Ethnicity and Englishness : Personal Identities in a Minority Community [1 ed.] 9781443811941, 9781904303640

Citation preview

Ethnicity and Englishness

Ethnicity and Englishness Personal Identities in a Minority Community

By

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

CAMBRIDGE SCHOLARS PRESS

Ethnicity and Englishness: Personal Identities in a Minority Community, by Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din This book first published 2006 by Cambridge Scholars Press 15 Angerton Gardens, Newcastle, NE5 2JA, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2006 by Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN 1904303641

TABLE OF CONTENTS Preface....................................................................................................................vii Chapter 1: Introduction: Notions of Personal and Cultural Identity......................... 1 Chapter 2: The origins of Identity: How Prejudice is formed ................................ 13 Chapter 3: On Being British: Culture and Nationalism.......................................... 26 Chapter 4: The tensions of Belonging: The Sample Community........................... 41 Chapter 5: Motivation and Methodology: The Sensitivities of Fact....................... 55 Chapter 6: Public and Private Identities: The Tensions of Home and School ............................................................................................................. 71 Chapter 7: Collusion or Camouflage?: Parents’ relationships with their Children .......................................................................................... 87 Chapter 8: Double Cultures: The Alternatives Tastes of the Young .................... 103 Chapter 9: Aspirations and Ambitions: What the Future might hold ................... 116 Chapter 10: The Sway of the Biraderi: the Uses of Community .......................... 131 Chapter 11: Cultures, Subcultures and Gangs: The Contradictions of Belonging ...................................................................................................... 142 Chapter 12: The Oppositions of Identity: Culture and Islam................................ 152 Chapter 13: A Conclusion:The continuing process of development .................... 165 References ............................................................................................................168

PREFACE Individually, human beings are admirable. They demonstrate compassion, understanding and curiosity as well as intelligence. Collectively, they can be the opposite; bigoted, selfish, brutal and intolerant. This simple paradox is at the heart of the dilemmas about groups, ethnicities, class and nationalism. This is the way that people see each other, dealing alternatively with individuals and generalities, with specific relationships and collective attitudes. There are inherent contradictions, like the people who say they cannot stand the Romanys but then add “I have one living next door; he’s great”. Whilst it is inevitable that there should be categorisations, for this in the way we organise our understanding of the world, these generalisations can be as dangerous as they are useful. As in any scientific analysis, any social terms can be broken down into component parts. The term ‘Asian’ is at once an opposite to something other, and a term of such variety that it is meaningless. The concept of a religious belief, like Christianity, might be a demarcation line against other faiths but the reality of it is one of sects, of sects within sects, of divisions ever more specialised and ever more vehement. The individual attempts to bring meaning to his of her life, but the most obvious self-identities are the generalised belongings that depend on defining oneself against alternatives. We live in a time when we are particularly conscious of the tensions of difference. The increasing means of communication, the globalised economy and the interconnectedness of peoples brings awareness of the differences to the fore. Those communities that could live side be side in harmony and in forgiving petty intolerances, like Christians and Muslims in the nineteenth century Ottoman Empire, are torn apart by international events and the awareness of larger, more implacable forces (Bloxham 2005). This makes us the more aware of cultural and religious differences, of culture clashes and of terrorism. What remains unanswered is whether the troubles of which we are aware are the manifestation of a general discontent and disequilibrium which finds its expression in the most readily available forms of finding an enemy to blame, or whether terrorism is in the hands of the volatile few who, as terrorists have been since their hey day in the late nineteenth century, are a minority the more effective for the passive indifference of the many. “The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity” (Yeats: The Second Coming)

viii

Preface

The sense of discontent, of normlessness takes many forms, but has been manifest particularly for 150 years, coinciding with the mass education system, the spread of the idea of democracy and the mass social movements of organised political change, like fascism and communism. For many, religion has been merely hijacked by those who want to use it for their own collective purposes, like the promotion of Islamic fascism. The misuses of religion are not new. There are many examples, like the Inquisition, of terrible cruelty in the name of deliberate intolerance. It is time , given that there is an education system, that these forms of prejudice are understood and not only understood but addressed. Despite the ostensible spread of learning and communication, misunderstandings and intolerance have grown rather than lessened. The history of the last 100 years has a particular poignancy for Europe and for Great Britain in particular. The loss of Empire, of a collective vision, of the class certainties and their ideals, is a cultural as well as an economic matter. For many these ideals were eroded from within, and there are few books which do not lament the failures of the people in power, from ordinary politicians to trades unionists making use of the opportunity to organise strikes throughout the Second World War (Wilson 2005). The sense of loss of identity on the one hand, and sneering at the very idea of it, on the other, colours the debate about Englishness. For the new generations of immigrants, however, such a debate is not tinted by any such blame. The newer generations have a far fresher approach to what it means to belong, to the idea of nationhood and regionalism as well as globalisation. Instead of regrets there are far more positive as well as complex possibilities. The research on which this book is based focuses on one particular community. It explores the complexities of attitudes, the subtle uses of support and the ways in which a personal sense of identity is lined up with the collective assumptions of the day. The community in question could easily be demonised and held up as something unique. It is, after all, associated not only with ghettoism but with notorious riots. One might have imagined this community as unusual. The fact that the community in question is complex and changing makes it representative of all the other communities that make up Britain and Ireland. We are dealing here not just with what is typical but at a deeper level with what makes people what they are. The striving to fit in as well as strike a personal figure, the developing of cultural pleasures without being swamped by them, and the need to communicate and give meaning to their lives, are what the research here demonstrates, rather than some abnormal case. The concern is with the voice of individuals from within the community, not the picture of them as seen from outside. Some of the recent

Preface

ix

and popular debates about what it means to be ‘English’ question whether such a concept still exists. One only needs to go to a soccer match, say Wales against England, to find that it does. The constant, virulent screams of hatred against the English, demonstrates that the concept lives in the minds of the spectators, at least for a time. Some would shrug their shoulders and dismiss it as merely typical of the lunatic sport of soccer, but it seems real enough. The bigger question is whether it is a sense of ancient atavistic sovereignty and resentment, or some deeper sense of unhappiness and personal uncertainty, of feeling disenfranchised economically and emotionally. The question is why people turn to the bigotries of football hooliganism or fundamentalist religion. This is the issue, however difficult, that must be addressed and which should give shape to any professional as well as personal life.

CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION: NOTIONS OF PERSONAL AND CULTURAL IDENTITY No one is an isolate. Our very language implies communication with many others whilst our dialect defines with exactitude the limited context from which we come. The sense of personal identity can only develop in relationship to other people, sometimes defined in contrast and antipathy and sometimes in what feels to be easy and amenable. Whilst no-one is isolated, each is unique. This complex blend of the personal and cultural means that whilst there are clear boundaries of collective identity, including language and dialect, general labels of tribal markers are not adequate in themselves to explain how people develop their conduct and their sense of self. And yet the masses of individuals are usually seen in terms of groups, of caste and class, of region and nation. Many of the debates about ethnicity and nationality are reduced to headlines. These make the truths exaggerated and simplified. In the place of the possible celebration of cultural character, we experience the atavistic displays of hatred and prejudice until in is difficult to see beyond the levels of name calling, shouting against opponents, of flag-waving as a means of collective assertion. While there will always be collective markers of shared identity, from sect and caste to taste and fashion, these can turn destructive as easily as they are life enhancing. The distinctions of interest are signs of positive concern and not just the boundaries of antipathy (Bourdieu 1984). The troubled concerns of our time focus particularly on religious and tribal hatred. Against these widely reported and discussed instances of violent prejudice it is important to remember the other side of allegiance, the factors that encourage mutual recognition and shared beliefs as well as the assertions of intolerance. Belief in a religion can foster deep understanding and tolerance and compassion just as adherence to a sect can encourage the virulence of antipathy. While religions consistently preach love, understanding and peace they also attract fundamentalists who act on quite different assumptions. To understand the difference between the two and why individuals, and not only tribes, define themselves either in mutual relationships rather than brute prejudice, is to understand the wells of human nature and how to mitigate them. It is for this reason that any study of a minority ethnic group is so important and why it enables us to understand not just one minority but the rules of conduct in all.

2

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

A cultural identity is inevitable. It can be good as well as bad. Whilst nationalism has long been treated as suspicious when exploited beyond the frontiers of sport, the links to religion and to a mutual sense of purpose have a long and sometimes beneficial history (Smith 2004). Religious identity is particularly important in understanding the cultural and tribal loyalties of many groups of people, marked out not just by language and ethnicity, because it bestows the idea of a ‘chosen’ people, a group especially blessed. That sense of the fervour of personal loyalties and connections that underlies nationalistic movements in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries has its roots in religious exclusiveness. It is only just beneath the surface of fascist nationalism, which explains how little opposition was mounted by the churches against Hitler (Kedourie 1968 Johnson 1976). The atavistic chantings of football inspired antipathies have their roots not in the self justification of hatred but in the formation of collective religious identity. That sense of a larger self, of an ideal collective grace that can be seen in Herder and other German philosophers, is in some form or another an essential component in people’s personal identity. It might not always appear to have a religious base, and certainly not in any organised form, but its origins lie in the sense that there is something good, something deep in a collective transcendental consciousness. Each small personal antipathy at the strange, in looks or costume, is met by the awareness that the individual is representing something more that the self (Varshney 2002). This deep sense of cultural superiority so taken for granted in the make up of each individual is not confined to severe religious examples. We see the mystical sense of the superiority to the English Gentleman in the entire Boys’ literature before and after the First World War. Notions of blood and a blessed inheritance were taken for granted in a laconic way even if they had an almost mystical foundation. The iconic idea of the English Gentleman has two aspects. The first is the notion that he stands for all that is good. He is modest, forgiving, kind, honest and not given to displays of emotion or flamboyance. He represents trustworthiness and integrity. The second aspect is that he takes for granted his superiority. Others, especially those of other nations, and to some extent those not blessed with the same class, quite simply cannot match these virtues. They are, in their different tribal ways, supposed to be automatically inferior. Thus we see the two sides of cultural identity, representing the dismissal of those less fortunate than themselves and the promotion of personal good conduct. The gentleman might appear a snob who looks down on others, but he also symbolises someone to look up to. A sense of personal identity imbued with a shared culture can be a definite strength. Many minority groups find that cultural networks, a community spirit and

Ethnicity and Englishness

3

spirituality give them a particular security and strength (Moyende 1997). Those who held on to their own cultural values coped better than those who did not, when they fond themselves within a new culture. But then cultural values assume the rejection of trivial materialism. Studies demonstrate the tendency for minority groups to adapt to certain values in the adopted communities whilst holding on to their own cultural identities at the same time. There can be no such thing as instant absorption into another culture. The coping strategies of those who find themselves in alien surroundings must include a certain amount of resistance to new ideological pressures (Hylton 1997). To have more that one cultural identity, to know the difference between ones own and others can be a strength (Dorsett 1998). To this extent a minority ethnic group can have a real edge, a sense of purpose and tradition which is denied to the majority. The desire to protect a cultural integrity is seen in all cultures, majority and minority, when up against each other since mutual self-protection is something embedded within all cultures, as in the boundaries of class and accent, taste and religion, that are at the heart of the British experience. There are attempts by politicians to exploit the sense of cultural integrity by redefining nationhood, by creating a straw man to be attacked. But at the heart of the sense of culture is not the spectre of what is foreign and therefore threatening but the simple recognition of mutual tastes and beliefs. Young children recognise this; pointing out both the arbitrariness of their place of birth and the significance of their language (Short and Carrington 1996). The cruder aspects of nationalism ensure that it is associated with war and aggrandisement, but the fact that it is a comparatively recent phenomenon suggests that it is part of the rise of democracy. The sense of personal identity, of being listened to and having an opinion that deserves attention leads to the need for collective decision making, for people to join with each other for their mutual benefit and within defined limits (Ringmer 1998). Just as religion fosters a consciousness of a chosen people, so does democracy engender the sense of a collective whole. Arbitrary decisions imposed are replaced by a collective voice, a majority taking over the public sphere. The sense of being with like minded people, speaking with the same assumptions, is a crucial part of nationality. These are all forms of imagined political and religious communities, large and small (Seton-Watson 1997). Whatever their size they are far easier to define when in opposition to something else. Comparing and contrasting is the basis of any definition. All attempts to make sense of the physical world in its natural and artistic forms depend on categories. Cultural prejudice is a more complex version of the family, an extended version of the tribe. The importance of where you are is

4

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

replaced by what you are. Instead of dynastic families and religious communities we see the interchange of symbols, language and habits. People know themselves by contrast, by what they are not. Sometimes this sense of self-identity by difference can be provocative. It is often crude. It can be dangerous. Whilst there is a benign side of cultural collective understanding and even to nationalism, the concern with the fostering of a particular point of view and a set of beliefs can be a poisoning influence. It is important to recognise the subtlety by which people can be imbued with beliefs and cajoled into irrational and evil actions. The pervasive effects of political correctness that does not allow the questioning of orthodox assumptions, the ways in which people are sucked into the systems of managerialism, the cultivation of fear in which people are caught up in self protection because of the threat of litigation or blame, all demonstrate how cultural influences work. The tendency to obey, to follow the collective and to fit in easily with a prevailing belief goes far deeper and is more pervasive than any religion. It is very hard to find time to stand back from the systems of assumption by which people operate. It is not too inappropriate to be reminded again of the most startling and extreme form of collective prejudice, the development of Nazi Germany. The most important lessons of that dreadful time have still not been learned. This was no manifestation of a race. It was not something uniquely ‘German’ to cajole what seemed like ordinary bureaucrats into carrying out the details of the holocaust. As book after book makes clear, ordinary people can be drawn into carrying out evil actions. It happens around us every day, even if in not such an extreme form. The every day acts of countless people who were drawn into the project of Nazism were all carried out as it they were innocent in themselves. There were jobs that needed to be done, families to feed. We need to understand that whilst there were conditions in Germany that were unique, such actions could happen anywhere (Goetz and Heim 2004). Indeed, they have been replicated in different ways many times since. The power of the collective consciousness and the subtle coercion of the individual are a central part of ethnic identity and cultural tribalism (Browning 2001). The personal choices and the surprising complicity of people to follow disturbing instructions and the atavistic delight in accepting the suffering of their fellow beings, are at the centre of the demonstrations of hatred in the suicide attacks on New York and London and the rhetoric that fuel such acts. We need to understand how a culture of religious identity can be twisted into a deliberate narrowing of hatred and self-immolation.

Ethnicity and Englishness

5

One of the most obvious forms both of cultural self-aggrandisement and assertions of superiority is, of course, racism. This has a long history and it has long been taken for granted as a natural truth that some people were superior to others. Indeed, it is not the attacks on Jews and Slavs promoted so strongly by the Nazis that are quite as insidious as the pervasive belief the some races were genetically and intellectually inferior to others. We still witness the latent assumptions of genetic distinction in the studies of aspirations and achievement in different minority groups. The feeling of automatic superiority is usually driven by a sense of threat; of insecurity. It is at times of uncertainty that immigration is seen as threatening. Prejudice is the expression of unacknowledged insecurity, often born in ignorance (Cole and Stuart 2005). For some, racism is something so taken for granted that it is not even an issue (Fraser 2001). It is the simplest form of assertive mutual support, indicating an absence of anything more subtle and more penetrating. The most obvious manifestations of racist prejudice derive either from those conditions where there is very little mix of peoples, where the appearance of someone different is rare, or in those conditions of confrontation where people feel under threat. The suspicion that an ethnic minority group could be dangerous and could have designs on the shared values of the community will always be seemingly justified by the sense of visible difference, separate religious habits, mutual support of each other, which leads to exclusiveness, and the thought that any cultural group, including immigrants and minorities, are likely to be antipathetic to others, bringing with them a sense that they live in an immoral or despicable society. Nothing is as threatening as the feeling of being despised, and that is a problem with any cultural group, let alone one that is nurtured by the feeling of possessing an exclusive and superior set of beliefs. There will still be pockets of ignorance and of indifference in many parts of the world, but this is not the same as the innocent ignorance of the past. When people of other tribes and cultures were unknown they were usually objects of benign curiosity and unthreatened hospitality. Since the advent and development of mass communications, ignorance does not have the same quality. The rapid expansion of scientific and technological innovation has made communications systems impossible to resist (Hallak 2000). This places the idea of the nation or the tribe in a different position. Globalisation is a complex, not just an economic, phenomenon. Some of the consequences are unexpected. It makes many people self-conscious about their cultural positions for the first time. Comparisons can lead to resentment. It is a telling irony of our time that the development of internationalism has led to greater parochialism and the break up of nation states, the concern with regionalism and the greater self assertions of every type of sect.

6

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

The broadcast of the spoken word in Great Britain has led not to a greater homogeneity of accent but to a greater diversity. The awareness of others leads to an awareness of the ‘other’. Images of the world, like those in the charity advertisements of Oxfam, can be seared deeply in people’s attitudes and prejudices. When globalisation is discussed it is usually in economic terms, of the world bank and international business, the ‘thin’ environments (Sassen 1991, 1998). The more important phenomenon is the more complex and diverse, the uncontrollable matter of cultural change and hardening of attitude, the impression on people of each other. This includes the unexpected way in which migration occurs, and the ways in which people adapt to outside aid. International agencies have to operate in the ways in which the locals dictate, for good or ill, or they make no difference. One of the consequences of globalisation that is only slowly and reluctantly learned is the way in which the most lavish intentions come to nothing unless the people feel a sense of ownership. The distribution of recourses in aid or grants or investments (‘thin’ globalisation) are fundamentally changed by the actual happenings on the ground. Whilst people are aware of others and what is happening elsewhere, they are the more aware of themselves and their own culture. Globalisation and the mixing up of peoples of different religious and cultural values might be a reminder of the common features characteristic of all societies so that one cannot categorise states into separate compartments (Watson 2000). Perhaps we will one day learn those common features of humanity that lead to being civilised but now people are more that ever aware of their own cultural and religious identities. A minority group entering a country like the United Kingdom arrives with quite different attitudes and expectations than they might have done in the past. The development of cultural awareness takes place in the context of contrast, of awareness of alternative values. The consequences of cultural interchange are not the suppression of some cultures but the ghetto; a phenomenon not only seen in the past but increasingly in places like the United States. That is a danger that faces Great Britain. The effects of globalisation, of the awareness of other people, causes more selfconsciousness rather than less. Matters of habit become cultural symbols when the differences are realised. Lengthy visits to other countries brings about greater selfawareness and the substantiation of ones own inherited cultural values (O’Neill and Cullingford 2005). Whilst even the superficial visits of tourism give at least the opportunity to glimpse the differences of other countries, an awareness particularly amenable to the young, these are not the same as the longer lasting effects of longer stays. Having groups of visitors, like students attempting to practice their

Ethnicity and Englishness

7

English in the country of its origin, is as likely to cause antipathy to the different culture as it is in understanding. Even the promotion of a particular language and culture through the mass media, like French classes on television, can have exactly the opposite effect to that intended (Belson 1967). Knowing the mores and attitudes of others makes people the more conscious, even the more defensive, of their own. It is no coincidence that globalisation, with its one market for finance and communication, has developed alongside the rise of nationalism, of regionalism, of religious tribalism and sectarianism. The promotion of banal chauvinism in international sport is just the most obvious exemplar of the hardening of self – conscious attitudes and parochial suspicion. The self-defensive awareness of ones own culture, until then expressed in unself-conscious habits and assumptions, leads to a greater definition of one’s own position. International connections enable immigrants to be more aware of their cultural inheritance than before. The increased awareness of, say, African roots, held by countless American, British and West Indian citizens, is a result of globalisation, not its antithesis. Mass communications make possible the resources to explore deeper into the past, thereby both complicating the issue and making it a more significant one (Eshun 2005). In the earlier days of emigration there was a clear desire to be allowed a particular space in the new culture whilst holding on, naturally enough, to those that were inherited. The conscious concern was to overcome the resistance, the prejudice, of the majority (Lamming 1954). Holding on to own’s own culture was seen both as a defensive position and a consequence of not being allowed to assimilate. It is only recently that immigrants have asserted a sense of superiority, of aggressive difference. The assimilation of immigrants is complex, but not for the reasons that are usually taken for granted. The focus of attention has nearly always been on prejudice, on the resistance of the majority to newcomers. The great value of tolerance and understanding of different cultural and religious traditions living together in harmony and understanding, as witnessed in the Ottoman Empire and in India, are contrasted with the rise of extreme divisions, often imposed from outside. Whilst external forces might cause the breakdown of tolerance, as in the two examples given, the incipient sense of difference, even if not destructive, is always there (Bloxham 2005). The concept of distinction, of being apart, of not assimilating, is held the more strongly by the minority. If intolerance is put down solely to the suspicion afforded to immigrants, they also bring with them at least a part that does not wish for too much understanding.

8

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

A sense of distinction is important for individuals and their own distinction might matter more to them than to others. For a Jew, being Jewish is a matter of great significance, even if it is a matter of indifference to his friends. The fact that the leader of the conservative party was Jewish was beside the point for the vast majority but not to fellow Jews. The aristocratic Sir Keith Joseph could startle people by asserting he was from a minority ethnic group. With the importance of cultural difference for those who possess it, especially when fostered by religion, the idea of assimilation has a quite different meaning. Assimilation is no longer the simple, the inevitable ending to the saga of alienation. It is a gradual and grudging process, with small steps of attitude taken on both sides. This is well illustrated by the attitudes towards immigrants to the United States. The rhetoric is all about welcoming the poor and downtrodden. The actual experience was and is somewhat different. At each stage the concept of the majority includes another group, with the Irish, the Italians, the Armenians, and the Jewish gradually accepted by each other, (even with their own distinct labels and stereotypes) until they all join together in despising first the Blacks and then the Chicanos (Jacobsen 2001). Intolerance and prejudice is nearly always a sign of personal and social unrest. It is unhappiness, discontent and worry that leads people to focus on ethnic and religious differences, some purely individual and many subtle, and only at the outer edges the crude manifestations of racial intolerance. Identity is dependent on the situation but this ‘situation’ includes the sense of personal well-being (Smith 1992 Harre 1998). A sense of personal and cultural identity is always a counterpart to the fear of others (DuBois-Reymond 1998). The way in which a sense of self can be turned inside out is demonstrated in young children, since their lack of prejudice and their absence of ethnicity as a basis of categorising people is as clear as the fact that is lasts as long as the moment the it is encouraged and fostered (Bennett et al 1991) . Intolerance always grows stronger and more virulent as people grow from childhood to adolescence (Toivonen and Cullingford 1998 ). Naturally, children pick up from their parents and the media the stereotypes that are part of the tabloid culture of instant and unthinking labelling, but this is a separate issue from their own daily behaviour. Whilst children are pragmatic about the advantages some groups have over others this does not mean that they are ethnocentric (Davey and Mullen 1980). This is something that is nurtured by political circumstances, and by the absence of the strong cultural values that give a sense of confidence. Seeing other groups possess an obvious identity, as well as fearing economic and academic disadvantage, creates the unnatural conditions of prejudice. One of the most exciting aspects of contemporary life is the recognition and pleasure in multifarious cultural tastes. This is widely celebrated, with a growing number of different forms of musical expression. At the same time there is a sense

Ethnicity and Englishness

9

of disturbance, of the loss of traditional certainties. Whilst the expression of cultural differences seems benign in musical forms it is also an assertion of different forms of exclusive groups. Music can be the symbol of the ghetto, an internal language like Creole used to keep others out rather than to communicate. We witness the rise of distinct groups, articulate with assertions of their own superiority but uncertain of central concepts of what the mainstream culture stands for and what it consists of. Those things no longer taken for granted are those things under threat. The sense of complexity is made clear by debates on Britishness, and hyphenated Britishness, the use of the race card and political correctness until it is difficult to have a simple debate. For some groups it is colour that itself creates a difference leading to particular ways of dressing, walking and talking. To others it is religion and sectarianism that mark the musics of division. The very concept of being ‘British’ can be a form of denial, of not being truly English, even if born and bred within the sound of Bow Bells. The problems of labelling are made clear in the proposals for hyphenated identity, aping the problems of the United States. To replace the impossible terms ‘Asian’ of ‘Pakistani’ (England is nowhere near those places) with ‘Asian British’ is to invite others to be ‘English British’, as well as accepting a distancing of the Welsh, Irish and Scots. Do we then make official the labels Geordie or Scouse? The American experience should be a suitable warning, where racial classifications heighten group separateness and the ghettoisation of the rich as well as the poor (King 2005). For all the worship of the flag and the promotion of nationalism, the ‘Americanisation’ programme tended to accentuate the differences between groups. The confederate flag remains a potent symbol and at any hint of trouble groups like the Japanese or Arabs are quickly made to feel vulnerable and the assertion of civil liberties also leads to a litigious clamour for reparations for the distant past. The tensions of identity are made clear in the concept of being British. The confidence placed in the Union Jack, an all-embracing idea that could include diversity since it harked back to a concept that pre-dates petty nationalism, and is for some imbued with values both human and divine, is eroded by the internal nationalist arguments between the component parts of the Isles and the understandable refusal to accept that fusion of Church and State that the constitution rests on. The notion of ‘Britishness’ is, however, eroded more by its marginalising by those who deny their own sense of belonging in order to give themselves a smaller, more confined, identity (Phoenix 1995). When patriotism is replaced by the baying hatred of a football crowd, then the small insecurities are turned into the spurious pleasure of opposition(Wright 2002).

10

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

In the many overlapping circles of personal identity it is difficult, if not impossible, to define ones particular category, whilst it is nevertheless inevitable that the outsider sees one instantly as characteristic. In certain contexts to say one is ‘Christian’ carries meaning but not in a Christian context, when Catholic or Protestant is merely a starting point and thereafter any number of divisions personally nuanced into particular habitual practices or even favourite hymns. Similarly to use the label ‘East Asian’ is really to mean, one assumes, Islamic rather than Hindu or Sikh, or Shiite or Sunni or Wahabee.. In the differences between the Jihad and the crusade, there is more in common with the rabid fundamentalist of either faith with each other than with their fellow travellers. There was a time when the concept of Englishness was a matter of celebration, even if this meant belonging to a ‘mongrel race’ (Green 1874 ). This mixture of impurities is supposed to have been redeemed by time, but it was also a matter of belief, of an idea, rather than any conception of ethnic purity (Colley 1992). Englishness, like Britishness, emerged as much as a tradition, of commerce, gentle Protestantism, empire and wars against others, as an identity. The idea of a political nation is distinct from a cultural one; the latter being something invented and reinvented (Kuman 2004). The concept of Englishness can also be held deeply by those who dislike it. Canetti (2005), having been rescued by England, rejoiced in deriding it; the “worst of England is the desiccation, the life of a remote controlled mummy”. He is not the last to make use of the traditions of eclectic tolerance whilst despising them. The ability of people to hold two conflicting views at the same time is the key to understanding ethnicity, in that attitudes towards the self and to others, and beliefs about the individual and the group are bound to be full of contradictions. At a simple level anyone born in England is English, whatever the inheritance. Yet we know that the chances of birth create all kinds of differences. Being a part of a society, using the same facilities, enjoying the same rights, does not mean having the same opportunities. Appreciating the economic opportunities or the welfare state does not prevent the preaching of antipathy or despite. At one level, the group which will represent all these contradictions are a central part of the cultural landscape, educated, entrepreneurial and naturally at home with the talk of weather. At another they are a group symbolised by differences in dress and arguments over two shared forms of ghettoisation, where they live and where they go to school. Islam has always been an exclusive religion, not adapting to local conditions, harking back to Mecca and based on an unchanged language. To that extent it creates its own separateness and always has (Ansari 2004). Its mission is not to adapt but to convert. This gives the debate about whether there should be sectarian schools such an edge. What was a long established principle not taken too

Ethnicity and Englishness

11

seriously has become a challenge, and the logic of extending the principle clashes with the realisation of its intolerance. The young people in this particular story have more awareness of the different implications of belonging than many. The moment we generalise about Islam, as a unified whole, we are like the headlines with which questions of identity are usually dealt with rather than the lives of individual people. The headlines, like stories of forced marriages- 400 cases reported since 2000- about abduction and the status of women are not in themselves wrong but they give little insight into the true story. The problem with focussing on some issues is that it is easy to forget the many parallels with other cultures and societies; the more subtle influence of family interests and the ambiguities that favour the freedom of men. Most English people who are Muslim are just as concerned for the extremes of forced rather than arranged marriage, and wish to maintain a religious homogeneity without lapsing into fundamentalism (Parker-Jenkins 1995). In the anguish after the London suicide bombings, this majority is not allowed a strong voice, pressurised from both sides. To condemn the violence of the Jihad is to be accused to undermining Islam. To suggest that there might need be more understanding and recognition of Islam is to be dismissed as being apologetic for the extremists. This kind of exaggeration is what makes lives for minority ethnic groups the more complicated from within and without. The pressures from within a community against the perceived (and homogenised) outside world are as intense as those from outside. The assumptions on which the particular view of the world are based are also a matter of over-simplifications, as if ones understanding were wholly dependent on the presentation (if not the mentality) of tabloid newspapers. Globalisation not only breaks down barriers, but enhances them. Contrasts and differences are not only exaggerated but simplified when there are many more interesting complexities in daily lives than can be accounted for in a news story. One problematic area is the extent to which any religious or cultural antipathy or attack is the result of other deeper causes, discontents that go beyond that of the sect or faction. The links between poverty and crime are not automatic nor inevitable but they are close. Those who foster bigotry are rarely themselves markedly privileged or notably well educated. Being offered the destructive opportunity to join a terrorist group, given the dubious excuse of religious backing, is irresistible to those whose thinking has been blighted by intellectual impoverishment, whether they are Christian or Muslim. Those who suffer from economic and social deprivation have a tendency to turn on those closest to them in

12

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

many ways, on other groups clearly defined who share similar experiences (Bourdieu et al 2003). It does not have to be like this. There is no deep-seated human need for bigotry. All the subtle distinctions of cultural superiority, assertions of personal taste, for prejudices or habit, can be seen as all too human, but intolerance is another matter. There are many recent examples of different communities, clearly defined, living together in harmony. What is interesting about this truism is that it will automatically be interpreted as meaning communities of Muslims or Hindus or Buddhists or Christians, rather than the multifarious juxtapositions of people of all kinds of distinct difference of language and taste, of habits and interests, people who habitually live without thinking of their differences. But even if we study the history of communities that have sometimes lived together peacefully and at other times turned against each other in rabid violence, like the Hindus and Muslims in India, we cannot find intrinsic reasons for such change. There are some places prone to communal violence and some free from it (Varshney 2003). In those places where it is habitual, even respectable, for the two communities to work and take pleasures together, with both formal and informal ties, both are enriched. When Muslims, like others, lead ghettoised lives then there is little to prevent suspicion, mistrust and violence. The problem is that there are many people for whom such a condition is an opportunity, for crime, for petty aggrandisement or for dull amusement. There is increasing research on (some) minority groups, and growing evidence about the long histories of immigration, but the research does not always place the questions that they raise into a broader context, into the parallels there are bound to be with others even if they appear to live in different circumstances. Much of the research also focuses on girls in particular, on their particular place in two societies and the tensions that are thereby created (Basit 2004). The conflicts are slowly being recognised, especially those within the communities, as well as those clashes of expectation, in taste and behaviour. This book tries to give a voice to a particular minority in England, a community which has a certain notoriety. It also tries to encapsulate the way in which the attitudes and experiences of the young people are not just confined to their own circumstances but typical of all, in that they remind us of the similarities rather than the differences of the human condition.

CHAPTER 2: THE ORIGINS OF IDENTITY: HOW PREJUDICE IS FORMED Individual identity is an obvious fact, seen from outside and felt from within. Like language, it is a social phenomenon as well as personal. We all have our own idiolect so that each person’s voice is unique. It is possible to trace all the influences and experiences that mark out a person’s way of speaking, as in Shaw’s play Pygmalion. At the same time we share a global language, even if we do not share the same understanding. For the people who live in a city like Bradford, personal identity is also a communal one. They know they are also labelled. The rest of the world sees Bradford, and its constituent parts, if it knows them at all, in particular ways. The inheritances are obvious, the soot-stained nineteenth buildings, some renewed and some decayed, and the more recent phenomenon of mosques and a plethora of styles of cooking and eating. Equally renowned is the recent past of social unrest, of opportunities to protest, to riot, even if not knowing why or what the protest is against (Wazir 2004). What is clear about a place like Bradford is that for all its uniqueness, it is also typical of particular kinds of urban discontent. There is a sense of uneasy unhappiness, quiet discontent, of a sense of alienation caused by the mental as well as the physical divides. There are the extremes of flamboyant wealth and half hidden poverty, a normlessness that breaks out into assertions of antipathetic belonging. It is a community made up of many individuals, carrying with them multiple identities, their family, their circumstances, their region and their nation. Society consists of individuals, but it is also many entities in itself. How it is formed, and how people form the attitudes that bind them together or hold them apart, is the starting point for this investigation. Habits of mind are formed early. At the beginning of one of Berthold Brecht's plays, a character confronts the audience. "Alexander conquered the East… by himself? Was no-one with him? “ Hannibal crossed the Alps. What about the soldiers, let alone the horses and the elephants?…" History tends to be understood in terms of individuals - `great men'or in terms of anonymous, general, cultural movements. Brecht challenges us to realise that all history is actually made up of many individuals, of shared beliefs and understandings by individuals whose conduct and character is, in turn, shaped by events. Whilst there is a growing recognition of the part played by seemingly insignificant people, there is less understanding of why certain people carry out certain actions at any particular time.

14

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

We know, for example, a lot about the manifestations of nationalism - the waving of flags, the singing of the anthems, the definition of statehood through sporting prowess-- but the reasons for their attraction and their use are less explicit. Nationalism can be seen as either a good or bad thing, not depending just on a point of view but whether the concept is used in defence or in attack. It gives rise to cultural movements, defined by national schools of music. Feelings of national coherence and belonging can be beneficial and benign, when promoting an artistic movement and a shared sense of values. Citizenship can mean the taking on of larger responsibilities for others. Whilst it can be interpreted as a joyous flag waving of a not very serious kind as at the last night of the proms, Nationalism is more usually associated with the most aggressive forms of tribal prejudice. Prejudice is associated with dangerous antipathies, as well as affecting all and a particular mark of character. Prejudices can be for as well as against and include the refinement of cultivated taste as well as the assertions of group loyalty. Distinctions against others, defined in differences of interest, as well as shared experiences, are a necessary consequence of being a social human being. The question is how and why a developed preference for certain forms of art or literature turns into the supercilious dismissal of others or into the rapid hatred of contrary cultural values. If prejudice in one form or another is so deep-seated, so inevitable, it must have its origins in the experience of the early years, not only in the cultural milieu of upbringing but in the formation of attitudes. The reasons for people defining themselves as British or English or Scots lie not only in historical movements but also in the formation of character. How the individual defines him or herself has consequences for action and are the basis of all generalised movements. Nowhere is this clearer than in the rabid and exclusive forms of nationalisation. The most telling example of this remains Nazi Germany. Historians are increasingly recognising that any full explanation must take into account the attitudes and behaviours of countless individuals. The way in which they were affected by mass fervour and the very way in which the individual sense was subsumed or cajoled into a collective whole, lies at the heart of understanding. The individual accounts, like that of Haffner( 2002) or the many who tried to resist, (Hamerow 1999) reveal how insidious is the pressure to submit. What appeared a massive atavistic nationalism turns on the actions of individuals, conforming, being obedient, keeping their heads down and avoiding small confrontations. These are the only real explanations of what happened. In the historic sense, it is important to try to understand the motivations for the actions of ordinary individuals in bolstering a corrupt and murderous regime [Goldhagen, 1996]. It is also important

Ethnicity and Englishness

15

that history teaches why people act in that way. Why did some so easily relish the opportunity to unleash their worst instincts? Why did others instinctively recoil from what was happening? Why did some keep quiet and others assert their opposition? These are the questions that must still be addressed. The reason that individual actions and reactions have not been closely examined is partly because there are so many other ways of explaining events, historic or otherwise. It is also partly because such enquiry is considered a ‘no-go’ area. The mentality of the ghetto can affect even the academic. It seems more elegant to generalise about philosophic or political movements than to engage with the complex realities of personal motivation. Thus we have a whole series of approaches to the rise and power of Nazism in Germany. There are, of course, those which simply ascribe all the events to the German character [Vansittart, 1941]. There are many examples of the incipient prejudices against the `Volk' both before and after the Second World War. The `German character' was firmly established in children's fiction - as an antidote to `English' virtues - before the end of the nineteenth century [Cullingford, 1996]. Even from within the country plays satirising figures like the `Kapitän von Köpenick' seemed to exemplify a Germanic love for order, obedience and uniforms. The charge against all Germans as irredeemably fascist still underlay most of what purported to be a rational debate well into the 1950s [Mandar 1974]. Rather more subtle explanations for Nazism are put forward in terms of philosophical movements. When Kant's categorical imperative of the ideal individual was turned by Herder into the ideal state, some see the consequences, from Nietzsche and Wagner onwards, as inevitable [Kedourie 1968]. There are the purely political explanations, from the chance of the unprepared and unsuitable Wilhelm becoming Kaiser after the death of his elder brother through the Scramble for Africa and the arms race to the Treaty of Versailles with its deliberate infliction of humiliation. All these are both plausible and different approaches to Nationalism but they leave out some of the psychological impulses that drove certain actions. The curiosity about the behaviour of individual Germans in the Holocaust was given a great impetus by the Trial of Adolf Eichman. This was no longer just an insight into one person, or even a tribe, but a question as Hannah Arendt [1969] made clear, for all of humanity. What makes what is seemingly a normal human being, a player of Mozart string quartets, carry out such atrocious acts? Arendt's answer, that people are essentially obedient, is a truth often demonstrated but it is incomplete in itself. Such obedience, however deeply ingrained, depends upon circumstances and particular motivations. For some years, a great deal of attention has been paid to the bombing of Dresden. Since Kurt Vonnegut's novel, all kinds of

16

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

questions have been asked about why the British and Americans could have killed so many civilians in a city that was assumed to be sacrosanct because of its beauty. Whilst the answers range from excuses to blame [Sir Anthony Eden saying `the old cities burn more easily'], one of the reasons lie in the interplay between personal and group motivation and strategy. After the establishment of the Royal Air Force at the end of the First World War, there was an argument that the best use of air power would be in support of troops [Army Air Corps] or ships [Fleet Air Army]. This would have given no excuse for a separate air force. The newly promoted Air Marshalls would have lost status. They, therefore, argued in order to preserve their independence. They put forward the idea that there had to be a separate wing of the armed forces because it had a separate strategic role. They described this as bombing, as the only way in which wars would be fought in the future. They dismissed as incredibly naive and old-fashioned the notion that war would be fought in any other way than through the might of air power. To save their jobs they found an argument. This led to the placing of the bulk of resources into Bomber command and led to now well-known consequences, which include, apart from nearly losing the war, the seemingly inevitable raids on Dresden. Instincts include self-preservation. We have surely all witnessed occasions when people would have done anything to preserve their position, including destroying an institution. The social instincts of individuals are atavistic but are argued out rationally. Obedience to an imposed cause is not the same as embracing it. People might be formed by the first three years of their lives but they are still responsible for their conduct. For these reasons it is impossible to support assertions of generalised aggression or dismissals of other people as irredeemable. The way in which the individual and society mix is far more complex than that and the interaction between them more subtle. One cannot simply ascribe events to individuals alone or to the environmental determinism of some historical explanations. Prejudice is perhaps the most powerful force in history. Whatever the significance of power struggles over food and land and however deep the origins or tribalism, it is the power of distinction, of creating groups and of exclusion that is the theme which runs through the centuries. All this happened before the rise of nation states and nationalism and which remains in one form or another, in small groups or large, a dominant force. As we know, it is inevitable and can be used for good or bad. It can be weak and harmless, dogmatic and assertive. The question remains why some people behave so differently from each other in similar conditions. Where do these particular senses of identity come from?

