Dear
Kenan
Liberation movements throughout the world have long argued that without the
meaningful participation of those who are facing systematic discrimination,
society cannot become more equal. Whether we look at suffrage movements or
anti-colonial struggles, the right to have one's own voice, and that of one's
community, heard and represented is an emotive and complex issue but also
a necessary precursor to the eradication of inequality.
The imminent arrival of the Commission for Equality and Human Rights (CEHR)
has again brought to the fore issues of representation. Will the CEHR be able
to deliver fully to all of the different 'strands' (gender, disability, race,
age, faith and belief, sexual orientation and human rights) without certain
safeguards in place? To make sure the CEHR successfully advances the cause
of racial equality, two safeguards involving representation were suggested:
guaranteed representation of members of non-white groups on the organisation
itself and a designated committee within the CEHR to examine racial discrimination
and inequality.
Diane Abbott, in supporting a parliamentary amendment calling for a statutory
race committee, reflected on the arguments that accompanied her own arrival
as one of the four Black and Asian MPs elected in 1987: 'The argument... was
that for young Black and Asian people to feel part of and engaged with this
society, they had to see representation at the highest level... Representation
mattered because of what it said about an institution. People can read about
issues of discrimination and even do dissertations on them but, unless they
have lived them and felt them, they will not be able to give them the emphasis
that only living them gives.' It is only this emphasis, I contend, that carries
the possibility of lasting and effective change.
What the presence of the 'gang of four' MPs said about parliament was that,
despite persisting and debilitating racism and discrimination, it was possible
for black and Asian men and women to be parliamentarians - to be seen in public
life, to make laws rather than merely be incarcerated under them - all this
at a time when overt racist language and attitudes were the norm in public
life, not the exception. But visibility alone, I would contend, is not enough.
What we need from our representatives is the enaction of agendas that will
take us further along the road to equality.
The crux of the representation issue for me is this: where we recognise that
wide disparities exist in the life experiences of different communities within
our society, is there not a clear need to have vocal, accountable representatives
who are able to passionately and effectively advocate on behalf of those communities?
I would strongly suggest that this form of representation is a necessary,
although not sufficient, pre-condition for equality in society.
Best wishes,
Tanuka
-------------------------------------------------
Dear
Tanuka
I agree with you about the importance of representation. But representation,
for me, is a political issue. I want my representatives to give voice not
to my experiences but to my political aspirations.
There are a number of problems in linking, as you do, representation to experience.
First, there is no single experience of racism. The experience of a Somalian
refugee in a Glasgow housing scheme is different from that of a PhD student
of Jamaican descent working in London. The experience of an unemployed youth
of Pakistani origin living in Bradford is different from that of an Indian-born
entrepreneur from Wembley. Minority groups are as divided by nationality,
class, gender, faith, age and so on as is the rest of the population.
If every experience deserves its own representation, then we would end up
with a babble of voices and no common way forward. On the other hand, if we
divide society up into a small number of 'communities' (black, Asian etc),
and demand representation for each of those communities, then we ignore the
differences within those groups.
This is why community, or group, representation is inevitably anti-democratic.
So-called community leaders are generally unelected, self-appointed and unaccountable.
They have achieved their positions largely because the state needs such people
to do business with.
Take, for instance, the Muslim community. There is no such thing. Muslims
comprise many communities with many views. Nevertheless, in the push for community
representation, certain individuals and organisations have come to be regarded
as providing the authentic voice of British Muslims. Most prominent of these
in recent years has been the Muslim Council of Britain (MCB), which now plays
a major role in advising government and shaping policy. Yet a recent poll
conducted for Channel 4's Dispatches programme poll showed that less
than 4 per cent of Muslims think that the MCB represents British Muslims.
Whatever organisations such as the MCB represent, it is not their 'community'.
