In the early 1970s, when I was aged around 6-7, I remember the issue of immigration rising high on the political agenda. My parents rowed hugely about it, with my dad becoming increasingly racist and then deciding to vote National Front. What I remember most was my bemusement at how he could split off his generalised responses to black and Asian people to his personalised friendly relationship with our West Indian next door neighbours. “They’re different”, he said, “it’s the rest of them…”. It taught me (fortunately) to do the reverse, to see other people through the same lens as seeing my neighbours. I’ve been reminded of this incessantly over the past few weeks of #Brexit….
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My first political memory is Friday November 22 1963 the day John F Kennedy was assassinated. I remember lying content on the floor next to a crackling fire in the living room. The TV was on and suddenly there were pictures of a motorcade and crowds and emotional broadcasters. My…
In "earliest political memories"
It was the year of the coup in the Maldives, which took place in 1988, I was five. I remember being woken up by my brother in the middle of the night. He carried me out of my bedroom in a protective way. I remember hearing gunshots. All of my…
In "earliest political memories"
Last autumn we ran an experimental online public engagement series called 'earliest political memories'. We collected a total of 68 memories that were generously contributed by members of the public. You can read all the contributions here. The series caught the attention of our colleague Rachel O'Connell in the School of English who…
In "earliest political memories"
In the early 1970s, when I was aged around 6-7, I remember the issue of immigration rising high on the political agenda. My parents rowed hugely about it, with my dad becoming increasingly racist and then deciding to vote National Front. What I remember most was my bemusement at how he could split off his generalised responses to black and Asian people to his personalised friendly relationship with our West Indian next door neighbours. “They’re different”, he said, “it’s the rest of them…”. It taught me (fortunately) to do the reverse, to see other people through the same lens as seeing my neighbours. I’ve been reminded of this incessantly over the past few weeks of #Brexit….