Ethnicity and Englishness

17

We are always confronted with alternative views of others, by the surprise and pleasure of seeing how like minded they are and by the threat of those with whom we have nothing to say. This dualistic attitude, depending on circumstances, is obviously apparent with Muslim communities. Much is made of the way in which the most sophisticated and educated demonstrate not just high levels of charm but of success. They might have a different inheritance but they understand how to connect to shared cultural values, and their attendant particular habits, like the avoidance of pork or alcohol, are treated with respect. This familiarity with individuals and their differences is the opposite extreme from the suspicion of the implacable sense of a group norm, the impersonal presence of difference. A generalised and superficial view will be at a more visual level, seeing the threat of challenging clothes, the wearing of beards and the palpable sense of incommunicability. The incomprehensibility of difference keeps people apart. This dualistic view might suggest simple differences, like the amount of contact with others or with the amount of education. Whilst one should not underestimate either, there are other forces at work that are nothing to do with ethnicity per se. All people are the result of their experiences and how they deal with them. The extent to which people are tolerant and understanding of other ethnic groups emerges from the levels and frequencies as well as the quality of contact. The more variety of individuals a person knows the easier it is to understand them. Prejudice works at both a simpler and deeper level. Prejudice affects young people according to the way they have reacted to their early experiences. There are four fundamental characteristics about young people that define their experience. Clearly, they overlap and there are a number of social instincts which inform them all. The first fact is that young people are very intelligent. This might seem obvious but its consequences are often not understood. There was a powerful Piagetian mythology that young babies were severely limited in their intellectual as in their physical capacities but all the research that has taken place recently uncovers a power in the brain that is full of potential [Demasio 2001]. The limiting factor is not in cognition but our understanding of it and in the difficulties in examining it. It is telling that the most severe limitation which has notoriously diminished understanding of child development has been the eschewing of social understanding. Context is all. The power of the young mind is in the discrimination between categories and the realisation of circumstances. Of course it is hard to find empirical experiments which, before the capacity to articulate what is understood, demonstrate the way in which young children view the world. They have to find

18

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

their own means of understanding, untutored, unsupported and therefore idiosyncratic to us. Young children are, as it were, like strangers from an alien planet. They scrutinise all they see closely and fastidiously and seek the stimulation of comprehension. Neonates demonstrate the ability to recognise a face for what it is and respond to it seventeen seconds after birth. In just a few weeks, as shown in some ingenious experiments, they reveal their ability to count [see examples in Cullingford, 1999]. The acquisition of language has long caused astonishment not only in the rapidity of the accumulation of vocabulary but the contextual way in which it is acquired. This sharp and curious scrutiny is pressed firmly on their experience. This intense observation is focussed particularly upon human beings. One of the most difficult and sophisticated signs of discrimination is social intercourse in the understanding of the distinction between truth and falsehood. Young children understand the concept of point of view. Whilst hard to detect before the age of three, the realisation that a person might be lying or might sincerely believe in an idea that someone else dismisses as false is already well-established. Babies demonstrate emotional empathy; they can detect in a disinterested way the needs of other people [Dunn 1987]. Far from being manifestations of the egotistical sublime, they realise the otherness of other human beings. They construct themselves against their understanding of other people [Harre, 1998]. In fact, they have all the attributes of people studying society and the way in which people act. If they understand the concept of the point of view and the attractions of mendacity, it follows that they also have a realisation of prejudice. The most powerful element in this deep intelligence is social. This natural capacity for insight into the world that surrounds them is largely ignored. It remains for the most part dependent upon the individuals to realise their potential. The second significant element in early childhood is the importance of relationships. These depend not just on emotional warmth but on the sharing of intellectual observations. The relationships that young people crave are ones which, through language, are both a personal and particular dialogue and a mutual sharing of observations about the environment, whether this is physical, human or the way in which it is described. A relationship can be purely personal and directed. - "Don't do that!" That is the closed dialogue of confrontation or absorption. What children crave is the shared language of discussion of disagreement of expression "what do you think of that?" When young people are deprived of intellectual relationships, all kinds of consequences follow. They muddle up the distinction between people's roles and

Ethnicity and Englishness

19

personalities. They feel psychologically excluded. Their ontological insecurity is assured. The forming of criminal tendencies and the formation of groups have their origins here [Cullingford 1999]. We notice that in the forming of certain kinds of parties certain defence mechanisms, such as protection by the peer group, is detectable. The attraction of gangs and of being outside the norms of conventional understanding are created in the early years. One of the characteristics of the forming of relationships is that they need to be more than purely emotional. The kind of language used is important. Relationships need to be intelligent. Add that to the native capacities of young people and you see the third major factor. The scrutiny of the world by young children is at once dispassionate and judgemental. They learn to make sense of the world by holding onto a neutral position. They then see the extremes and the contrasts. Binary opposites become a way of forming understanding. It is clear that the contrasts between the rich and poor, as well as between right and wrong, make a strong impact. We must remember that the world that is presented to children is not confined to the possible narrowness of their personal lives, to their personal witnessing of their neighbourhoods with its potential threats and memorable sights. The media constantly invade the consciousness and experience of children. Television, in particular, confronts them with its images of different people and different countries. There are such presentations of huge contrasts in the lifestyles and circumstances of people in the programmes on television that few children can escape them. The realisation of the huge disparities of wealth or indeed of virtue, will always have an impact but there are different ways of responding to this. Neutrality might be central but one can see the potential of great anger, or at least disappointment, that circumstances should be like that. The political agitators of our day have been fed their ammunition very early. On the other hand, such unfairness could be viewed with indifference or with acceptance. One of the stark binary choices is that between angry involvement or condoning indifference. We know that either extreme is dangerous but the middle way is also most complex. In their actions, young children maintain their neutrality, even if this leads to a sense of being disenfranchised. Their picture of the world in all its variety is clear. This variety includes images of the poor, in Ethiopia or another part of Africa and images of the rich and successful. The personal assertion through the endorsement of brand names is just one way of the peer pressure of avoiding being branded with the unsuccessful. Into this absorption of the contrasts of the world, creeps the realisation of their own place in it. Neutrality means a suspicion of anything more extreme than the most ordinary and the most widely shared. The clever and the

20

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

demanding, the cultivated and the gifted, can be as suspect as those who drop out. The middle way can become a strong attraction and a disabling one. Given the intelligence, the observation and the thirst for relationships in young people, it is no surprise that the fourth significant experience is their ontological insecurity. Childhood can be traumatic and vulnerable; both through their capacities and through their intense scrutiny of their surroundings, children are busy trying to make sense of it all without much help. This means that the inadvertent comment or the overheard remark can leave a deep impact. Few people set out to traumatise children and yet many of the subsequent difficulties of adulthood, the psychiatric breakdowns, the irrational fears and the inexplicable pains, are all embedded within them. The role of the psychiatrist is nearly always to explore the traumas of childhood. As a consequence of all this, there are certain experiences that all young children most fear and which will reverberate with recognition in anyone who can remember their own or has witnessed other's schooling. One is the sense of being wrong-footed, of having to guess what is expected of you, without knowing what it is. Rules and assumptions that other people share, from the triviality of knowing how to do something that is supposed to be easy to the arcane knowledge of where one is supposed to be, are dependent on the need to anticipate, to demonstrate one’s uncertain instinct. The most common form of this is the guessing of what the teacher wants the pupil to say; it is the assumption that every question is closed and that there is only one right answer. Guessing wrongly or unconventionally can lead to feelings of humiliation, which is the second great fear in childhood. The exposure of being silly or ugly or simply of being less capable than someone else is only lightly handled by those with far more self-confidence than that available to young children. Commensurate assertions of power and ability are a direct consequence to the moments of humiliation and embarrassment. The third fear in childhood is that of unfairness, the realisation that it is not always the deserving that succeed and that hard work is not matched to commensurate rewards. The sense of being `picked on' unfairly by teachers or by other children, is of great significance. These fears are well-known and continue into adult life. The depth of their experience varies greatly, even if universally shared, and marks out the difference between those who will adapt to, and those who will react against, circumstances. The grounds for prejudice against others and the desire to seek the protection of the

Ethnicity and Englishness

21

familiar is clearly laid here. The point has already been made that many of the great failures of our time can be traced to the misunderstanding of the nature of early childhood. When one considers those three items of guessing, humiliation and unfairness, one could not find a better example of such misunderstanding than the schooling system. The factually based curriculum depends on pupils' guessing the right answer, on habitually attempting to predict what it is that the teachers want them to say. The school rules with their implied distinctions and explicit hierarchies and the potential for exposure are all potentially difficult. The whole examination system, from the constant testing to the published league tables are examples of the bureaucraticisation of humiliation. The cry `it's unfair', so commonly heard, pervades the ethos of schools. The resilience of the human spirit must be invoked as it seems as if all the institutionalising of prejudice were being deliberately created. The vulnerability of the young in the formation of character and conduct is allied to the demonstration of social habits that expose individuals to all the temptations of prejudice in the narrowest and most self-assertive sense. The majority of those who survive do so against the odds and do so because there are enough values in relationships to resist the temptations of psychologically playing truant. The vulnerability and the influence of powerful peer group pressure or a shared social norm, like unthinking nationalism, cannot be underestimated. This vulnerability to exploitation is not a matter of innate aggression or of obedience but the escape from troubling realisations into false security. One can see how the temptations to seek escape in closing the mind to outside influences can be stronger in a minority group. It should also be possible to see that these marginalised people also have greater advantages in seeing how differently people make cultural assumptions, thereby realising the contextual nature of the demands. If learning is social, recognising purely cultural assumptions can give a sharper insight into the workings of societies. There are particular moments in the patterns of young lives that reveal the vulnerability to the influence of traumas as ways of directing the interpretation of society. These run from the experience in the home through to the experiences of the neighbourhood to the experiences of school. All are shadowed by other public sources of information, especially television. This section will be confined to some few brief illustrations of the children's points of view, illuminated by a few quotations ( Cullingford, 2000). Even the best regulated home is a potential battleground for attention and of rivalry. Siblings, are, of course, particularly exposed to all the tensions of marking out a space for themselves as well as adapting to circumstances. As much attention

22

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

has been paid to the vulnerabilities of particular siblings, whether they are first or second born as has been made of only children but the real distinctions are not so crude. They depend on the interpretation of particular circumstances on this application of that rough intelligence or the way in which others, particularly adults, react. Thus we can see a whole series of conflicts in an account of everyday life at home. "At home, I get all the blame all the time really. My sister just gets to play with her dolls. Sometimes she gets cuddles and hugs from my mum and dad and I don't usually get them… maybe mummy and daddy think that I'm a bit too old to have cuggles (sic) and kisses and hugs. But I like having a nice cuddle sometimes….'cos it makes…. Sometimes when I have a nice cuddle it makes me feel loved and cared for - which I am, even though I sometimes think I'm not…." "…and sometimes I don't like getting told off that much but sometimes I think I deserve it so I don't always feel sorry for myself. Sometimes I do but not all the time. I'm gonna have one child because if you have two, then they might start arguing like me and Sarah do." [Girl, Aged 8] At one level, this seeking of a natural place is an emotional cry for attention. Wanting to revert to all the physical warmth she used to receive and which has been enjoyed by her sister, gives her not only a feeling of deprivation but also gives her a sense of responsibility. Underneath the emotional is a strong sense of rationality. She understands the distinction between what she craves and her sense of missing it, whilst acknowledging that this is only a feeling. She tells herself that the reality is more positive but the feelings are still there. She knows that she is pained by being told off. She, like so many children, has nostalgia for the past. She analyses her position and understands how easy it is to be irresponsible and cajole her way into her parents' acceptance. This is not just a question of a feeling of emotional jealousy but a rationalising of her position. The sense of her moral position of `setting a good example' and `deserving' things shows her ability to go beyond just the desires of the moment. Nevertheless, she also makes a clear judgement about the future and what to avoid. The vulnerability of childhood at home lies partly in the complexity of relationships and the need to make connections, particularly with parents. The child's, often, inadvertent decisions and statements, which sound like blame, causes a sense of unfairness and exposure. This emotional life is extrapolated into the realisation that all of their peers have a variety of different experiences. They, too, have rivals, quarrels and longings for attention. The contrasts in the home circumstances of other children are symbolised in the notion of space. This is often

Ethnicity and Englishness

23

used in the sense of a psychological space; it is a feeling of a physical answer to a spiritual need akin to a `Volk ohne Raum'. Children talk about the circumstances of their own homes. They dislike sharing rooms. They want their own space. The sense of ownership, of privacy and freedom in a favourite room is shared by those who have space and those who do not. This analysis of place leads them to see an ideal as a bigger space. This even symbolises the child's view of the world beyond. "It's good because there's lots of places. It's big. It's got big houses, big cars…better houses, better because most of them are bigger and they've got different styles. There's better films that you can watch. There's bigger playgrounds…lots of things to do." [Boy, Aged 9]. This is, of course, a typical picture of the United States. The richest country in the world, with all its media manifestations, presents itself to children in ways they interpret in their own ways as being desirable. The height of luxury is space and size. The daily desire for a modest increase in the room to play is translated on a global scale to all the vastness of the rich. Again, the contrasts with other places, like Africa, the potential disparities, are clear. One view is of the inner world of the home and another of the world beyond. In both are juxtapositions between people and a sense of being placed in a hierarchy of experience. Schooling provides both confrontation and hierarchy. There are clear social structures and many conflicts. It is an environment of groups and classes, of gangs and power. School gives an emphatic picture of the organised and formalised social relations between people. It also presents the public opportunities for all of these private relationships and tribulations.

"I've got plenty of other friends. I feel a bit sorry for her `cos sometimes when I say I like her she doesn't believe me…like, well, when everyone is being horrible to her she says "No-one likes me! I haven't got any friends." And I say `I like you… you are my friend." And she just walks off in a huff and says "You're just pretending. I know you don’t like me because I'm black." - they say that to her so maybe she feels that noone likes her at all….because one person started it off saying she was black `cos she's the colour of poo…`cos they just want to cause trouble and be spiteful. Some children have been through a rough patch themselves, so they take it out on

24

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

other children. It makes them go through a rough patch just because they've gone through a rough patch at home." [Girl, Aged 8] Internecine conflict is rife. The school is a place where arguments and quarrels, as well as friendships, can flourish. The constant social movement of being an insider or outsider is supported by instant prejudice. In addition we see here a crucial psychological analysis of what is taking place. Bad behaviour is not just ascribed to labelling but to racism. It is due to the vulnerability, to emotional damage, to a `rough patch'. The home is involved in this as an explanation for why they behave so badly towards others. This is not so much an excuse as an insight into the motivations that drive people to belong to, or eschew, groups. Even those things said are not believed. The pleasure taken in spite and unkindness is observed. Emotional revenge, taking it out on others, getting their own back because they feel vulnerable, is recognised. It is partly an individual matter, and partly one of group mentality. It is easy to see this translated into the hysterical vulnerability of a whole nation, let alone groups within it. The personal traumas of the playground can be interpreted as a particular means of understanding emotional relationships as if teasing and bullying, exposure and humiliation were a necessary formative influence. Within the confines of the school, they are contained and given a particular context. The contrasts between those who are `in' and `out', those who are successful or admired and those who are not, are sometimes interpreted as a temporary pattern of young people's lives, from which they will emerge unscathed. The patterns of success and of failure are assumed not to be translated into adult experience but society at large, is also being observed. What is witnessed in one form is the rumbling discontentment of the playground which is also made clear in the experiences of what is seen beyond. Space might be linked with riches and symbolised in America. Vulnerability might be that of being `picked on', as being different and made iconic in terms of failure. It is also seen as a real part of the larger world not conveyed second-hand through television but with the more significant immediacy of personal experience. "There's people on the streets. When I went to London with my mum and my mum's boyfriend and my brother, we went past some of those shops that had shut down and there were people kicking cardboard boxes and people walking around. Ragged houses with smashed windows and people sleeping in cardboard boxes. In London, a lot. They're sitting on, like, dustbins asking for money." [Boy, Aged 8]

Ethnicity and Englishness

25

The sense of personal shock is shared by all the children. This is no isolated case. Some might not have seen so much of poverty or homelessness or have recalled a particular incident but all talk about it. The realities of the world, as a whole, are never far away and join with the realities of the emotional upheavals of their personal lives. It is the juxtaposition of the two that make them vulnerable. The human need for intellectual security is easily undermined. The experiences of childhood, so little understood, or obscured in the superficial turmoil of those who prefer to attack straw men to show their own significant prejudices rather than to try to understand, lend themselves to other kinds of prejudice. People respond to pressures and manipulations from deep-seated senses of weakness - far more prevalent than generally admitted. The fact that the seemingly invaluable have also experienced some degree of traumas perhaps explains why there is such a denial - a sign of prejudice in itself. Insecurity can find new forms of artificial or collective comfort in the forming of groups but the real passion of nationalism tends to be against others. The definitions of groups, or groups of hooligans, are also most powerful when there are clear enemies, the more the better. A label of a nation state can seem to assert a collective belief but it can also be turned against itself. The word `British' is used by some ethnic minority groups as a definition of their otherness, of their belonging essentially to the place where they live. Some are told that they live in a `Kufr' [immoral or alien] society and harbour all the contradictions of belonging and not belonging. Such uses of the concepts of self-definition, even more than the hooliganism of those who wrap themselves in the flag of St. George, reveal the vulnerability of which nationalism is one form of play. It is ironic to find that the term `British' can be used as a weapon.

CHAPTER 3: ON BEING BRITISH: CULTURE AND NATIONALISM Culture is a concept clearly understood and impossible to define. It is a chameleon word that has multiple meanings. It is a word, like imagination, that philosophers enjoy defining out of existence [White, 2003]. Culture is an attempt to invoke a collective identity, of taste or class, of family or tribe. A shared culture is one that both creates itself through a sense of exclusivity, keeping others out, or is an inclusive control, defining what is in common as an identity. Any sense of personal identity must have multiple meanings, so that whilst we know that we are talking about our daily experience, to view it as from the outside is problematic. Once we go beneath the easily understood stereotypes we realise both the consequences and the complexity of each person’s position. That we define ourselves against others, as belonging to a series of bonds and mutual interests, is clear. The small family or the extended relations, the caste or the tribe or the nationality, are all communities of shared implicit understandings as well as conscious interests. Each of these can be rejected as well as inhabited. Their atavistic influence is often at a subconscious level. Culture, the environmental inheritance, is as much part of the personality as genetics, giving us language and attitudes. The irony is that we sometimes like to think that culture is simply inherited. Perdita, in the Winters Tale, wherever she is brought up, will always have the instincts and language of a princess. Green, in his disquisition of the nobility of the mongrel race, the English, lends implicit weight to the notion of the born gentleman whose well bred blood will always lead him towards decency [Green, 1874]. It is only comparatively recently that notions of blood, as in divine right or in the nobility, has been questioned as a touchstone of social understanding. Inheritance is, all inclusive and forms an identity through the individual and the environment. To lose that sense of balance, and to argue for either genetic or environmental determinism is to be in danger of pursuing an argument towards a pathological conclusion, as in eugenics or, at the opposite extreme, the gulags of communist Russia (Ridley 2004). Whatever is understood about the equality or diversity of genetics, history is the story of prejudice, and definitions of exclusivity and authority. The exclusivity can be defined in terms of religion or sect, nation or region, education or taste, class or loyalty, dialect or caste. As this book demonstrates, many of these exclusitivities

Ethnicity and Englishness

27

are overlapping and often contradictory. An adherent to a particular religion will tend to be defensive of his sect in one circumstance, and sensitive about his religion in others, and sometimes will wonder which distinction of belief arouses his fiercest of passions, those within the fold or those without. People will always care about their collective identity, which is why nationality makes such an interesting and symbolic case. Nationality is, after all, the most peculiar of the markers of adherence and can therefore illuminate the thought patterns of those aware of religion or region or immediate community. Stereotypes are attempts to simplify social differences and personal identity. In the communities of shared practices and attitudes, the relationship between the individual personality and the role he or she plays is always important. In young children social learning, one of the very first enquiries is about this relationship . They know, almost from the beginning, that people have their own particular point of view, and that there is a profound difference between truth and falsehood (Cullingford, 1999). Their learning is social and this means understanding the many layers of collective interests, from family to the community, and also the tensions between them. There is a growing literature on the social self and a huge one on social attitudes, from class to nationality. From their earliest experiences children’s attitudes towards others shows both great sympathy to all other (Dunn 1987) and objective insight into people’s differences of class and community, ending with a series of prejudices which can be good or bad according to the circumstance. The simpler level of distinction is that of obvious difference, in physical appearance or behaviour and the most obvious example of these is nationality. It is the encounters between people and how they identify themselves, using differences as a process that are always interesting, since the simplest of curiosities is a form of personal revelation. Let us take tourism as an example. The yearning to travel goes beyond the longing for the sun or economic advantage. The interest in the exotic or an adventure away from the familiar comforts of home, is a personal matter. Tourists are clearly separated from the place they are in, looking for features that most meet their expectations (Boorstin, 1972). Seeing places and people that are different gives a greater sense of the self, both personal and social. Some argue that inveterate travellers seek a notion of authenticity that they cannot experience in their own community (M’Cannell, 1976). In seeking out the notion of otherness, tourists evaluate their personal values (Suvantola, 2002). Travelling to other places creates understandings of both one’s own and other cultures. The term ‘culture shock’ implies a clear demarcation (Furnham, 1993; Furnham and Bochner, 1982). This might be on a personal level and be exhibited

28

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

in personal misunderstandings or the inability to communicate at all, but these differences are also matters of simple stereotyping. The polarisation of different nations, like that of North and South regions, lies not just on economic but emotional planes. Thus there are images of efficiency [Germany versus Italy],emotions [Italy versus England], or dominance [Germany versus Belgium] (Linssen and Hagendoorn, 1994). These are the senses of national identity; ones own as opposed to others. These definitions of nationality begin young and are pervasive, although some notions are more clearly defined in the minds of children and earlier than others. Some countries are more aware of their identity, like Japan or Germany rather than France (Lambert and Klineberg 1967). All, however, think that their own particular virtues, to be good, kind and free, are associated with their national values. Ever since Piaget in 1928 there have been many recordings of children’s attitudes towards other countries (Piaget and Weil 1951). That by the age of six some countries are preferred over others [America and France rather than Germany and Russia] is clear even before children know how to define a ‘country’ (Tajfel 1981, Tajfel et al 1970). Nevertheless more recently there are signs that the overt prejudice for ones own country as opposed to others is waning (Cullingford, 2000). The actual self-positioning of young children is more complex and more neutral than simple or unreflective stereotypes. That these exist, a liking for the United States, or a prejudice against Germany, is clear, yet they are not so unproblematic and certainly do not assume an automatic sense of superiority of ones own country. Personal points of view and a sense of identity do not automatically lead to feelings of superiority. It is impossible to acquire neutral differentiation. The views of simple stereotyping, from flag waving to flag burning are being replaced by more complex notions of situational identities ( Smith, 1992). Within all the barometers taken by European surveys attitudes are stronger or weaker developments of personal as well as national identities (DuBois Reymond, 1998). This might be partly due to growing globalisation but it is also because of our greater understanding of the ways in which personal identity and confidence are fostered, or undermined. The expansion of larger political hegemonies, like Europe, or the break-up of smaller ones, like Britain, together with the results of significance numbers of immigrants all make national identity of higher salience rather than less. At the heart of collective identity is the idea of nationality, both a political and personal understanding. Nationalism is the largest and the most destructive of collective prejudices. It encompasses fear as well as hate, snobbery as well as racism. Whilst it has taken forms that seem more ridiculous than serious, like the stereotypes in books written

Ethnicity and Englishness

29

for children in the First World War, these all have a serious and destructive background. Nationalism is a crude attitude exploited by politicians. It can be founded on the assumption of superiority and the renewal of glorious destiny (Smith, 1996). It can be the response to fear and a sense of a disintegrating world (Stone, 1980). Nationalism can be deliberately invoked as in the creation of the State of Israel (Kashti, 1998). It is a phenomenon that pervades the consciousness of citizens at a number of levels, being seen both in the ways in which politicians use history and in the ways in which school textbooks twist historical facts to promote a chauvinistic point of view (Berghahn and Schissler1987). Nationalism, and the idea of nation-states, has not abated with the spread of international communication, multi-national business and globalisation (Huntingdon, 1996). The arguments based on types of collective identity still underlie political differences and agreements. What nationalism really stands for in all its different guises, covering boundaries of race and language, is hard to define yet there is widespread agreement that nationalism is a comparatively recent phenomenon. That makes one wonder whether, as will be seen in the particulars of this case study, nationalism is a passing phase in the way people see and understand each other. Most writers trace nationalism back to the late 18th century whether in the politics of the French Revolution (Scharma 1992) or in the philosophy of idealism (Kedourie 1968). Notions of nationhood vie with nationality for expression, just as patriotism rubs against nationalism (Appadurai 1968). Nationalism is a sentiment of unity, however artificial, an aggrandisement of the self. It is a desire to be proud of being part of a collective will, and often an alternative to the lack of pride in the self. Nationalism is hard to define exactly in its origins or in its peculiar characteristics and yet it is a phenomenon easily observable. The difficulty is that being part of an imagined community (Seton Watson 1977) brings all the aspects of a club or family of knowable characteristics with something so large it has to remain, to an extent, abstract. What in earlier centuries were systems of religious communities and dynastic realms turned into self-conscious nationhoods. Some argue this was a result of colonisation (Anderson, 1991), others that it was a result of democracy (Ringmer, 1998). These quite distinct arguments for the development of a collective state of mind are significant for they suggest that there are multiple and complex reasons for the rise of shared cultural phenomena and that the process of collective expression is one which is subtle, private, unofficial and the results as much of gossip as of overt political will. Many of these social forces are themselves full of contradictions. What could be more telling than communist nationalism, ostensibly an oxymoron but in fact a powerful social conviction. Nationalism is at once an aggressive assertion of the powerful against others and a

30

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

desire of smaller communities for their own vernacular. The nineteenth century gave rise to many peaceable assertions of nationality, in music, art and literature, as well as to national anthems and Tombs of the Unknown Warrior, the concept of “Pro Patria Mori” and banners with messages of assertive self-destruction such as “Deutschland muss leben und wenn wir sterben mussen” (Germany must Live even if we have to die to make it so). Nationalism is an interesting phenomenon partly because of its shallow history in its modern form, and partly because it gives an insight into mass psychology. It is a particularly virulent and expressive symbol of a collective attitude where individuals bolster up their sense of identity in large scale tribalism, seeing aliens even in those other peoples about whom they know a great deal. Those who believe in the power of the individual voice also want to be on intimate terms with those with whom it is easy to speak, and the larger the number the more the sense of the individual importance. During war nationalism becomes an end in itself but the banal nationalism of the Olympic games and other sports, and in the flags of different nations, is a more pervasive fact of everyday life [Billig, 1995]. The promotion of particular groups defined against others is something expressed everyday, and it does not need an imagined enemy or real opponent to bring the attitude to the fore. Nationalism is, of course, symbolic of all those feelings of difference and assertions of identity. There are many smaller signs of total adherence, to a club, region or district or a church. Cultural differences are a particular way of showing up the phenomenon of collective values and habits of thought from language to taste. Culture has been defined as a collective programming of the mind [Hofstede, 1980], a smaller version of nationalism. There are a number of facets of cultural identity, conscious or instinctive. The demarcations of taste or preferences of shared values are particularly important, but they are not one dimensional. Just as people have particular passions of which they might be half ashamed, like a yearning for what is obviously self-indulgence, so there are layers of tribal and personal taste. The identity of a person’s ‘culture’ or ‘nationality’ is never a simple one of static representation. It is fluid and changeable. If a shared culture is complex, it is also never fixed. The point that taste is an artificial matter, a product of upbringing and experience is one that is taken seriously (Bourdieu, 1984). This is because nothing about taste is static. Changing fashions in attitudes as well as snobbery highlights the fact that the desire to manifest shared understandings is a fleeting phenomenon as well as a permanent mark of identity. Neither culture nor nationalism are static or eternal. No group or sect can perpetuate itself, however much it might try to. The very fact that one of

Ethnicity and Englishness

31

the principles of religion, of any social institution, is to retain an unchanging identity through the imposition of rules and guidelines demonstrates how difficult this is to do. There are constant generational shifts in which people re-define themselves in the light of changing circumstance and needs (Inglehart, 1990). However fluid the notions of the collective shared values, they leave deep impressions. No one doubts the importance either of awkward manifestations of nationalistic or tribal hatred, or the inward hurt of rejection as an outsider. On the one hand we witness the aggression that objects to the very identity of a person. On the other we see the humiliation of being considered contemptible. However hard the carapace of collective identity, there is always the potential of individual selfconsciousness and self-awareness. Even those who have chosen to go to another country or to a different experience can find it difficult (Osler, 1998). Being confronted by the culture of another country does not itself make people aware of their own cultural, or multi-cultural background. There is an important distinction to be made between the sense of oneself as a cultural identity and the definitions of self against others. It is far easier to stereotype other races than to develop a corporate set of personal, distinct and shared values. The banal characteristics of football supporters can be as superficial as the flags draped round them, unless one believes that rowdy and drunken behaviour is a national characteristic. The controversy about what is ‘British’ or what is ‘English’ is symbolic of the loss of a shared, globally recognised identity, but it is also a sign of increasing self-consciousness and the doubt about what was once taken for granted. The continuation of self-consciousness and doubt is important. There was a time, in the recent past, when it was clear what being ‘British’ or being ‘English’ were about. The assertions of the stiff upper lip, of moral rectitude and a sense of fair play were all part of an accepted image of being ‘British’, an expectation of behaviour to impress those abroad or those sent abroad. The idea of the English gentleman remained very powerful and both ideas of Britishness and Englishness were the centre of the fiction written for young children in the tradition from Herbert Strang to Percy Westerman. A strong sense of national identity is something peculiar. It is either a given, a state of mind, a cultural fact through bonds of language and visual imagery, or it is a matter to be propagated, to be asserted through constant re-iterations of national symbols. In the latter case, the ‘Britishness’ of the English, Irish, Scots and Welsh was a conscious reminder of virtuous superiority, promoted in literature and song but especially visible to foreigners. The British themselves believed their characteristics to be moral, but to outsiders many of the symbols are far more superficial. What remains, for instance, in the minds of children in continental

32

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

Europe are the old fashioned stereotypes (Cullingford and Husemann 1996). These consist still of bowler hats and umbrellas, of country houses and the Guards, an image still exploited by tourist boards as an easy way to promote attraction. Cultural identity has many layers, from the dangerous to the absurd. Being conscious of ones collective identity can be a sign of weakness as well as strength. That one of the identities will be that of a nation, as well as a region, is made obvious by those who have emigrated as so many have, especially from the rest of Europe, over the years. They have retained accents, tastes and habits that make them distinct. Complete assimilation, like purifying the accent, takes a generation. Such differences can be celebrated or be a target of abuse. In some cases the conscious ‘outsider’ is marked out by appearance whether of clothes or skin. This is where a different dimension of belonging or identity comes in; whether the difference remains marked in accent and language or is not even skin deep. Ethnicity is a curious concept. We talk of cultures, religions, tribes and nations. All have palpable features and connections; they are both symbols of identity and networks of deliberately created communities. Ethnicity is something else. It seems obvious but the more that is studied the more superficial it is compared to the deep hold of the neighbourhood or the family, the network of interests in the biraderi, or the distinctions of sect. Ethnicity is vague. It remains, however, powerful when used as the butt of other deeper urges. Being aware of, or proud of, ones collective appearance is like being ‘picked on’ by bullies in school for being different. It has little to do with culture or personal identity. Some take their colour for granted; others are forced not to. In a study of young Londoners, it was found that ninety percent of Blacks claimed they were proud of their colour (Nayak, 2003). Only thirty-four percent of white young people expressed this feeling, but this could be because they do not see themselves as ‘ethnic’. Ethnicity is associated with minorities, the outsiders. Externalising prejudice, at a variety of levels, abounds. Seeing the otherness of other people is a type of atavistic self-definition. It is an easy demarcation line to stereotype. Certain prejudices are obvious both between countries and within. For example, young people brought up in a liberal education system in Finland, which prides itself on teaching tolerance, expressed growing antipathies to gypsies, if not to Jews and the Sami people. Stereotypes can also be created in more subtle ways, as with minority ethnic groups who are long established and powerful, like the Jews, as opposed to Gypsies.

Ethnicity and Englishness

33

Primary school children, in discussing Jesus Christ, hold on to the idea of Jews as particularly rich (Short and Carrington, 1995). The great question is whether there are prejudices that go so deep that they will mark out some people’s complete view, or whether prejudice is something used for specific purposes, usually to do with inadequacy. The attitudes of majority and minority ethnic groups can always show symptoms of antipathy as in the riots and the demarcation lines in Oldham (Thomas, 2004). If children’s views of different races [as opposed to being English or British] are explored there will be very personal and specific reactions against individuals translated into a wider stereotype (Troyna and Hatcher, 1991). A personal argument can be turned into a more general slur on someone else’s background. It is usually that way round rather than the other. On the one hand there are those who seek a collective outlet for personal frustration in the uses of prejudice (Fraser 2001). On the other hand we see the lubriciousness of labels, as between Englishness and Britishness, that reveal a far more personal, as opposed to a more national sense of identity that finds no comfort in collective labelling. The symbolic boundaries of Englishness are underlined by yet another influx of cultural inheritance (Phoenix, 1995; Tizard and Phoenix, 1993). This is something long accepted by people in the nineteenth century but which has been given a far sharper questioning by the inheritance of the British Empire. The consequence of a loss of collective identity is a sharpening of focus on smaller groups. From the Union Jack of Great Britain ubiquitously waved at the 1966 Football World Cup Final we see the cross of St George held up at contemporary sporting events [Wright, 2002]. This is not just a result of the break-up of the United Kingdom, nor the impact of Europe creating incentives to adhere to the Union, but a result of multiple layers of cultural identity. Regionalism grows as fast as internationalism. The far greater cultural complexity of modern society makes the whole question of groups, tribes and other forms of belonging, different. Into this change, and into this mixture come the group which is the subject of this book. At one level the differences are obvious, but they themselves raise questions about nationhood. At another we see the way in which personal identity is adapted to a series of distinctions of different demands and particular adaptabilities. Personal cultural identity is a security that allows far greater tolerance of difference. A distinct style of life is an expression of the self or it can become an imposition or a narrowness of focus which suggests resentment of all those who do not adhere to a way of living. Cultural distinction, like taste, can be something celebrated, or used against others.