A final point. Equality requires a distinction between the public and private
spheres. The private sphere is inherently unequal. Equality only becomes possible
with the creation of a ring-fenced public sphere which everyone can enter
as political equals, irrespective of their economic, cultural or ethnic backgrounds.
The demand to link representation to experience is a demand to erase the distinction
between the public and the private spheres and hence can only undermine the
possibility of real equality.
If, as you say, 'what we need from our representatives is the enaction of
agendas that will take us further along the road to equality', then what matters
is their politics, not their skin colour. I would far rather be represented
by someone who has never experienced racism but who shares my political vision
of how to combat it, than by someone with whom I may share a common experience
of racism but with whom I politically disagree.
Best wishes
Kenan
---------------------------------------------------
Dear
Kenan,
Of course, representation is a political issue, but it is dangerous to construct
a notion of politics that is solely intellectual and disconnected from everyday
experience. My political aspirations are born (at least in part) out of my
experiences and those experiences of others, which I feel strongly about.
This is why, at a time when Muslims are being subjected to a particular kind
of oppression, it does make sense to speak of a Muslim community, even though
it is made up of many strands. If there wasn't such a community before 9/11,
the constant references to the Muslim community and its supposed predilection
for terrorist sympathies has ensured that there is one now, no matter how
divided it may be. One indication of this is the way that many secular people
now feel they are part of the community that is under attack. Shabana Azmi,
the Indian actress and activist, a secular communist since childhood, has
said that, after 9/11, she felt an emotional attachment to the collective
of Muslims, with whom she had no particular affinity before, and decided she
had to politically ally herself with 'her' community in order to defend it.
I think it is often the case that one only becomes conscious of one's belonging
to a group when it is under attack, either from the outside or within.
I agree with you wholeheartedly if what you say implies that the community
belongs to no individual organisation and, as a multifaceted entity, cannot
be represented by any one organisation or view. Further, there is always the
possibility of ineffective, or insufficiently representative, leadership -
community and otherwise. While we can and should call for representation to
be reformed and broadened, surely the current situation of the MCB and others
engaging with government is far better than the days when the government felt
they did not need to engage with any Muslims at all. It is our job to say
that the MCB is not the whole picture. But people are saying it: young people,
women's organisations, secular Muslims, more 'radical' Muslims and so on -
they are all vocalising their differing perspectives. I think we need more
and more people to vocalise dissent where it exists. This in turn ought to
lead to the broadest set of views from each community being heard, rather
than merely that of the usual suspects (who are often just those who happen
to wield the most power in their communities).
I am afraid I disagree with what you say about the public/private distinction.
Experiences of racism cannot simply be consigned to the private sphere while
insisting on an imaginary equality in the public sphere. Usually, the 'creation'
of a neutral sphere requires the leaving of a particular set of identities
at the door, while others are assumed to be the norm, and therefore already
present. (The women refusing to set aside their gender politics in the Scottish
Socialist Party are facing this exact problem at the moment. But actually,
it is only by bringing this into the public arena that sex equality will eventually
become intertwined with and embedded into the very definition of modern socialism.)
The universalism you invoke, unfortunately, seems more myth than reality.
Ultimately, for real success in the fight against any form of oppression,
those people experiencing it must be involved in finding solutions; not for
symbolic gratification (although symbols are sometimes important) but because
true, effective and lasting equality can only be brought about by the engagement
and ideas of ALL sections of our society - including those who have been on
the receiving end of inequality. Without this, we will be leaving the vision
of an equal society solely to those who are watching (albeit with concern
or horror) others being oppressed, and that will surely mean we are doomed
to repeat the paternalistic failed attempts of the past.
Best wishes,
Tanuka
-------------------------------------------------
Dear
Tanuka
Experiences are, of course, important and political aspirations clearly derive,
in part at least, from one's experiences. It is one thing, however, to say
that one's experiences shape one’s political beliefs; it is quite another
to demand that one should therefore choose one's political representatives
according to their skin colour, gender, sexual orientation or cultural affiliation.
