, Archbishop Andrew John, whose hurried retirement resulted in the appointment of Archbishop Cherry Vann, was prompted to step down from the role. This was due to serious concerns regarding safeguarding failures, inappropriate conduct and weak financial controls at Bangor Cathedral.

Such stories of corruption and misuse of power are stories that we are all too familiar with hearing from the Church. Coming out of this murky haze, Archbishop Cherry Vann is faced with a culture of mistrust perpetuated by the abuse of power that her predecessors have created – a hard position to step into after such serious concerns. Leadership coming out of a break of trust is often a make-or-break moment within an institution, and so her early approach to her new role is vital. She hopes to create a communion where people can come together, voice their concerns, challenge each other’s beliefs, and re-build a relationship between all areas of ministry. She said that she wants to model this culture, because “I think that’s what leaders do. They model a culture, a way of behaving, a way of responding, a way of being, and people notice that. And it trickles down. So I hope to model something quite different, something that’s more open, responsive, accountable.”

The Archbishop said how being open about questions and concerns means that they can be addressed, which is impossible if they are kept secret. Silencing people has caused problems in the past. She said that she is trying to be honest and open, modelling a culture in order to change it. This will take a long time, but people need to be able to identify problems and behaviours that are wrong. “I think we need to find a way of coming together so that we can build those relationships, have open and honest conversations and hopefully agree on behaviours that are going to model something that’s a bit more Christ-like… It might inspire more trust, might show us as being more accountable, and the importance of having that openness and transparency in all we do.”

Clearly, Archbishop Cherry Vann’s experience throughout her ministry has prepared her for this new role – one that she has stepped into with confidence and clarity on what needs to change. At a time in history where church attendance is still declining, but where research is showing there is an increasing interest in faith in the UK, openness and honesty is vital in order to uphold the Church’s structures and the positivity that it puts into the world. This election has changed the history of Christianity altogether, and brings hope for the building of a safer, healthier and more united church for the future.

“Whether you like it or not, God welcomes everybody and you just have to get used to that idea, and find a way of living out that love, that care, that compassion, that respect that we believe God holds all his children in.”