34

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

The most significant difference between people and between groups of people is not the type of belief or the manifestation of taste and gratification, but its depth and intensity. There tends to be a parallel between the securities of ones own assumptions and the tolerance for other people. In a study of families in London and Luton who originally came from Africa, Afro-Caribbean, Bangladeshi, Indian and Pakistani backgrounds it was found that those who held on to cultural values, as opposed to concentrating solely on material ones, coped better (Moyende, 1997). They felt they had community spirit, shared networks and something worth celebrating. Those who had tried to jettison their own inheritance and simply take on the majority values as fostered by the State found themselves more, rather than less confused. The nurturing of inherited values also meant a degree of self-help, of mutual assistance rather than the use of statutory or voluntary social services. They were aware of the tensions between official and parental authority, and were adapting to certain parts of the norms that they liked, for instance greater rights for women. The British context is obvious and important but each small group keeps its cultural identity. This is as true of Muslims as of aristocrats (Parker-Jenkins, 1995). We invoke class here because there have always been distinct ties of attitude which are based on notions of the tribalism of taste. Class distinctions are many and subtle, with all the telltale signs of accent and appearance. Each group is aware of the differences and really only comfortable with their own. This subject could be seen as something different but it points up the fact that differences below and between the levels of nation or region are of greater salience than larger, more invented communities. The position of minority ethnic groups, and sects, is often more explainable in terms of class than ethnicity. What is certain is that we cannot simply label someone as belonging to a class, and leave it as the complete story. Class labelling abounds and we know exactly what is meant by saying ‘lower middle class’ or ‘LMC’, until we examine it. It is a palpable notion but the truth only begins there. The same is true of the generalisations about the ‘Muslim’ community. Quite apart from the fact that as in all religions sectarianism is both rife and impartial, and quite apart from the different geographical backgrounds, each community is distinct to itself. There are varieties of cultures and varieties of ways of adapting. One of the best examples of what is at one level a generalisation, which is valid and reliable, but at another level a vast generalisation that obscures the facts, is that of the forced marriage. Gender is a particular problem in some cultures and a particular way that cultures interpret religious principle. A great deal of official as well as media attention is paid to the examples of forced, as opposed to arranged, marriages. There are many examples of individual cases, which demonstrate the extremes of culture shock. The suffering of those involved should not be

Ethnicity and Englishness

35

underestimated but it should not lead to the stereotype of all of Islam being necessarily oppressive to women, dominated by male chauvinism and the dominance of the tribal elders. The way in which Muslim women adapt and change, the very way they argue, demonstrates a far more individual and coherent use of their religion and their identities. In parallel with the research on racism and anti-racism, and on multi-culturalism, there has long been a fascination with the aspirations, educational of otherwise, of minority ethnic groups. In some notorious cases surprise has been expressed that they should have any. In others the surprise has been limited to the aspiration of girls. If the position of women in ‘Asian’ cultures were so demeaned we would expect to see an extensive submission to the lack of rights and the suppression of endeavour. In fact we see nothing of the sort as we will see the complex adaptability of Muslim girls. They express a sense of hope and expectation, rather than stress and confusion (Basit, 1997). They have typical aspirations for both their careers and children. They do not simply replicate the experiences of their parents. They desire education. It is the teachers who tend to see their aspirations as unrealistic, misunderstanding what lies beneath the cultural mores of the larger community. Young Asian girls are in unique position in belonging to two strong cultural communities, not one, and using this as a strength (Barker, 1997). Aspirations include not just educational advances but cultural ones as well, absorbing new tastes whilst still clinging to the familiar. The key note, both to the position of women and to the notion of aspirations, is that of adaptability, obvious or hidden. There is no one monolithic way of developing either individual or shared identities. In the tensions between perceived identities there are different styles of adaption, and choices of what to adopt as ones own. Beneath the homogenised views of minority communities and the assumptions of oppression, lie different constructions of personal adaptability and assertiveness. In one study based on listening to people talking and explaining themselves, there is a resulting typology of far different sorts of response to the challenge of multiple and conflicting expectations (Shain, 2003). One group of girls blamed the submission on their lack of success, and difficulty in adapting to educational expectation, which are typical of the socio-economically deprived. Most of the young women survived much better. One group coped by balancing the worlds of home and school adapting severally the norms of both. Another group were more critical. They were able to take out of their dual cultural inheritance what they felt was more useful to them, reject expressly what they did not approve. The last group were those who took a stand on the principles of belief, and coped by re-asserting the religious aspect of the inheritance. This could in itself be a challenge to the

36

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

cultural norms accepted by the parents and elders; a use of religion as selfassertion (Azam 2006). In all these ways of adapting or submitting there are clear tensions between the personal aspirations and the external aspirations. This is true of the experience of all adolescents, but exacerbated by having two conflicting sets of extreme pressure. The desire in everyone, from early childhood, is to understand the relationship between an individual and the institution [or culture] of which he or she is part. Role and personality are of constant concern, visible in the actions of teachers as well as parents and elders. Moving from one range of assumptions and beliefs to another makes the tension between the personal and the need to adapt the more intense. Adaptability is mostly inarticulate, something achieved without drawing attention to itself. Aspirations, however, can be articulated. What do young people want to be, and what do they wish to achieve? In order to understand that they need to have a sense of themselves as they are and where they belong. We have discussed briefly the tensions between Englishness and Britishness, and between the cultures of different communities as well as the contrasts within them. What do young people in a minority ethnic and religious group think of themselves and how would they define it? Would they cling to the status of immigrants or assert their right to belong? When we observe the sense of young Londoners’ ethnicity we note the difference between the assertion of identity and taking it for granted. The question is whether a sense of nationalism can also become a sign of almost invisible adaption or a mark of estrangement. The term British has become eroded, up to a point, because of the loss of a collective island identity as revealed overseas. Recent books of general history tend to make a great point about diversity; not so much an island identity as ‘the Isles’ [Roberts 1997]. The break-up of a collective identity is supposed to lead to regionalism ultimately, but more immediately to the assembling of Scots, Welsh or Irish identities. Those people who carry a British passport would nevertheless, on being challenged at home, call themselves ‘English’ [or Scots]. Britishness is the preserve of officialdom. Yet when minority ethnic groups are asked about their identity very few of them living in England would immediately assert that they are English. Instead they seem to have made themselves into the new British. Let us take as an example the subject of the book. There is a small proportion of the young people [ten per cent] who would assert their particular inheritance in calling themselves ‘Pakistanis’. This is clearly inaccurate in terms of nationality, but it is an example of loyalty to an inheritance, like supporting visiting Pakistani cricket teams. Whilst in North America it is customary for people to declare a

Ethnicity and Englishness

37

hybrid nationality- “I’m Ukrainian Canadian; I’m Jewish American; I’m first nation Canadian; I’m Irish American: Je suis Canadien”- this is rarely found in Great Britain. Instead of saying “I’m Asian English” or Indian English” we find more simple and on the face of it, direct attitudes. Ninety percent of the people in question say they are ‘British’. They could have called themselves ‘Mirpuri’. Some did call themselves ‘Pakistanis’ but for the majority it is ‘Britishness’ that marks them out as distinct. Being ‘British’ is therefore become an assertion of something else, a third way of identity. Britishness is neither about absolute belonging, like ethnicity taken for granted nor a rejection. The idea of being ‘British’ rather than Asian-English even gets stronger as they get older. Britain means home, means language and education, but it also suggests a striking out for a new identity. The assertion of being British is seen as a natural result of all the values that they could hold dear in the place they live, whilst not losing sight of the traditions which are also part of them. So it is with laconic acceptance we hear, “Well we’re British and Britain is our home” [Male, 18]. Of course most people in the same northern town would not call their homeland ‘Britain’, but this follows the singular and shared response to the fact of being ‘British’ as distinct from English and having a new place of belonging. This arises through the definitions of the common everyday culture, “They [young people] definitely think they are British, gora [British], that everything about them is gora, even food they want to eat chips, pizzas instead of chapattis and also they behave in a gora way and wear British clothes” [Female, 16]. Whilst there is strong sense of assimilation of local habits into an existing Apna way of life, there is also a sign of broad differences. ‘Gora’ does not mean British but is even vaguer: ‘white people’. One of the underlying reasons for this assertion of being ‘British’ is that it marks the young out from their parents. It is a generational battle, typical of all relations between shared traditional values and personal self-assertion. For the young people their parents and the older generation are still ‘Pakistanis’. Just as with earlier influxes of immigrants, like the Huguenots, it is a question of how many [or few] generations it takes not to convey a sense of having come from elsewhere. Some parents might argue that they are Pakistani. The young people certainly attribute them that identity, it being the mark of where someone is born, rather than where he has chosen to live,

38

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

“But none of us have been there…my father knows that we’ll never live there…[Male, 18] The labelling of ‘Pakistanis’ is, however, more a symbol of difference. The young people, after all, accept that their parents and the community generally are, as a fact of place, British. This is despite the fact that they are constantly told they live in a ‘Kufr’ [immoral] society. Despite the cajolings of religious estrangements the young people see their elders as both Pakistanis and British. They accept the reality of place and what it implies far more readily than their parents. “I think that these bud-day [older Pakistanis] are as British as young people except they have a beard and wear shalwar and kameez” [Male, 18] Being British does not, however, mean the loss of separate identities, or being simply absorbed in the mainstream anymore than the Jewish community. There will always be a tension between two ways of life, let alone two different types of belief, and the tension is observed by young people as being bolstered by some Muslim elders holding on to their hegemony by making their country their cultural enemy, a kufr-na mulh [an immoral county], hostile to foreigners and especially Islam. The young people tend to find this absurd, and use their belief in a quite different way. The adaptation to Great Britain as a homeland is obviously and inevitably deeper to those born in it, let alone the children of those born in it [Stopes-Roe and Cochrane, 1990]. If one compares one generation to another we find growing assertions of being ‘British’, including all the subtle implications the new use of the term implies [Modood, 1997]. The terms ‘British’ after all includes Scotland where the mosques and temples also demonstrate the sense of permanence [Ramdin 1998]. Despite this gradual change we should not forget the complexity and the differences of the inheritances. The British themselves should understand this. Any assimilation will not be into a homogeneous culture but into a region, a class and a neighbourhood. The language will be that of locality, like the language that is brought with them. The fact that English is so quickly used and preferred in the younger generation is not only because it is the international language, the language of education, and the language of public culture but because, whatever the regional variations, it is one shared language. What is called the ‘Asian’ community might bring a domestic language with them but it is in fact particular separated languages, Urdu, Mirpuri, Kashmiri, Punjabi, Bengali and Hindi, all

Ethnicity and Englishness

39

denoting different regions. The English language is a style and culture. It is also a practicality within the linguistic communities. Defining being ‘British’ as both an acceptance of the place they live in, and a distinction that allows their own particular identity is a dualism that actually marks out all people with multiple and growing circles of adherents, from family to networks. This duality is shown up in Lord Tebbit’s notorious ‘Cricket Test’, when he asserted that national loyalty could be defined by which cricket team would be followed in the World Cup. Of these young British people sixty three percent said they rooted for Pakistan. This is no revelation of a desire to leave, but the excitement of having an identifiable and unusual team to support. No one considers a Yorkshireman’s support for Manchester United being disloyal. People acquire clubs by accident, rather than conscious choice. Concepts of Britishness vary between generations, but they also vary in other, understandable ways. Virtually seventy percent of men described themselves as Pakistani, but eighty five percent of women do the same, revealing the history of migration with the fathers coming first to establish themselves. The more confident of success, the fewer the earlier ties. Three-quarters of older men from a professional background describe themselves as British. Three quarters of manual workers describe themselves as Pakistani. Their children were aware of such differences of attitude in their parents. “My father would say British. He’s been here most of his life…as for mother she would say more Pakistani than British” [Female, Aged 17] There is, of course, still a steady migration to Pakistan, for visiting family and for holidays [Wiegand 1993 ]. This is understandable given the sending of money as well as the ties, with ceremonies from weddings to funerals. The economic ties are also strong but the very visiting of different culture can reveal great differences as well as the heritage. There are bound to be contradictions and ambivalent feelings. No one lives in a place of simplified unity, unaffected by external influences and lacking the juxtaposition of different styles of thoughts, language and expectation. This community is typical. First there is the tension between the generations of which the young are not only aware but perfectly articulate. “They’d say they’re Pakistanis, definitely Pakistanis. Its all the things they do and say like Pakistan is our home, they build houses they send money to Pakistan. They also want us to have arranged marriage which the Pakistanis born in Britain don’t want” [Male, Aged 19] The old ties are obvious, economic and familial. But these are also distanced; it is what ‘they’ want’.

40

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

At the same time that the ancient ties are observed, the same people acknowledge the new economic and cultural realities. Indeed, there is a saying that ‘en-na gora rose-ze dhiti-thi’ [these white people gave us a living]. Economic ties cannot be separated from cultural ones, and the sense of advantage, even unsuspected generosity is as strongly there as the sense of the immoral. The religious pressure to strike out against the values [or lack of them] in the majority is always there, but beneath the surface the personal reality remains the same. “Well I think that a lot of old people find it embarrassing to say in public that they’re British. They think of it as a dirty word; only admit it in private” [Male, Aged 17] The tensions of belonging, social, economic and formal, as well as personal and cultural, will always be there. The influence goes both ways [Said, 1994]. Just as imperialists spread their own habits into lands they inhabit, whilst trying not to be absorbed, so they brought back subconsciously many more subtle differences than they would admit to. Cultural clashes mark up differences that make people the more aware of otherness, but influences are subtle and identity never so simple. The immigrants, wherever they have come from and before they have been absorbed will always be aware of the financial advantages of the move. But they also bring with them the religions sense that in a ‘kufr ban-dah ray-nay’ [immoral country] the young are likely to be corrupted by rejecting the traditional values of their parents and elders. Just as the British in the Raj, the very difference makes a place exotic and dangerous. Immigrants at first enjoy and make use of the benefits of living in a more developed country but they will do this with a degree of natural hypocrisy or unaffected cynicism that demonstrates the capacity to hold onto several beliefs at the same time. Identity is always multi-faceted. Nothing shows this up better than the experience of immigrants. And those who criticise the strongest are often those who care the most.

CHAPTER 4: THE TENSIONS OF BELONGING; THE SAMPLE COMMUNITY The community that is our sample demonstrates characteristics that are true of all communities. It makes explicit what is normally hidden, the tensions between inheritance and the present, the personal sense of being in a particular group and the larger imagined feelings of belonging, and the complex connections that influence thought and culture. The awareness of the past, with its ancestries of identity and changing coherence, is always an important influence on present thinking, whether acknowledged or not. This group of people who come from Mirpur in Pakistan are more conscious than many of their connection with their inheritance. The sense of family goes beyond the immediate loyalties to close relatives, but extends into a larger tribal group- the biraderi- who are not just set against the majority communities of Great Britain but more particularly against the other minority groups of Bradford. The whole question of simple binary opposites is undermined by more complex notions of clan and caste. As always the culture of socio-economic differences and taste form an importance facet of discrimination and choice of acquaintance. The connection between the new English living in Bradford and Mirpur is an important one as it highlights elements of connectiveness that define all groups and communities, even if many of them are more diverse. The result of the larger spread of families of class and ancestry is that the influence of the past remains the more hidden. It is nevertheless powerful. The fact that there is an obviously shared identity, a physical as well as imagined location of inheritance shows up the way in which people relate to each other. Being a recent connection it also leads to a more physically homogenous neighbourhood, and a translation of a distinct place into a different environment. One of the great problems of both immigration and emigration is the tendency of groups to congregate, to keep to themselves. The sense of otherness can be self inflicted or imposed. The concept of a ghetto is still associated primarily with some of the horrors of Nazism against the Jews, but ghettos have many different forms. For hundreds of years the Jewish communities in Europe and North Africa both at times choose to remain separate and had separation forced upon them. Ghettos do not need to be so wilful nor so obvious. The enclaves of the very rich or the very poor make definitive boundaries. People of like mind will congregate around their shared pleasures, or live close to their own kind. In North American cities there are not only the proudly presented Chinese quarters, but also the clustering of other

42

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

ethnic groups in their own neighbourhoods, retaining all the conveniences of shared food and habits. The demarcation line between benign neighbourhoods and malign ghettos is a fine one. There are several ancient examples of distinct minority cultures within the majority. The Jews and the Travellers have long held on to their distinctive senses of self. Most ethnicities that we witness today, however, are the result of emigration. The diaspora of Africans on the one hand and Europeans on the other has created a new separation of personal identity and place. The tradition of looking elsewhere for a shared centre, whether cultural, with Europeans, or religious, as in Arabic Islam, is new. Emigration is a significant and growing phenomenon of globalisation, a factor of the new world. It has long established roots. Putting aside all the examples of imperial invasions, and taking just Great Britain as an example, we see both hostile and benign immigration, one often turning into the other. From the Saxons, the Jutes, the Danes and the Vikings to the Normans, the island ‘race’ is a concoction of waves of immigrants. These have been joined by the more steady absorption of peoples, often exiles from persecution, bringing with them their own enriching cultures. Gradual absorption has been taken for granted. The question then arises when, because of numbers, or race, or religion, immigration is perceived as a threat rather than a benefit, when numbers and visibility continue to create clearly defined neighbourhoods of alien similarities. Emigration is a hope and an expectation: immigration is taken as a threat. There is an often-used cliché, taken as axiomatic, that we live in a time of change. The basis of this assertion that the present age is different from the past is the association of the past with a rural idyll, of each day being very much like another amidst the steady round of seasons, of life and death and the ‘ghostly music of the ancient earth’. The hectic reinvention of means of communication seems to replace the more stable aboriginal styles of thought with their different rationality. The real difference in the present time lies not in changes over time but in the sense of place. What is new is the constant movement of people. Nothing is static in terms of place just as nothing was ever static in time. The sense of belonging to one piece of land or inheriting the distinct place and passing it on to future generations has been replaced by movement and by a consciousness of other places and styles of living. All people derive from a more static, more rural past, but some have this inheritance of the ancient ways of life closer to them than others. The people of Mirpur inherit not just their own religion and tribalism but the different styles of

Ethnicity and Englishness

43

living that are associated with a strong sense of both belonging and of possession. Mirpur was a very rural community, with its succession of small families in their particular connection to the land. At the same time, the recent history of Mirpur, like so many other communities and despite the sense of the peaceful, as well as the static, is one of the turbulence and insecurity. In the minds of the community in Bradford Mirpur has a number of significant associations. There are the present connections, the constant travelling to and from Pakistan, for all kinds of reasons, from family connections and marriage, to money. There are the ancient loyalties and connections, the memories of the inherited culture, both as a separate entity and an explanation and identification of the older generations. There are also the associations with the history of the region, of the forced movement of peoples and the raised consciousness of religion into a form of antagonism and hatred. When religious belief settles down and is removed from the manipulations of politics it becomes more tolerant. Local understandings of difference have lasted for centuries until external forces stir up fanaticism, sometimes on a large scale (Varshney 2002). The strong consciousness of the importance of Islam in the eyes of the community is partly due to the troubled history of the region. People were not allowed to take their belief for granted, nor able to let it in remain a private matter. In Islam there is always the tendency to undermine the sense of simple locality, since its insistence on Arabic and the centrality of Arab sites makes the alternative deep-rooted heritage of their countries, from Iran to Malaysia, of no significance (Naipaul, 2000). The break up of imperial India is a story of tragic bigotry and violent religious hatred. After the separation of East and West Pakistan from India in 1947, Mirpur became one of the three districts of ‘Free’ Kashmir (Rose, 1969). This was the result of large-scale movements of people, all displaced from their natural locations in the name of different religious groups, Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims. This was the political and nationalist arrangement of the new Indian and Pakistan governments. One part of the history of India in the days of the Raj is the growing hostility of Muslims towards and by others (James, 1998). Muslim separatism became a driving force in the re-patterning of the old India. For centuries Muslims had been an accepted minority in towns and the countryside (Robinson, 1993). The differences between Muslim and Hindu beliefs are clear both in beliefs towards God or Gods, and in practical habits like the preparation of foods. The fear of all sides in the political turmoil was being discriminated against in education and employment (Brown and Foot, 1994).

44

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

Pakistani independence from India brought about few changes to employment or property but did not introduce an insistence of Islamic education and of religious nationalism. Nevertheless the sense of the greater significance to Mirpur was an economic decision. This was the building of the large hydroelectric earth dam at Mangla in the 1950s and early 1960s. The result of this dam was the submerging of two hundred and fifty villages in Mirpur. One hundred thousand people were displaced. The whole process of immigration began with this diaspora, with people being driven away from their land. Some of those driven out were allocated land in the Punjab, but others had to seek alternative opportunities (Holmes, 1991; Anwar, 1998). No community is as aware of its inheritance and its identity as those who are forced to leave. The awareness of all Mirpuri people is coloured by both the religious extremes of separation and the displacement from their traditional places. Emigration and Immigration have different associations. There is a psychological tension between those who are driven from their land and those who constantly look for new opportunities. Leaving somewhere that one can return to- ‘home’ remains a concept the more powerful for being away from it- is different from the sense of exile. The ambivalent attitude of some of the earlier generations of the Bradford communities towards their new surroundings derives from this. Those who were driven from their villages have another significant characteristic. They were, by default or not, the landless labourers [Majaars]. This meant being of a low caste, manual labourers, expecting nothing more than those habits and expectations to which they were accustomed. It is movement away from this condition itself that changed attitudes. The changes of life brought about by the building of the dam were many and complex. The old Mirpur town was replaced by a new city. Those who had relatives sending money from England were able to build themselves large new houses, gaining a different status (Lewis, 1994). This influx of capital investment into Mirpur had significant repercussions on the traditional power structure, transforming the tenant farmers into landowners. However, the opportunities of new money meant that there were large collective changes of attitude. The move from the acceptance of being landless to having power was dramatic and in itself created a new awareness of traditional values, both in their strength and in their weakness. We often forget the effects of immigration on the communities left behind. The iterative nature of the relationship between Bradford and Mirpuri communities leads to a greater examination of, and greater self-consciousness of, the cultural values. Those in Mirpur became wealthier as a result of the money sent from overseas but this also made them more aware of different opportunities. Given the

Ethnicity and Englishness

45

example of returners, like the successful man returning to the village of his boyhood, the attractions of Great Britain seemed so much greater. The desire to join something else paralleled the urgency of escape. The movement from poverty to relative wealth was seen in both countries, and the differences between past and present marked. There was a new sense of family honour [Izzat], and a growing sense of the power of the biraderi [the clan or kinship group]. Low caste families could purchase land. They could gain access to better medical services, better food, electricity and water. Above all, there was a consciousness of the greater prestige and power of the family (Raza, 1993). Some of the attitudes of ethnic minority groups, as expressed by the chosen ‘community leaders’ are taken as representing a culture simply transported from one place to another. This does not do justice to the relatives. The very vociferousness of assertions of religion or loyalty are the result of changes in peoples lives. Just as transportation makes people the more conscious of their particular culture, so have immigrants brought with them the consequences of previous change. The religious wars, the displacement and the incursions of money all meant an undermining of those matters taken for granted, as personal and private, and now thrust to the forefront of awareness. Just as there were distinctions between those of different religions, or sects, so there were greater tensions between members of the same biraderi. Possessions led to jealousy, power led to fear and new opportunities divided those would have earlier survived on the mutual bonds of indifference. Whilst the landless were able to acquire land and money they still remained in the same caste. The snobbery of the mixture of class and family should not be underestimated. The caste was not just something branded on the tongue, or the acquisitions of privileged education, but something immutable and unchanging. Despite the changes to socio-economic status and to prestige, some of the old attitudes and attributions remain. Those who emigrate bring their same social status with them, at least in the eyes of their biraderi. There is therefore a kind of schizophrenia between the more narrow minded conclusions and judgements made by those within the same linguistic and cultural fold and the greater neutrality and tolerance of small distinctions by the outsiders. Of course many immigrants fit into the ready-made class attitudes of the resident population, but these are far less pointed and particular than the attitudes expressed by the biraderi. In changing economic circumstances caste becomes somewhat absurd, and one of the tensions between the older and younger generations is the extent of the hold these old fashioned labels have on their minds. The contrasts between the culture that these particular immigrants brought with them and the power of the newer

46

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

culture that enfolded them were also due to differences in education. The Mirpuris were largely rural manual labourers. They were not only poor but illiterate (Khan, 1979). The effect of high poverty was that schooling was intermittent and an only a small number of children entered secondary schooling (Braham, 1992). Instead of bringing with them a rich alternative literacy, the immigrants were faced with not only a new language and customs but the whole system of education. Again, this made the contrast not only stranger, but the sense of the significance of what was familiar that much stronger. There were many reasons for low caste families to emigrate if they could. This included the need for education, and the desire for economic independence. But they also included the more subtle desire for greater status, a better social position which only education could give. The contrast between what was attainable only elsewhere and where they had come from in itself causes tensions of selfconsciousness and ambivalence towards the visited society. The Mirpuri people hade been connected with the land. Two thirds of them had been farming their family smallholdings, or worked as tenants before migrating. Many of them owned a small plot of wasteland, but so small they were virtually landless and not even subsistence farmers (Rose, 1969). They might therefore have technically have come from land-owning caste, but their impoverishment would have made their status that much more fragile. One strong reason for these people to emigrate, which makes the relationship between past and future that much closer, was not so much to escape from the conditions they were in but to redeem mortgaged land. The very impulse to go to Great Britain was led by the need to provide for those left behind, to provide sisters with dowries, to build new houses and to purchase agricultural implements (Rapaport et al, 1982). The reasons for migration are complex, and over time become the more intertwined. Need is balanced by opportunity, the commitment to the new mitigated by loyalty to the old. Nothing is quite left behind. There are economic as well as social reasons for long standing ties. For all these reasons, including change in status, the self-awareness of the new immigrants is the more strident. There is always the sense that whilst one can do oneself good in a new place, one can help others back home because of the power of money and the obligations of largesse. The impulse to migrate was complicated, but we should not forget the ‘pull’ factors of the opportunities presented by Great Britain. For a number of reasons, including emigration, there was an acute shortage of manpower, especially in manual jobs (Wrench and Solomos, 1993). The need for restructuring public services, particularly the National Health Service, and rebuilding industry after the War and meeting the labour shortages meant that anyone was welcome. A large number

Ethnicity and Englishness

47

came from Ireland, but an equal number came from all over the erstwhile Empire. There had, after all, been strong links between places like the West Indies and the ‘mother’ country [Rose, 1969]. These were not the first large-scale immigrants. On the contrary there was a system of economic and ideological connections that spanned hundreds of years. For many immigrants, especially from the West Indies, the sense of hope and expectation was strong. This was true of many rural Pakistanis. They viewed Great Britain as full of promise and recalled the links with all the imported cultural traditions, from the Army to the legal system. When the families discussed the decision to emigrate they considered all the ties this could make a new country that much more familiar. After all, many men had served in the Armed Forces or in the Merchant Navy. The outlook was promising. One should not forget the free-market policies that beckoned for so many labourers to come and fill jobs that needed doing, like those on London Transport . Whilst the indigenous labour force became upwardly mobile there was a need to fill lowstatus jobs. Those who felt most threatened where the incumbent manual labourers. Even those immigrants whom had high-level qualifications found themselves competing for manual work; their qualifications were not usually accepted. Whatever their caste and previous status, the immigrants were immediately associated with a new, larger, ‘working’ class. They were employed in factories or in employment in restaurants, hospitals, railways and buses. This was a loss of status to many, if not a loss in terms of money. The land of promise also afforded a sense of insult when men with degrees could only find manual rather than whitecollar jobs (Bhatti, 1999). One of the underlying motivations for emigrating was not only financial but more specifically to send money back to the home country. Many Pakistanis, at least until they were joined by a family, sent as much as half their earnings back home (Khan, 1979). The economy of Mirpur improved, and not just for those in the immediate family. Indeed, in 1963 half of the revenue of East Pakistan was money sent from Great Britain. Some of the money was not sent as charity but as investment. Some successful businessmen found there could be a better return if they built flats, or cinemas or petrol stations in their home towns (Dahya 1973). This kind of connection, economic rather than sentimental, is of a quite a different kind. It was a part of the early immigrant culture to have a sense of obligation to send money back to Mirpur (Bhatti, 1999). The ties of relationships and the contrasts in wealth meant that it was taken for granted that such a cash nexus would be upheld,

48

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

and that those who did not carry out their charitable work were ungrateful for their opportunity. The question remains whether such financial ties continue in the same way as relationships become more distant. The rules of kinship remain but investment creates a far different relationship than dependency. Whilst the relationship between the original and the British ‘Mirpuri’ communities changed we should note the great contrast between the experiences of the early immigrants and the natural interchange that takes place now. The ‘culture shock’ of entering into a foreign country is well documented (Furnham and Bochner 1986). The feelings that even displaced people undergo are both surprising and undermining, a mixture of changed as well as fulfilled expectations (O’Neill and Cullingford 2005). In the early days immigration was an experience of immolation, of having to accept both the preserved identity of the self as outsider, and to submit to the prevalence of shared majority norms and attitudes. The contrast was acute but the only answer was to fit in, to come to terms, to adapt, at least up to a point. Small numbers of immigrants have always been quick to fit in, if not seamlessly then not with any sense of threat to the prevailing culture. The phenomenon of the present Mirpuri community is different. Those who enter in to the county actually do so to be part of the community that is as least in part familiar. There will be relatives and friends, the biraderi. There will be many examples of duality, of bilingualism, mixed culture, adaptions to what is most convenient. At the same time there will be fewer chances of overcoming the culture shock by blending in, but adapting. The very ease of joining a community brings with it a greater consciousness that there is an alternative community, that some of the habits of home, like religion, are not only familiar, but create their own sense of separate identity. Up to a point these communities are a kind of bridge, a no-mans land. They are not really part of any complete culture. Only up to a point. What we are witnessing are new forms of culture that are not just adapting but recreating an existing landscape. The tensions that the biraderi bring with them are always there, even if to the outsider it looks as if there were a close and sustainable community. The new immigrant enters into an established set of connections and services, as well as relations. The automatic understanding of these support systems is, however, a surface over all the more complex relations and distinctions within the community, with differences of caste and sect. In the biraderi families are obliged to support each other, but equally obliged to discriminate against others. The sense of an overall outsider community becomes replaced by both greater internal divisions and closer external understandings.

Ethnicity and Englishness

49

One of the subtle tensions between the imported and extant cultures is with the expectations each have of each other. The first assumption is of generational antipathy- the sweeping dismissal of a ‘kufr’ society, or the labelling of different ethnic and religious groups as ‘Asian’ (Anwar, 1976). This is soon broken down. What remains are those cultural inheritances that are deemed useful. One of these, as we will see, is the obligation to help ones own kind. In Mirpur this can be taken as patronage and support. It can also be seen, in a different context, as corruption. The tribal and rural traditions do not always easily translate to new communities. They do, however, adapt. The assumption that there is an either/or of ethnic and national identity is unfounded (Stopes-Roe and Cochrane, 1990). What happens is that what appears to be self-contained communities are in fact far more complicated, permeated from outside, and divided from within. One of the characteristics of all societies is the practice of networking. This can have its creative sides of collaboration, of mentoring, of fostering talent, of ‘cronyism’, of promoting particular people out of personal gain. The possibilities of corruption through favouritism or self-interest are always there since there is no system that can be completely free simply of personal knowledge or personal preferences. In the past the King or Queen was accepted as having the power to favour and promote. The honours system is still dependent on personal acquaintanceship, at least at the higher ranks. Nepotism is resented but there have been times when the very concept was nourished rather than feared. In the past Mirpur was run on personal connections; the biraderi looked after those closest to them. Contracts would be given according to the obligations of family, not according to worth. All this was accepted. For the migrants such personal connections and support were important. The personal sponsorship of those who wanted to come to Great Britain was essential. At the lowest level, hospitality, the providing of accommodation and help in finding a job, were all considered obligatory for those in the same broad ‘family’ (Allen, 1971). The Voucher System of 1962 encouraged the sponsorship. Passport holders had not only the rights to settle, but to bring relatives and dependents. Kinsmen and fellow villagers of those who had already emigrated had the best chances to follow suit, and it was important to know the right people. Immigration was closely linked with village and kinship networks (Holmes, 199)]. Families could be extensive and particular biraderi, with their own close traditions, perpetuated themselves. This has meant that even a seemingly close-knit community can consist of several distinct groups, with their own caste networks and sectarian affiliations. The extension of networks can also mean exclusivity, a narrowing of focus.

50

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

In the early days of immigration sponsorship of friends and relatives was an insurance against hardship (Anwar, 1998). It was officially encouraged. The result is that village ties were perpetuated. Often, to save money, several people would share the same house, building up the sense of an enclave. Communal living provided an insurance policy for those who fell out of work. Mutual support, already part of the network of villages, became even more significant in the new environment. The support of ones own, in the face of outsiders, is a strong binding force, for some far stronger than moral or religious ties. The attractions of what is familiar naturally led to clusters of communities. This could be demonstrated in the way these were served by specialist shops. In 1955 Bradford had two Mirpuri greengrocers and butchers shops; by 1967 there were fifty-nine. In the same short period arose five Muslim banks, as well as cafes, barbers and Schools of Motoring (Rose, 1969). The success of investment and in establishing new roots are shown in the one hundred and five immigrant owned commercial and business premises in Bradford by 1965 (Hiro, 1991). The provision of more services also had a religious dimension. The first young male immigrants tended to be as secular as their indigenous counterparts. Few attended mosque and they ignored Ramadan. It was the arrival of wives and children and relatives that changed this, the women in particular insisting on the transmission of their religious values to the children. The presence of the biraderi depended on the weight of numbers. Just as the insistence of Islam grew, so did the internal divisions. The first migrants settled together irrespective of where they came from; they were a group in themselves. Gradually sub-groups developed based on regional identity, and on different religious sects, such as Sunnis, Shia, Wahhabe and Ahmadiyya. The generational communication and identity of the ‘outsiders’ was replaced by more complex internecine distinctions (Ghuman, 1994). The greater the range of choice, the more exacting the groups would be in their discrimination (Ranger et al, 1996). One crucial tradition that the immigrants brought with them was the reminder of the older, more static idea of the extended family. In more mobile societies the family community has been to an extent replaced or extended by the family as a widespread network, or by circles of friends and influences who by mutual interests, rather than personal ties, understand the arts of patronage. There remains, as we will see, a strong suspicion of the influence of the biraderi in helping each other just as there has long been an ironic suspicion of the self-help emanating from a ghetto. Helping each other is atavistically held as benign; seeing others help each other is quite another matter.

Ethnicity and Englishness

51

In the Mirpuri communities, as in other societies tied to place, the extended kinship was rooted in the household. In the villages the household included three, not two generations, not only the children but also their grandparents. This led in a sense of community decisions and values. There could be no psychological independence from the past by the paterfamilias if his parents were also there. Ownership could never be so clear-cut. Whilst there is a strict sense of primogeniture and authority, and distinctions of age and gender, there is also a stronger, concomitant feeling of shared values. The authority of one is more keenly accepted for its being embedded in a close-knit family community. The peculiar intensity of the notion of izzat derives from this duality of authority and community (Adams, 1978). Izzat is a male prerogative, but it rests on the influence over the whole of the family as well as personal self-respect. The cases of family revenge that are fully reported in the newspapers attest to this sense of personal responsibility over the behaviour of others. The notion of the importance of the extended family was given greater salience by the fact that it was often the ostensible head of the household who would be the first to migrate to Great Britain, leaving behind the responsibility in the hands of brothers, uncles and grandparents. Loyalty to the family as a whole is also underlined by loyalty to the elders. The cost to the individual for breaking away from this tradition is high. The transplanting of the whole tradition of family support and community loyalty was made the more acute by being re-interpreted in a new and seemingly alien society. The sense of threat meant that the policing of acts that were not approved of or which appeared like breaking ranks, were in response not so much to breaches of etiquette but as major disturbances to the cohesion and safety of the family (Allen, 1971). In rural communities the family, surrounded by others, would have its own interests at heart, separated from the interests in inheritance and ownership. When a large community was transplanted it meant that the same automatic intensity of loyalty would be extended. There is anyway, in the biraderi, a pressure to conform (Khan, 1979). The secular culturation of personal independence and assertion is quite different from the urge to belong to a community where values of loyalty and dependency are strong. In the western notion of individualism there is bound to be far less hold on the norms or expectations of family. The close-knit personal ties are replaced by friends, by interest groups, as well as exploited in networks. In the life of villages, the network of friends and family is both more cohesive and more extended. Everyone knows they are related to each other in some way, and the assumption marks a style of thinking and relationships.

52

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

The concerns of these protective communities are the stronger for any sense of threat. The natural interest in sharing values can be translated into rigid and imposed rules, like the control of young girls, when alternative conducts are observed. The cultural basis of many of the deplorable acts of revenge or punishment is often a fierce and exaggerated defence of a religious stance, an assertion of authority, the stronger for being in response to challenge. Village society is full of complex relationships, of rights and obligations, of needs and hopes. The individual is, for all the community’s rigidity, attempting to find a way through the personal relationships that is satisfying both in terms of fulfilment and in the recognition and pleasure of others. At one level the biraderi includes all who can trace ancestry to a common paternal link (Raza, 1993). This is true of old English families whose genealogies are carefully recorded. In both cases the actual connection that the individual maintains is far more differentiated. At the core of both cases is the sense that the head of the household has some kind of obligation towards the poorer members of the family. The cases of minor hangers on to rich families has been given rich literacy expression from George Eliot to Dickens [e.g. Rosamund Lydgate in Middlemarch, or Edith Skewton in Dombey and Son]. Whilst the biraderi do not confine themselves to such aristocratic pedigree the sense of obligation and its judicious rejection is not dissimilar. In all societies a general sense of loyalty to the family is a norm, even if held more strongly in some than others. Sometimes, this relationship is hidden; there are other times when it is deliberately exploited. In the Mirpuri communities the belief in kinship also has a religious edge, defining boundaries of belief as well as interest. This is the more strongly urged when pitted against another religion, or, more interestingly still, against another sect. Even more astringent in its effects on assertions of distinctiveness are those of caste. It is the mutual recognition of affinities of class; there is always an instinctive self-interest in the perpetuation of taste, as well as an easier understanding of shared assumptions. The notion of caste adds another dimension, as it links the family to a larger tribe. Caste is, of course, a cultural import from Hinduism. Before the present religious wars, the separate traditions of Sikhism, Islam and Hinduism tended to intermingle, with shared shrines and an acceptance of alternative beliefs. Caste might, in Hinduism, be religiously based, but it is a social phenomenon. It underlies the idea that individuality is not of the highest importance, given the impossibility of social mobility. The caste system in Pakistan is based on a similar pattern to that of the upper middle and lower classes, from landowners through professionals to manual workers. It was, however, more rigid in that the system included ideological, and political as well as social criteria (Hammond, 1971).

Ethnicity and Englishness

53

Those with the most incentives to wish to change the caste system were also those with the most incentives to emigrate. The result was that the majority of those who came to Bradford were of a particular background. Those of ‘higher’ castes tended to form self-enclosed, segregated groups, in Keighley or Shipley. Both groups maintained a degree of cohesion and economic support by closing ranks, by utilizing particularly businesses run by group members and investing narrowly and deliberately. Caste interests led to economic nepotism. In the socio-economic climate of Great Britain, where social mobility is that much greater, many of the boundaries of caste have been broken down, although it is significant that the supercilious elements of clan-consciousness linger on (Pardesh, 1994). Some individuals have even changed their family name to more socially acceptable ones, like Malik. Nevertheless, it is still uncommon to have much social interaction amongst different castes. It is part of the great internal divide that is a major inheritance. Caste also has a crucial impact on the status of women. Nothing is more feared than a young woman should have an ‘improper’ relationship with someone of the ‘wrong’ caste. The seclusion and individualism within the Mirpuri household was even stronger as a result of their remaining under the protection of the family rather than being exposed, like their husbands, to the dangers of a foreign land (Ghuman, 1994). When many women finally arrived in Great Britain they tended to remain in isolation. Purdah was combined with the lack of English. This practical separation supported by cultural habits and by arguments of expediency, suited the men very well, for their leisure activities took place outside the house (Allen, 1971). This particular sense of isolation has been significantly changed, partly as a result of economic necessity (Hiro, 1991) but in fact for far more subtle reasons, as we will see. Nevertheless the tradition of subservience, in aspirations, in belief and in intellect, is a powerful one. The patriarchal nature of family society is extended to larger separations of habit, but also re-inforced by the tradition of seeing women as either financial assets or liabilities (Raza, 1991). This idea of people as ‘property’, subject to suitable arrangements, is not quite the same as the arranged marriage, but one can see how the two can be connected. It is an idea that is implicitly undermined by an education system where individual endeavour is always going to be significant. Co-education was, from the beginning, seen as a threat and the development of single-sex, and more particularly Islamic, schools were motivated by the same fears of loss of control. The suspicion of established schools was not the result of their refusal to adopt; on the contrary, schools allowed different codes for girls as well as extended absences in South Asia (Wiegand 1993).

54

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

Exclusive societies, looking after their own, can easily be accused not only of patronage and favouritism, but also of corruption. In a close-knit community favours can easily become significant financial transactions, and the demarcation line between natural preference and nefarious motivation is a narrow one. One of the earlier influences on migration was of the corrupt bureaucracy. In the local official offices of emigration ‘sifarish’ [money] was needed. The British Passport was valuable and a reason for bribes (Rose, 1969). Many of these practices, of the Black Market, the avoidance of tax, the payment of allowances for fictitious children, were learned in the experience of migration. Many assumed that their experience of obtaining visas would be replicated when at last they arrived. The opportunities presented by the bureaucratic system operated by social services are rife. Travel agents began to play a major role in emigration and caused a larger increase in 1961 and 1962 (Rose, 1969; Allen, 1971). Pakistani airlines and their agents also benefited from the nefarious transactions to enable people, and then whole families, to emigrate (Holmes, 1991). Thus some of the earliest influences on both the numbers and the style of immigration were not the happiest ones. It is not a simple matter of importing old traditional habits which are found inappropriate but a matter of adapting to new habits in a new way. The very entry into another culture, however much the desire to be self-enclosed, and however strong the ghetto, makes a profound difference.