You have sidestepped the question I raised in my first letter: is it better
to be represented by someone with whom you may share a common experience of
racism but with whom you also politically disagree, or by someone who has
never experienced racism but who shares your political vision of how to combat
it? If you think, as I do, that the latter view is right, then there is no
room for any form of identity politics. The logic of such identity politics,
on the other hand, inevitably drives you towards the first position, one that
I find unacceptable as it undermines the possibilities of social change by
subordinating political goals to the demands of ethnic identity.
I stress the importance of political affiliations over ties of ethnicity not
for abstract intellectual reasons, as you seem to suggest, but because real
experience has taught me the dangers of identity politics. Take, for instance,
Birmingham.
In 1985, the Handsworth riots brought blacks, whites and Asians on to the
streets in a common struggle against oppressive policing. In 2005, a riot
in Lozells, next door to Handsworth, pitted African Caribbeans against Asians.
Why did communities who had fought side by side in 1985 end up fighting against
each other 20 years later? Largely because of the policy of ethnic representation
introduced by the local council in response to the 1985 riots. Birmingham
council created nine so-called 'Umbrella Groups' based on ethnicity and faith,
the function of which were to represent the needs of specific communities.
The aim was to make policy development and resource allocation more democratic.
In practice, the policy undermined democracy and created new conflicts.
A report by the Birmingham Race Action Partnership observes that 'class, intra-religious
and gender differences within communities mean that many feel under-represented
or even misrepresented', while an academic study from Southampton University
concludes that Birmingham's policies helped create 'competition between BME
[black and minority ethnic] communities for resources'. Rather than 'prioritising
needs and cross-community working, the different Umbrella Groups generally
attempted to maximise their own interests'.
These problems are not specific to Birmingham. They crop up everywhere that
public policy helps create, or maintain, ethnic differences. Once political
power and financial resources become allocated according to ethnicity, then
people begin to identify themselves solely in terms of those ethnicities and
to see other ethnic groups not as allies in the struggle for equality but
competitors in the scramble for resources. And so deep can be the animosities
such competition creates that they can, as in Lozells, culminate in communal
violence.
The experience of Birmingham (and indeed of Bradford, Tower Hamlets and numerous
other places) reveals the importance to the anti-racist struggle of maintaining
the distinction between the public and private spheres. Maintaining such a
distinction is not, as you caricature it, about ignoring racism, but rather
about recognising that the struggle against racism is fatally undermined by
the kinds of sectional conflicts that identity politics always generates.
Best wishes
Kenan
--------------------------------------------------
Dear
Kenan,
Until now the basis for your argument has been slightly obscure to me but
your last letter has clarified your position. Your underlying assumption is
that there is a basic choice between recognising experience (in what you regard
as the private sphere) and creating political unity (in what you regard as
a neutral public sphere). One consequence of this is that, in common with
the currently fashionable critics of multiculturalism, you imply there is
an inevitable trade-off between solidarity and diversity. But solidarity and
diversity are not mutually exclusive. True unity comes from integrating our
different experiences into a common vision, not collapsing them. Within that
integration, we must allow the plurality of identities and experiences to
not merely be represented, but to also flourish.
To allow this is not to create a cacophony or 'babble' of voices. Nor is it
likely (on its own) to lead to the conflicts you describe in Birmingham. Of
course it is true, as the Birmingham case illustrates, that a particular brand
of official sponsorship of ethnically defined community representatives can
exacerbate divisions. However the divisions are also down to us, as is the
need to challenge and hold to account both our government and our community
'representatives'. If we don't like them, we should, and do, campaign for
change. If we allow ourselves to believe the worst of one another, without
anything sensible to back up those beliefs or prejudices, of course divisions
will fester. So-called leaders who suggest there are no prejudices or misconceptions
within our communities will, of course, never be able to examine those divisions
and dispel the myths they are based on, or respect the genuine differences
between us in order to unify us, in struggle, though our common experiences
of prejudice and discrimination and towards our collective desires for justice
and equality.
