A recent survey conducted by academics at Oxford and Reading universities found that eight in ten secondary schools are changing their history lessons to focus more on diversity and ‘social justice’.
This entails, inter alia, devoting more time to the study of black historical experiences, the Islamic and Mughal empires and the Arab-Israeli conflict. Some believe, however, such as the former schools minister Nick Gibb and Alan Smithers, professor of education at Buckingham University, that such an approach unavoidably reduces the amount of time spent on British history.
But should they be so concerned about a teacher-led push to raise awareness of and give agency to minority groups and their contributions to British and global history?
Well, as a history teacher, my reflexive response has to be no, they shouldn’t be concerned, as long as pupils are taught within the wider context of our shared island story. Indeed, learning about waves of migration to Britain, black Tudors, the contributions of Afro-Caribbean and Asian soldiers to the global and colonial wars of the twentieth century, and the intractable and ongoing conflict between the Israelis and Palestinians, compliments the existing curriculum by introducing new perspectives that enrich and deepen understanding.
Moreover, any addition that challenges the puerile non-sequitur that the British empire was uniquely evil by framing it within the context of other imperial hegemons, notably the Islamic and Mughal empires, has to be a good thing.
However, the oft used term ‘decolonise’ to describe these changes raises two nagging concerns. First, are they going to be used to inaccurately portray Britain as incomparably nefarious? Will the Islamic empire be veraciously portrayed as a racist, unequal and intolerant polity that enslaved black Africans as well as a technologically advanced economic and military superpower? Will the Malian kingdom be represented as anything other than a utopia before the arrival of the avaricious Europeans? In short, could these changes be neatly summed up as ‘Occident (especially Britain) bad; Orient good’? Such concerns may of course be unfounded, but I can’t help but smell the acrid whiff of a trite, reductionist political agenda being executed by social justice warriors masquerading as educators.
To ensure that this isn’t the case, school leaders must oversee such changes with great care, as must the regulatory body Ofsted. We can’t allow schools to become madrassas where children are taught to despise their own country. On the contrary, they should be encouraged to objectively examine the good and bad chapters in our long national story, in the context of European and global developments, and tentatively make their own moral judgements, uninfluenced by their teachers’ views.
My second concern chimes with that of Alan Smithers. These changes will ineluctably lead to less time being spent on British history. Now, that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, learning about foreign peoples is incredibly valuable, giving context to the British experience as well as providing important insights into human nature and development. It’s also something that we already do. But it’s a question of extent. Teaching and learning British history must take precedence over the study of other nations and peoples.
But why? Why should we prioritise British history? To answer this question, I must first affirm the importance and beneficence of the nation state, contrary to prevailing progressive orthodoxy.
The nation state is the natural product of our innate tribalism. It is profoundly organic. We intuitively recognise the benefits of working together to harness natural resources, protect ourselves from threats and support one another in the face of nature’s myriad vicissitudes. As a result, we form tribes – or nations – naturally determined by a shared sense of belonging through kinship, language, geography and culture. This nation engenders, among its people, shared responsibilities to go along with this shared sense of belonging – responsibilities that lead to the creation of benevolent institutions like the welfare state and National Health Service. Furthermore, for a democracy to exist at all, a demos must exist, a people or nation with a shared identity that precludes the violent contestation of democratically determined election results. In sum, the nation state is essential to individual prosperity, security and liberty.
Learning the story of one’s nation therefore tells you about your place in that shared history, as part of that people, whether a new arrival or, in our case, of Celtic vintage. It gives one moral, social and cultural moorings, engendering pride and a mature acceptance that the ambiguity and complexity that punctuate our history render moral judgements intensely difficult, though not impossible. Through the awe-inspiring history of its evolving socio-cultural, economic and political institutions, moreover, pupils will be taught to know and respect the country in which they live, giving rise to benign notions of citizenship and shared responsibility. British history should of course be prioritised.
That said, if secondary schools teach new aspects of British history that include the contribution of minority groups and contextualise Britain’s place within global developments, thereby shedding new light on our role as citizens of the world as well as Great Britain, I’m all for it. If, on the other hand, they irresponsibly contrive to misrepresent Britain as a uniquely racist and evil country, something that I fear, or plan to replace the existing focus on Britain’s Island story, leaving children unmoored and lacking a sense of belonging, I’m profoundly opposed. This development needs to be carefully monitored.
Wesley Smith is a teacher and writer.