CHAPTER 5: MOTIVATION AND METHODOLOGY: THE SENSITIVITIES OF FACT Methodology is always an erudite subject, of interest to anyone engaged in research. It sometimes appears as if more time and energy were spent on questions of methodology, from sampling to analysis, than on research itself. Books on methodology, sometimes overarching textbooks, and sometimes specialising in a particular aspect like the ethnographic interview, abound. At the same time social and educational research in particular come in for a great deal of criticism, not always justified in the way it is presented, however frustrated one feels about quality and the lack of application of findings. One of the great problems with the textbooks on methodology, and with the criticism made of research is the lack of attention paid to the underlying motivation of research. The significance of this aspect can be simply illustrated by all the occasions when research methodology is most publicly discussed. It is when the findings of research are met with hostility or disbelief that the methodology is brought into question. It is as if research should be designed merely to confirm the expected rather than question or challenge it. To take an example, the author of an article on “Archives of Sexual Behaviour” and the editors of the journal that published it, were vilified for coming up with a study that seemed to suggest that psychiatric therapy can turn gay people heterosexual (THES, Oct 3rd pp 1 and 4, 2003). The challenge to received genetic wisdom, let alone gay rights, was such that the assumption was immediately made that the methods were false, invalid and unreliable. This might be the case, but it does illustrate the way in which research findings are often treated. With sensitive subjects it is not only even more important to make sure that every effort is made to produce valid findings, but it is also important to realise that people do not like challenges to received wisdom and will tend to be dismissive however robust the findings are. The importance of motivation, sometimes overt and sometimes personal, cannot be underestimated. It seems to us more important than the methodology itself. To uncover the truth, even it is surprising, should be the disinterested concern of every researcher. This often means that the unexpected result will need to be pursued further, the raw evidence given context and a theoretical framework, without having any assumptions imposed on it. The problem is to strike the right balance between the data- the perfect sample would include everyone- and its analysis. One should never be intent on reiterating the obvious, nor on creating a ‘straw-man’ for the sake of challenging the status quo. The difficulty with so much research is that

56

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

it repeats the obvious, like proving that gifted children do better at tests, a finding measured by tests (Egan, 2002). The simple unalloyed truth, an addition to meaning and understanding, is what we should be after. The findings that surround issues of ethnicity and religion will always be deemed particularly sensitive, and can provoke unfair reactions. Indeed, it is our experience that if we present what the interviewees have actually said, there are some who deny that they can ever have uttered such recorded words. They will object that it is un-Islamic to do so, and that therefore they could not possibly have done so. The fact that the interviewees did say what we have so painstakingly recorded remains, but it does not mean that there will be no incipient doubt, as if the people are not what they purport to be, as if the words had been deliberately and cleverly distorted, or that somehow some phrases were ‘cherry-picked’ according to taste. Any criticism, even if it derives from the sample itself, is held to either driven by racist or religious motives. One of the very facts that this research reveals is how cleverly the ‘race-card’, the accusation of bias, can be used to those who might be uncovering nefarious practices. The sample that is the core of this study has been the subject of a particular kind of research, which itself points up the difficulties, and the importance of motivation. For us the community in question is symbolic of all minority ethnic groups. This is not simply a case study. Nor it is an attempt to present a few easy practical solutions to the perceived problem. To seek out the more complex levels of truth, the ambiguities, the contradictions and the inner meanings as experienced by individuals is what we are concerned with. There are no major assumptions about the community in question. The Mirpuri community, which is at the heart of our research, was suddenly the centre of attention in June 1995 with what are called the Manningham Riots. These were the subjects of the Bradford Commission Report of 1996 (Allen, Barratt and Taj, 1996). The report is not unlike the other official enquiries into disturbances from Notting Hill to Oldham. It means well, it offers insights and suggests some practical measures. It is useful in itself but also useful in pointing up the difference between its assumptions and the findings of this research. One of the problems for the Manningham Riots report was its tendency to treat the minority ethnic community as homogeneous, as if it were complete, consistent, undivided and, more significant, ‘other’ than the rest of Bradford. Labelling, like stereotyping, is an irresistible urge, but it has its limitations when it remains more than a starting point for necessary generalisation. The facts of commonality, the immigration from Mirpur, are shared, but within these facts are divisions of caste

Ethnicity and Englishness

57

and religious sects, divisions of ‘biraderis’ and, more significantly, divisions of generations. The report is a reaction to a riot. It seeks forensic evidence rather than longer term understanding. Simplistic notions of ethnic identity have informed research for years, and have been driven by anti-racist stances. The sense of ‘us’ and ‘them’, sometimes hostile and sometimes patronising, might be a necessary stage to go through, but there is much more to be learned about the changing nature of society as a whole, both in Great Britain and in the rest of the world. The Bradford Commission had two central themes. One was the role and conduct of the police both before and during the disturbances and arrests of June 9th 1995. The other was the examination of what was called the ‘Pakistani’ community, in particular aspects such as arranged marriages, the role of young women, education, employment, prostitution, drugs and crime. The commission heard stories, of intergenerational conflict, of the attempts by Imams, Elders and ‘community leaders’ to control the young. Their difficulty is encapsulated in the phrase ‘community leaders’. To most societies and most aspects of society such a notion is an alien one. Who chooses them? Are they elected councillors? What authority do they have to speak for others? The fact that it is only minority groups who are privileged with such spokesmen [sic] is also a telling form of labelling. The Bradford Commission was much taken back with the conflict within the immigrant communities, as if the sense that there was no one homogeneous, alien group, but a series of splits, loyalties and disparagements were a new revelation. This internal conflict was then interpreted again as a generational, holistic picture of inter-generational conflict, as if the traditional values of all Muslims were in contrast with the aspirations and cultural conflicts of the young. The fact that change was recognised to be taking place was a good sign, but the commission were nevertheless charged with producing quickly a report that would give as simple an explanation of a ‘racist’ series of incidents as possible. The very context of the disturbances was felt to suggest not so much inter-generational as intercommunity and inter-racial conflict. It is at this level that many of the summer riots over the last few years have generally been seen, without further examination of the deeper discontent, with socio-economic circumstances and urban blight, and that much more awkward social fact, more difficult to explain, the general sense of malaise or despair. There is a great contrast between the intentions and the speed of the commission and the motivations of research that is concerned with trying to take into account the more subtle and deeper layers of human interaction. This is not to blame the

58

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

commissioners; there is a public duty to examine the causes of problems and a need to be able to generalise from the evidence that is presented. The problem is that we do not know much about the nature of the questions, or the background of the individual witnesses. Where details of age and gender matter in how they relate to what is said, the report is perhaps understandably silent. There is also a deeper problem in that any report of this kind has a given and explicit motivation, that of seeing what negative triggers led to a catastrophe. The sense of impending trouble, or the causes of difficulty, gives a particular slant to the whole community. Manningham spells trouble, of drugs and violence, of seething discontent. This naturally presents a very particular image of a community, discarding all the common everyday interactions, and unable to take into account the more complete inner worlds of individuals. A significant amount of research in the area of immigration, on class, or any group is centred on the notion of clusters, of finding differences, of studying shared characteristics of a community which is the centre of attention. This is quite different from the study of a particular individual, of his or her needs. The ethnographic approach begins with the exploration of the inner workings of the mind and through the most efficient source of explanation; language and its ability for abstract analysis, for descriptions of incidents, and its emotional nuances. Of course the interpretation of the individual experience only makes sense when it reverberates with other people’s, when there are the resonances of shared insights and experiences. The discipline of ethnography is to make the individual part of a systematic understanding. The presentation of feelings of self-justification, even on the psychiatrist’s couch, are nothing in themselves. They need to be connected to a more social basis, one of explanation and of conduct. Research studies can be motivated essentially by a pre-set hypothesis or by the seeking of empirical evidence. This distinction is not immediately apparent. If we look at the community of Bradford we are already limiting ourselves to an assumption that it as a whole represents something unique. If, however, we are driven to find out what marks out a community and its aspirations from others, we are likely to look just for those clues that can be arranged around the hypothesis. It is a different matter to uncover the individual experience and then, with surprise, to find out how it connects to the experience of others, and how it can be translated into social meaning. The difference might be subtle, but motivation has a profound influence. There is no blame attached to the limitations of the Manningham riots report, but it is a useful starting point for questions about the etiquette and possibilities of research. To make sense, all research needs to come to intelligent conclusions. To describe is not really enough in itself, unless the implications of what can be

Ethnicity and Englishness

59

described can be understood. The question remains in what depth a conclusion can be drawn. There will have been many research studies carried out to which the reaction must be- “is that all”? Did it need a ghost come from the grave to tell us that?” as Horatio said. When there are so many profound questions to be answered it is a pity to have to pick up the superficial. Of course every bit of evidence counts but it should lead to meaningful insights rather than the aptitude of the researcher. One problem with evidence that goes beyond the obvious is that it is both subtle and hard to convey in all its richness. Let us take an example. The concern in Bradford was with a pointed incident of violence and anger. This needed an attribution. Intergenerational conflict, internal tensions, racial views, police traditions, were all amongst the causes seen to surround and infect that community. And yet that community was not untypical in inheriting social and cultural attitudes that cannot be dismissed as economic. In a related piece of research into a community not far from Bradford, an exploration was made of parental involvement in their children’s schooling, in styles of parenting, and in attitudes towards education (Cullingford and Morrison 1999). In all this rich data from white and ‘Asian’ individuals, one persistent and difficult finding kept emerging. The difficulty was that it could not be defined as an attribution- to class, or ethnicity, or money. It was an attitude of ontological despair, of hopelessness. Now and then it appeared to be articulated- “don’t you realise we have been deprived for generations?”. It was the passing on not of standard cultural norms, or even of social attitudes but a deeper attitude, the kind that is more normally ascribed to personality, temperament or genetics. It was a shared outlook that assumed that things would not get better, pervasive, quiet, and very powerful. In studying families or larger groups we often come across tellingly significant assumptions of behaviour about other people, definitions of superiority or prejudice or uncertainty. They pervade all the members of the group who belong to what Hardy called ‘the family face’. There is also a deeper temperamental strand that also affects the shared spaces of the community, a general outlook on life, of determination or despair. It is an expectation that can deeply affect the background to those incidents, and thus become newsworthy, a far more emotional state than the opportunities to cause harm. The inner anger of some people cannot be simply dismissed as boredom or frustration with lack of work. There are levels of attitude that are beyond the remit of research such as the report on the Bradford commission. Nevertheless the work that was carried out was impressive, with seventy-six members of the public interviewed, and a hundred and nineteen officials, a telling ratio. In addition there were a host of focus groups and public meetings, all attempting to gather “wider implications” for Bradford and

60

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

its future . Nevertheless the whole exploration was in the shadow of the ‘great event’ and had to focus just on that central issue. The sheer number of interviews and the accumulation of evidence, of whatever kind, led straight into a difficulty, that of labelling. As in nationality, some generalisation of adherence and progeny is necessary, even if it applies only to a particular level. The challenge is to see when an attribution is useful and when it isn’t. The commission had telling difficulties not with its terms of reference but with its terminology. What were they dealing with? Was it ‘Asians’ and ‘whites’? Put in juxtaposition to each other the nomenclature is common and taken for granted. Looked at more closely, some of the absurdities become apparent. The term ‘white’ applied to the ethnic English, Irish, Scots and Welsh, let alone the Germans and the French, reveals more about the concept than the people it describes. It is the crudest of demarcations. The ‘whites’ of different parts of Bradford would not always like to be associated with each other and feel themselves quite distinct from the ‘whites’ of Rochdale, over the border of the Pennines. The commission, having deplored labelling and having noted the differences of those born in Pakistan and those born in Britain, struggled with itself. It used ‘Pakistanis’ before reverting to the even more generalised ‘Asian’. Even when they tried to make distinctions, the term like Kashmiri and Muslim tended to be used in the same way, understandable in the circumstances, perhaps not very damaging, but a pointer. The idea of the ‘Asian’ in Great Britain is a peculiar one. We know what it means, that the person thus delineated derives, at least in part, from a family which originates in Pakistan or India or Bangladesh, or more recently Uganda, Kenya, or other parts of the far east. Or does it mean a particular hue of skin, or an assumed religious adherence? (Hennink et al, 1999). And whilst Islam is in many essentials different from Christianity, it shares with other religions the central internecine strife of sects, not only between the many cases of Shiite and Sunnis atrocities, but in countless other smaller distinctions. The term ‘Christian’ is generic, but would a Mormon, or a Jehovah’s Witness really recognise the term as being adequate, let alone a Catholic or Protestant? In all religions there appear to be hundreds of sects who have the unique access to the truth and who are the only ones to be saved. Terminology will always be a problem but the solutions are often telling. The term ‘British’ we already know to be slippery. We do not apply the hyphenated identities on the ‘Mirpuri-English’. In an age where the international connections are so many and so varied, the isolation of various prejudices and the innocent assumption of superiority is no longer possible. The prejudices of the past were different. It was easy for the isolated Chinese to suppose they were ‘Han’ the only

Ethnicity and Englishness

61

people, and if confronted by foreigners (Peyrefitte 1993) then the only worthwhile people. Tribal boundaries were clear, and simply understood. The sense of ineffable purity of ones own race and class, so lucidly expressed in a panoply of peoples and races in the inherited folk wisdom of Strang and Henty of one hundred years ago, is no longer possible. What has replaced these dated attitudes is at the same time more crude and more complex. The complexity of effects of globalisation lies both in new levels of knowledge and awareness, from what is happening in blighted parts of Africa, to what is presented through a Disneyan view of the world, and in new experiences. Theoretical attitudes are replaced by confrontation, reaction to others by assertions of self. This is where the crudity lies. With far fewer grounded beliefs in the ineffable rightness of ones own way of life prejudice has become a clear sign of threat, of insecurity, and of chauvinism. It is not ethnocentric in the same way that people of a shared inheritance will stick together wherever they are, but chauvinistic, suspicious of the power and influence of others. We see the new crude forms of prejudice in African states, using racism as a political weapon, removing the diverse and rich contributions of ‘outsiders’, whether Indian, Chinese or Europeans and seeing it in terms of‘Ethnic cleansing’. Pride in one’s achievements is replaced by the hatred of other people’s. This hooligan element of prejudice parallels the growth of internecine awareness and contact. It is only an assertion of personal awareness in so far as it is the expression of suspicion. It is this element in collective thinking and behaviour that is taken to be the most typical and more prevalent. This can have dire consequences. It not only misses the point about people’s subtle or insidious attitudes to each other but allows crude prejudices, including the excesses of antiracism, to prevail. And it distorts all kinds of manifestations of discontent into simple antipathies. Prejudice was never such a simple thing. The attitudes of the British Raj was never simply a case of feeling superior to the natives: there were great natural affinities of the upper classes to each other, far greater sympathy, say, with the great Prince Ranjitsiuhji, that to what they could call the ‘lower orders’. One should not underestimate the personal sympathies between people of likeminded interests whatever their origins, like between those privileged people from Africa, or Indians who felt so at home in Oxford or Cambridge. Just as there will be positive sympathies between those who share a passion for classical music, crossing all boundaries, so there has always been an opening up of mutual understanding between those Christians, say, who came from quite different inheritances but who share a firm belief which includes layers of tolerance.

62

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

In an age of rampant simplifications which include political correctness and communication by cliché, there are bound to be misguided and misused labellings. It then follows that simple generalisations about groups of people will prevail, at the same time as awareness that to brand any collective group is dangerous. The Bradford commission wonderfully illustrates this dilemma. They are concerned with general ‘race relations’ but realise that this is too crude. They then wish to prove that ‘relatively few people’ can quickly overturn communal harmony by their excessive influence. This begs the question, in turn, about whether the presumably expectant community wanted to be influenced. The commission was faced with the old conundrum of the relationship between the evils of isolation, with separate communities in their ghettos, and the perils of confrontation, with culture clashes on a violent scale. It is the problem of numbers, of the manifestation and therefore simplification of difficulties. Minority ethnic groups might suffer from labelling, but they might also impose it on themselves. In concentrating on a few main actors it was inevitable to pick on the police, either to exonerate them from racism or to suggest that the population largely felt they suffered from police racism. This racism was assumed to go one way. Like prejudice it was seen as a ‘white problem’. It is as if the idea of a ‘kufr’ society has been implicitly made in to a political correction. In a world where to be an outsider, somehow different, is to be at all costs either avoided or not mentioned, it is not only euphemisms that abound, like cerebrally ‘challenged’. The result is that the concept of ‘otherness’ becomes the more important. Everyone is aware of it. In trying to come to terms with complex evidence the commission tried to avoid complexity and therefore was trapped by contradiction. It mentioned the possibility of inter-generational tension but in its assumption about complete and homogeneous groups came to the conclusion that the older generation has ‘lost control’ of the young. It is as if they expected, perhaps of the concept of ‘leaders’ and ‘elders’ that one generation has some form of hold over the next, that traditions are simply handed down, like marriage, without any obvious or even covert challenge. In fact the tensions between generations are as significant as the shifting axes of belief. We see over the last few years some profound shifts of attitude in the population as a whole; towards morality and behaviour. We even have each decade from the ‘1920’s’ labelled differently. Whilst many of the more clichéd assumptions, like the behaviour of citizens in the dark days of the Second World War, are regularly challenged, there are nevertheless shifts of attitude that are as important, if not so obvious, as changes of fashion. We have noted the peculiar inheritances of the Mirpuri community. Whilst some beliefs were inevitable translated into different circumstances, they could hardly remain the same when transported to a different context.

Ethnicity and Englishness

63

Changes over time are very important so any assumption that one generation emulates and continues the beliefs of another is very speculative. The tensions of a changing society are also influenced. They have an impact on all the other potential difficulties, like overcrowded houses, miserable education, poverty and unemployment. Such factors are often seen as external, as palpable facts about which something can be done. Once the more complex cultural tensions are taken into account a whole host of variables enter the fray. Surrounding the Bradford commission were all kinds of telling rumours and speculations. The tensions between the young and the elders, between the elders and the ‘community’, are typical. Some assumed that the riots began when police reacted to an overexuberant game of street football started deliberately by parents. Others argued that the traditional elders themselves had a deep grudge against the police for taking seriously those illegal practices, like prostitution and drug trafficking that the elders, in their simplifications, denied to be happening in the areas of which they were supposed to be in ‘control’. Yet others felt that the elders had enflamed the situation to draw attention to their own grievances, or even called on the police to support their own suspicion of the young. All these speculations, of course, presuppose a degree of deliberate manipulation and the ability to influence complex events. The commission’s aim to discover the particular set of individuals on whom responsibility can be placed is itself a manifestation of the idea of ‘control’. Just as the elders, in the biraderi, were supposed to control the young- not a concept readily ascribed to in most communities- so were those who upset the social order supposed to be manipulating, rather than reacting to, events for their own ends. The image given of the community is of the power of the elders, like parents over marriage arrangements of their children, a power of arrangement, and a lack of freedom and autonomy in the young. Control is favoured here as a sign of social order, an imposition of will over tempestuous youth. The problem is that the more overt and stringent the control, the more clear will be the resistance. Nevertheless the report accepted the point of view of the older generation, those with whom the commission were most in contact. The question the report raises is the extent to which people in Bradford can come to terms with integration and multi-culturalism. This statement is deliberately ambiguous since much of the hostility to the notion of integration comes from minority ethnic groups. Do some groups wish to be marginalised? Certainly there are ‘white’ housing areas in self-labelled working class districts where the belief in being excluded from the mainstream feeds on itself. The assumption is made that integration means submission and absorption rather than the contribution to a more

64

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

mixed, complex culture from the outside. Manningham appears as a unified and deprived whole; the interviewees who lived elsewhere believed that it consisted of “unemployed, bored, aimless, hopeless, frustrated and angry young people”. This was a label of socio-economic disturbances, not cultural or religious ones. Perhaps, from the point of view of the elders, that was the problem. The minority of young people who were deemed to be responsible for the riots were nevertheless seen as representative of a wider community, as if these specific actions were typical of more general tendencies. If ‘some’ came to represent a larger group then the simplifying tendency to create a binary divide was also difficult to resist. As in the journalistic analysis the account of the riot could come down to ‘us’ and ‘them’, the ‘us’ being either the police behaviour or the violence of youth. Whilst feelings of prejudice are very personal, their manifestations can be interpreted very unambiguously. This is where the term ‘Institutional racism’ has such a dangerous edge, not only acknowledging that people are subject to structural pressures, but at the same time that all people in particular institutions will inevitable be representative of those structural pressures. This is itself a form of labelling. ‘Institutional racism’ creates an implacable enemy in which no one is innocent (Donald and Rattansi, 1992). It is interesting that the term originated in the Black Power movement in the United States. It is not a term that has been used against oppressive regimes in the developing world. Institutions have powerful and often deleterious effects on the agents within them, and this power needs to be understood. It creates conformity without belief, compliance without conviction. Institutions are then subject to criticism; those who suffer most from the bureaucratic or managerial processes of the organisations in which they work do not, then, present the latent messages they suffer from with conviction. This is where the concept of institutional racism unravels. It can be applied, say, to a regime like Apartheid, but even there was not implacable or uniform. It can be manifested in genocide; too often and too horribly recent as examples are, but that only suggests that applying it to a collection of people like the police is less than helpful. The sense of disadvantage is powerful and universal, and not only the province of groups who have drawn attention to their plight. The way in which victimisation in generally characterised is that of the helpless being overcome deliberately. In studies of bullying, there is a typology of bully and victim, as if one were quite distinct from the other. This leaves out all the complex interchanging of role, and different concepts of being ‘picked on’. More significantly, it leaves out the inadvertent, inner feelings of the individual, whatever the intent of the perpetrator, deliberate or not. The typecasting of victims tends equally to typecast someone deliberately responsible. Those who demonise the police see them as determinably

Ethnicity and Englishness

65

heavy-handed towards minority groups. They tend to forget the targeting by taunting of the police themselves, soon turned into an enemy trying to subdue or calm a riot. Some of the most deep-rooted campaigns of discrimination are from groups that seem to themselves to be victims. If Britain is a ‘kufr’ society it can also be a racist one. Are all prejudices really in one direction? The community in question has all the characteristics of others. It is one amongst many, with distinctions between itself and others, like Sikhs or Hindus. It has an elaborate and extended network of contacts both in Great Britain and abroad, maintained through religion and kinship. The personal ties are aided in this by the larger family and even larger community. None of this is unusual, but the way in which the minority groups, particularly of recognisable ethnic differences are spoken about and researched one would conclude from the start that there is something alien. To carry out research that takes the individual seriously, tries to come to coherent insights that have a bearing on others, and which enables us to see beyond the particular, is the more important for being rare. This is an attempt to explore a particular group of people who are both distinct and typical. They are distinct as an example of immigration and the evolution of society. They are typical because all the usual tensions, or harmonies, conflicts or satisfaction, between and within families, between and within cultures, and centred on personal senses of meaning are here. This community happens to point up collective identities and their ambiguities more clearly. The essential approach was to encourage people to talk openly about their attitudes and experiences. Here we will describe just a few of the eventual features of the methodology which can be explored further elsewhere (Din, 2001). The core of the research was based on semi-structured interviews. Again, the characteristics of such interviews have been described at length elsewhere, but the most salient facts depend on the motivation behind them. Interviews should give complete scope to individuals to talk and analyse at length their experiences and their interpretations of them. This relies on a sense of security, of not thinking that the questions have a particular agenda, which must be met, and of not thinking that the material will be passed on to others. The security of being respected and of being listened to confidentially is paramount. From the researchers’ point of view it is essential that the transcripts are looked at in detail, carefully, and all the nuances of tone and the implications, as well as the more obvious observations taken seriously. The ‘structure’, such as it is, consists of making sure that all the interviewees cover similar ground, so that if a conclusion is drawn, it derives from all the participants and not from a selection deliberately chosen.

66

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

In the event the answers were so consistent in some ways that it was deemed expedient to use a questionnaire to obtain a larger-scale response to a series of questions in order to strengthen the reliability of the data. The questionnaires were an attempt also to verify the findings of the interviews and were themselves succeeded by a succession of further interviews. The sample was random, and initially carried out through the various secondary schools in the City of Bradford, but every care was taken to ensure it was representative of the community as a whole, including different socio-economic circumstances and conditions. The cohort was aged from fourteen to nineteen, whose parents were professional people, manual workers, owners of business, the unemployed and old age pensioners. There were mothers who worked and those who did not, those who had formal qualifications and those who did not, those who spoke only Urdu/Punjabi and those whose English was as good as their children. A large battery of statistics was gathered, about jobs and qualifications, but these are not really relevant to the central theme of this study. It is enough to acknowledge the representative nature of the sample which, barring that one proviso of coming from the Mirpuri community, is typical of any survey that attempts to look beneath the surfaces of the human experiences. It cannot be accused of leaving out a group, like the well-qualified, or the disaffected. Of greater significance is the access to the sample. In any ethically motivated research it is important to have the trust of those who are to be part of the sample. Most people, it is clear, love to talk, in particular about themselves, provided they know there are no constraints. Even normal talk, unlike the genuinely confessional, can be constrained. Nothing could be more false than personal presentations. The right conditions bring out the most authentic in people. Yet in all the literature and leaving aside the constraints of the Manningham enquiry, one began to wonder how often the people in question had actually been listened to. One reason for the poverty of ethnographic research in this area might simply be the difficulties of access. We mentioned the importance of the schools. They represent [by law] all the community of a particular generation. They were amenable and helpful. They were, however, not good sites for interviews. The questionnaires could be controlled in schools but the interviews not only had to be in private but also secret. To have been seen to have taken part in an interview could be deemed to have been duplicitous. For this reason the locations of the research were themselves telling. They were not simply the formal institutional and legal frameworks of school attendance. They were all kinds of places where young people would gather, and at the same time often private spaces. They included libraries, colleges and community centres. Much of the research had to be gathered

Ethnicity and Englishness

67

covertly, hidden from any possible sightings and the interpretations that might be aroused, and in places where the interviewee would feel secure enough to expand ideas. It should be not giving too much away to talk about why certain locations were so important. A particular public institution was the unofficial meeting place of a number of English born Mirpuris. Both during term time and school holidays, school attenders and truants would congregate and socialise or just ‘hang about’. This is the place where young people meet their boy or girl friend. It is a secure environment. “We hang around the….. canteen, so you don’t get caught and that” [Female, Aged 17] There are other meeting places, like the Ice Rink in the City Centre, but there is one meeting place which remains central to these young people. The second location was the Grove Library, part of the Community College. It is also used as a ‘meeting place’, and seen as a place with a vibrant atmosphere, free from parental and biraderi influence. These neutral locations are symbolic as well as practical. Whilst the parents and the parental home are important, they are not sites of inspection. Nor are the schools involved, formal, official and controlled. It is the inner worlds of the young people and their views of the different places that count. As we will see, both their home and the school are significant locations, carrying their burdens of symbolic social means, with different types of control and expectation. The neutral ground of meeting places, out of the controlling environment of either, creating a new sense of personally negotiated space, is very important. Whilst local adolescents of different cultural expectations can be seen happily in pubs and restaurants, the more formal meeting places, unconnected directly with what might be frowned upon both by the parents and the school, become very important. The research methods suggest the importance of delicacy and unintentional connection to some of the findings. To enable young people to talk freely and to say what they think, rather than what they feel they ought to think, or what they expect you want to hear, means real privacy, confidence and respect. Talking is not a chance to gripe, or complain, or an opportunity to impress. The interview is a shared curiosity about how things really are, but with the chance for one person to take the turn of doing the talking. The sense of safety is important. The tone of the interview, neither too formal nor too self-indulgent, depends on finding a suitable place. It can easily be a room in a school provided there is privacy and that there is no sense that the confidentiality could be broken. For these young people the more

68

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

neutral location of libraries is important because they do not feel that there is any chance, or even desire for anyone to overhear, or even see that a conversation is taking place. It is as if the community ‘centres’ were an agreed location for neutrality. There is an irony here. The libraries offer intimate spaces. The longed for security of privacy is found there. But it is found by many young people. There is nothing secret about the existence of public libraries. These are the places where, by a mutual and shared agreement, young people, whatever the barriers of caste, biraderi, colour, class, religion or sect, can talk with each other. The delicacy of place matches the delicacy of the approach. The interviews were all tried out in pilot studies and great care was taken both to find the right tone and the right place, not to be too intrusive, and not to bring out the instinct to say what ‘ought’ to be rather than what is. It is interesting to note that the consistency of the responses, in both the tastes they reveal, the understanding of cultural symbols and the complexities of attitude was such that the questionnaire, rather than dealing with something different, could be used to verify some of the cultural patterns, as well as gathering harder data of the kind quantitative data addresses. One advantage of using pilot studies, exploring the techniques to be used is an open-minded way, of letting the motivation be seen to take its central role, was that the participants were extremely helpful in their advice. They were able to point out any potential flaws in the questions, any means by which the approach might be interpreted. Those who took part in the trials and in the actual interviews [there was a natural overlap] were not party to any sense of what findings were expected, or even the context of the research, in terms of the Manningham riot report. They knew that there was a general interest in them and in their way of life. Naturally they would have a latent curiosity about where all the findings might be heading and where the initial impetus came from. Here we were fortunate in that the original starting point was one both familiar and neutral and had little to do with the extremes of culture or of conflict. The original intention was to explore the question of aspirations. This is a well-tried subject, often bound up with some pre-set hypothesis of what aspirations should be associated with different categories of background. Educational aspirations and personal motivations bring together certain assumptions about parental expectations, personal well being and the educational system in itself. It also quickly brings to the fore issues of class, gender and religion since the background expectations are strongly influenced by initial motivation as well as the efficacies of the school. The moment the question of what hopes there are for the future, and what influences are brought to bear, a whole host of far more significant facts and ideas emerge.

Ethnicity and Englishness

69

One of the helpful discoveries of the pilots was the importance of the location. Another was the amount of time these busy young people would wish to spend on these interviews without feeling cajoled into doing something they did not really want to. After a time it was clear that as certain patterns of attitude and experience emerged. What was needed was a technique that verified the findings. This made them valid for a significant number of young people so that issues of reliability and relevance to other people could be explored with confidence. It was out of this process that the questionnaire was produced with its simple range of questions and simple choices. The results are a mixture of some essential, consistent findings, shared amongst all, data that is quantifiable, precise and clear, and findings which reveal some of the underlying contradictions and tensions. Both are equally important. One cannot understand the significance of individual lives without taking into account the inevitable conflicts of influence and interest, between the understanding of what ought to be and what actually is, without the truths that are embedded in certain cultural attitudes and those epistemological truths that we revealed only in a richer vein of ambiguity and multiple realties. This is not to say that one ‘truth’ does not exist, but that it is more challenging to understand than a mere description, however larger the numbers that back consistency. Whilst interviews and questionnaires were used, there was a close relationship between the materials in both. The questionnaires were sometimes distributed by teachers [79 of them] but the rest, 336, were personally handed out and collected, allowing time for further conversation in the favourite institution, the college and other such locations in Bradford. Whilst some of the work took place in school, and some after school, Saturdays became an important time for meeting and discussions. One of the interviewees might be playing truant during the week and make themselves available easily then; at the weekend all were involved. The four hundred and fourteen questionnaires arising from [and surrounding] the pilot studies were augmented by another twenty-two lengthy semi-structured interviews with young people, thirteen males and nine females, whose parents had migrated from Mirpur. These interviews were both to verify and explore the initial findings. The homogeneity of the responses is very important (Din 2001). The questions were all about those aspects of their lives that were important for them, starting with the ostensibly simpler matters, to go on to more complex issues but in a way that would not be too obviously demanding or confrontational. Thus questions about school would be opened simply about why the present school was chosen and what courses they were taking before exploring issues of qualifications, aspirations, and the experience of school, including truancy and bullying. From

70

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

schooling, the home background would be the subject of interest, from simple matters like parental qualifications to the parents’ attitudes towards a range of issues. The research then went on to explore issues of personal taste and attitude, from portrayals of society in the media to preferences for the arts and sports. From these would emerge questions that brought out those issues that most concerned, interested or troubled them, from religion to relationships. It is worth noting whilst ‘aspirations’ was a neutral entry into issues of greater salience, the easiest way to get both boys and girls discussing issues of generations, and attitudes both inside and outside the community, was to raise that of gender. From the treatment of girls to arranged marriages, this seemed to have become the natural focus of attention that seemed to distinguish the broader community. On this, as a many other matters, the young people had clear views. The research methodologies themselves revealed something about the young people. The choice of location, the place they would feel comfortable, was one. The style of questions and the pace, together with the sense of respect, was also important. The ease with which they answered also reveals something of a natural duality of identity. There are certain terms that have already crept into the book, from Apna to Biraderi. These young people displayed a significant command of colloquialism and instinctive insight into which Mirpuri words retained enough significance in themselves to be carried over into their otherwise preferred tongue. We find them often saying things like “And going on about izzat and that…I couldn’t hack that…I heard not many apna pass…”

CHAPTER 6: PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IDENTITIES: THE TENSIONS OF HOME AND SCHOOL Every pupil knows how separate are the worlds of home and of school. The barriers between them are formidable and soon learned by children. These barriers are deeper than physical boundaries. Pupils have a constitutional resentment of information seeping from one into the other. From the children’s points of view the tone and the expectations of both are completely distinct. As they adapt themselves to the one or the other they do not wish to convey the same language and sentiments across the hidden boundaries. All parents will know the laconic refusal to give an account of what happened during the school day. “What did you do at school today?” “Nothing”. All teachers will realise that the attempts to elicit information about events outside will either be resented, as in the Monday morning test- “What did you do at the weekend?” or is not worth pursuing. For whatever reason pupils feel the distinction deeply. Even in those cases where there is a greater intermingling of one world with the other, the essential distinction remains. Most people take the separation of the two worlds of experience for granted, as if home life were a necessary relief from the demands of school, as if the distinction between private behaviour and public accountability were somehow sacrosanct. Of course people adapt themselves to the particular circumstances they are in and their behaviour is expected to match the assumptions of the environment. Even accent and language can be affected, let alone dress and demeanour, and the ability to adopt a tone and demeanour that is acceptable is seen as an essential mark of social grace. Even in subtle ways we adapt, through politeness and through instinctive self-interest, to what are perceived as the demands of the moment. The absolute distinction of what one would do in private, on one’s own, and how one would behave when being observed is made more complicated by the different grades of privacy, when the observed behaviour of a family is still different from the unobserved behaviour of a country walk. The adaptability to circumstances is not a deliberate act, a self-conscious acquisition of a mode of behaviour. It is, however, a profound and important matter for most people, and those who make no distinction whatsoever are generally deemed to be social misfits or mavericks. Taking the differences between the public and private spheres for granted should not mean that it should not be questioned. It is only in more recent times that the two worlds of social functions are juxtaposed on a daily basis. It is often argued that the school is a necessary preparation for public life as if it is only there that pupils would have both a glimpse into the behaviour of groups of people and into

72

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

the hierarchical orders of power and authority. Recalling the time when children lived in ever widening circles of community, like rings of small waves emanating from a small stone, reminds us of how much more intimate was the relationship of the self to the surrounding culture. Instead, what we now observe is a far greater clash between two sets of contrary expectations and often contradictory rules. What one is allowed to do in one sphere would be impossible in the other. The pleasures, and the way they are gratified, are quite distinct. What makes the contrast so powerful is that it rests on diurnal comparisons. The routines of daily incarcerations with others in institutions are quite different from the daily individual confrontations at home. The contrasts of the worlds of home and school are clear. However individual or idiosyncratic the home, there is something that makes schools immediately recognisable as a type of institution. Partly it is the physical shape of classrooms and corridors, playgrounds and the most utilitarian uses of space. Partly it is the confinement of groups of pupils into small spaces, and their being herded from one place to another. And it is partly the reliance on control by the few in authority over the many in a position of understood subservience. Home life varies but always contrasts with that of school. If the home life is obviously of a different culture then the contrast will be the greater. For all pupils, the distinction is there. For immigrant children it is even greater, and this has many implications. For a start, school symbolises the monopoly of the indigenous culture. It emphasises, whether it wishes to or not, the alien nature of the outsider. The estranged young person can come from all kinds of backgrounds and became estranged for all kinds of reasons. Socio-economic factors are often the core, far more than ethnicity. However sympathetic the school is to differences, and whatever efforts are made at accommodation, school is still a place of peculiar gravity and heavy expectations. The young entrant to school always comes with his or her particular burdens, of hope or expectations, of parental aspiration or fear, and has to somehow adapt to the general demands whilst preserving his or her own personality. Entering into the linguistic and emotional ethos of school is always difficult. It is more obviously so if there has been some suspicion of it, or anticipation of awkwardness. Those who have been brought up to hear the refrains of being in a ‘kufr’ [immoral] society will have particular views on the monument that is schooling. The attempts to preserve a way of life that assume it is so fragile it will be flattened by the demands and influence of school will lead some to want to avoid the given State system altogether, to create ghetto schools, dominated by religious demands. This is not, of course, a completely new phenomenon. The origins of many schools have

Ethnicity and Englishness

73

lain in their religious, sectarian foundations. What is different is that the State system, whilst preserving some of the ethos of religious sectarianism, is actually predicated on a curriculum which allows only small measures, if any, of religious indoctrination. There might be movements of pupils by choice from one school to another – ‘white flight’ is an example- creating a sense of greater ghettoisation and insularity, but these are based on cultural rather than religious prejudice. .

It has been a plank of educational policy to offer parents the choice of schools for their children. This has; of course, largely depended on the ability of the parents to provide transport (Cullingford 1996). However difficult the facts of catchment areas and the necessary arrangements of transport, parents are aware of the principle of choice. Given the ways in which the school is arranged, and the factors that make some schools more popular, it is no surprise that some schools are ‘better’ than others, and that the league tables show ever widening gaps between the desirable and ‘sink’ schools . Some schools reflect in particular the social environment in which they are placed. In the sectors of large cities in which minority ethnic groups are placed this means that schools do not represent the distribution of varieties that would reflect the national mix but peculiar concentrations. This does not mean that the school will simply reflect the norms of the majority, but that it will take into account the particular tastes of all in a school without allowing a peculiar majority to dominate. The choice of school is an important matter for many parents when it is available. There are many cases of parents moving to particular houses in order to be in a catchment area of their choice. In all the cases of the most extreme adaptations for the sake of schooling it has clearly been the parents who take the necessary steps and make the major decisions. One would imagine that the parents of pupils with an Islamic inheritance would deem the choice of school, if there is a genuine one, something of importance. One would also assume that these are the kinds of choices that are expected of parents. When the government introduced the policy of making choices it was directed firmly at the parents. The measures were introduced through a “parents’ charter”. The possibility that the pupils might have some say in the matter is noticeable by its complete absence. The legislative tenor is that of the appeal to the voting parents, their rights to place their children, just as they have a right to make use of the private sector. Whatever the deliberate limitations of the parents’ charter, the young people were asked whether they felt they had any say in choosing the school they attended. This is particularly important given the existence of Islamic schools, schools with a majority of Apna [Pakistani] and schools that had become gradually ghettoised in the sense of being dominated for various reasons by a minority cultural intake. We

74

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

will see the views of which are the ‘best’ schools later but it is noticeable that nearly sixty percent of the young people felt that they had a say in choosing the school they went to. Given the patriarchal archetypes and the more general tendency to accept what is given, like being sent to Public school, that is perhaps surprising. The fact that they were involved in the choice implies that there is no overwhelming inflexibility about the future, or about the demand for inarticulate obedience. Virtually as many girls as boys said that they had had a say in choosing the school they went to. Those who were sent to separate schools, like an Islamic school, were far less likely to have had a say in the choices. The more particular the school the more likely it was for the parents to have insisted upon it. On the other hand [and perhaps this could be an analogy with other public schools] those who went to the two independent schools were much more likely to be involved in the choice. Whoever makes the final choice of school the factors for this choice are interesting. The usual basis for a decision will be the chances afforded by examination results, as published in the league tables. A second factor is more subtle, that of the ethos of the school, less easy to detect and often influenced by the personal experience of others who go there, peer pressure as well as kinships. There are also the factors of religion and, increasingly, gender. For some parents the desire to send their daughters to girls-only schools was very strong. This was not because these schools would give them a better chance to do well in exams but because they would be deemed to be safe from the influence and attractions of the opposite sex. The possibility that the honour of the biraderi could be at all slurred would be minimised. For the girls themselves the annoying part of being sent to a single-sex school was not so much the fact of the matter, but the fact that they had no choice. They contrasted this with the fact that boys would be allowed greater freedom and have greater scope, not only within the school but in making their own informed choice. Feeling that you are part of a family’s decision making is an important matter. It was being denied this that annoyed the girls with its concomitant implications on status. The seeking out of the single-sex school was centred on the fear of ‘base-thi’ [dishonour], by the implications of sexual mixing. For some parents, schools, in their lack of segregation are dangerous places, as if any contacts with the opposite sex, even by their own daughters, could never be innocent and straightforward. Such attempts to control were not necessarily successful; indeed there was a general and cheerful assumption that whatever the parents decreed, life would go on as the sons and daughters wanted.