If you look at other riots, violence has resulted precisely because of a lack
of what you call 'ethnic', and what I call adequate, representation. In Oldham,
Asians had absolutely no representation at all. There was not even a local
racial equality council to give voice to the problems they were facing (discriminatory
policing, racist violence, deprivation). The local authority, the local newspaper
and the local police all operated on the pretence that they were 'colour blind'.
This was part of the cause of the riot in Oldham in 2001 - not a formula for
avoiding it. All that the Birmingham case indicates is that we should not
allow either the state or the strongest/most powerful within our communities
to monopolise or define who represents us. It does not mean that we throw
out the baby of representation with the bathwater of an outmoded (and colonial)
model of community leadership.
Too often, people who are the subject of laws, policies or debates are not
involved at all in processes that deeply affect them. This is not a matter
of what you call 'identity politics' with its implication of self-gratification.
It is rather about giving a voice to those who are either marginalised, or
more simply, the 'subject' of the discussion. Ultimately, it is about creating
a genuinely participative democracy. History has taught us the perils of allowing
marginal voices to be stifled. It is not always that some grand calamity will
ensue. It's just that we will arrest our own development as a society. Recent
events tell of the dangers and mistakes that arise when we employ political
discourse that talks about, rather than from, a people. For example, it is
unlikely that Live 8 would have resulted in the deplorable situation of all
African artists playing in a different part of the country if its organisers
had included Africans. Similarly, the character of the current debate on the
niqab would be entirely different if a range of Muslim women were taking part
on a level playing field with others.
Surely, when it comes to the banning of any form of religious dress in schools
and universities, our (white) sisters in struggle ought to be shouting from
the rooftops, pointing out the flawed logic of suggesting that women who wear
the niqab are oppressed and self-segregating from society while at the same
time banning them from taking part in education! But no, (largely) silence.
This is at least in part because the feminist movement, or women’s liberation
movement in this country, has failed to even adequately consider the circumstances,
experiences and different problems of (among others) women of colour and immigrants.
The same could be said of the libertarians who usually leap about at the thought
of individual citizens having to abdicate their rights merely due to the 'discomfort'
of others.
Further, there are huge attempts afoot in India to secure the representation
of women in village panchayats. Are we to conclude that this is some kind
of 'identity politics' misadventure that will lead to further gender segregation
in society? That is where your argument leads us. Well, I disagree. What is
happening is that some women are beginning to vocalise certain concerns that
affect women particularly badly. They won't cover everything, and there may
well be questions, and divisions, among the women on who represents them:
I hope there are. For it is through this process that we will hone and develop
our ideas and demands and thus move towards equality.
The critical point for me is that civil society should create the ability
for all groups, in as far as anyone wants to belong to one, to identify and
celebrate their cultural or political identity however they choose. But 'our'
concerns should be seen to be the concerns of central and local government.
For me, this is a simple issue of enfranchisement.
What seems to me to lie at the heart of our differences is that I think the
problem of discrimination is larger, deeper and more entrenched than you do.
Given the depth of exclusion in this society, it is inconceivable to me that
a universal public sphere can exist in which identity plays no part. Racists
and sexists do not leave behind their identities when they leave the private
sphere; nor should people of colour or women. The creation of a neutral space,
such as you describe, will be the outcome of our successful struggles against
discrimination and exclusion, not the means, as you suggest, of achieving
equality.