Ethnicity and Englishness

75

“I’m at the Girls school but you can see girls go over to the boys section, talk to them: the boys are always chatting up the girls and the girls like that” [Female, Aged 17] This might be just the kind of revelation that parents fear, both in the casual expression and the realisation that it is not just a matter of male predatory instinct but the pleasure felt by girls. The myth of unsullied naiveté (as opposed to innocence) is unravelled. At mixed schools normal relations between people cross all kinds of barriers including the charged atmosphere of sexual innuendo. The parents who argue for single sex schools fear not just a loss of control over the future of their daughters in particular, but the incipient suspicion of the majority culture of the ability to have neutral and unreligious relationships. The fear of freedom, or ‘excessive’ freedom as it is usually called in deference to the influence of tolerance, is conversely a fear of loss of simple control (Halstead 1991). Parents would, in all cultures, like to think that they have a command on the beliefs and aspirations of their children. It is part of the mythology of parenthood. There is an atavistic part in parents that imagines the children as clones, the ‘offspring’ recognisably the display of the family. What makes their parents the more symbolic of such belief is a threat they have some of the means of trying to assert and realise that control that other cultures do not have. The insistence on the daughters wearing the coded religious costumes of differentiation and the possibility of segregation are signs of both reaction and control (Basit, 1997; Ghuman, 1999). Most of the control, and the practical means of carrying it out, is directed specifically towards girls. This echoes the ancient and worldwide ambivalence towards sexual behaviour, with the impossible but sustained conviction that it is acceptable for boys to ‘sow their wild oats’, to have sexual experience, whilst all the girls would remain innocent and unsullied; or more pointedly, seemingly ignorant of the facts of life so that the purity is that of the soul and mind as well as the body. Separate schools for girls are the result of such ancient beliefs. They are the product of parental wishes, “My relatives want separate schools, but I don’t . My cousins agree” [Female, Aged 17] The young people did not like their parent’s insistence on separation. Nor did they believe that there was any rational basis for it. The young girls as well as the boys argued for female rights of choice and freedom to mingle in the larger society.

76

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

The position of women is a source of argument with parents. The girls who attended a single-sex Islamic school pointed out that they had to attend that school because their father insisted on it. They both ‘strongly disagreed’ with their parents. They constantly argued about it, pointing out that their friends, cousins and, indeed, brothers, were allowed to attend the normal mixed State school and that the same rules should apply to them. They might have been helpless, but they were left aching with resentment, and mistrustful of the cultural values that had forced them to be where they were. The resentment at their father was palpable, and the family tension that resulted from it permeated their home life, “I didn’t have much say in it. Most of my friends went to ‘A’ or ‘B’. I wanted to go there but my dad wanted me to go to a Muslim Girls school” [Female, Aged 15]. The segregation of women is associated with the demands of a religious culture, even if such cultural norms are never found as a religious issue in all the holy texts. More significant is the sense of not having ‘much say in it’. One of the arguments in any modern society, let alone a liberal democracy, is the extent to which an individual is allowed to have his or her voice. Can she express what she wants to? More particularly, will she be listened to? If not, there is the possibility of deep discontent, “I don’t really enjoy it here. I told my dad I don’t want to go there. He started shouting and going on about izzat and that” [ibid] This reaction against the insistence of the parents was based not just on personal assertiveness, or on the rejection of traditional cultural and hierarchal norms. The voice of the young person yearning for personal autonomy is clear, but it is also rational, an understanding of the modern world which cannot be expressed or hidden, “I think we all should go to mixed schools so we can learn about each others’ cultures and races so we can understand each other better” [ibid] This open-minded attitude suggests both tolerance and the desire for understanding. It suggests that schools are not just the locus of learning and qualifications but social places where deeper insights into other people, their norms and assumptions, are achieved. The problem is that all the parents envisage the vague threat of relationships which have nothing to do with learning, “They think you’ll mess about with boys and get a bad reputation” [Female, Aged 16] The conclusion that parents tend to come to is that by sending their daughters to a Muslim girls school all problems will be solved, and that they can retain control, if

Ethnicity and Englishness

77

not of their hearts and minds, at least of their behaviour. And this is what is supposed to satisfy izzat in the eyes of the biraderi. Whilst there is this evidence of the parental insistence that their daughters attend single-sex schools we have noted the large percentage of young people who felt that they were at least listened to, and took part in discussions about choice of school. From the young peoples’ point of view the motivations for attending particular schools were far more mixed. They also sometimes expressed a degree of regret, when they began to share information about other schools with their friends. What the young people realised about certain schools was a mixture of freedom and exam results, both the quality of social interchange and the quality of the academic opportunities. Some specifically wanted to go to schools which offered greater freedom, like the girl incarcerated in a single sex school. The excitement of having a social life, even a nefarious one, was great, “I have a good laugh with my mates S and R especially at lunch time when we go smoking behind the bins” [Female, Aged 17] Just as often any regret of not being able to go to a school of their choice is because of its academic reputation and examination results. To these young people, the idea of separate schooling as a means of retaining cultural identity (Tomlinson, 1984) was to some extent absurd. It seemed to be a sign of insecurity, as if cultural identity were so fragile, or religious belief so slight. The motivations behind creating separate schools appeared to be in the retention of a linguistic identity. At first this was seen to ensure that the new immigrants could have a wider circle with whom to communicate. The relationship between language and culture, so strongly enforced by the underlying notions of the Holy Quran which must be read [if not understood] in Arabic, was centred on the most obvious means of expressing a separate identity. The parents might still fear that the children will move away from the traditional practices that they themselves are used to. The young people appear to feel far more confident in perpetuating their own Islamic cultural identity. Parents find it hard to understand, or accept, the more fluid and adaptable styles of thought in the young, and are made afraid of it. The traditional control of parents can be expressed in either insistence on religious sectarianism, or sexual segregation [or both]. It is the idea of single sex, rather than single ethnic, schools that predominated (Stopes-Roe and Cochrane, 1990). It is the control of daughters, and the wearing of the Purdah [the long black dress] which can be more easily accommodated in single sex schools, that seems to matter (Modood, 1997; Ghuman, 1999). The argument for separate schools is also centred

78

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

on the anomaly of having Church schools, Catholic, Church of England and NonConformist, funded if not automatically controlled by the State (Mason, 2000). Behind the arguments about schooling and choice of school lies the question of control. The young people, like all others, react against the authoritarianism of their elders. The resentment and hostility comes out the more strongly the more that parents insist on the imposition of their own values. In such a cultural inheritance the traditional arguments about clothes can be taken to extremes. The common parental shock, emulated by some schools, at the way in which their children dress, with particular symbols that are assumed to annoy, from body piercing to suicidally died hair, let alone the extremes of designer wear, is felt by all. The reaction against norms, and the creation of a separate adolescent style, can often upset parents. For these young people, however, the contrasts are more extreme, and the clothes they wear are a sign of the extent to which they are expected to conform. This is not a gradation of respectability and conviction, but one of pushing into extremes. The very insistence of visual differences revealed in the ‘in your face’ wearing of punk styles has its equivalents in the opposite direction in the wearing of different styles of the hejab [head scarf]. This is not a minor matter for young people, “I have to wear a hejab and that, and colours like brown, grey and black!…because I have to and I hate that” [Female, Aged 15] This is not an issue of clothing, but one of control. From the point of view of the young people the choice of school was essentially an academic matter. Some schools were seen to be high achieving schools. The sad fact is that some felt that they had little chance to go to a more elite school because of the policy of catchment areas. The same perpetuation of social and academic distinction that is the central result of national policy made an impact on these people, “I go to school A it was closest to us, so I got the school. I would have gone to school M” [Male, Aged 16] That is, if he had a real choice. For most of the young people a ‘low achieving school’ was associated as that to which “a lot of Asians go”. Class, or socioeconomic differences are merely echoed in ethnic ones. Some schools have a good reputation: “it is a good school I wanted to go there” [Male, Aged 17]. Others are considered sink schools, which diminish the life chances of those in them, “I was thinking about my future. What future? No one passes in the school” [ibid]

Ethnicity and Englishness

79

Some judgements are realistic, since the differences in examination results are marked. The desire to send children to schools selected by them is all part of a mixture of social divisions, where class is somehow associated with ethnicity (Lane, 1983; Gill et al, 1992; Gaine, 1995). The polarisation of schools is well documented and to be observed all over the country. Bradford is no exception, for all its greater ethnic mix. The same competition between schools and the same effects of reputation based on examination results is observed by young people (Williams and Echols, 1992; Furlong and Cartmel, 1997). The more ‘choice’ offered to parents the more we see patterns of differences on class and ethnic lines (Tomlinson, 1997). The same schools are deemed to be most successful and most popular. For all the retreat into separate schools, these Mirpuri parents label a ‘gora’ school as a good school. They wish to avoid the ‘Apna’ ones. Only if they cannot, do they really consider their own, at least for the boys. Some schools in Bradford have a poor academic and social reputation. All parents would wish to avoid them, and their children understand this. The failure of these schools is seen in different ways, and they are feared on a number of levels, “Well a couple of girls got caught hanging about with boys so my father said that he did not want to send me there, so I got school B” [Male, Aged 14] Bad behaviour has an effect on ‘izzat’, but so does failure, “------ School, I heard not many Apna pass” [Male, Aged 16] “No-one is interested in passing exams; most are just having a laugh” [Female, Aged 17] Schools are social centres where young people meet each other (Cuthell, 2001). Their purpose might be academic but the experience of the pupils is centred on relationships with other people, with teachers and with peers. They are a mixture of good and bad. The idea of ‘having a laugh’ is at the centre of what is perceived as typical of school life. These young people share the usual norms in the experience of schooling but the social side can be even more significant since schools offer experiences away from the surveillance of parents and the biraderi of elders. Girls in particular enjoy schools as a temporary shelter from the restrictions of home, from the rigid conformity to rules of conduct. The great majority of the young people found school a pleasurable experience, at least part of the time. The young girls who said so included many who were going to be taken away the moment they were old enough to have fulfilled the minimum required by the State. School for them was a temporary relief from past and future control. They felt that school gave them the opportunity to enjoy freedom and doing things they would not be

80

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

allowed to do at home, gaining insights into ways of thinking that would otherwise remain closed. Many of the girls realise how temporary school was, seeing their futures as ‘staying at home’, working for the family, or ‘getting married’. Perhaps it is in the sense of temporary respite that the girls in particular expressed their views about the values of their parents being both out-dated and un-Islamic. The realisation that they would have to submit made their inner resentment that much stronger. At home the girls were unable to go about unescorted, or to socialise freely with their friends. Whilst the boys could do what they wanted in the evenings, the girls found that it was only in school they could meet with a variety of people without too much restriction. Given that particular cultural context, the reflections on the experience of schooling are quite similar to the attitudes expressed in other explorations of pupils’ personal lives (Cullingford 2001). The fact is that these particular pupils are not untypical in their attitudes towards truancy. Whilst there is a growing recognition that truancy is a problem, and a sign of disaffection with school, the official figures cover a far more complicated and widespread phenomenon. If truancy and school exclusion are approached from a statistical perspective, when schools’ reputation are judged on their success or failure at measures of retention, we have an overall figure that is only a small part of the overall case, as well as leaving out all the reasons that underlie it. Naturally schools and local authorities do not wish to be punished for revealing their truancy figures, but even if they did their best to do so, they would still not come up with the actual extent of truancy based on observation and recording. From the point of view of pupils, as revealed through interviews, truancy is widespread. This form of truancy includes the deliberate missing out of lessons or part of lessons and the occasional unofficial absence. It does not include psychological exclusion, that ostensible presence at school whilst taking no actual part in it. Truancy, for pupils, is the judicious choice of whether it is worth attending particular events or not, and whether there are certain attractions, like that of the peer group, that are more compelling. A large proportion of these young people play truant, even if a smaller number do so regularly. What makes this cohort slightly unusual is the fact that girls were more likely than boys to truant on a regular basis. Normally it is the boys who are more drawn to the excitements of truancy, and the girls who tend to submit (Pye,1989). Here, the girls, with their own reasons, found truancy a chance to enjoy themselves in their own way, without the usual restrictions. A third of the pupils had played truant; more from lower socio-economic background than the others. The overall proportion of truancy is typical (Stoll, 1994; Tisdall, 1997). The

Ethnicity and Englishness

81

fact that in an ostensibly more controlling environment, and with greater community visibility, there should be such a typical pattern is perhaps surprising. Truanting grows as the final compulsory year approaches (Pearce and Hillman, 1998). Those who went to schools labelled as sink or ‘par-nar’ were more likely to truant. The context and background of those who play truant are well-known; they are the ones who tend to be disaffected, who find schooling a form of estrangement from their own norms, and whose parents have not brought them up to believe in schooling. The reasons for truancy are, however, not only to do with the deliberate rejection of the academic rigours of the hierarchical demands. They can include the seeking out of more challenging and interesting experiences. There are all kinds of alternatives for young people, and they feel themselves to be the more mature and the more assertive for pursuing them. “We skive off from school a couple of times from school” [Female, Aged 16] “A lot of my mates, especially the boys, don’t go to lessons” [Female, Aged 17] ‘Skiving’ off school is both the search for more challenging adventures and a rejection of those parts of the curriculum which bore them. In these circumstances, to admit readily to truanting is easy, “Of course I have. Loads of times, especially during Urdu and Games. Me and R go to town and that, to mess about, which is really good fun!” [Female, Aged 17] The only part of truanting that concerned them was being caught. This fear had nothing to do with the teachers, or the authorities, “We always go out of Bradford. Its safer just in case your family or relatives see you” [Female, Aged 16] One problem with living in a tight-knit community is the difficulty of being private, which is the more cherished when achieved. The desire for privacy is a reaction to the sense that someone in the ‘biraderi’ might know you, and if you have done something wrong, might make it his business to interfere. There are many stories of disobedient sons or daughters or couples being sought in all the biraderi communities up and down the country. The sense of surveillance, especially amongst young females is strong (Brake, 1995). It is no coincidence that the young most enthusiastic about truancy, and

82

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

about secret pleasures to go to, or who accepted semi-public trysting places like the library, were girls. The sanctions on those bringing dishonour to the family are real. One result is the inner need for some kind of escape from the felt oppression, and a strong sense of loyalty to each other amongst the young. The fear amongst young women of being caught by parents or by members of the community going out with a man is real. There are many tragic cases of the shocking consequences of the idea of ‘base-thi’ [shame] in the family. This means that a large number of relationships with men are concealed (Hennink et al, 1999). The school then plays an important part in their lives. It is a place licensed as an alternative location to the home. It has its more strict rules and its own system of surveillance. It is nevertheless viewed as some kind of haven a place of freedom before the years of female oppression. In contrast to most pupils who submit to school and who liken it to a prison, these young people accept both the opportunities within school, and the licence it gives during certain hours to roam outside it. They know the danger they are in given that the parents view truancy as a deviant act, “They’re just worried about base-thi” [Female, Aged 16] They also know that this is potentially their last chance to live with the kinds of freedom of contact that their brothers and most other people enjoy as a matter of course, “I know I’ll be leaving and working in the shop. So the way I see it I might as well enjoy myself whilst I got the chance” [ibid] Truancy for these young people is the use of school for other purposes. It is not so much a criticism of school as an alternative to home. The telling note that the young lady strikes is that her relatives are not so concerned with moral obliquity but with family honour. The Base-thi comes from being found out. Appearances must be kept up. Those who play truant do not like to spend time at home. They do not, like truants from other backgrounds, simply return home and settle down to mild amusement and laziness. They wonder about in gangs or find part-time jobs (Bhatti, 1999). Playing truant from school is also to stay away from home, as if both the public and private spheres did not offer the needed opportunities for selfexpression. The sense of an impending future which is already settled on, and the yearning for some temporary compensation, emerges strongly from the young women’s statements. They know that the habit of being suspicious of, and keeping a careful eye on, young women goes deep,

Ethnicity and Englishness

83

“Parents want to marry their kids off, especially the girls so they don’t get the opportunity to mess about” [Female, Aged 16] “They know once you’ve married your husband will keep an eye on you” [ibid] School is the place they can live out some of their wishes, and its diurnal ritual also presents unaccounted for periods. The young both accept the power of the parents’ control and resent it; they see their future in submission but secretly would like to reject it, at least for a time. The tension between acceptance and rejection is always there. Those who rejected any possibility of truancy were not particularly worried about the stigmatism if found out (Hill and Tisdall, 1997). They seemed more inclined to see the disadvantages of truancy in terms of getting on with their work, “What’s the point? I’ll be leaving school with hopefully ten GCSEs and ‘A’ levels, so what’s the point not going to school. I’ll lose in the long run” [Female, Aged 17] The pragmatic realisation of the advantages of qualification is greater than the avoidance of shame. This concept of shame, however, only applies to girls. The daughter will not be as marriageable in the eyes of the community if there is a hint that she has behaved badly, a fact true of all communities who learn about reputations through a dense communication system. The truancy itself is resented because it affords the opportunity of illicit relationships; and once there is a network of suspicion and rumour then the bad reputation can be exploited by malicious gossip. For some of the biraderi there is a malicious pleasure in the fall of other families. If ‘izzat’ is so deeply cared for, ‘base-thi’ can be exploited against others. The attitude towards schooling is coloured by the tensions of caste, since qualifications give all children, and not just the sons of rich parents, the opportunities to advance. Parents naturally expect their children to go to school to study and not to play truant, although this wish is somehow mitigated by some of the attitudes to daughters. Truancy remained an issue especially amongst the girls. It was a risk they felt worth taking, even if they were aware of the possible consequences, “She’ll get killed or sent straight to Pakistan and get married. Parents look for any excuse to send their daughters to Pakistan. It’s so unfair. It hurts but you can do nothing” [Female, Aged 16]

84

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

Truancy was important as it allowed at least a glimpse into the stimulation of a secular society. It was the means by which the individual had choices and personal tastes without the inhibition of having to adapt to other people. It was made the more piquant for being limited within the constraints both of time [their potential futures] and place. The fact that so many sought this innocent escape reveals the extent of the oppression of home, as well as of school, and also the fact that despite the threats of terrible consequences, there was a consensus amongst the young that it was possible to have close, warm and natural personal relations between boys and girls. For the parents, schooling was the temporary rite of passage before the girl entered into the family of her husband. For many pupils, schools offered a brief respite from the prevailing religious climate of the home. The attitudes towards school, its demands, and its limitations all strike a familiar note. The acceptance of the norms of schooling, the submission to the round of examinations, the realisation of the need to struggle through a competitive system and the pleasures to be had in the social undercurrents of school- ‘messing about’are all shared as much by these young people as any other group. Another familiar note amongst some of them was bullying. Bullying can take all kinds of forms and it is therefore hard to define and therefore quantify. It is nevertheless pervasive (Glover et al, 2000; Eslea and Mukhtar, 2000). Around ten percent of these people said they had experienced bullying. This is a low figure, given how widespread is the phenomenon. The bullying tended to be confined to two particular schools where it was rife. Other schools prevented it more successfully. As in other studies [Hill and Tisdall, 1997; Cove et al, 1994] boys were far more likely to be involved in bullying than girls and defined the problem more laconically, “There’s fights sometimes and school and inside” [Male, Aged 15] Nevertheless a minority of girls as well as boys had suffered from racial harassment, “Well, they call you names like you know, stuff, Paki, things like ‘Dirty Paki’. I hate it when they say that” [Female, Aged 17] It is one of the marks of bullies to be aware of other people’s vulnerability and assault any type of difference. Vulgar racist taunts are irresistible simply because they hurt, “I’ve been racially harassed by white lads, called names like ‘Pakis’ or ‘brown sugar’. I don’t take much notice of them, even though it hurts” [Female, Aged 16]

Ethnicity and Englishness

85

The question of ‘difference’, this pervasive resentment of anything that challenges the norm, or upsets the enclave, is made more acute by the obvious differences, not of colour but of dress. A number of girls said that if they had the choice they would dress in Western styles of clothing, if not for any other reasons then to avoid being picked on for wearing the pur-dah, “Especially when I bus it from Leeds Road, especially at the Interchange a lot of the white lads are going to school like A or B. you get teased and that…some of the white lads pull off our hejabs. Others just pick on you, call you names” [Female, Aged 15] Bullying is often as unsubtle, as obvious, as it is brutal. It is not confined to the bullying of non-whites [or vice-versa]. It is also employed by inter-ethnic rivalries; say of Hindus or Indian Muslims (Eslea and Mukhtar, 2000). There are enough differences in codes and symbols to provide ammunition for those whose desire for group identity tempts them down this path . Schooling provides a range of experiences, not all of which are pleasant. It is nevertheless seen as not only necessary but also an opportunity for advancement. It is not considered in the community to be some kind of ‘alien’ infringement of cultural rights. The young people felt that their parents usually cared about their children doing well at school. Three quarters were certain about this. The quarter who said that their parents did not care are the most surprising. Partly this is explained by gender. Ninety percent of males asserted that their parents cared about their doing well. Just fifty seven percent of girls said the same. It is the same young people who are supposed to do well, in whom the hope for greater izzat is placed. Indeed there is a lot of pressure on the young men to do well; and bring home impressive academic successes, “They feel proud of you, it means a lot of respect and izzat from relatives” [Male, Aged, 16] The pressure to do well is not just a matter of hoping that children will do well enough to be happy and fulfilled. It is a matter of family pride. This aspect of ‘keeping up with the Joneses’ is very important, and explains some of the ambivalent attitudes to the community, like the distinction between actual behaviour and what is seen. The difference between the feeling of personal concern and attention, and the parading of success to other people is acute. Failure has large consequences, and the family can be tainted as much by academic inadequacies as truancies, “…that even puts pressure on parents, and parents in return want their kids to do well because its all about izzat and that a vicious cycle which you can’t get out” [Male, Aged 18]

86

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

The guilt of letting down the group makes the burden heavier (Bhatti, 1999). There are any number of labels attached to families as a whole: those who are viewed as ne-pass-ay [a failed family] or as chann-ga bandah [the good family]. The whole family is involved in such labellings. The young people realise that in the norms of such traditional communities there are particular stereotypes, “They want you to get married, arranged, have kids, sons first, get a good job and earn lots of money and build houses in Pakistan” [Male, Aged 19] At least the aspirations are clearly drawn.

CHAPTER 7: COLLUSION OR CAMOUFLAGE? PARENTS’ RELATIONSHIPS WITH THEIR CHILDREN The relationship of children with their children is of such importance that it is never easy and rarely straightforward. The different parenting styles, from the over-authoritarian to the laissez-faire, are well documented. The effects of these styles on the development of their children is complicated since children do not simply imbibe the attitudes and tastes of the parents, but define themselves against them. Parents continue to be an example, but they are not necessarily an example to be emulated. The sense of independent, individual identity is created through the observation of parental behaviour and through a certain degree of opposition to it. By the time young people became articulate about their own separate tastes and personalities they have the term adolescent applied to them. This term is essentially about the relationships with parents. Part of the tension of children’s attitudes to their parents is the acknowledgement that they have inherited many of their characteristics whether they like it or not. They have also inherited a particular social and economic status that also marks out their futures, whether they absorb and continue it, or whether they vehemently reject it. This ambivalence towards parents, only really overcome as the children establish themselves as independent, both economically and culturally, is a crucial ingredient in development. Young children have a neutral attitude towards their own circumstances. They accept that where they happen to be is, in a way, a matter of chance. The understanding of the arbitrariness of fate, and that they could well have been born with a different colour, in a different place and employing a different language, is well established. The children also accept the fact of where they are born and brought up, but this does not mean that they have a sense of ontological rightness, or that the best of all possible worlds is that which revolves around them. There is no egotistical sublime that invades the earliest consciousness of children; this sense of pervasive self-centredness only develops later. Young children observe neutrally and objectively. They accept and are loyal to their circumstances, but they see it in context. Young people with a Mirpuri inheritance are fully aware of all the cultural and emotional attachments of their parents. Like any others, they have an objective sense not only of their parent’s community and its values, but also of other peoples’. They also have a clear idea of the parent’s particular propinquities and their reasons for them. No adolescent looks at parents with an assumption that they

88

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

are figures of complete self-command. They know the moods and fragilities and learn how to live with them. Just as pupils look on the behaviour of their teachers, with their own peculiarities, with a certain amount of patronage, so children realise the power of their parents’ inner lives. They know that whilst they are forging their own identities, their parents have particular personalities of their own. Parents are not some immutable force or inevitable authority. The difficulty for parents is that they rarely remember what it was like when they were children. They forget the way in which their love for parents was joined with critical detachment. They re-create the parental myth that children are simply the product of their parents’ wishes and desires, and enact just those behaviours that they themselves have criticised. Parents like to think that their will and their intentions are understood. They do not like to remind themselves that they are also understood as people. Clearly the parents feel they are imbued with all the authority of their experience, the weight of tradition and the power of command. This sense of a personal and moral inheritance is the stronger in those communities that are more clearly defined against others. The more deeply felt the sense of distinctiveness the more the atavistic sense of responsibility and command. In the case of this community the influence of those of similar outlook, symbolised by the biraderi, points up the collective assumptions and the implacable power or assertion the more clearly. One of the results of the biraderi, and the sense of distinctiveness, is that greater attention is paid to the status and reputation of the family. This might be deemed to give it a greater sense of cohesion. If one member of the family offends its ‘izzat’ this casts a shadow on all. Children are aware of this and are mindful that there is a tendency to gossip about families collectively and not just about people individually. One result of this feeling of the mind-set of a biraderi is to make parents more aware of their responsibility, more certain of their role in controlling their children and more inclined to assert their authority. The parents might be observed as individual human beings with their own tastes and desires, but they see themselves in addition as a collective moral force, symbolising a tradition and upholding moral law. Given this point of view these parents, even more than most, would expect their pronouncements to be attended to. They would expect their own cultural beliefs to be supported by those that surround them. Most of all they would expect themselves not just to be understood but as demonstrating unequivocal understanding of their children. Parents pride themselves on understanding the young. The force of their personalities and the demonstration of their position by their actions is supposed to achieve a moral clarity that their children would respect and accept. Parents take it

Ethnicity and Englishness

89

upon themselves to understand the needs of their children. They assume that in cases of possible disagreement, they probably know their children’s needs better than anyone. Parents also think they understand the feelings of their children. They might not always approve of them, but at least they know them. Especially in such a community parents would naturally feel they are in a strong position, not only taking decisions and directing their children, but clearly understood. Most of all they feel that their children should accept their support and their wisdom. The young people were not asked to confirm the centrality of their parents’ understanding of their lives. They were asked simply whether their parents understood their needs and feelings. Over eighty percent were unequivocal. They said ‘No’. They said that their parents did not understand their needs or feelings. Slightly more girls than boys said this, and tellingly, the sense of being misunderstood lessened slightly as the young people grew older, and became close to genuine independence, the first signs of which were after the end of compulsory schooling. These slight, interesting differences were, however, small compared to the overwhelming numbers of young people who felt they were not really understood. Why? To a large extent such a sense of being misunderstood is typical and normal. It is part of the process of growing up. There is nothing different here from any other community. What makes this significant is not the finding in itself, but the contrary expectations and the more assertive denials. The community, in its parental voice, would not expect the young to be so unequivocal in their feelings. The biraderi have not only asserted their command but have taken it for granted. They have assumed that the fault lines of ‘us’ and ‘them’ embrace the whole of the community against others. They have not accepted the demarcations of age, of the need of new generations to find their own personal way. Such a finding of youth’s sense of disenfranchisement might not be surprising, but it would often be denied. Such an overwhelming sense of not being understood derives from the very fact that the very concept would not be taken seriously. It is as if a parental assertion that they ‘should’ not express such feelings would lead to the assumption that they ‘did’ not express them. That, in turn, would be bolstered by the thought that they ‘ought’ not to even think in such terms. These young people think that they are not up against an implacable mind-set, a habit of thought that dismisses individuality and inner need. The restrictions that they feel are imposed upon them are such that their personal feelings are not even considered. It is not a question of argument. It is matter of not being listened to. Instead of clear and obvious confrontation, the young people stress that their point of view is not even considered. This is not a

90

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

gripe about ‘they do not understand me’ but an assertion that they are not even considered to have a voice. The feeling that they are not understood derives from the realisation that they have no voice, that they would not be listened to, “Well, you can’t talk about personal things. They don’t understand. Like take arranged marriages. My cousins and friends were given no choice. Too many are forced into” [Male, Aged 19] On one level is the sense not only of being misunderstood but of not being considered. On another is the big parochial issue of who is in control, centred on the public one of the ultimate control of children’s private lives. The inability to talk about personal things is linked to the implied despair that even if the parents did talk, they would not, or would refuse to, understand. The perception is of a vast hegemony of attitude in which the young generations have no rights. All of them, friends and cousins, assert this they have ‘no choice’. They are ‘forced’ into actions of which they might not disapprove, but of which their disapproval has no place. This is the ultimate in not being listened to, that of not even caring, let alone knowing that other people have their point of view. The younger generation often feels that it is not attended to, that its views are unconsidered. When it comes to control over the most significant single issue for all people the sense of alienation is even more important, “There’s no point telling them ‘cos they won’t understand you, what goes on really goes on” [ibid] When the refusal to listen goes so far, then even the attempts to communicate are not worthwhile. Instead of some common ground each side goes its own way. Whilst the younger generation feel that they are not listened to they also feel they are not party to the decisions. They are excluded, and yet they feel forced to submit. Perhaps this is really the kind of control that parents yearn for, absolute command without concern for the consequences. This separation between the young and their parents, the lack of dialogue about issues that matter is a common experience. Personal problems remain personal and unexplored. In this case the private problems have public consequences, like their career aspirations and their relationships. Personal problems can include anything that seems to the individual son or daughter to matter. Of all people they would most naturally turn to it would be their parents. Even if they would have a different type of dialogue with their peer group, there should always be a chance, however informed, to at least raise issues with their parents who, after all, consider themselves to understand their own children better than anyone. The young people

Ethnicity and Englishness

91

were asked the neutral question of whether they could talk to their parents about their personal problems. This question did not raise any aspersions about whether the parents would approve or not, or whether there was even any hope for understanding. They were simply asked whether they talked. Eighty-five percent said no. Whilst there were some very minor variations-younger children were slightly more enabled to talk, and boys talked slightly more frequently than girlsthe unanimity of the report remains. They simply do not talk to their parents about personal issues. The question is whether they could if there was any encouragement. The ability to communicate is a clear sign of natural and close relationships; the absence of such dialogue is worrying. Those who were the exception to this rule were clear about their individual status, “I can talk to my parents. I can even disagree with them” [Male, Aged 18] But disagreement was clearly not something to be encouraged. This lack of communication between young people and their parents appears to have grown over the years (Kitwood, 1980). This lack is despite the tendency of surveys to suggest that young people claim to get on well with their parents (YPLL, 1987). The ability to communicate freely is something to which young people aspire, and there are hidden indications of where it is especially cherished, like the boys’ ability to get on with their mothers, or younger girls with their fathers. But despite the general tendency to find mothers for easier to get on with (Hendry et al, 1993), there was evidence of a general rift in understanding, and even in the opportunities to talk. Those who find such a finding objectionable will naturally point out that it is a tendency for young people to assert that no one understands them, amongst the older generation at least. There are plenty of opportunities for disagreement, like the question of household chores or staying out late. In these ostensibly homogeneous households the echo of a typical cry of the heart has greater reverberations. The common experience of feelings of estrangement from the norm or alienation from the family can go deep or be superficial. The sense of the generation gap can be reinforced by the influence of the peer group (Jackson and Rodriguez-Tame, 1993). In this case, the young people were not only complaining in a general way about differences of opinion but very clear about what the differences were about. They went beyond a general sense of malaise, or a widespread dissatisfaction with rules about their behaviour. They were concerned with the absence of common ground for discussion. Typically, they found mothers far more willing to listen, whereas fathers seemed to relish their role as

92

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

authoritarian figures (Hendry et al, 1993). Nevertheless the causes of disagreement were explicit. The issues that the young people wished to have discussions about, and which they felt their parents were not even bothered to consider even a possible subject, were the usual symbols of personal identity, not so much inward ones like personal beliefs, but outward symbols that anyone could detect, including those social observers of the family. These were matters of appearance and life style, the outward effects like dress code and hairstyle, the possibility of make up and the strictness of uniform, and the personal liberties of being able to talk to whoever they wanted to, marriage and the freedom to continue their education. The sense of personal frustration was clear, the helplessness in the face of implacable will. The choice appeared to be less between submission to this will, however deeply resented, than pretended submission, the resentment justifying covert alternatives. Many of the signs of disagreement centre on the issue of gender to a degree that is no longer so widespread in other societies. Rules are not uniform. They are applied quite differently. This goes for whether the parents even try to understand, “They do when you’re young but when you get older like fourteen, fifteen, they don’t. Like marriage, not giving the same freedom as my brothers. I don’t want a lot, just the same. Like go out with my girlfriends in the evenings and the weekends or play sports with them” [Female, Aged 16] Living what is seen as a fulfilled life as observed in others becomes not only the more desired but connected to the potential experience of further study, “Oh, and also I want to study and not get married. They don’t understand. I have to say that” [ibid] As she gets older the freedom is not only restricted but she is the more aware of it. From an individual identity of a girl she finds herself becoming more like a commodity for a family. She is typical in expressing jealousy for the comparative freedom of her brothers. They can go out and talk, play sports or fill weekends with those activities that give them pleasure. She feels her own restrictions the more for the comparison. The strict restrictions on girls is an obvious cultural symbol of the Muslim community, seen as such from within as well as outside (Basit, 1997). Afterschool activities, for instance, are not to include girls. Whilst boys can talk to their friends or do whatever they find normal and attractive, the position of the girls becomes markedly more controlled.

Ethnicity and Englishness

93

“Like girls to leave school at sixteen and stay at home…You know the situation. Girls get forced to do a lot of things which they don’t want to like get married, especially from Pakistan” [Female, Aged 17] Observation of the imposition of parental will are allowed with simple gender stereotypes, “As you know boys and girls are treated differently by parents, ras-thardar [relatives] Female, Aged 16] The community defines itself not just as divided in terms of generation but in terms of gender. This division is a matter of the extent of enforcement, a visible control. It is not just the boys are allowed greater freedom but what they do is not seen to be under such strict scrutiny, “Boys always get away with a lot more than girls” [Female, Aged 17] The ability to ‘get away with things’ suggests a growing tendency in the young people of this community. Control depends on surveillance, on a restricted field of action. The use of meeting places, or the secret trysts within school, suggests a widening rift between the strict norms of parental authority and the ability of children to lead an alternative style of life. Parental control cannot extend to hearts and minds. It increasingly does not extend to styles and habits. To some extent one could argue that parents would not wish to exert complete domination, but it is apparent that they would be surprised to find how fragile is their hold. This is seen in the way in which the young, girls in particular, lead dual lives. They talk of getting ‘changed’ from one set of clothes to another just before going home, so that their personal lives remain hidden. They might ostensibly accept the wearing of the shalwar and kameez but they adapt their dress when away from the confines of parental attention. They realise that such a duality of role might be preferable to the alternative quarrels, “My parents, especially my father doesn’t like the way I dress. I like to wear tight clothes; they don’t like it. I can wear what I want at school, like trousers. The ideal situation would be for girls to go from home to school wearing what they want and not get changed outside and worry about family and relatives seeing them” [Female, Aged 16] The response to disapproval is not to submit but to go to the trouble of changing between school and home. Two different and alternative life styles are engaged in. For many pupils the worlds of school and home are anyway different. The ways in which they speak and think are attuned to the different places. But this habit of actually changing appearance goes one stage further.

94

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

At the heart of the dilemma is not just a conflict of taste but an encouragement to resent the imposition of rules through the observed behaviour not so much of other people who are not apna, but of their own brothers, “It should be equal for boys and girls but it isn’t” [Female, Aged 16] The resentment is deeper because of the fear of being found out. The assertiveness of control is such that pretence seems the only alternative to submission. There is no doubt that girls would prefer not to undergo this conflict, “I would like to wear what I wear to school at home” [Female, Aged 17] The consequences of doing so are, however, equally clear, “and then get killed by my dad” [ibid] In such circumstances the real feelings remain but are carefully hidden. The possibility of understanding or dialogue is ended. The parental control continues and is insisted upon, but the younger generation secretly dislikes it the more, since it represents what is to them an over-authoritarian exertion of power. The plight of females was not hidden from their brothers. Whilst the latter had freedom that they took for granted they also commented on the restriction that the females had had imposed upon them. These restrictions went beyond matters of dress or makeup but extended, as we will see, to tastes like listening to English music or watching English films. The parents were depicted as resenting any sign or a free and independent life style. The result was a deliberate duality of living, where the young would wear clothes and make-up in one setting and then change for the other. They submitted, but only up to a point. The question is how long this type of submission, or the expression of an alternative style of life, would last. Is there a period of mild personal assertiveness before the submission to the accepted norms, or will there be a greater rebellion? Whatever happens, the ability to be subsumed into an unquestioning apparelling in a culture will never be the same. Disagreement with the values and styles of parents is common, but not to the extent of changing clothes. There are, of course, all kinds of disagreements, some subtle and powerful, some overt but more display than substance. The worries that these young people express include layers of conflict, from a sense that their parents have not adjusted to reality, and cling to the past, to a feeling that their parents are being unfair and misapplying cultural assumptions which have no basis on Quranic Law. In this way, ironically the young generation can even use Islam as a way of asserting their own rights against those of their traditional elders.

Ethnicity and Englishness

95

What is clear is that the very inflexibility of parents, the refusal to listen or discuss, the inability to accept the needs and feelings of their children leads not so much to conflict as hypocrisy. Instead of the small signs of rebellion and personal assertiveness we witness the creation of two separate worlds. The feeling that young people are not being listened to leads to a personal development of preferred cultural practices. Many of the young people say they listen to English music secretly, since they are forbidden to do so at home. They watch ‘English films’ when their father is not around since he is assumed to be stricter than their mothers. Whilst the mothers are considered more conservative and traditional they are also more lenient. It is the fathers who feel that their status is threatened by any challenge, and who in particular do not want their authority challenged. They expect complete subservience. It is both convenient for them and an easier position than argument and persuasion. They do not want to know if they are challenged, or what their children really think. As long as their dignity is upheld in the eyes of their biraderi then that is satisfaction enough. They expect subservience. They generate hypocrisy. The idea of authoritarianism in parenting is more a cultural matter than an individual assertion of will. The result is that younger generations see this as imposition that is not warranted on a personal or a religious basis. There are, as a result, many points for argument that the children feel are legitimate for discussion, “I think that as I am getting older I am arguing more with them about everything, like the way I dress the way I look, like make-up” [Female, Aged 16] The real problem, however, is not the arguments or the subject matter that is symbolic, where dress is an assertion of individuality and status, or deliberate signal of adherence to a position, but the sense that no real argument is allowed. Girls feel not only ignored but beneath contempt, “Girls are treated as being stupid, who only want to wear make-up. I think that’s just an excuse for men to ignore us and I think Islam is used wrongly to deny females a lot of opportunities” [ibid] Any symbol of personal independence, like make-up, is felt to be beyond argument, and taken as a personal dismissed. More significantly, we see signs of a more considered rejection of cultural norms, by the way in which girls point out that the teachings in the Quran and the Hadith say nothing about the suppression of women. In place of the personal slight of being thought ‘stupid’ and of being ‘ignored’ we perceive the development of a deeper argument, with religion used not as an automatic parental tradition and inheritance, but as a means of personal ‘salvation’. She sees the traditional, clerical arguments, as an ‘excuse’, and Islam

96

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

being used ‘wrongly’. She stands for a new non-conformity, or rejection of traditional assumptions for deeper religious values. Conflicts between parents and children are to some extend inevitable, even if they are benign. The young seek to assert their independence (Burgess and Rees, 1994). The traditional role of the authority of primogeniture, and its basis in gender, is also common (Ramdin, 1999). What makes the arguments here unusual is the way in which they centre not only on taste and style but on religion, and the interpretation of religion. This community differs from the majority not only in its religion but in the fervour of religious belief. At the same time is it divided in some of the essential attitudes. To what extent are these attitudes based on culture or on doctrine? To what extent are the extremes representative of the whole? As the analogy with the Reformation suggests, these issues are not only big, but mark out a generational divide. As in the Reformation, much of the implicit debate is about the status of the individual, in this case particularly women. The aspirations of the young are for personal fulfilment. The older generation look on these in an equivocal way. On the one hand they see success as izzat, as laudable and necessary. On the other they also perceive it as a kind of threat, as if traditional values might be eroded, particularly if their daughters are involved. Both boys and girls feel under pressure, “It has to be understanding and giving young people freedom and choice. Like I said earlier with them like going out. I mean I can’t except with my brother and sister. I get frustrated, angry. I think most Mirpuri parents have driven young boys and girls away from them” [Female, Aged 17] The sense of being driven away comes about because of the weight of insensitive authority that shows little understanding and resents personal freedom. Instead of choice there is the implacable weight of public restriction. The pressure for the boys is not so much centred on the frustration of not being able to do what you want, but on the need to be successful, “Young kids are under so much pressure these days. Like to do well in exams, get a job and everything. But I think its so much worse in Apna houses, you always get compared with cousins and relatives to do well at school, go to University and become a hotshot lawyer. There’s added pressure” [Male, Aged 17] The pressure is understandable given the high unemployment rates (Brown, 1984; Coleman, 1997). The pressure is, however, also a result of the constant interest and attention in securing the desired means of being successful.

Ethnicity and Englishness

97

Young peoples’ urge for independence is the stronger for having to adapt to powerful traditional norms. The parents themselves are aware of this, that leaving home- for University or marriage- is like an escape from a particular kind of restriction. The more confining the restrictions of home, the earlier will the young wish to break away. Part of the resulting uses of dualities, or camouflage, is that parents are afraid of knowing too much or what is going on beneath the semblances of conformity, “A lot of parents are probably secretly scared now if they know their children really stood up for themselves they’ll lose and they know it. At the end of the day parents need their children more than kids needing their parents and relatives” [Male, Aged 17] There are many aspects of life that remain deliberately unexplored, and the distinctions between camouflage and collision are sometimes difficult to make. The young women who long to escape the restrictions of home might do so through marriage- but is this not also the ultimate submission? (Furlong and Cartmel, 1997). What the children do not do overtly is ‘stand up for themselves’, and parents subsist on allowing things to take place provided there is no public or obvious challenge. Parents wish to see public respect paid to them. The idea of ‘respect’ has many aspects and can be as much a term for personal assertion as for the acknowledgment of others (Jones, 2003). For these young people it is important to show respect. It is considered a duty, “I respect my parents as it says in Islam. I wouldn’t dare swear at them” [Female, Aged 16] Respect is a control of manners, a matter of conduct. The showing of respect might not be the same as feeling it, “In front of them they do; as soon as they are out of sight they ignore them” [Female, Aged 17] It is both a natural consequence of upbringing as well as a cultural norm to show respect to parents. It is not just a religious teaching; however clear the Islamic laws (Basit, 1997). It is a duty that most people accept, at least on the surface. ‘Respect’ in this sense is linked to obedience, to conformity and acceptance. As we know, there are all kinds of discontents covered by the ability to conduct oneself with propriety.

98

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

What emerges from these young people is that to show respect to their parents is distinguished from feeling that they in turn are respected enough to be listened to. They do not feel that their needs are addressed or their problems discussed, “There are problems which are simply not discussed but hidden or just avoided for a time” [Female, Aged 16] This is one, common, way of dealing with disagreement. Any confrontation is avoided. There are other cases, however, where the discontent seethes into the open, I disagree with them over a lot of things which causes us to have fights which seem to go on for weeks” [Female, Aged 16] These fights are normally hidden within the family. The conformity goes only as deep as the appearance. The young people constantly refer to the differences between the public and the private disagreements, “They respect parents but don’t agree with a lot of things they say or do, like I said forced marriages” [Female, Aged 19] Respect is both a public posture and a private attitude. The acceptance of a certain amount of authority is not the same as complete submission to control. From the parents’ point of view it is vital. These young people point out the great difference between the semblances of conformity, and the independence of mind that seems to them essential. They point out that what happens in the home is not nearly as smooth or as untroubled as the public presentation might suggest. In such a community there is no more simple harmony than in any other. From a distance people might merely observe what is culturally different, and then conclude that what is observed as distinct is actually a carapace that encloses all it covers in the same homogeneous beliefs. To these seemingly enclosed in the same cultural worlds, the differences and the struggle for territory are far more to the point, “You see in peoples’ homes, like my relative’s home, there are arguments between young people and parents” [Male, Aged 19] This simmering of discontent tends to be hidden because of a kind of agreement that it should be kept private. The generations collude in keeping disagreements away from the public domain. In some households the assertions of difference by the young, in their tastes or clothes or manners, are open and even celebrated. In this community they are hidden for several reasons, “But parents don’t broadcast it in public their arguments because it will be base-thi [shame] in front of all the biraderi. You know the relatives; they’ll accuse your parents of not being able to control their own children. So they’re forcing young people to do things” [Male, Aged 19]

Ethnicity and Englishness

99

One reason for suppression of what is taking place in the home is the desire to be seen with respect in the eyes of the community. Family reputation, with so many relatives nearby, is especially important. Another reason is that parents want to avoid being compared to others and to avoid being accused of weakness and failure. The talk, the gossip and the slurs that would occur, giving intense malicious pleasure to some, are to be averted. The young people realise that it is not just the parents who keep an eye on them, “We get told off not only from our parents but also from all other relatives” [Male, Aged 19] Gossip is a powerful sanction against non-conformity (Khan, 1979). As an aftermath of village life, the community keeps an eye on itself, and feels involved in the private lives of others. The pressure on the young to play a dual role is very strong. Privately, secretly, they assert themselves, but realise that they must not be seen to be doing so. The home is a locus of argument, but also of control. The real freedoms are found when there is no mechanism of surveillance, “but outside girls and boys do what they want to” [Female, Aged 17] The force of argument in the home drives the response elsewhere. In the traditional households the conformities of respect prevail. Within the standard educational institutions a contrary set of values leave their mark. It is not as simple as shedding a whole set of beliefs and understandings when entering a different sphere. The inner ideas will overlap. There is nevertheless a perceived antiphony between the alternative environments. The great issue for the young people is not just that of their disagreement with some of their parents’ expectations. It is the extent to which they should show it, and the ways in which they should behave. They are troubled by the need to find a way of living that encompasses both respect for their traditions and their inheritances and the development of their personal identities. This is not an easy task in a society which is itself divided, in giving greater or lesser freedoms to individuals and to groups within it. The balancing of demands is complex, and even if shared by all adolescents, far more stark is this kind of community where the relatives are still as close as in any urban village. The challenge to parental authority goes on, faster in comparison with the norms of the majority, but articulated in terms that are familiar, like using the Quran for the articulation of personal freedom, putting on the hejab as a disguise for independence of mind.

100

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

The sense of independence is a personal one, not the discarding of obvious public traditions. The controls that remain are those of ceremony and display. The challenge is private, “Young people are doing everything, even girls, even if they’re married. Parents think they have control. On the whole young people have it much more than parents actually think, most know its true” [Female, Aged 19] There is no such phenomenon as the smooth passing on of attitudes and beliefs from one generation to another, however much the parents would like to think so. Control of the mind, if not of behaviour, is an illusion. As long as parents ‘think’ they have control, then all is, up to an agreed point, acceptable. The sense of the younger generation going its own way remains strong, “Young people like my relatives and friends including the girls, are listening less and less to their parents” [Male, Aged 19] The shared perception is of an inevitable development of greater personal freedom, not only of what is the rite of passage for any young adult, but of a cultural shift, “Kids are deciding to sort their lives out instead of being told or being pushed into. I think that as young people are getting older they have a lot more freedom than when they are younger” [Male, Aged 14] If the young people feel that their personal independence is growing this does not imply that there are making public assertions about it. The differences between public conformity and private feelings are symbolised by the wearing of different kinds of clothes, one of those appearances that means so much to religious groups, whether it is the use of the fedora or the pur-dah. Dress codes are symbolic of all kinds of distinctions. At the most obvious levels are signs of class, status and wealth; the world of fashion. Equally clear are the semiotics of tribe, of nationality and of religion. Underlying these apparellings are the symbols of change or modernisation, of rural or urban practices, of liberal or traditional statements. There are no obvious interpretations of those who wear the shalwar and kameez in Muslim rural communities in Asia, or those at most wear a dabata [a scarf] in big cities. Traditional practices tend to be eroded in the face of internationalism. The ways in which the young Mirpuri people wear their clothes is more complicated, and not just a matter of adaptation to the modern. The contrast of what is worn outside and at home is one factor; more interestingly some of the young are asserting their very independence by wearing more traditional ‘costume’. What looks as if it is imposed on young people often turns out to be their own choice. Whether the young people, women in particular, wore traditional or western dress, however made no real difference to their way of thinking; what they wore was not necessarily a symbol of where they stood, religiously.

Ethnicity and Englishness

101

Some of the young people have decisions of what to wear forced upon them and react against it, “I have to wear a hejab and that and colours like brown, grey and black!…its because I have to and I hate that” [Female, Aged 15] It is not so much the actual dress that is objected to despite the choice of colours, but the imposition of someone else’s will. Being forced to wear something which draws attention to them in a way that attracts bullying makes it the worse. Those who are made unhappy by being teased feel it the worse because they themselves did not choose to wear the hejab. It was not a sign of personal assertion, for that would make them feel less vulnerable. The issue of dress particularly affects women. Some men might choose to stand out as particularly traditional but the major attention for parents is the appearance and behaviour of the girls. The position of women is a particularly important issue for the younger generation. More than with traditional feminist concerns the sense of oppression amongst minority communities is considered to be of particular concern (Mirza, 1997). Traditional patriarchy survives in the Mirpuri community in obvious ways, and tends to be justified by its perpetrators in the name of religion, a point of view denied by the younger generation. The submission of the female to the hierarchical structure has been an unquestioned tradition and it tends to be passed on without question to the daughters. Naturally some of these attitudes are questioned, but even when scrutinized the picture that emerges is complicated, with the half-acceptance of some practices, the re-interpretation of others and the more subtle continuation of thinking that, to feminists’ despair, linger on in the role of women as bearers of children and therefore, seemingly inextricably, as homemakers. The belief that females are expected to get married dutifully and be a dutiful wife and mother just as she was a dutiful daughter, goes deep. What strikes outsiders about the community is the way in which the tradition can be exaggerated either by forced marriages or by the revenge of the biraderi on the young women who want to make their own choices, breaking the expectations of the family in terms of caste or religion. Arranged marriages are often associated with forced marriages, but should not be. Many young people accept the principles on which an arranged marriage is based, provided that they also have some say (Braham, et al 1992, Stopes-Roe and Cochrane, 1990). The principle of arrangement makes sense; that of being forced against their will does not.

102

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

The real worry about arranged marriages is the link in all peoples’ eyes with the traditional ties to Mirpur. The principles in themselves are not the concern but being tied in some way to the growingly different traditions of the sub-continent is another matter. For reasons of cultural compatibility young people are suspicious about marrying someone for the sake of the family continuing its old ties, or for the sake of bringing members of the biraderi to England (Anwar, 1998). The preference of parents for links to their ‘homeland’ serves as a marker for generational change, in terms of education, language and style. It suggests there is no personal choice involved so that the other dimensions of marriage, trust, compatibility, the determination to be loyal, and friendship, are not joined by personal inclination. The young people did not object strongly to the idea of an arranged marriage but said they wanted to be married in Britain. The majority, however, did not really like the notion of the arranged marriage: mainly because it seemed like an imposition, and something they were not yet prepared for. In the relationships of parents and children there are some fundamental shifts of emphasis, not always visible but profound and in the long term significant. One factor that remains important to all is religion, but how it is interpreted varies. The real changes lie below recognition. One cannot judge by the kind of clothes being worn. What is most significant is that these young people, typical of all adolescents, strive to create a sense of their own independence, their own traditions and their own values. The problem is that they often have to do this secretly.

CHAPTER 8: DOUBLE CULTURES; THE ALTERNATIVES TASTES OF THE YOUNG The ability to step from one set of expectations, conduct and response to another becomes an ingrained habit. All who move from one cultural context to another will know how easy it is subtly to alter the manners of behaviour, the language, the appropriate gesture and the level of concentration. This is not just a deliberate adaptation but the reflection of the extent to which we are social beings, responsive and sensitive to the collective norms of others. The young people of the Mirpuri community are simply more obvious, and more deliberate in their awareness of the different cultures. The contrasts are more extreme than usual. This suggested social schizophrenia in also a kind of blending, a duality of tone and taste that allows equal weight to what ostensibly pretend to be two distinct and complete ways of life. Take the way that the young talk about themselves and each other, “They definitely think they are British, gora that everything about them is gora, even food they want to eat chips, pizza instead of chapattis and also they behave in a gora way and wear British clothes” [Female, Aged 16] British they are, but being defined as so by the label ‘gora’ immediately suggests a certain type of Britishness. This is not the same as multi-cultural tokenism, as with the contrasts between chips and chapattis but a particular slant on the assertions of identity. The pride of being ‘gora’ is also a distancing; it is seeing a social and cultural status from a particular point of view. The duality of belonging and not belonging, of being both insiders and outsiders in more than one community pervades the feelings of the young people. The sense of looking objectively, of seeing a social system with the fresh insights of the outsider, can be a peculiar strength. There are many examples of people emigrating to Great Britain especially as refugees from oppressive governments who have used their ‘foreign’ eyes and ears, say as music critics like Hans Keller, or architectural historians like Nikolaus Pevsner as a way of disinterested attention that is denied to the native. Even the insights into language can be helped by deconstructing words that those habituated to their use take for granted. Nothing is more useful and interesting than travel books by foreigners. Only they can detect the cultural meanings of the habitual. These young people are able to look with objective analysis at more than one community. There is a myth held by some that these young people are simply the perpetuation on their parents’ points of view, as if they were religious aliens in a

104

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

kufr society. The sense of cultural disinheritance might be there but it goes both ways. Absorbed in the cultural life of the school and the tastes of the majority, they also look at the habits of the home in a fresh way. They understand the languages that both contrast with each other and express different styles of thinking. They are English and gora at the same time, but the words which mean the same are not the same thing. This sense of distance is obvious enough in one direction. With an inheritance of the outsiders, with social and religious ties pulling in a particular direction, there will always be a manipulation of what is on offer without being absorbed. In a way this is true of all those emigrants to various corners of the Empire, never quite being more than temporary and separate visitors. The parents, the newly arrived, can easily express their views of Britain as a financial resource, with educational and medical facilities, and at the same time as a kufr ban-day raynay, an immoral country that tries to corrupt the young and which therefore deserves exploitation. It can be a particular advantage, as colonisers have always realised, to be in a country and not part of it. From one’s own cultural identity the natives will often look not only different but absurd. It is sometimes easy to forget the innate criticism of the outsider. Immigrants are not simply people entering into a promised land, gratefully receiving whatever patronage is offered to them. They observe the faults and limitations. They feel superior. Whatever the previously honed expectations of the great new land, where the imagined stereotype is far more powerful and complete than the reality, the reality will in the end prevail (O’Neil and Cullingford 2005). Pleasant as well as unpleasant surprises abound (Lamming 1954). Objectivity means that every nuance of behaviour, overt kindness and courtesy, distant superiority and indifference, unexpected friendliness and openness as well as rudeness or callousness, will be deeply felt and recorded. The visitor is never completely absorbed. A sense of distance includes the objectivity, and to an extent the commitment feeling of superiority, of the outsider. These young people therefore look at contrasting cultures with a mixture of emotions. They both long to be part of a way of life, and indeed are, whilst also being objective about it. They are looking not only two ways, but looking in two ways. They see the virtues and the limitations. They discriminate. They observe, for instance, the distinctions between culture and religion that their parents ignore. They both appreciate the advantages of honesty, openness and freedom of thought, and criticise the edges of self-indulgence and lack of control. It is because of the ability to have greater insight into alternative ways of life that generational conflicts arise. This is not simply a battle between two ways of living. The younger generation is not suddenly Christian in culture, absorbed in the tribal loyalties of football and beer. Nor does it remain intact and self-enclosed. What these young

Ethnicity and Englishness

105

people bring with them is the edge of criticism, the ability to see the ways in which points of view are so taken for granted that they emerge from habit rather than from reason. These young people do not simply challenge their parents. They bring with them a deeper, and more disturbing, tone of objectivity. This sense of distance means that they are able to adapt to contrasting ways of life without a feeling of hypocrisy. If they are asked to adapt themselves to different dress codes, so be it. They realise that what people wear is not just a matter of taste but symbolic. They also realise that cultural symbolism is adaptable and varies from one group to another. The implications and the meanings are not always thought out by the person’s apparel; at the same time it can be highly motivated. The younger generation understands the deep intent in some peoples behaviour and dress, but also realise how singular or parochial is that intent when compared to the larger world. The clothes that are worn by people have all kinds of meanings, from the ‘costumes’ that are exotic displays in the eyes of tourists, to the smartness of dressing for the occasion. For parents, the clothes their children wear can be very important. They have often suggested that adapting to western dress is an immediate sign of the loss of traditional values (Stopes-Roe and Cochrane, 1990). It suits them to associate western styles of dress with the extremes of immodesty with an inappropriate amount of exposure. It is natural for them to associate these clothes with sexual innuendo, or the assertions of a depraved lifestyle. Whilst these are clearly exaggerations they remain an influential strand in thinking. The younger generation have no such problem with clothes. Their realisation that in Islamic teaching clothes must simply be ‘loose’ and practical, and cover the body [like many religions precepts these have their origins in practicalities] means that they feel justified in wearing a wider range of clothes. If they choose to wear the kameez it is for clear reasons of their own. Nevertheless the young people accept that for their parent’s sake, the dress they wear will accommodate other people’s wishes. This applies, of course, particularly to the girls. The parents wish their daughters to be modest and traditional (Anwar, 1998). The daughters are both happy to comply but also feel the inalienable right to wear ‘western’ clothes in order to adapt to the society of which they are a part [ibid]. The changing of the styles of clothing is generally a subtle one, with a gradual adaptation to prevailing standards of fashion (Ramdin, 1999). But this is not simply a matter of cultural change, since the daughters learn to vary their style of dress according to where they are. They do not simply choose one culture over another. If they wear the traditional shalwar and kameez they do so out of politeness, and respect, out of acceptance of tradition and their religious

106

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

inheritance. It does not mean that what they wear is what they are. Beneath the dress they have their own tastes. Nothing is clearer about the differences between the parents and their children than popular culture. There are several divides. One is between listening to music, or watching films, between English and Asian. Another is between what young people like to watch and what they are allowed to watch at home. Another is the structure of the rules applied to girls rather than boys. Whilst the parents make use of satellite television channels such as ZeeTV and PrimeTV to see films of the Bollywood type, and listen to Sunrise Radio, their children are aware of all the most popular programmes on the mass channels. The parents think they have control over what their children read, listen to and watch. From the parents’ points of view there is a supposition that popular English music is corrupt and immoral, and that they have a right to protect their children against it. This is a view that is shared by many parents in the larger community who are equally shocked at the language and sounds of pop songs and appalled by the tone of teenage magazines and the encouragement to be part of a commercial and expensive culture. Many parents feel the contrast between their own tastes, either for classical music or the popular music of their youth, and the apparent loudness of the young. What makes these particular parents stand out is not the disparity of taste but their powers of control. At home there are standards to be kept up and their children will be brought up with these standards. There is, after all, a great deal of popular Asian music available like Bhangra and Qawali. Being brought up with a background of sounds, of tastes expressed in a particular direction, it would be natural for the young to continue to like the culture in which they are fostered and which remains the only one with which their parents are familiar. In fact just over two percent of the young people said that they preferred ‘Asian’ music. Sixteen percent said they enjoyed it as well as English music. Eighty percent enjoyed listening to pop, dance, and rap, metal or any other of the types of music that are available on the mass communication channels. Whatever the particular specialism, the popular culture of the masses prevailed. This preference for the mass media appears to be hidden from the parents, or at least ignored. In gender terms there were some very small variations, with girls preferring pop music and dance, and boys preferring rock, metal and rap. The citing of variations within the generic norms reveals how closely popular music is followed. The tastes of the younger generation are mainstream and only a small number retained affection for, and interest in, the standards of Asian music. The result, however, is not a complete displacement but absorption. There is no doubting the

Ethnicity and Englishness

107

subtle influence of Qawali music on western music, like the fusion of Bhangra and pop. The standards of amplified music might prevail but they are depended on constant small reinventions, sustained on the use of electric keyboards and guitars to convey more traditional rhythms and sounds. The eclectic nature of modern popular music is a natural development of more complex and mixed cultures and of globalisation. The parents tend to disapprove not only of English pop music but also of Bhangra, on the grounds that any music encourages alcohol and sexual permissiveness (Pardesh, 1994). They also have a tendency to assume that their control over the home means that the children are not exposed to the immoral influence of the majority. This is difficult to achieve in a youth culture so dominated by discs, tapes and the radio (Thornton, 1995; Hendry et al, 1993). Nevertheless there are restrictions placed on the young, particularly on girls. It is the girls who reported quarrelling with their parents over tastes. The boys felt freer to express their own interests and were catered for by growing numbers of ‘Asian’ video shops and radio stations. The girls felt restricted at home but also felt justified in ignoring the restrictions, “My dad don’t like us listening to English music…They’re so backward” [Female, Aged 15] Nevertheless the opportunities to hear music which is popular are not only many but impossible to avoid. The desire to share the most popular tastes is clear in the number of young people who detail their particular preferences, for groups as well as styles. Indeed they are explicit about the dividing line in taste, “I don’t listen to Asian music. I never have” [Female, Aged 15] “I really enjoy listening to English music” [Female, Aged 17] The distinction between ‘Asian’ and ‘English,’ always the terms used, is clear. Music can easily be accessed. It is, in some form or another, ubiquitous and available at a variety of sources, from cafes to cars. The same cannot be said of films. The parents are also keen that their offspring should appreciate their inherited culture. There are many Asian films available and these remain the favourite viewing if not the only viewing of the home. The young people would find it more difficult to have access to English films. Nevertheless the results were very similar to those surrounding music. Nearly eighty percent expressed a preference for English films. Under two percent preferred Asian films and the rest enjoyed both. Whilst there were slight variations between boys and girls, the latter

108

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

leaning more towards multiple tastes, there were insignificant compared to the strong preferences that they expressed. The basis of their taste or experience is confirmed both by the slight internal variations and by the way they revealed their preferences for different genres of films. Girls tended to prefer Romantic films or Comedies. Boys tended to prefer Horror films, Science Fiction and, especially Westerns [watching films turned out to be a popular activity]. Films were widely available on television and on video. Television was watched a great deal (Social Trends, 2000). Whatever the source or the opportunity there were firm preferences for the prevailing mass culture, “English films, definitely! Asian films go on and on and I can’t understand them anyway like my mates” [Female, Aged 16] This liking for films is explicitly stated in the light of parental disapproval, “My dad’s uptight about letting us watch films. He thinks that they are a bad influence” [Female, Aged 17] Given their disapproval and the length to which some parents will go to control the habits of the young, some revert to clandestine activities, “I can’t really watch English films, like I say my dad’s quite bad unless he’s working at the taxis. My brothers get some films and that for us to see” [Female, Aged 15] The desire to follow their own personal tastes, shared with their siblings and their friends, is pursued despite the opposition which they feel is not justified. They find their own private moments and their personal spaces, “I still do listen to English music in my bedroom and watch what I want like English films, especially when my mum and dad are working in the shop” [Female, Aged 16] The acceptance of the norms of the family extends only into the public rooms and the presence of parents. Secretly the personal tastes are pursued. To some extent all the activities of the young are kept hidden from their parents. They feel justified in disobeying what they consider both backward and unjustified control. It is as if they considered their fathers in particular to be only really worried about how the family appeared in the estimation of others, and that this motivation was little better than an impertinence. At the same time this belief that it should be appearances that should be upheld and that in their own ways, and by their own means, young people would pursue their interest in the prevailing tastes was shared by both. Parents cannot be altogether deceived into thinking that their children are not as inwardly conforming as their outer garments. Clearly the

Ethnicity and Englishness

109

children are told what they can and cannot do. Clearly they manage to reconcile the semblances of obedience with personal indulgence, “But we find our way around things” [Female, Aged 19] At the same time there is a collective awareness of dual standards as well as multiple cultural and social sites. The contrasts are clear, but there are also the complexities in which certain norms are turned upside down. Asian films are supposed to represent rectitude and morality, just as religion is supposed to promote subservience of women. The young question whether the reality is quite so stark. There are, for example, classic Asian movies such as Raja Hindustani (1996) that the young people rate highly. This is because they contain latent messages about freedom and independence, in particular relating to the rights of love as opposed to harshly arranged marriages. Those teenagers who report watching Asian films are assumed to be doing so as a means of demonstrating their probity (Hennink et al, 1999). The call of obedience is a kind of political correctness. What we find here is that whilst the young people believe in the observation of their elders in one way they actually pursue tastes of their own, however awkward or difficult this might be. The preference for English films and television is honed in the experience of the alternatives. They see what their parents watch as well and are able to compare. They return home after school to find the oldest in the family still absorbed in the culture of other countries. This very interest is something else can be resented by the young, “You know, they should come in to the school to ask how their kids are doing in school instead of sitting at home and watching Zeetv” [Male, Aged 16] The contrasts of culture and place, and the separation between them, could not be clearer. It is as if this young man had concluded that his parents and the family had no interest in his world, his aspirations and his tastes. The awareness of other types of film serves to highlight the contrasting cultural assumptions in both. There is something exotic about the importing of alien films, “I’ve seen clips of Asian films at my relatives and on Zeetv” [Female, Aged 17] These films seem to belong essentially to a previous generation, and when they are liked it is because of the power of the subversive message, like that of the Indian films. What remains powerful in the home lives of the young people is the hold of

110

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

parental control, both in what they are allowed to watch, collectively, and at the times at which they are allowed to watch (Basit, 1997). The ‘watershed’ of 9pm on television, so beloved of the BBC as a licence to show anything they wish to after it, is more adhered to for the young ladies than anyone else. The parents meanwhile reiterate that they watch Indian films on video (Bhatti, 1999). The amount of ‘Asian’ material that is available in terms of music or films is very restricted compared to the rest, although the overall amount of entertainment, as in the number of television channels, is so great that there is no difficulty in having access to it. There is also a certain amount of literature available in minority languages, and certain cultural texts are widely promoted in the community. Given the bilingual upbringing there should be no difficulty in these young people reading books in Urdu. However, only five percent of the young people questioned said they would consider reading books in any other tongue than English. Forty percent of them would read English books only. This imbalance reflects the same tastes as for other forms of entertainment. It also suggests the influence of education. Much more significant, and much more typical, is the fact that half of the young people confessed to never reading books for pleasure at all. In this way they reflect the position of the majority. Whether it is in the face of television and films, or whether it is a reaction to information gathering at school or whether it is part of a cultural abyss, books remain unread. Surprisingly, perhaps, even more girls than boys said that they did not read books. The types of book they said they read, however, followed the more typical gender divide, with girls preferring romances and comedy, and boys preferring horror stories and science fiction. The absence of reading for pleasure could reflect the absence of books in the home. This would be for two reasons. If the household is attempting to uphold traditions the majority of books would be in Urdu. This could prove difficult for the children who would be both more inclined to read in English and more adept at doing so. The spoken language of home is Mirpuri, but the written language is Urdu. The young people feel more fluent in English, and anyway associate that language with reading. One of the crucial questions for all communities which have begun as immigrants is that of language, and it could be that even in these reading habits we are witnessing the utilisation of the public language into the privacy of home. Some have suggested that reading fiction at home is a favourite activity amongst women during the day (Basit, 1997). This habit of reading ‘approved’ Urdu texts [or light romances] does not appear to affect the young for whom reading is an activity associated with the prevailing culture and with education.

Ethnicity and Englishness

111

Books have a particular association with erudition. They are not always readily linked to notions of instant entertainment. Magazines, however, are ephemeral and designed specifically to appeal to distinct sectors of the market, including teenagers. If books might not be approved of in the home then certain types of magazines would cause immediate offence. Whilst over half the young people eschewed the reading of books, just a quarter did not read magazines. Two-thirds of them said they read English magazines. There was only a small place for Asian magazines, and even here those who did say they read them also read English magazines. Here, females read rather more than males, reflecting the burgeoning market of general magazines directed at girls, for which there is no masculine counterpart. The kinds of magazines that the girls said they read were those full of advice or relationships, sex, make-up, clothes, music and fashion, like ‘Sugar’, ‘Just Seventeen’, ‘Smash Hits’ and ‘More’, those which reflect majority interests. The magazines cited are the sort of which most parents would tend to disapprove, if they saw them, let alone if they read them carefully. The natural tendency for parents to be shocked at what is on the market for young people- the boundaries are constantly being expanded- is doubly strengthened with the association of magazines not only with explicit suggestions about behaviour, but by their linking with the ‘kufr’ society. All the subject matter of such magazines from dress code and lifestyles to sexual relationships seems to be an affront to the codes of culture and religion. The very assumption that fashion is a light subject, not to be taken too seriously, is an approach that is resented. Yet the girls enjoy reading them. There is a large market. Whilst the boys might read more technical magazines, the largest selling titles are those that offer what they assume every girl wants to know, “anything and everything, girls magazines on make up, clothes, boys etc” [Female, Aged 17] Like the rest of the population a significant proportion like reading specifically ‘girlie’ magazines, “All sorts, I like reading girlie magazines like Just Seventeen, stuff like that” [Female, Aged 15] This liking, as for pop music, might be covert but it is part of their inner lives. The posters of film stars might be hidden amongst the lockers at school, but they remain important. Popular taste or cultural preference is always a significant feature in inclusiveness or exclusiveness. All differences and all bonds start and end with the sharing of ideas or the sharing of arguments about ideas. For these young people the

112

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

distinctions of taste are imbued with particular values. They are more dangerous for some than for others. There is a great awareness of what is being eschewed as well as enjoyed. The duality of the daily life is that of a juxtaposition between what is expected at home and what is enjoyed more openly elsewhere. Culture is a more complex notion than the preference for different types of art. It is also a style of living, a use of facilities, an absorption into these aspects of daily life, like going to school, that can be easily taken for granted. Like street life, the way that scenery is absorbed and the way that interactions with others are conducted are all markers of individuals and their tastes, although rarely fully examined or explored. One of the simpler preferences that these young people have is for particular sports, both playing and following them. As with the majority, a great deal of time is spent in individual as well as collective sports. Leisure activities are not just dominated by the watching of films, the listening to music or the background of television. There were a significant number who, whether portrayed as a sport or a hobby, found time and energy to play a sport. The two most popular interests were Badminton and Cricket. Whilst there are very different types of sport they both have a strong cultural inheritance, a tradition that unites the previous and present sporting affinities. This gives the ‘Cricket Test’ in particular an edge. Cricket is a sport that has a long international allegiance in the countries of the Commonwealth, and not elsewhere. It is a sport that has always being associated with all kinds of tribal, national and individual distinctions. From the delicacy of Prince Ranjisinghi’s batting for Sussex and England, the style of the ‘oriental’ including the guile of spin bowling, has always created an extra aura of charm. Those who write about Cricket are as fascinated by the nuances of character and generalised characteristics as they are about the results of games themselves. Badminton and Cricket are the two most favoured sports, or pastimes, with about forty percent expressing an interest in each. Badminton is a sport that includes both genders; cricket is largely dominated by the males. The boys were the ones who cited their greater interest in cricket, football and snooker/pool. The girls on the other hand also cited their more traditional sports of Netball [a large number] and Hockey, but a small proportion also expressed an interest in playing football [13%], an interest that reflect the influence of the media in the film ‘Bend it like Beckham’. Sport did not play a significantly large part in their lives as a whole. Whilst a large proportion of Bradford boys played cricket during the school years, comparatively few continued with it, and even fewer went on to play for Yorkshire (White, 1990). It has been suggested that the parents and the biraderi hold sports in low regard, and some appear to discourage the young from having aspirations in sport (Jarvie, 1991). There are, after all, other more intellectual ways of earning

Ethnicity and Englishness

113

money [if not so much of it] and these offer the advantages of professional security and respectability. Only the very few will make a lucrative living out of being watched, by vast numbers of people, kicking or throwing a ball. As in all communities it is the boys who show a greater interest in sporting activities, and subsequently in following sports (Hendry et al, 1993). The stereotypical divide suggests that girls were more likely to pursue less physical activities. Nevertheless there were interests in keep-fit classes like yoga and in swimming. It was natural to make use of the same opportunities that the schools offered, and even amongst the girls little antipathy to wearing the appropriate dress for sport. These young people, in fact, were not untypical in their attitudes towards sports. They were not prevented from following their interests although some were clearly put off by the possibility of racist taunts and violence at football matches. Playing cricket and football were popular pastimes. And yet none of them spontaneously even mentioned going to a recent sporting event. The tastes of the young people include all the activities that bring them together, from sports to meeting in safe places. In addition, these young people are aware that there are certain places where they are not allowed to follow their natural preferences. There is a divide between what is expected at home and what they feel are the natural conditions of understanding. They might be deeply imbued in the religion of their upbringing but they can also apply this to a critical scrutiny of their norms of the land of their birth and the inherited distinctions of their parents. Nowhere is this clearer than in language. The retention of imported cultural habits, like religion, marks out the distinction of a particular minority and can last for a long time. There are certain matters with which a group, like the Jews, will not wish to assimilate. The particular traditions of the Travellers are another example of deliberate avoidance of assimilation, but, despite the holding on to an additional vernacular, like Hebrew or Yiddish, language is a different matter. One of the interesting attributions of this wave of migration is the deliberate use of language as a symbol of difference. In reflecting on the way in which the young view this we need to bear in mind the Islamic insistence on the reading of Arabic for religious purposes- as true in Malaya or other linguistically diverse countries as it is here- and the fostering of second languages by the authorities. Whilst that might not any more apply to asylum seekers who are cajoled to adapt, the tradition of multi-culturalism, of pluralism, has actually fostered the retention, even the projection of separate languages (Lukes, 2003). Even now there are varieties of South East Asian notices in virtually all Local Authorities.

114

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

When the first immigrants arrived they found themselves needing to speak English in order to obtain jobs. This was taken for granted. When they were joined by their womenfolk, however, a tradition was created of a gender divide in which households would speak one language in the home, and those that could, the normal language of communication outside it. There were many stories of young children translating for their mothers. The retention of a native language is not a unique phenomenon. Whilst there were reasons of international communication and the variety and diversity of native tongues, the European empire-builders all retained their own languages and expected at least some of the indigenous people to assimilate them. The early immigrants in the Mirpuri community found themselves continuing to use separate languages in the home, thereby sealing off the women from the communications of the outside world. Even now many young people are bilingual, and can employ two very different languages. And, of course, as we see, they can use both together. For these young people the use of the Urdu is a symbol of attachment to the past. It is the language of parents or, increasingly, grandparents. The imported language is a symbol of the exclusivity of the home. It is both a secret code and a form of ghetto. It means both the lack of communication with the world, and a form of control over people who can be contained within a small intellectual sphere. Whether the encampment, or the compound, whether a secret ritual of understanding or a creole that keeps outsiders nonplussed, language can be runic as well as communicative. A large number of the parents in the Mirpuri community still speak with each other in the native language when in the home (Stopes-Roe and Cochrane, 1990). Outside, the young, and increasingly the majority, prefer to speak even with each other in English. They might know the special terms that are shorthand definitions that carry particular connotations, like ‘biraderi’ but they speak with other Apna in English. For young people brought up in Great Britain language is not a barrier. In this they find themselves contrasted with their parents who are culturally and linguistically handicapped. The necessity of speaking English is not just because of the everyday pressures on normal life, let alone education, but because it is the medium of communication between the immigrants. We spoke of ‘Urdu’ as a generic term, but the languages, and the dialects, do not lend themselves to a simple unity. One can talk of Mirpuri, Kashmiri, Punjabi, Bengali and Hindi. There are many languages and many variants. The logic in many countries with a multiplicity of different languages- in Africa or India for example- is to use a ‘lingua franca’, a language like Latin that is universally understood. In this case the international language is English and the logic of adaptation to its use is so powerful it needs an extreme antipathy or fear of absorption to hold out against it. The recognition of a second

Ethnicity and Englishness

115

language can be a powerful statement, like the use of French alongside English on all official communications in Canada [except British Colombia]. It serves to suggest sensitivity to the rights of a minority. This cannot be done when there are so many languages- well over two hundred and fifty in London alone- that can be employed. Language is therefore more than a practical matter for the young. It is symbolic in its power to enable true understanding, and in its reminders of the past, with the peculiar status of cultural thought, so vividly expressed by the uses of words in an alternative language to their native English when talking in their interviews. Everyone has their own language, so their ‘own’ in this case is clearly English, just as the taste is for English music and films, but it is an English with a peculiar slant. It is an English enriched, not mal-formed, by an awareness of other languages, as well as informed by the parallel linguistic world of the Quran. English has naturally become the language of everyday communication, private as well as public. It is the language used between brothers and sisters, and the earlier inherited languages are only employed with their parents (Modood, 1997). This suggests a generational barrier that is gradually being eroded. Even amongst the older people the fluency in English through the attrition of the years has increased markedly and inevitably (Ramdin, 1999). Even these attempts to make commercial use of ‘native’ languages are starting to fade as the normal means of communication take over. The Daily Jang has a weekly supplement in English and the Awaz has a bilingual daily edition. Gradually it is only on the official notice boards and pamphlets of the health authorities that the other languages continue to be employed. Even in the inherited languages English words are assimilated. The linguistic languages modification goes both ways, but the language itself is no longer the big issue. At one level, the culture inevitably adapts. In doing so, the assimilating culture is also subtly changed. There are also some matters that remain distinct.

CHAPTER 9: ASPIRATIONS AND AMBITIONS: WHAT THE FUTURE MIGHT HOLD The concept of aspirations is a complex one. In stable and hierarchical societies it has no social meaning even if it has a personal one. In the competitive society of the present time the concept carries with it powerful notions of public and private fulfilment. When applied to minority groups these distinctions between acknowledged success and inward fulfilment take on many different meanings. Sometimes these meanings are so deeply held that they appear invisible. In much of the research on aspirations the tendency has been not only to prove the obvious fact that those who feel themselves to be socially and economically oppressed or wrong-footed tend to have lower aspirations for themselves or their families, but that it is their fault if they have any aspirations at all. For those in greater need aspirations become not just a hope but also a way of life. Aspirations are very personal although they are treated in the research as being measurable outcomes of success. For those who already have advantages of birth or talent, the idea of the application of ambition as a major force in the meaning of life is to some extend absurd. To those who are caught up in the impediments of deprivation, aspirations are a distant hope. Both extremes suggest something about the way the concept is applied to the disadvantaged, including minorities. That they should strive for betterment is taken for granted. That this advance should be to do with material success is also assumed. The more personal aspects of fulfilment can easily be forgotten. The aspirations of the minority groups always have implications about integration. Are the aspirations to do with success that is measured in terms of finance and status? That means that there will be clear markers of achievement in just those terms that all people understand, public recognition and the wielding of power and money. Are the aspirations to do with the development of the group, or putting forward the collective achievements of the biraderi? That could be a less assimilative, more defined measure. In the event, of course, the two types of aspirations come together. There is an edge to them because the same success in becoming a doctor, lawyer or professor is attributed as a marker of the family as a whole. The old-fashioned notions of becoming part of the ‘great and the good’ also apply and are re-inforced. One would therefore expect minorities not only to have clear aspirations, and to work hard at them, but also to define these aspirations in conventional terms.