Best wishes,
Tanuka
--------------------------------------------------
Dear
Tanuka,
I am not sure why you think that I believe in 'an inevitable trade-off between
diversity and solidarity'. I have, in fact, always argued the opposite. For
instance, in a response to David Goodhart's famous (or perhaps infamous) essay
'Too Diverse?', which kicked off much of the current debate, I agreed with
Goodhart's 'concern about the erosion of common values - but not with the
claim that underlying such erosion is the greater diversity created by mass
immigration'. The answer to the question at the heart of Goodhart's essay
- whether or not, in a diverse society, universalism necessarily conflicts
with solidarity - depends, I suggested, 'on how one defines solidarity': 'If
we define it in narrow particularist or ethnic terms... then by definition
the two must conflict. If, however, we define it in political terms - solidarity
as collective action in pursuit of a set of political ideals - then a universalist
perspective becomes a means of establishing solidarity.'
These issues are pertinent to our debate too. It is undoubtedly the case that
all 'too often people who are subjects of laws, policies or debates are not
involved at all in the processes that deeply affect them'. The debate we are
having is not about whether communities need representation, but
about what kind of representation they need. Representation, for
you, appears to mean the right to be represented by your own kind, whether
that kind happens to be the same race, ethnicity, faith, culture, gender or
sexuality. But you still have not answered the question I have raised several
times in our exchange: is it better to be represented by someone who shares
a common experience or racism or sexism but with whom you politically disagree
or by someone who has never experienced racism or sexism but who shares your
political vision of how to combat it? I keep returning to this question because
it lies at the heart of our disagreements.
I reject such representation by identity not only because the idea that one
should be represented only by one's own kind is, and always has been, at the
heart of the racist agenda, but also because such representation acts as an
obstacle to what you call 'a genuinely participatory democracy'. Why? Because
it encourages the pursuit of sectional interests, rather than of common goals.
Take Birmingham again. The problem here is not simply a few bad community
leaders or a colonial model of leadership. It is rather the very system of
ethnic representation that encourages people to see their problems in narrow,
sectional terms. For many African Caribbeans, the problem, and indeed the
enemy, are Asians. That is why so many were willing to believe an unsubstantiated
rumour that a Jamaican teenager had been gang raped by Asians. On the other
side, Asians view most African Caribbeans with barely concealed contempt,
blaming their culture and attitudes for their lack of social advancement.
If we are honest, we will acknowledge that such sectional conflicts have become
all too common in Britain today, the products not of colonial, but of multicultural,
policies enacted with the best of intentions but whose consequences have been
highly divisive.
The distinction that is pertinent to our debate is not that between diversity
and solidarity but rather that between diversity as lived experience and multiculturalism
as a political process. As lived experience, diversity greatly enhances our
lives. It has helped create a Britain that is less insular, less homogenous,
more vibrant and cosmopolitan than it was half a century ago.
Multiculturalism as a political process has come to mean something else -
the public recognition and affirmation of cultural differences and the belief
that social justice requires not just that individuals are treated as political
equals, but also that their cultural beliefs are treated as equally valid,
and indeed are institutionalised in the public sphere. As the American academic
Iris Young puts it, in an echo of your argument, 'groups cannot be socially
equal unless their specific experience, culture and social contributions are
publicly affirmed and recognised.'
The confusion between the idea of diversity as lived experience and multiculturalism
as a political process has proved highly invidious. On the one hand, it has
allowed many on the right - and not just those on the right - to present the
problems of social cohesion as the product of mass immigration and to turn
minorities into the problem. On the other hand, it has forced many anti-racists
to promote sectional interests in the name of defending diversity.
Like you I recognise the importance of a diverse society. But I also recognise
the difference between diversity and sectionalism. Diversity is important,
not in and of itself, but because it allows us to expand our horizons, to
compare and contrast different values, beliefs and lifestyles, make judgements
upon them, and decide which may be better and which may be worse. It is important,
in other words, because it allows us to engage in political dialogue and debate
that can help create a more universal language of citizenship. But it is precisely
the possibilities of such dialogue and debate that become constrained when
sectional interests substitute for political aspirations. That is why I oppose
any notion of solidarity or representation defined in narrow particularist
terms and stress the importance of political affiliations over ethnic ties.
Best wishes
Kenan