Ethnicity and Englishness

117

Success in the indigenous society is measured increasingly in the terms that all can recognise. Success means gaining a place in the society as it is. In this, too, there is a subtle tension and a link between the generations. The older generation yearns for material security, for good jobs that are certain to be well paid. The younger generation, by fulfilling this dream, become a central part of the society in which the success is measured. The very compliance to the wishes of the elders is a move towards all the standards and expectations of an English society, from language to examinations. The hopes of the young are quite beyond the immediate aspirations of their parents who, tied by caste and kin, could not dream of the possibilities being applied to themselves. Even those who in terms of trade rather than profession would wish to multiply their acquisition would recognise the need to understand the terms of linguistic, personal and social as well as economic trade. One of the primary motivations for emigration was economic. It is no surprise that the success of the younger generation showed that not only to be important, but that it should be a mark of ‘izzat’. There are, however, limits to the concept of aspirations. As in old families of inherited wealth or in newly rich ones of capital gains, the taking up of the opportunities is accepted as being unevenly distributed. Not every one of the offspring will have the same sense of ambition, or of the visible signs of achievement. They are not expected to. It is assumed that each one will go his or her way, differently. In the case of these Mirpuri families, however, there is a marked distinction in the parental aspirations before anything else happens. This, once again, is to do with gender. In the rural and closely knit communities from which they came, the parents continued the tradition of retaining the idea of women as being both house-bound, not expected to work in income generation, and as a kind of asset in herself, a possibility for other households. The way in which this is interpreted in a society dominated by notions of equality makes it seem as if the women were some kind of commodity or chattel. Placed against the aspirations of the younger generations this might seem to be a logical conclusion but one must remember the deep seated and unchanging cultural assumption of people fulfilling their set tasks and having their own, set expectations. It is the girls who are seen as the quiet and unassuming perpetrators of the traditions, as the ones who demonstrate as well as uphold the ancient moral laws. That men are freer in their experiences and their demonstrations of liberty are taken for granted. It is also men who are expected to have aspirations, to want to change things, to be concerned with power and with aggrandisement. Such ambitions are assumed to be unbecoming to women.

118

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

Parents have traditionally been strict with their daughters (Ghuman, 1999). Further education or careers are supposed to be beside the point, just as they are the more important for the sons. In every way this distinction both of hope as well as control is made, in terms of dress and household chores and most of all in the future prospects. Boys can get away with so much more. Conversely so much more is expected of them (Basit, 1997). Even in terms of the day to day activities of the school females are allowed far less room for the expression of their interests. These attitudes towards women continue in the community at an atavistic level. Not only are women expected to be dutiful and obedient but those who have aspirations or who seek some degree of personal independence are labelled as corrupt (Adams, 1998; Ramdin, 1999). It is as if the lack of respect for existing norms were an insult and a surprise. Despite the fact that girls are not supposed to hold great long-term expectations of school, or possibly because they are expected to, they said they enjoyed going to school more than the boys did. We have already noted the weight of expectations on the boys. They might wish to work hard to fulfil themselves, but they also know that the eyes of the biraderi are upon them. The girls might, conversely, strive harder for themselves, for personal fulfilment in the context or far slighter general expectations. Whatever the general aspirations, the majority of the young people enjoyed going to school, for all kinds of reasons. Whilst school is a social community first and foremost it also presents an official, and narrow view of its purposes (Cullingford, 2000). At one level the school is a preparation for adult life, defined in terms of employability. The outcome of school matters to young children from the beginning. It is a rite of passage, a preparation, stage by stage. From the pupils’ point of view schooling becomes more and more serious as they pass on from year to year. The purpose of the primary school is to prepare them for the serious and particular demands of secondary school. There they know they will have more focussed subjects and more serious examinations. These are to sort out the suitability for what happens next, the higher reaches of University or the more immediate entry into jobs. The purpose of schools, a rhetoric constantly employed by politicians, is the development of a highly skilled and competitive work force. This is how expectations are conventionally defined. The pupils are both in competition with each other, to prove their worth and their readiness to take on responsibility, and part of a whole process of fitting them onto the kind of collective workforce that lends homogeneity and a common agreement to all of them.

Ethnicity and Englishness

119

When aspirations are defined by research into the skills needed for contemporary employment, they remain focussed or outcomes, on the acquisition of skills and on the motivations of personal gain. One would expect that the more disadvantaged, or the minority groups, would look into this particular point of view. Up to a point that is the case. The pressure for success is heavy on those who see a particular fulfilment or expectations as a comfortable conformity. Against this is the often presented case that there are some groups- the Afro-Caribbean generations are often involved- that do not subscribe to that particular view of success. This stereotyping into the either/or of aspirations and success or questioning and failure is often involved. It does not do justice either to the complexity of individual feelings or the cultural pressures and expectations on the young. One stereotype is the idea that the loosely bracketed ‘Asian’ community tries harder. This gives an insight into the necessity of economic advancement and the willingness to adapt to the pressures of mercenary success. The ‘Asians’ forced to move out of Kenya and Uganda on racist grounds are a particular pointer, often cited. Forgetting all the complex social and cultural insights gained by a second dose of migration, commentators point to them as a group that suggests the advantages of realising how important it is to unleash economic talents. Even if the motivations are conceded to be far more complicated, many succeeded in the journalistic/literary sphere. The idea of a motivational push, like an extra dimension, given to this collective experience is widely held. From the street corner shop with its late hours, hidden benefits and secret investments, the social view is of a particular determination to succeed. This, in turn, links to the notions of aspirations. The problem is that when there are collective or general ideas of aspiration involved they are nearly always devoid, perhaps necessarily, of personal motivation and fulfilment. The purpose of school might be the preparation for employment, a kind of training of fitness for purpose. The personal experience of school is something else. The relationships are far more important. These are bifurcated into the threatening and the pleasurable. The competition that schools involve is not really against the national norms, or league tables, or targets, or inspections. The competition that the pupils actually experience is that of competing with each other. Some will succeed and others will fail. That is part of the message of the school. At the same time schooling offers the chance to make relationships, to meet many others, to have friends. The sadness is that the two aspects of school, positive and negative relationships, are kept apart. The ability to work creatively together cannot be fully fostered in a regime so reliant on independently assessed outcomes. Aspirations remain complicated. Individual success in academic terms is to be desired. And yet the

120

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

pleasure of school derives from the opposite notion of comradeship, collaboration and community. For the young people involved here the school has all kinds of extra significance. It is to do with the meeting of other like minds, with other members of the biraderi outside the immediate attention of their controllers. It is to do with the freedom for girls to live a less restricted life, to celebrate their intelligence and to share their interests. It is to do with liberalisation of attitude by realising that there are well-meaning, tolerant, sensitive and intelligent people who do not derive from the same narrow cultural tradition. Schooling can promote aspirations but these aspirations can be liberating, personal and artistic and not merely the fulfilment of the economic wishes of others. The context of enjoyment is, therefore, complex. Over half of the young people from the community enjoyed school, without any shadows of obvious doubt or misery. The rest were mostly equivocal and only the smallest number really resented all aspects of school. Girls were slightly more prone to say they enjoyed school, which reveals something of the distinction between the social centre of school which is a relief from the controls of home, and the idea of schooling as the pressure to perform well. School can be a means to advancement. The stated purpose and the understood policy is the refinement of skills, the acquisition of knowledge and the accumulation of qualifications. The unacknowledged personal meaning of school is, however, something different. For the young women school can symbolise the freedom to socialise and a temporary reprieve from the defined responsibilities of the future. The girls were quite explicit about this aspect of school life. They liked the opportunities to meet boys, and to take part in otherwise forbidden practices. They realised the alternative to ‘staying at home’, ‘working for the family’ or entering marriage’. This definition of school as an alternative to the ultimate submission to parental wishes gives not only a different slant on the inner world of schools, but on the alternative values that they young people express. It is partly the experience of school and witnessing both the opportunities to explore larger horizons in the future, personal aspirations made possible, and the more immediate intensities of sharing ideas and forming relationships that made the young question the limitations of home. The contrast between restrictions or socialisation even with friends, and the varieties of different personalities exhibited at school, could not be greater. The restrictions were placed on females but all the young people were aware of them and began to question the need for such a traditional attitude. Schools were the first sites for meeting other people, which is why some parents were so keen on the alternative controls of single sex schools, or even more emphatically, single sex religious schools. In this way parents were in a dilemma. The aspirations for their children included the need to get to a good Gora school with high academic standards and the expectations of examination success.

Ethnicity and Englishness

121

At the same time they worried what this western style of ambition and attainment might do to the hold they felt they had on the thinking and behaviour of their offspring. From the point of view of the personal life of pupils schools are crucial as social centres. Whilst this fact is not taken into account in the policies of curriculum and examination, it is one that nevertheless involves the staff as well as the pupils. Schools are social organisations and the logistics of discipline take up a lot of effort. The movement of people and equipment from place to place, the delivery of lunch and of snacks, the organisation of transport all create a sense of movement and control that are central to understanding schools as institutions. Sometimes there can be juxtaposition between the social and academic aspects of school. For some young people the attraction of being with their peers begin to outweigh the advantages of academic success. This in turn is a worry for the teachers. How do they make sure that all are concentrating on their studies? How can they control outbreaks of bad behaviour, either by individuals or by gangs? One of the most obvious signs of the clash of social and academic cultures is that of truancy. In the climate of control so strong in a society that is infused with fears of risk, the ethos of school echoes that of these young people’s homes. Truancy, the freedom to wander out of control, the ability to choose what to do and what to avoid is taken very seriously. It is one of the central indications of schools’ failure that will most quickly put it into “special measures”. The retention of pupils is considered a prime task. Given the ingrained habits of the home and the very pressures on aspiration. one would have thought that of all cohorts of pupils, these young people from a Mirpuri background would be the most strenuously conformist, assiduous in attending, and determined to fulfil all the expectation of school. Truancy is a widespread problem and usually half-hidden since there are so many levels of it: the unauthorised absence from certain lessons, as well as the feigned illness, the refusal to pay attention as well as the refusal to attend (Pye 1989). Whilst the official figures demonstrate the problem, it is acknowledged that the actual figures are greater. It is when we make enquiries of the young people themselves that the true picture emerges. Truancy is an individual or collective act of personal freedom, a decision that can be very important in the development of character and confidence. At the extreme it can be a final pointer at a system which has made the young people feel estranged and embittered. It can be the forerunner of exclusion, where the antipathies between the individual and the institution are mutual. On the more prosaic level truancy is the occasional refusal to attend to a requirement, a realisation that there are other better, or more preferred options. Truancy is here

122

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

defined in physical rather than psychological terms, the choice to leave school during the official hours of attendance. The actual decision and the physical difficulties of simply walking out of school would deter many pupils from trying it. It is easier simply not to attend but that means both an extended period of time, usually the whole school day, and some dissimulation with parents. School [or, indeed parents, even before the introduction of fines] make clear their disapproval of truancy and seek to prevent it. One third of the young people in the survey admitted to have played truant. This corresponds not with official figures but actual research on truancy. Where the regularity of its occurrence in secondary schools and the extent of the practice is clear (Stoll, 1994; Hill and Tisdall, 1997). Within the overall figures, however high they seem, are some more interesting findings. The overall rates of truancy might be surprising for this particular community, but it is the girls who are unusually more prone to truancy than the boys. Whilst the significant overall number of those who had played truant included all it was the girls who were more likely to have played truant ‘regularly’. Whilst some socio-economic facts were typical of the population as a whole- the propensity for children from manual related occupations to truant being the greatest- the strong involvement of females was more significant. Truancy is too easily associated with deviancy and correlated with a tendency towards crime, as if the rejection of one small part of the State meant an overall objection to all social arrangements. For many young people truancy simply affords the chance to pursue more immediate pleasures. From the context of the girls it is possible to see truancy as a rare precious opportunity to strike out for themselves. There were not very many who played truant regularly. It was an occasional and no doubt treasured pleasure. Truancy increases as the end of schooling is in sight (Pearce and Hillman, 1998). The urgency to join the normal adult world increases. It is given an added poignancy by girls who see their academic aspirations inhibited. As in other surveys there were certain schools that had higher truancy rates than others and this was taken as another indication of their poor status. The parents who labelled certain schools as poor, ‘par-rar’, also had truancy figures in mind. The young people were happy to admit to playing truant to someone outside the school. They did not feel any great shame attached to it. It might have been difficult to carry out, but they soon became accustomed to it, “We skive off from school a couple of times a week” [Female, Aged 16]

Ethnicity and Englishness

123

The reasons for truancy are positive and negative, the pleasure of seeing other friends and talking without restrictions, and the avoidance of certain lessons. Those who aspire most assiduously to academic success will clearly avoid disruptions, but to others the atmosphere of going their own way is one that is easily absorbed. Sometimes it is the eschewing of lessons that is at the forefront, “A lot of my mates especially the boys don’t go to lessons” [Female, aged 17] Here the ‘mates’ have other more interesting things to do. There are particular subjects that people like to miss, “Of course I have! Loads of times, especially during Urdu and Games…me and R go to town and that to mess about which is really good fun” [Female, Aged 17] Whatever the dislike of particular lessons, the real motivation is the excitement of ‘messing about’. The good fun is an important if possibly temporary draw. This sense of the ephemeral and important pleasure of being with their ‘mates’” to mess about” gives the girls the particular motivation to play truant. They realise that in the future there will be greater restrictions placed on them. They know that their school life is not necessarily taken seriously and that they might well be withdrawn at the first opportunity rather than continue to study, “I know I’ll be leaving and working in the shop, so the way I see it I might as well enjoy myself whilst I got the chance” [Female, Aged 16] This expression of temporary delights in the context of future restrictions is a constant with the girls. The phrases ‘keep an eye on you’ and ‘don’t get the opportunity’ keep recurring. Their aspirations are therefore very focussed and very immediate. If they cannot have ambitions for the future they can have fulfilment now. Truancy was therefore seen as a temporary relief against the demands of the present and the expectations of the future. In these circumstances the idea of truancy was completely undermined if there was a real future with the possibility of aspirations fulfilled and achievement gained. To highlight this, there were a few exceptional girls who had a quite different interpretation of their school careers and who took an alternative view of truancy. “What’s the point? I’ll be leaving school with hopefully ten GCSEs and ‘A’ levels, so what’s the point not going to school. I’ll lose in the long run” [Female, Aged 17]

124

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

To those who are in the system and want to use it, those who are allowed to be as academic as their ability allows, the real purpose of school is the attainment of success in the end. The purpose of school for these people is the fulfilment of aspirations. The pressure on attainment is always strong in a community that feels itself marginalised. The pressure can have opposite effects: the more intense will to succeed, or the abnegation of any attempt. The ambitions of this community were not only the individual attainment and fulfilments of the individuals but the recognition of these by the biraderi. This meant that success had to be both immediate and of a particular kind, like access to the best course and the best University. Whilst ‘best’ can be a very ambiguous idea, there is a pressure in a publicised society of league tables and ‘celebrities‘ for very clear definitions of rank and attainment. The concept of a meritocracy might have replaced that of social rank, but the recognition of success is equally circumscribed. Money and recognition are not as consuming as the status of a particular career path or profession. Aspirations, the attainment of recognised success, were therefore dependent both on the acknowledgement of what this meant in social terms and on the immediacy of the achievement. The concept of ‘aspiration’ is a short term one, narrowly defined in terms of measurable competitive success. Aspirations clearly mean doing well in exams. Staying on at school after GCSEs at around sixteen depends both on the degree of prowess shown in the examination and the amount of personal interest in a place at University. These young people were unified in the desire to go on studying, but they reported very mixed judgements or whether they would be allowed to. Most of them wanted to continue their studies, in one way or another (Pearce and Hillman, 1998; Fowler et al, 1997). This fits the prevailing notion of highly motivated young people, without necessary recognising the peculiar pressures of the parents. The generalised statistics from the Census show that is boys who are more likely to drop out of school. Here it was the girls who recognised that they would be leaving prematurely. A quarter of them said they would leave at sixteen. The proportion of boys was under ten percent. The significance of doing well in school is not lost on the biraderi (Mason, 2000). Nor was it of any less salience in personal terms for the young people themselves. All of them had a desire to stay on and study, to go to University and attain higher academic qualifications. The reasons for this was all to do with the perceived gender divide; the unfair distribution of encouragement. This meant that all of them realised the significance of what they were allowed, or not allowed, to do.

Ethnicity and Englishness

125

There is a general tendency for females to value schooling more than males (Furnham and Stacey, 1996). This can be for all kinds of reasons. The ambitions of girls, and their personal sense of achievement, are the stronger for their impediments. All the young people valued the idea of post-compulsory education. This was the stronger for it being dependent on the support of the parents, or on their ability to curtail it. For the majority of young people success at school had a clear potential outcome, “I want to do science because I want to do dentistry after A’s [Male, Aged 15] The normal patterns of a sense of the future proclaim themselves in the narrowing of career choices; as schooling nears its end the next steps are naturally more important. Even if the choice of ‘A’ levels is often regretted, the crucial decision is not so much the subject but whether the pupils aspire to further study, with a place at University assumed as a prerequisite for professional success, or whether they want to go straight to work, or are pressured into leaving by their parents. There are three ways in which aspirations of this community are slightly different from the norm. First there is a very clear idea of the hierarchies of commercial and professional success. For example, they are clear that being a lawyer or an accountant is a sure way of making money. Being a doctor or a dentist seems an equal certainty for respectability. Conversely, no one [amongst the boys] would even consider being a teacher (Bhatti, 1999). Secondly, there were more people aspiring to do well, and avoiding going straight into work, than the nation at large. This is the more pointed because of the number of smallish family run businesses which to some extent are dependent on the continued interest and commitment of following generations. Thirdly, there is that familiar divide according to gender. Even those girls staying on after their GCSEs tended to think of it as an interim period before they ‘stay at home’, ‘work for family’ or ‘get married’. Whilst there are growing signs of the rejection of the predetermined pattern, it still persists as the norm. What is also clear is the growing sense that the extra year marked out both the last chance for a sense of ‘freedom’ and also the opportunity to learn. It was not just the less restricted socialising that was appreciated. These young women also realised that they had intellectual talent; an awareness that would colour their subsequent view of the world. Many of them said they would love to go to go on studying, even entering those jobs that their brothers would eschew, “I’d love to go to University…I’d love to be a teacher or a nurse” [Female, Aged 17]

126

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

In the face of general indifference there was a shared feeling that doing well at school was worthwhile for its sake, “I know mostly girls they want to do well at school” [Female, Aged 17] This realisation that their sisters wished to go on studying and were restricted from doing so was shared by the young men, but they were happy to accept that the burden of ‘izzat’ to get a good job was on them. The acceptance, even if half reluctant, of their sisters’ fate is clear, “They want my sister to stay at school until 18 and then they are not that bothered. After that she’ll be marrying my cousin from Pakistan” [Male, aged 15] The indifference to how much longer she is in school is only because of the certainty of her ultimate fate (Ghuman, 1994). This almost laconic acceptance of parental arrangements is still widespread, “I know I’ll end up getting married when I’m 18 or whatever” [Female, Aged 17] Staying on at school beyond the compulsory stage has two functions. One is the necessary step towards University, and the other is the filling in of the equivalent of a gap year. The general tendency of the social divide that perpetuates itself is for the pupils of professional parents to go to University, and for those of unskilled parents to leave. The particular tendency here is for girls to join the latter. The extra year is, as we have seen from the reports of the social life of school, that much more precious. For the boys the most prized achievement was to be able to pass on to the biraderi the possibility that they were on track to be reading medicine. Whatever the particular future, the vast majority considered that gaining a qualification was extremely important. Just five percent wondered whether this was the case, when the rest of the population has far greater doubts about the values of examination success. This community was clear in its focus. Qualifications are essential (Jarvie, 1991). This is because the high status professions demand them. The unanimity of view about the need for qualifications is a reflection of their parents’ views. When they were asked whether they thought their parent’s felt that qualifications were important, an even higher number said this was the case. This is significant if we compare it to other communities in which, when pupils are asked about their parents opinions, tended to say that their parents do not really care “as long as I am happy”.

Ethnicity and Englishness

127

The focus for aspirations comes from a shared perception of the significance of jobs and of status. There is little acceptance of the notion of ‘dropping out’ or of not bothering, or even of going for the more immediate gains of earning money. In this the sense of the biraderi, the broadly supporting community, is both a stability and a pressure. There are clear reasons for gaining qualifications, “There’s not many jobs around so ‘A’ levels are really important” [Male, Aged 14] This is the rationale for continuation, but there is also the latent expectation, “They want their kids to do well because it’s all about Izzat and that” [Male, Aged 18] This does not, of course, apply to the girls in the same way. The few who do not think that gaining qualifications is important have perfectly realistic reasons for this, “not that important, ‘cause I know I’ll end up getting married, so what’s the point?” [Female, Aged 17] This sober reality, however, is itself caught up with the regrets of what they would be doing if they could, “If I had the choice I’d do my ‘A’ levels. I think I’d pass my GCSEs and go to University…I’ll be getting married; before that I’ll be staying home” [Female, Aged 16] Just as it is ‘izzat’ for the boys to gain fruitful employment, so it is izzat for the girls to get suitably married. Two-thirds of the young people, no less, were intending to study for a degree. Of the rest thirteen percent said they would be working or working for the family and seventeen percent staying at home or getting married. The desire to go to university to avoid low-level jobs was marked (Hagell and Shaw, 1996). Of course, the weight of aspirations was already differentiated by the kind of school they went to. The opportunities depended on their socio-economic status and the school they were at. The males were intent on going to University, and whilst a significant number of females would have liked to go to University as well, they were the ones who said they would find work or work for the family, and the only ones who would be staying at home. The sense that school is a particular threat to the traditions of control comes to the fore about the time when compulsory schooling is ended. After that what could have been a submission to the law, despite the potential contamination of meeting other people, has become a matter of choice, of personal will and fulfilment, and it is at this point the parents step in.

128

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

A growing number of females challenged their parental expectations whilst being forced to accept them. There were still fifty percent of them who wanted to study for a degree. They wanted to go to University with all the freedom associated with it. This was in the face of alternative pressures. We can see that in the way in which the boys are easily encouraged to continue studying, “They want me to carry on and be successful. They encourage me a lot” [Male, Aged 17] “They’re all for it. I get a lot of support from family. They want me to do well like my brother” [Male, Aged 18] This assumption about the male prerogative of a career contrasts with the aspirations of the girls. The boys understand this as well, “Well, you should ask my father. He says that a woman’s place is in the home looking after the husband and kids” [Male, Aged 14] With such an attitude, the possibility of developing an academic career is slight. Even those who are determined to have at least a chance are curtailed, “It was meant to be a year’s stop-gap. My father and mother said I could go to college for a year. No, I’ll definitely be leaving I’ll be going to Pakistan, stay there for a while and get married to my cousin N” [Female, Aged 19] A number of girls are allowed to stay on at school for a short time after GCSEs. They are, as a concession, allowed to study for further, not higher, qualifications as an interim measure to ‘keep them happy’ before future arrangements are made. It is at this time that the earnest talk about marriage begins. For some, the acceptance of marriage did not mean the ending of other personal freedoms, “I don’t want to stay at home when I’m married. I want to work” [Female, Aged 17] For others the overarching influence of the biraderi suggests that choices are very limited, “It’s not just my father that says I must leave but also my relatives. Their daughters have left school. They don’t think it’s izzat or good for a girl to stay on at school” [Female, Aged 16] Success in these terms lies in leaving school to get married. Staying on to continue studying seems a dubious matter. The constant pressure on the girls is to be trained in housework, cooking and sewing (Graham, 1993). Girls are automatically used to

Ethnicity and Englishness

129

look after younger siblings (Curer, 1991). The involvement of girls [not boys] in domestic chores begins early [Morris, 1990]. This cultural pressure on the girls is often presented as a religious one, in which a woman is assumed to be in danger of transgressing from Islamic norms if in the company of unrelated men (Lewis, 1994). The young woman, in their more directed studying of the Quran, increasingly question this assumption. The old traditions, widely shared in all communities that the ‘woman’s place is in the home’ and the man is the ‘head of the household’ is not actually suggested by a reformist reading of the scriptures. As in all communities there is a detectable ground swell of change. There is, ironically, a greater intensity of religious studying on the grounds that this presents a challenge to accepted norms. Increasingly we find families encouraging their daughters to continue studying, an acceptance made much easier if they see their daughter’s strict adherence to wearing the hejab and by the attendance to the rules of the mosque. We also see a few parents who question the assumptions about qualifications, “My father wants me to work. My father bases this on that a lot of people who have degrees haven’t got a job or are working in manual jobs” [Male, Aged 16] There are always stories about those who achieve great financial success as entrepreneurs without having gone to university, as if the idea of the “drop out” were one of lasting interest. The exceptions, however, are few. The goal of the good qualification and a responsible job that results from it remains strong. These young people emerge from a community which has two linked cultural traditions. One is that of obedience to the family; not just personal loyalty but acceptance of the communal will. The other is the sense of threat posed to this strength of the family by the large society in which they are embedded. They see all the evidence of divorce, and promiscuity, the cultivation of bad behaviour at football matches, and in the media. It is natural that they should feel threatened, both by the distaste for what they interpret as accepted norms, and by the feeling that their children could easily be contaminated. In this outlook schools are looked at with a certain ambivalence. They are necessary but they are a threat. One way in which this problem is overcome is by the emotional stereotyping of the differences of gender. As long as the purity of females is assured then all is well. It is this very inequality of the sexes that schools, with their concentration of a shared common core curriculum, and their social life, challenge. One of the reasons for the promotion of single sex schools and iconoclastic religious foundations is the political retention of cultural power (Walford, 2000). The threat that is felt by the kufr society is not just to religion. Everyone has a right to believe

130

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

what he or she wishes, and has the right to worship. The demands of Ramadan are widely accepted. It is the fear of loss of the control by the biraderi that seems to be at stake, or fear of the erosion of distinct advantages by a community looking after itself. The norms of schooling and the expectations of success in employment themselves change the status of the community. There is both a strong urge to encourage doing well at school, and a fear of the consequences. Whilst this duality is transparent in terms of gender, it goes deeper than that.

CHAPTER 10: THE SWAY OF THE BIRADERI: THE USES OF COMMUNITY Aspirations are shared by families and communities. The individual’s success depends on the kind and amount of support and encouragement he or she gets. No one would doubt the significance in this of the biraderi, the extended family, the relatives, the kith and kin. And yet the notion of biraderi is hard to define. It is, to some extent, old fashioned, but it is also very familiar, if complex. It means at once the sense of family and tribal loyalty, drawn together by blood and a sense of shared inheritance and also a system of patronage, of deliberate networking and mentorship. The community might be divided but it is expected to look after its own. There are not just sentimental ties, but economic utilities of support, a commercial as well as emotional nexus. It was once said that if the son of someone of high caste obtained good qualifications, his status would be heightened but if an individual in a lower caste did the same the whole family would gain in status. There are many different levels of family connections and many different systems of support, just as there are many distinctions and differences, not only of caste but of sect. The gradual development of more nuclear and isolated families means that the notion of the biraderi is looked at in a fresh way. Instead of being taken for granted as an inevitability it is more critically scrutinised, and what was once seen as a necessary and normal system of mutual support can be reinterpreted as the manipulation of social systems. There are signs that the hold of the notion of the biraderi, against which any criticism would not be allowed, is slightly loosening, for all kinds of reasons. One young man drew attention to the shift of emphasis towards the more immediate family, “I think families are looking after their own children instead of lending a lot of money to their brothers and sisters and relatives, especially now when a lot of people like my relatives are unemployed” [Male, Aged 19] The larger the amount of people in need the less easy it is to accommodate them. “Looking after their own”, however broadly defined, nevertheless gives the essential spirit of the comradeship of support. When the first migrants arrived in Great Britain, the traditional and static nature of village life, with its caste loyalties and holding on to family possessions, was transformed into something more urgent. The lonely and bewildered newcomers needed support, and sought it

132

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

amongst their own. This help was organised and planned. The results are the concentration on certain houses and then on neighbourhoods. The networks were practical and deemed essential. It is easy to see the different contexts of the connections of village life, and the exclusivity of the biraderi in a new land, but we can also detect why the idea of support was given a new urgency. It was not possible to help all newcomers. Each went to the channels of familiarity and more closely focussed advice. The biraderi gave each other a lot of substantial support but they also demanded something in return. This was a strong bond of loyalty, of giving no secrets away and continuing the exclusitivities of shared cultural beliefs. The common ground is the pressure on the family to uphold its status, to be seen as worthy in the eyes of the community, and thereby to enhance the status of all those who feel that a particular family owes them loyalty. The desire to be respected is universal. The position of an individual in the group, on the status of the group in wider society will always leave its mark on the social consciousness of people. In this particular community the self-awareness of status is the more intense. It is important to keep up, “If you do well everyone looks up to you and if you don’t know-one talks to you especially if you haven’t got any money, none of the relatives want to know you. Ras-thar-dar only want to know you if you do well” [Male, Aged 18] The striking fact about the biraderi is the amount of knowledge of what is going on. The information network is intensive and pervasive. If some people do not have money this will be known. As in the gossip of village life there is both a security and intrusion in the automatic distribution of information, mixed up with opinion. People not only gain a status but a reputation. And, as Shakespeare so often reminded us, reputation is all. There are two clear strands to the supporting networks of communities. One is the practical help on offer, the sense of mutual financial interests, defined against getting the better of the larger world. The other is the exchange of information so that everyone knows the extent to which others are conforming or not, and any signs of deviance in thought or behaviour. ‘Izzat’ in this context is the maintenance of the status quo. Financial support for the young is both common and increasing (Jones, 1995). Those families who have money make all kinds of arrangements to ease the burden on the young at the start of their careers. Here the burden is shared in a wider community. The wider community, since it does not have that automatic access to knowledge that a family has, will wish to have a more extensive system

Ethnicity and Englishness

133

of knowledge, answering a natural curiosity about what has happened to their emotional and financial investment. Communication is the essential ingredient in a community. Some might call this gossip, and on a larger scale whole societies are held together by rumour (Kapferer, 1987). Common knowledge or guesswork led by newspapers feed peoples curiosity even when they have no particular or personal interest. When it comes to the smaller community the kinds of reputation, the planting of stories as facts, and the constant surveillance on which the facts depend are all bound up with each other and are both powerful and important. Communities, as a concept, are marked out by certain characteristics. They involve more than one generation. If they did not, they would be like any peer group. Involving parents, grandparents and children creates a distinct community with patterns of relationship that extend with more subtle power than the strengths of personal friendship. The recognition of the significance of communities in this way is exemplified by the Australian aboriginals whose networks and patterns of relationships give a distinct significance to the idea of a community. In this example all kinds of bonds, through whole hosts of consensus, have their significant nomenclature. In other communities it is a different form of discourse that holds people together, that of shared opinions, of reportage and of reputation. Without this sharing of attitudes there would be no acceptance of authority. The community is bound by language, but cemented by economic ties. Given this early history of the immigrant Mirpuri community and the necessities of mutual support it is no surprise that extensive use was made of loans as well as gifts (Sadiq-Sangster, 1991). Unemployment can lead to dependency on the family (Coffield et al, 1986). The filial duties and the interests of investment overlap. The old habits of having credit, buying things ‘on tick’ is slowly disappearing, eschewed by the younger generation (Graham, 1993). The economic necessities of mutual support are no longer there. The very survival of a community in the early days depended on the amount of help offered to the biraderi. Now that the same needs are eroded by comparative prosperity the economic ties are quite different. They are more a matter of investment, of opportunity rather than the need to allow credit. The relationship between economic and social ties will always be a close one. The very symbolism of a family visit, the lavish amounts of food being offered, suggests the practicalities of mutual support. The weight of culinary offerings might be a demonstration both of affection and of status, but they can be a real source of support. Visiting relatives is an important part of communal life as it was

134

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

in the rural villages. The parents, imbued with that tradition can insist on its maintenance even when the younger generations do not see its central function, “My parents say they’re [relatives] really important and the family should come first. Sometimes I don’t want to go to my relatives but my parents force me to go” [Male, Aged 16] The idea of the family “coming first” has all kinds of significance. It suggests not just the realisation that the community of ties can lead to a deeper form of friendship but that there is a distinct benefit to be had in the potential arrangements of aid. Families can be supported or exploited. Visits to the family or relations can be one of the few forms of entertainments that is open to mothers and fathers together. It is not the norm for the husband and wife to be seen together, socialising or eating in cafes and restaurants (Hiro, 1991). This, like so many traditional habits, is changing and the idea of the whole family going out for a meal is increasing as it is in the rest of the larger community, with visits to restaurants increasing generally. Nevertheless there is a distinction to be made between the family visits to relatives, and the sharing of other interests, like going to the cinema. When they were asked whether they went out with their parents to visit the homes of relatives nearly eighty percent said they did. When they were asked whether they went out to the cinema with their parents, ten percent said they did. One could argue that going to the cinema is something more normally done with the peer-group, given the differences in taste. This reinforces the distinctions made in Chapter 8. Nevertheless, however resented it might be, the visits to relatives is a part of the traditional agenda. Parents believe that it is their duty to take their offspring to visit relatives, so that the norms of the community might be better understood. Such visits also remind the young of their sense of duty, of a larger family than their own and of the benefits that could occur. It is both an extension of charity, so emphasised by Ramadan, and a perception of looking after ones own. The good and obedient children are seen as those who visit and keep in touch with relatives. The neighbourhoods are still small enough to make this feasible on a regular basis. For many families visiting relatives is a central part of their leisure time. Rather than sightseeing or attending communal sporting events or shows, the more domestic pleasures of visits are to the fore. For the young generation there is a tension, given their preferences for seeing each other and for pursuing their own tastes. This tension suggests not that the young are altogether unwilling to pay visits, or are forced into doing so, but that they are aware of an alternative that it is not any more the unalterable way of life. This distancing from the habits of

Ethnicity and Englishness

135

generations means that they see the advantages, as well as the limitations, the more closely. They have a sense of a wider community that their ‘white’ friends are to some extent denied. They also see that the advantages of having relatives extend beyond the practicalities of baby-sitting. Relatives can be helpful. It all depends on their position and their status. The very financial advantage of the biraderi lends weight to the argument between emotional support, mutual help and control. There is a power in lending as well as the grace of charity. The young people are aware of the different levels and types of help, “ Like my cousins, uncles, come over to our house if my mum or dad are sick of if, when my granddad died everyone came over” [Male, Aged 15] The awareness of support is not just for unusual or special occasions but also for sudden emergencies. Such emergencies, however, can also be financial, “Well, they give you money if you need it. We did when we bought a house for lodgers and we needed some money. My mum went to this house and she got it the same day! I think it was five or six thousand pounds” [ibid] Relatives are assumed to be willing to support each other. What in the past would normally be confined to emergencies is now an alternative way of raising investments. The support of the biraderi, from having easy credit, to being able to borrow large sums of money, is seen at once as natural and outside the normal financial systems. The young people have mixed feelings about this. There are comparatively few people who do not have some resentment at paying taxes, and a significant number who are willing to allow certain fuzziness at the edges, like paying cash to avoid V.A.T. It all depends on the demarcation line taken between tax avoidance and tax dodging. In a society in which it is realised that the richer people are, the better a position they are is to avoid paying taxes, there is no single understanding of limits of corruption. There is, nevertheless, a resentment at the idea of corruption, and an outcry if, say, local politicians or people with financial power use bribes or are less than transparent in their dealings. All notions of rectitude have a social, cultural basis, and depend on the understood norms of a society. The young people here are faced with a dilemma. They inherit two traditions. One is of the assumption that it is the first duty to promote and help relatives. The other is that of public accountability, systems of open trust in which no rules are bent, let alone broken. The elders in the biraderi assume, quite naturally, that the small

136

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

tokens of necessary generosity at the beginning, and the transfers of the traditional values of loyalty, will extend into the new economic climate in which they find themselves. The young look at the way the resulting ‘system’ works more objectively. They know that if they have to raise money the biraderi will make it possible, even if it means avoiding tax, “Well, you know, getting houses, cars, is easy! You just pay someone a thousand pounds and they will get you a mortgage within a couple of weeks. It’s easy” [Male, Aged 19] The awareness of an alternative financial system for the biraderi is pervasive. The advantages are manifest, “you know it’s easy. That’s why you see a lot of young people driving cars around. I mean, do you think that they’re all working? I don’t think so!” [Ibid] The system supports aggrandisement and investment, especially in property, “For a house you need a deposit and a grand to sort everything out. I know people who’ve been signing on and have bought loads of houses” [Male, Aged 19] It is recognised that there are all kinds of ways in which the system operates. It can be applied to visas as well as to homes. To take one example of a girl about to leave school because of an arranged marriage, the need was to speed up the arrangement and to secure full-time employment, “you can get fraudulent slips, to say you’re working when you’re not, just to get your husband over” [Female, Aged 16] This is perceived as a common practice, “Yeah, all the time. Some are students. Parents just get the slips to get the husband, wife over. As you know you can get homes like that as well” [ibid] The word she uses is ‘fraudulent’. It sounds as easy as the signing of the documents, the making of arrangements, the accumulation of capital. Acquiring property is one on the main endeavours of the biraderi, the strengthening of neighbourhood ties. This also underlines the dangers of ghettoisation at a time when the young are seeking out new fields of endeavour. The development of whole areas of town into distinct communities is a natural consequence of the physical closeness of the biraderi as well as the spiritual control. Home ownership,

Ethnicity and Englishness

137

and the ownership of other houses, is a crucial sign of status, and everyone is supposed to benefit to some extent, “Well, quite a few of them have got their own businesses but often are on the dole…even if they are not working they still get far, they still but their own house so that isn’t hard” [Male, Aged 18] Whilst there are great differences in financial status, a distinction that replaces that of caste, there is an understanding that the whole of the community must at least share some beliefs. The advantages of the biraderi are clear, even if the young find some of the expectations a bore. There is a general acceptance of the facts and of the power, as in the submission to arranged marriages as a kind of inevitability. This does not inhibit criticism or a sense that certain habits of thought are changing. In the communal system that crosses generations the elders are supposed to have the greatest status and authority. These are not only the older people but in this case people who have two clear dimensions of their own, a closer tie with the Islamic country from which they came, and a stronger authority given them by religion. This double hold, together with the respect for their elders that is naturally fostered in the young, should make the elders deeply respected. They wield economic power and have acquired that of an emotional and intellectual status. The young people were asked whether they felt that the elders understood their needs or feelings. Despite all the uses that the elders make of their authority, or perhaps because of it, the young people do not feel that their needs and feelings are understood. They do not feel that there is a reciprocal concern for their own lives and their own point of view. One aspect of the idea of the biraderi is a kind of tribalism of mutual help and support. Another one is the insistence on certain ties and obligations. The ancient tradition rests on distinctions of rank and position. This can be a matter of birth, as in the caste system, or a matter of age and gender, the position within the family. The irony is that this ancient cultural assumption is involved once again in the nomination of the ‘community leaders’, the elders who are supposed not just to speak for the rest but also to control them. The Manningham Riots Report typically makes much use of the spokesmen, the elders who feel themselves responsible. They express their desire to assert their authority, to gain greater control over the actions of the young. The position of a father, the head of the family, is one thing. The idea of the extended family with the head of a whole series of other families is another. Naturally we see its last fading existence in the old landed families in England

138

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

where a Duke or an Earl will have all kinds of obligations, not just to family retainers, but to the younger sons of younger sons. Whilst such an arrangement is to the fore in the world of Dickens and Trollope, it is less apparent today, although there is still a psychological feudal mentality that traces a connection to the head of the clan, like a succession in line to the throne. This larger idea of family involves the idea of obligation, of an automatic respect, an acceptance of the birthright of some to wield greater inherited power than others. The community leaders, the elders, are looked at with this rather old-fashioned perspective. No other community, say on a large urban housing estate, or in a leafy suburb, would be assumed to have some people who would be appointed to talk for the others, or be accepted by the rest as their accepted representative. These elders are not democratically elected nor created by popular consent. And yet the spokesman is sought out. In the Manningham riots, as well as in other such civil disturbances, their very position drew attention to the inter-generational tensions. The fact that they saw themselves as somehow responsible, and could at the same time blame the young, suggested a kind of separation rather than the homogeneity of a closely-knit group. The nuclear family, or even the extended one, even if far flung, is one thing, the community leader is another. The idea of involving particular people, by virtue of what is supposed to be their standing, to speak for the rest reminds us somehow of a feudal system, an instinct to place the volatile community realities into the past. Those chosen from the outside, or those who have chosen themselves, might actually speak for all, but this cannot be guaranteed. It assumes a degree of unity and mutual understanding that has been achieved only by some common religious bond, or by the submission of the majority to the will of the few. Nevertheless the elders are still invoked. They see themselves retaining a moral and religious authority over those in their chosen parish, in holding sway over a segment of the community not just defined in terms of physical space but tribal loyalty. In this they demonstrate a difference, not of community, in the sense of living together in the same place, but one which is bound together by the interconnectedness of kin; the biraderi. If this connection really works in terms of self-interest and mutual help then all will feel part of it, and the leaders will be naturally respected. Part of this respect, and part of the acceptance of certain people speaking for the rest of them, must be an instinct that they are understood, that there is an almost unspoken understanding of common interests. Thus the opinions that the young people have about the sensitivity and insight of the elders is very significant. The true idea of the biraderi is a collective feeling in which all adhere or at least submit. If there are to be those who speak for others then the others must at least feel understood. Of the existence of ‘elders’ who are brought

Ethnicity and Englishness

139

out publicly in moments of crisis there is no doubt. At all times there are those who by virtue of their age and position feel themselves to be in position of authority. If this is the case their constituencies must feel understood. When the young people were asked whether these elders understood their needs and feelings, more than ninety per cent were emphatic that they did not. Just over seven per cent felt that the elders understood young people. There was a sign of a growing rift and resentment that there should be some people taking it upon themselves to make public statements about them. But the feeling of alienation went deeper than this. The reflection of the young revealed a feeling of a cultural gap that suggested that the differences between the old and the young was not just a matter of age but of different traditions. The young wanted greater freedom and independence. The biraderi might be useful in practical terms, in financial support and the pulling together of interests and shared culture, but it no longer represented a separated and complete community, spiritually alien and resentful of the majority culture. It was no longer the cultural centre. In the young people there is a sense of change. It might be slow but it is inexorable. Sometimes the changes are far slower than they would like. This is especially true of the girls, for whom the cultural implications of tradition are particularly important, “Girls have more freedom than our mothers did but things haven’t changed as much as young people would like them to change” [Female, Aged 16] In fact she goes on to be more assertive, “parents and Mulvis [religious leaders] need to change” [ibid] It is interesting to note that the authority of parents as well as religious leaders are put together, as if there were something dated about it. Part of the feeling of being a new generation and misunderstood is a natural feeling of all young people. They feel the lack of close communication and the lack of insight about their needs, “I think there is a barrier between parents and young people…you know parents never talk to their kids and kids never bother” [Male, Aged 19] The sense of two separate worlds, of parallel but different tastes, reasserts itself. The barriers are complex, since they are to do with the lack of a common language, and shared understandings and the short cuts of shared jargon.

140

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

The young people are, however, not just reacting like all others at this stage in life against the authority of their parents. They realise that because of the biraderi there is a significant influence on their parents by the religious leaders, by the watchful eyes of those who feel they have the religious support for keeping an eye on what is happening. There is a sense of anger and even disillusion about the way in which the older members of the group understand each other, clinging to values that no longer make the same sense, making cultural assumptions that are now being challenged (Bhatti, 1999). The elders think that they speak with all the traditional authority of their religion. They feel they ought to keep matters under control and prevent the more loose thinking of the young. For this there might be expected to be a certain amount of resentment, or defensiveness. In fact, the criticism is more hostile and more aggressive. The elders are commonly accused of being ‘hypocrites’. “Most of my friends accuse them of being hypocrites” [Female, Aged 16] What the elders stand for is no longer altogether accepted or believed in. More to the point it is assumed that they do not really believe in themselves, that what they really want is to retain power and control. Here we see signs both of a reflection that the concept of the biraderi can be an excuse of a systematic scheme of selfhelp to their mutual advantage, and a rift between culture and Islam, between the actual teachings of the Koran and the behaviour of the elders. The young people argue that whilst they keep hearing messages about how they should behave and how they should separate themselves from the immoral society, the elders have already adapted when it suits them to Western ways. They purchase property and run businesses with interest. They are supposed to have drunk alcohol when they first came and to have had a louche lifestyle hoping not to be found out. It all goes back to accusations of hypocrisy. The young people are aware of the contrasts in styles of living, belief and outlook. This means that they begin to doubt the authority of what they are being told, “Pakistani elders just preach what it says in Islam. People know they are the ones saying that because it makes them feel good” [Female, Aged 17] Feeling good includes the tendency to blame, to find people they can accuse of being different, “They blame everything on young people, especially the bad influences of Britain and white girls” [[ibid] The problem with this is that the more the elders go on about immorality the more the young people question the extent of their own rectitude,

Ethnicity and Englishness

141

“Like they say you should do this but then they go out and do another like drinking alcohol and messing about with women” [Female, Aged 17] At one level the biraderi are a group of people with economic interests that are based on mutual ties. On another level the biraderi represents the old tribal loyalties, of deference to elders, of the symbolic rights of authority. Each sect and caste selects their own leaders, but these are bound to be questioned by others when it comes to speaking for the larger community. In fact we are seeing again the emergence of multiple communities, small internal differences replacing that sense of a wide separation between the beleaguered immigrants in a larger alien world and their sense of the image of the alternative. As the new community settles and is larger, the crude differences of identity are replaced by the internecine divisions of group and caste and in the end, of family.

CHAPTER 11: CULTURES, SUBCULTURES AND GANGS: THE CONTRADICTIONS OF BELONGING One of the earliest driving forces in young children’s understanding of the world is the need to categorise, to make distinctions. This happens in two ways, through the operation of binary opposites and through the more sophisticated and complex nomenclature of language. The two systems of categorisation clearly over-lap, as in ‘big and small, fat and thin’, which are attributable to physical distinctions, and ‘rich and poor’ which are conceptual. This early development of simple categorisation survives into adulthood, both as a necessity and simplification, like letters in the alphabet that only have meaning if seen from one point of view, and as a process of understanding through stereotypes. The sense of categorisation often has an emotional basis- ‘us’ and ‘them’, those within a family and those outside. They can be a matter of fact or they can be a matter of taste or prejudice. Whilst children learn that such influential simplicities need to be mitigated by more complex truths, certain generalisations inevitably remain. Indeed they can become more powerful over the years (Cullingford, 2000). Nowhere is this more apparent than in the categorisations of peoples, in terms of tribes, nations and physical characteristics. Such simplicities are especially clear in the language and literature on ethnic minorities, where particular generalisations, from the generic ‘black’, to crude distinctions like ‘Asian’ or ‘Pakistanis’ retain their powerful hold on thought, and an simple differences. It is difficult to avoid such general terms. The reports on the Oldham or Manningham riots attributed to a single ‘community’ make this clear. This research, however, reveals the dangers of such generalisations in terms of ‘us’ and ‘them’. A generic term does not allow for differences, of religion, or sect, and does not allow the embrace of a wider, as well as more individual, sense of humanity. The reports on the Manningham riots tend to deal with a particular ‘community’, as with one without tensions between generations, let alone sects, and let alone different groups of the ‘biraderi’. This deflects interest both from the intricacies of personal culture, as opposed to labels, and the sense of a common shared humanity. There are certain personal and social problems that affect all communities. Those who were asked about what they felt were the causes of the disturbances signalled the concerns that would affect any blighted community, wherever it was, “Well, a lot of things like unemployment, no jobs, no money, boys just driving about, poverty in the area” [Female, Aged 16]

Ethnicity and Englishness

143

There are certain factors, like poverty and unemployment, which will inevitably have their effects on the attitudes and actions of group, especially when they affect each other, and when there are enough groupings to bring an underlying resentment into focus. The question is why general resentment, held by many communities, is triggered into disturbances in some places and not others. The volatility of essential disequilibrium is set alight by certain factors, from hot weather, the mistrust of police interventions or a banal act of provocation. The more interesting question then concerns the tensions, the communal attitudes, the readiness to break out. There are certain neighbourhoods which exhibit a feeling of tension and volatility. There have been times when parts of Birmingham and parts of London were notorious for being on the verge of ‘no-go’ areas, almost as impossible as parts of New York, and when the assumption was made that the causes were a simple matter of colour. That there were [and are] ghettos makes the problem real, but there are ghettos of all kinds. It is not a matter of ethnicity, or religion. Any community defining itself exclusively for reasons of superiority or inferiority will be in danger. There remain, post Handsworth and Notting Hill, many areas that are associated with drugs and violent crime. This was true of Manningham itself, so that many people typically moved away for those reasons: including those of the Mirpuri community, who had the chance, “we used to live in Manningham on Oak Lane a few years ago but we moved. My father said that there was too much crime and drugs and gangs” [Male Aged 18] The fabric of all society has tears and rents, with the association of particular areas with crime, or prostitution, from red-light districts to theatres and clubs. The natural attraction of like to like, let alone the advantages of publicity lead to concentrations of groups of people, mostly to do with particular tastes and gratification rather than with deep inherited values. As far as these young people are concerned, the riots associated with their district were much more typical of the disenchantment of dissatisfied youth than the protests of ghettoisation. More significantly. many of them felt that the marginalised groups had in retrospect being stereotyped into including the larger community as if those labels ‘Asian’ or ‘Pakistani’ had become not terms of abuse but official categories. After the event, the attempts to find causes and the desire to lay blame led to stories of generational conflict and tensions within the communities. What the young people resented was the subsequent uses made of the riots by the unelected ‘community leaders’, the same people who were seen to try to retain their hold on the community, to prevent change and adaptability. Furthermore, their stance was

144

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

interpreted as being a mixture of atavistic and unreflective satisfaction that the young generation were making trouble. It was as if the ‘elders’ had both colluded with the notion that the riots were a result of racial tensions and then argued that since they were perpetuated by the young it needed the older generations, or the same biraderi, to re-assert their control. The ‘leaders of the community’ asserted their shock and distaste at the disturbances, but this was not how they were seen by the young, “Nobody, parents, didn’t tell them to stop. They just stood there and watched. They should have said something. Only after the fighting they said it was bad” [Male, Aged 19] The more the evidence accumulates, the clearer it is that we are dealing not with a homogeneous culture, or a ‘minority ethnic group’, but a sense of subcultures, rivalries, shifting allegiances and battles for control and independence. At the same time as the internal tensions we witness a constant process of change and adaption, one which echoes and reverberates with the changes in society as a whole. These patterns match the age-old strains of younger generations coming to terms with themselves as defined against their parents and against other groups. What makes this particular segment of society so interesting and so significant is that it is adding a whole new strain of additional cultural richness, of religion, ways of life, taste and a sense of being part of a global community. There might be temporary ghettos but there will never be the same confines on the parochial. There might be defensive measures to preserve a traditional way of life or a traditionally held view, but these are made as a consequence of the awareness of alternatives and knowledge of the wider cultural context. As society has struggled to come to terms with the processes of cultural plurality, there have been many attempts to simplify understanding by stereotyping. At first the labels were almost entirely negative and aggressive- noting the obvious skin colour of the anonymous outsider. More recently the labels have also been worn by sub-groups who find that their ethnicity can be used as an excuse for the kind of anti-social behaviour that would be condemned anywhere else. The broad labels obscure the sub-group, the gangs, the organised anti-social activities and the support of particular groups of biraderi, each with their own norms, loyalties and traditions. Much of the tension, but not all, is reflected in the particular battles of the older and younger generations. Subgroups and subcultures assert their identity as a mark of distinction against the standard norms and values. They need to assert not only difference but also the power to be noticed (Thornton, 1995; Gelder and Thornton, 1997).

Ethnicity and Englishness

145

In any cohesive group of young people there will be both a very clear idea of what the parental generations stand for and a marked desire to assert something different. They might be imbued so deeply in the traditional values that they cannot wholly escape them. They might be easily reabsorbed after an amount of rebellion. But they will naturally want, at least symbolically, to demonstrate independence and a collective mind of their own. This is especially true with young people whose parents are particularly self-conscious of their inheritance, and who feel strongly about it because of an incipient sense of threat. Young people might not demonstrate to their parents how they feel and think and adapt, at least up to the standards of politeness, to the demands of home whilst behaving differently elsewhere. This suggests a possible strain of hypocrisy, but this is a natural, and common, sign of adaptability and the desire of any subculture to be secret, and to hide its deviancy to some extent (Roche and Tucker, 2000). The subcultures of the majority are displayed in obvious forms. They can be experienced especially in the symbols and sounds of different types of popular music, where having a distinct niche, one of restricted access, is prized. The young people of the Mirpuri background tend to cover their tracks more carefully, and hide their new tracks in a way that does not draw attention to the interplay of different cultures and the reciprocal influence of one or another. The more obvious youth cultures of Afro-Caribbean dimensions, with Reggae, have been readily absorbed into the temporary prevailing norms of groups of gangs like ‘Mods’ or ‘Skinheads’. The idea of Rasta or ‘Soul’ is not just something recognisably belonging to the traditions of a particular culture but also clearly absorbed and accepted [even if in a way that does not always encapsulate the original authenticity] (Cohen, 1997). One of the subtle reasons why the young people of this study typically do not have a distinct mark of populist identity, or cultural brand image of their own, is the gender divide. Public displays of a homogeneous and distinctive assertion or taste, like the warehouse parties or private soul radio stations or ‘Raregroove’, (Mirza, 1997) tend to embrace all young people, however narrow the attraction. Girls are not left out. No one who wants to join is deliberately left out. What makes life for the younger generations here more complex is that the cultural distinctions are not just between gender. Differences of class and economic status abound and continue, but to these are added the other dimension of religion and its cultural effects. The very desire to seek another life outside the traditional norms and expectations of the family, and the early recognition of the potential that the education system has of allowing greater insights into alternative styles of living means that the very

146

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

notion of a sub-culture, something distinct and personal, is the more attractive, even if it is not obvious. On the surface the role of the biraderi continues. The community leaders or the Imams take it on themselves to assert that they represent a distinct and homogeneous group. The reality is somewhat different and far more complicated. Like all sections of the community the development of distinct sub-cultures includes the forming of gangs. The distinction is, after all, a fine one. Any group of people with shared interests who spend time together can seem to outsiders like an exclusive crowd. Any group of people tends to influence each other and make the notion of peer approval very attractive. This sense of common purpose can lead to shared action. The term ‘gang’ is pejorative, and yet it is used of groups in school. In many run-down communities, gangs, with all the pressure they put on those who belong, and the threats to those who do not, exert their sense of power. Amongst young men in particular this power can be demonstrated in criminal ways. The Mirpuri community, labelled as a whole, contains within it the familiar stories of disaffected youth, “You can see them near Shearbridge, Manningham where the riots took place. West Bowling, Great Horton. It’s all to do with drugs and stealing cars, burning them, like torching and claiming insurance. It’s big business [Male, Aged 19] The combination of drugs and theft is not exclusive to any group, but too readily viewed, as in the Manningham riot reports, as a part of a more containable phenomenon. The real concerns are that this anti-social behaviour is also deemed to be profitable. This is where the ghetto, of any kind, can be useful. It offers protection. The ‘race card’ can be used in a criminal way. The most chilling phrase of this witness is the realisation that its ‘big business’. There are clear profits to be made. This display of gang behaviour is upsetting to all- not just the older generation, “I used to see Pakistani lads, in gangs, just hanging around street corners which my father and mother didn’t like” [Male, Aged 18] Parental disapproval might be involved and a sense of shame that these are distinctly ‘Pakistanis’, but the fear would be the same about anyone behaving in a threatening manner, or just fostering the street habits of lounging around, seeming to do nothing and appearing to wait for an inspiration to begin to do something bad. It could be anyone,

Ethnicity and Englishness

147

“It don’t matter if they’re black or white. Like when they nick someone’s car for the parts to sell them off they don’t look at whether it belongs to an apna or a white guy. Obviously it affects everyone” [Male Aged 19] Crime affects everyone. The sense of threat; however, tends to be confined to certain areas from which some wish to and can escape and others cannot. There are certain areas which are used as distinctly different, to the advantages of the gangs. There are estates where it is well known that no one dares bear witness and into which even the police enter with difficulty. The association of neighbourhoods with sets of the biraderi can give gangs an extra dimension. For one thing no one wishes to associate a gang with an ethnic group. The older generations do not even wish to admit that the terrible habits of a ‘kufr’ society might affect their own, “Of course they know! They’ll deny it all, because like I said it’ll be basethi [shame] for them, but everyone knows what’s really going on” [Male, 19] Not only is there a general shame involved but more particularly the fear of being branded as a family. The public image is even more important within the biraderi. Quite a lot of the nefarious activities are hidden in the communities because it is in their interest to do so, and because it is easier to deny the actions than to do anything about them. It is too easy to respond to outsiders’ concerns by accusing them of racial bigotry. This deliberate turning of the tables on labelling is responsible to the development of an increase in [mostly minor] criminal activity. The black market, the tradition of secrecy, the emphasis on the biraderi looking after each other, and the pressure to conform all mean that the overlap between financial support for buying a house and deliberate corruption is blurred. The obviously anti-social activities that the young people observe is embedded in more complex activities in which many more are involved, like obtaining false documents, or the chasing and hunting down of runaway couples who have broken a cultural taboo. The existence of crime embraces all parts of society. Even if it is associated particularly with social and economic deprivation, and with young men rather than young women, it involves people of all ethnic backgrounds (Coleman, 1997). Indeed, it is commonly observed that gangs, for instance in London, are marked out by their embracing of multi-ethnic values of violence and codes of dress (Jarvie, 1991). In contrast to the ethnic distinctions so prevalent at all levels of society in the United States, the gangs are observed to operate territorially rather than on racial grounds (Ranger et al, 1995). Given the territorial nature of gangs and their ambiguous place in the communities it would be surprising if there were no incidents typical of subversive group behaviour. There is, however, an

148

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

additional surprising reason given for the behaviour of some young men and this is the very pressure put on them by their parents. The observers of those who take part in gang activities believe that this is part of an escape from the demands of their parents and the disappointments they feel is not fulfilling their expectations, “get involved in crime and don’t want to do anything good, but nothing is simple as that. Some lads get up to no good because of the pressure from their parents and relatives, like if they can’t fulfil their parents’ expectations like get good qualifications, a good job, so they totally go away from their parents” [Male, Aged 19] This is another sign of the generational divide, a recognisable phenomenon made much more strident by the particular circumstances. Many of the young people talk of parental demands, and this is seen as a definite burden rather than an encouragement. It is as if they had either to live up to expectations or go in a quite different direction. And yet at the same time the community and the biraderi remain close, at a variety of different levels. The gang’s behaviour might be deplored but they are part of the neighbourhood. There are complex attitudes towards them, full of contradictions. It is as if the gangs were deplored but with a mitigating feeling that at least they are ‘our own gangs’. Whilst few would express this so clearly, there is an atavistic belief that the troubles that the gangs create are a product of the infiltration of an alien society. It is an easy reaction to blame external influences, exposure to the media and the infiltration of drugs and other habits so readily associated with Western society. At the same time, the network of contacts, the willingness to be ruthless, to organise a gang into a kind of posse can be useful to those who wish to pursue members of the biraderi who are not following the codes of arranged and approved marriages. That hold on the past that is most traditional centres on the place of women. Here, the willingness of groups to enforce or inflict a cultural law is exploited. Most societies will have some ambivalent feelings towards those of its members who become deviant. As in any extended family the deeper sense of outrage at bad behaviour, and the personal shame involved, is mitigated by the sense of loyalty, a preference, linked to the shame, to cover up, or hide any obvious wrongdoing. When any neighbourhood becomes a closed one, as on any housing estate, there will be such a feeling of recognition [as well as terror] that for contradictory reasons leads to a cover up, a refusal to expose or even blame. And yet the young people here make quite clear their sense of a more universal distaste. They see some of the hypocrisy just as they see the connections of bad behaviour to society at large.

Ethnicity and Englishness

149

There is, however, one sub-group in this particular society that is unusual. This is the sub-culture of gender, where the divide in the treatment and expectations of men and women is clear and fundamental. The result of this differential treatment is also complicated. At one level the cultural [non-religious] weight of opinion is so strong that it has to be put up with. It might not be gladly accepted but the young people submit. They feel they have no choice. It is a part of the inheritance that they acknowledge, but they only really challenge it in hidden ways. The different status of women from men, much more marked than usual in this society is acknowledged by those who benefit as well as those who are supposed to submit. That boys have more freedom than girls is accepted by all, although girls feel rather more strongly about this since “boys mostly do want they want” [Male, Aged 17] and this suits them. The restrictions on girls are obvious; in what they can and cannot wear, in where they are allowed to go, and in the amount of time they must spend at home. The amount of conformity to the dress codes surprises some given the licence and adaptability of the growing minority who have decided that fashion is more gratifying than conformity (Bhatti, 1999). The dress codes are, especially for men, a sign of control, of an adherence to deeper beliefs of the group (Macey, 1999). It is such a visible sign that it is also used by some girls as a literal cover-up of what they are feeling and thinking underneath. Whilst using the dress codes as a symbol of conformity, the distinction between the cultural and religious reasons for their existence are argued more and more clearly. There is nothing in the Holy Quran or in the teachings of the Prophet [pbuh] that suggests oppressive costumes (Haeri, 1993). One result of the gender divide is the fostering of a sub-culture in which girls are forced to spend time with each other, to share tastes, to gossip and to explore the popular culture, this makes so much of sexual relations (Osgerby, 1998). A small sign of the significance of the meeting of girls, in spaces they try to keep private, is the way in which they complain that their parents search their bedrooms for popular English magazines. The suspicion of the majority culture draws attention to it. All parents like to have control over the dress codes of their children, more so for girls than boys. Here the distinction of attention is even more marked. There are, of course, many different ways of wearing uniforms, and the same inventiveness that allows pupils to make minor but symbolically significant adjustment to their appearance, recognised as deviant but so subtle that teachers do not know how to justify a complaint, is demonstrated in the wearing of the hejab. The appearances and tastes at home are different from those demonstrated elsewhere and we have noted how important are the alternative sites of social

150

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

interaction. This is especially true for girls. All the young people are aware that the rules of control are fundamentally shared, “Boys can do what they like, go out with mates, stay out, go out with girls…nobody says much parents and older guys. That’s double standards!” [Male, Aged 19] “They can wear what they like. My brother R got his ear pierced and has long hair. My dad don’t say nothing to him; just me and my younger sister. He can do what he wants. I know he’s got a white girlfriend” [Female, Aged 15] The sense of inconsistency, of double standards, is a prevailing one. It is one of the most obvious signs of what is interpreted as hypocrisy, of having two sets of rules, or of having one set of rules that only applies to some. Boys can do, or wear what they like; the girls are there to be controlled, as if they were a quite distinct group, implying that they should live in a separate world, one segregated emotionally and spiritually if not altogether physically, “As for girls they’re just ignored with the Pakistanis, they’re really restricted, can’t socialise after school, meet their friends. Boys are not that limited. You know how Apna are, like double standards [Male, Aged 19] The sense of double standards is remarked on by boys to whom it carries less personal importance, but they still resent it. The resentment goes deeper in the girls, and they note this, “Girls are changing and are not easily giving in to the demands of parents” [Male, 18] The reaction is noted by boys, but felt more strongly by the girls, “My father doesn’t want us to go out at night with friends. He doesn’t want us to have freedom. But boys can go out anywhere they want. Many of them have cars. They hang about in gangs with white girls. Nobody says anything to them simply because they’re boys” [Female, Aged 16] The behaviour of boys is likened to hanging about in ‘gangs’. The fact that it is the young men who have marked degrees of licence, including having cars, draws the most attention to the ‘laddishness’ of gangs, to the social stereotypes of certain kinds of male behaviour and to the temptations of showing off the demonstrations of freedom. The very contrast in the amount of control gives an impetus to male chauvinist behaviour, and the sexual licence of being allowed to be seen with ‘white girls’. This is a direct signal to the restrictions on girls. Boys can be proud

Ethnicity and Englishness

151

of their freedoms and are aware that they can do all those things, for which a girl would be punished, “It’ll be embarrassing and shameful, base-thi especially if relatives found out. As you know, if I was a girl it would be Pakistan for some serious rehabilitation! A quick marriage would be the prescription “ [Male, Aged 19] Rehabilitation has an ominous ring; sent back to Pakistan for a forced marriage. The previous homeland has become a symbol of the repression of females as well as of the past. The one area where the desire to maintain a cultural hold is the positions of women. It is here that the community is both more divided but also more repressive in actions. It is always possible to find bounty hunters to trace runaway couples, and means found to deal with them. No-one feels completely safe or unscrutinised. This does not prevent means being found out to have secret relationships and there are many stories of signals through telephones [letting the phone ring once as an alert] or through Pay As You Go, as it avoids itemised billing. The watchful eye is not just on relationships outside the Apna, but on the religious sect or on the caste from which others come. The subdivisions of control multiply. The tragic results of the cases where the defiance of this control provides extreme measures are usually recorded in the newspapers. ‘Rehabilitation’ seems, in the face of this, a mild alternative. The crucial decision for the younger generations is whether they continue to adhere to a system, a subculture, in which they are willing to spy on each other. Universities offer freedom, but there have been repressive ‘intelligence networks’ in the past (Macey, 1999). The choice is not so much whether the individual agrees with the point of view as to whether he or she should gossip or ‘grass’ on their friends (Bhatti, 1999). The test is of tolerance, not belief.

CHAPTER 12: THE OPPOSITIONS OF IDENTITY: CULTURE AND ISLAM One of the most interesting and significant sub-groups in the divided Mirpuri community consists of the Imams. We have noted the sense of suspicion in which they are held by young people, as well as respect, but they are seen both from within the community and outside it as ‘leaders’. They are ostensibly in charge of large communities and have control over the lives of individuals, with greater power than symbolic ones, for example in terms of marriage. There are not many parts of society that would choose as spokesmen their religious representatives, but this is almost encouraged in certain cases by politicians and others looking for a mouthpiece. In simplified views of society, the Imams are used like stereotypes. This is anomalous. They remain a sub-group because they have certain peculiarities and clear limitations. Many of them do not even speak English and fail to understand the social and economic system. They have an extremely ritualistic understanding of their faith and fail to see Islam in its global context, and in its relations to the rest of society (Raza, 1993). They do not suggest much awareness of the problems facing young people. Indeed, they give the impression that it is not their duty to care. They have their religious duties, interpreted in traditional ways. The dominance of Arabic through the Quran means that there are not high levels of general literacy. And yet, not only do the Imams wish to assert their transplanted power, but are recognised by outsiders as social as well as religious representatives. It is difficult to separate a simple vision of the community from its religion. ‘Its religion’, of course is ostensibly one, as in Christianity, but the major sects, and the many minor variations, are of more immediate salience to those who embrace the faith. Religion itself is important, the more so because it is imported, because it marks these young people out in the larger society and because it is associated so closely with significant world events. The young people take religion seriously. It matters to them in a variety of ways. It is a mark of their identity. At the same time these young people make an important distinction between their understanding of religion and culture. They point out that many of the teachings associated with Islam, like the suppression of women in dress and marriage, are not based on religious teachings, not found in the Quran but are purely cultural. The young people use religion to assert themselves against the elders.

Ethnicity and Englishness

153

At the same time religion is for them also a symbol of culture, a ritual that is taken for granted as a way of life. It represents not so much a definite belief but a style of living that is prescribed, deeply engraved, and, notwithstanding the religious arguments against it, male dominated. These contradictions underly all the young people express. Whether it is for reasons essentially of culture or belief, Islam is important in their lives, virtually without exception. This importance has the inevitability of recognition: a different inheritance and a distinction against others. This importance however turns out to be a complex cultural matter, a part of the way of life for three quarters of them. When they were asked whether they were ‘religious’, taking all the beliefs seriously, paying close attention to the requirements of duty and ritual and feeling themselves closely drawn to the inheritances of belief, or holding firm to the fundamental creed, only a quarter of them described themselves in this way. Twice as many males as females described themselves as ‘religious’, again emphasising ironically the cultural basis. The percentage of people saying they have a strong religious faith is also small amongst Christians (Modood, 1997). Whilst religious belief is in decline in advanced industrial societies, it is still of great significance in the rest of the world. These young people find themselves at a divide. For them, unlike the majority ethnic groups, religion remains important, and central. Yet this is more as a cultural pattern of life, as inherited distinction. Many Christians have no particular faith, yet still adhere to the cultural rituals and tone of their religion, and still are happy to attend the token festivals. Christmas might appear to be a completely commercial enterprise but it is impossible not to associate it, in words, music and symbolism, with the story from which it sprung. But Christmas is part of everyone’s annual experience, a distinct shaping of the year, whereas Ramadan, a moveable feast, is hidden from the awareness of the secular society. Going to the church, temple or mosque can be an accepted habit or charged with meaning. It is the clear duty of Muslims to attend regularly. Of these young people half said that they went to mosque, but of this fifty per cent only half again said they went regularly. For the others attendance was ‘rare’ or ‘occasional’. The mosque no longer appears to be the social or cultural centre of life. Again religious belief is being slowly divorced from its more general cultural roots and effects. Going to mosque was always another example of a gender divide, and still is. A number of young people said in interviews that they were made to go by their parents- but these were the sons. Males are far more likely to go to mosque,

154

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

whether ‘rarely’ [15%], ‘sometimes’ [36%] or ‘regularly’ [38%]. The same responses given by females were four per cent, six per cent and six per cent respectively. And yet they are the obvious symbols of religion. The place of religion in the personal and social lives of these young people is a complex issue. They find it hard to make those fine distinctions between acceptance and belief, or between adherence and faith, “No I’m not religious. I go to the mosque, but Islam is very important” [Male, Aged 15] This appears contradictory but is understandable in the balance of inward conviction and social norms. Islam is clearly important in his life. He recognises this as he has been brought up in his faith, attends the mosque and understands all the messages of the Quran. And yet he is not personally religious. It is not a deep part of his inner personal life. Going to mosque on special occasions like Eid can be a matter of politeness or even a result of family pressure, “Some of my cousins are forced to go to the mosque when they don’t want to” [Female, Aged 16] “Some of my friends I know their parents force them to go to the mosque. I don’t think there’s any point to that since your heart’s not in it. One of my friends Z was forced by his dad to fast, so he used to get up in the morning, begin the fast and then go to school and have his school dinner there. I felt sorry for him” [Male, Aged 18] For the biraderi the visible adherence to the faith is a matter of honour. It demonstrates to the outside world that they are maintaining control and to their community that they are in control. Amongst the cultural attributes of religion is that of obedience and loyalty. It is a matter of duty to be seen to undergo the requirements of the Imams. Sometimes it seems to the young people that all that matters is the appearance rather than the belief. Many of them hear the Quran discussed without understanding the meaning of what they hear. Others even learn to recite vast tracts of it without understanding a word. As Latin used to be the religious language of Christianity, Arabic is divorced for many from the everyday discourses and discussions of life (Wahhab, 1989). Praying is a mosque is different from listening to the Imam. As in the recitation of Latin prayers, the act itself can be seen as being important for its own sake, a sign of submission rather than understanding. Real communication in the local mosque is made more difficult in religious terms, or in the terms of involving the Imam when one realises the inherited languages used by the congregation will range from

Ethnicity and Englishness

155

Mirpuri [often used by the Imams for the majority], to Urdu [a more urban dialect] and to Punjabi, used by a minority as well as Sikhs. Attendance at mosque is not compulsory for some sects. Reading Namaz is an alternative. More significantly women are not encouraged to attend mosque and sometimes forbidden to do so (Modood, 1997). Their religious rituals are carried out more privately in community centres or at home. This does not mean necessarily that religion is less important for women. For some it is not only a visible sign of their traditional identity and implied role, but also a mark of self-assertion. The importance of Islam in the lives of the young people is clear, but this is partly because of its significance to their lives of their parents. They hear about it, are cajoled into it, and remind of their duties all the time, “People, like old people, are always going on about how we should live according to Islam but it’s not like that, people like gora think we do, like have long beards, cover our legs. It’s the image” [Female, Aged 16] Here we see again the ambivalence about cultural identity. She contrasts the nagging of the elders with the actual beliefs of young people, but she also sees that outsiders will inevitably mistake appearance for reality, that the image of covering the body in the Hadith will suggest a genuine religious passion, even to the point of bigotry. What she sees most acutely is the difference between the visible forms and the actual behaviour, “We do one thing in front of people and another behind their backs like talk, backbite, gossip like don’t follow Islam” [ibid] Like many young people she is disturbed by the hypocrisy, and ashamed of their difference between religious tenets and the realities of actual behaviour. She is aware of what religion advocates in manners and feelings and sees the shortfall. Islam is seen as a form of control, “Parents just use is when they want to, like they say kids listen to elders, its in Islam” [ibid] Young people demonstrate the divide between the real teachings of Islam as a religion, which defines their own sense of personal integrity, and the cultural aspects that they see are of importance to their parents, with the symbols of control from dress to arranged marriage. Religion has a dual, contradictory importance. This is not just a sign of disappointment at the difference between statements and actions, between intentions and reality, but a more pointed distancing from certain aspects they cannot believe in, even if they feel helpless,

156

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

“Well, like I said, in Islam they should have some freedoms and also like in marriage people should have the choice, you can’t force young people, especially girls, to get a forced marriage” [Female, Aged 16] But they can, if not in the name of the Quran or the teachings of Mohammed [pbuh], because it is a matter of ‘izzat’. This girl feels that she should be allowed the same freedoms as men, and that she has evidence to support her desire for independence. She contrasts religion and culture, “It’s all culture and Islam mixed together. Most of the parents follow culture, like girls leave school. It’s not izzat” “If they properly followed Islam, things would be different” [ibid] The importance of Islam has different interpretations. Whilst the young people acknowledges the significance of their religion in their own lives, in one way or another, they can also acknowledge its importance for their parents. Ninety-four per cent of them consider their parents to be religious [as opposed to the much smaller proportion who considered themselves to be so]. They recognised when their parents made special efforts, like going on pilgrimage, “Yeah, they are religious. My father will be going on Hajj next year. They are like all of my family and relatives” [Male, Aged 19] “My dad’s really religious. He’s been on Hajj three times now” [Female, Aged 17] These pilgrimages are visible signs of earnestness, and the young people suggest that there are at least a proportion of parents who take religion seriously. The majority of parents are marked as more religious than they are themselves, although this general perception is made more complex by the fact that there are some young people who are consciously re-defining their religious beliefs against what they see as cultural and traditional encroachment. They make a significant distinction between a belief in which they have been brought up and to which they will naturally adhere, and a cultural set of traditional assumptions that they want to reject. Being ‘religious’ can be interpreted as meaning all kinds of different beliefs and conducts. For these young people being religious means accepting a set of oftenunexamined assumptions at a variety of levels, from an acceptance of tradition and conformity to social norms, to a powerful personal commitment to a way of life centred on belief. This range of interpretation is true of all religions and

Ethnicity and Englishness

157

particularly clear in the Church of England where the distinctions of passion and tokenism are displayed sometimes in particular churches. The age distinction between those over fifty-five who believe in God and the younger generation is clear (Davie, 1994). The erosion of traditional belief is a widespread phenomenon. Whilst the older people are seen as being more religiously inclined, it does not mean that they are necessarily mosque [or church] goers. Half of the young people said that their fathers went to the mosque regularly. A third asserted it was sometimes and the rest said it was very rare, but in all cases more assiduously than the young people themselves. Those parents who demonstrate the firmness of their belief are remarked on, “My father never misses his Namaz. If he misses one of them [sic] he’ll read extra in the evening. Also my mother: she never misses if she can help it” [Male, Aged 14] To some extent the changes in habitual ritual are due to external factors. In Mirpur time is set aside for Friday Prayers for everyone; very few workers in this country can escape the routine of employment on that day. The public recognition of a time for worship is like that acceptance of Sunday as a day of prayer and free from all work still argued for by the Lord’s Day Observance Society, against the overwhelming rejection of the arguments by the vast majority. What is accepted as a norm is both an enabler of the furtherance of religious belief and an exemplar of cultural tradition. The tension between culture and religion is demonstrated by the extent to which certain tenets of belief are upheld in practice, or simply ignored. Many religions will posit rules that some think are better ignored; “a custom more honoured in the breach than the observance”. There are certain matters of doctrine that are consciously or fortuitously ignored, or which have simply fallen into desuetude. There are others where the more general cultural norms are taken on even if they clash with religious principle. In Islam there are strict laws against usury, interpreted as gaining interest on capital and by betting, just as there are equally strict laws against betting. Believers are supposed only to deal with banks that give no interest and, to the strictest of interpretations, not to lend or borrow money. The actual practice is all these aspects of behaviour are quite different, especially in terms of the employment of capital and standard business practice. For many it is difficult to avoid certain mild temptations; and for others they are not perhaps aware of the rules of conduct. The National Lottery, that all embracing betting game, is a case in point. The young people were asked if their parents, observed as religiously inclined, played the National Lottery. Sixty per cent of them said their parents played it, and thirty per cent pointed out that they did so on a regular basis,

158

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

“My father does now and gain, especially at work, especially the scratch cards” [Male, Aged 14] The prevailing norms of an environmental are easy to succumb to, and seemingly harmless. Playing the National Lottery is nevertheless recognised as being a questionable actively from a Muslim point of view, “As I mentioned, playing the National Lottery. And many Pakistani parents consider they are good Muslims” [Female, Aged 17] Given the very different circumstances in which they find themselves it is not a surprise if certain notions are changed. The new environment is different, after all, from that envisaged by the Quran in almost all aspects, from transport to communication from work to weather. There are however certain cultural and traditions which stand out, and which are adhered to in the face of prevailing circumstances, and which are criticised by the young on religious grounds. The greatest site of conflict is, once again, that of gender. The pressure on a wife to bear children remains so strong in this community that those who ‘fail’ to do so are looked upon as cursed and the husband [in a tradition which prizes marital loyalty] encouraged to divorce. This ancient point of view is played out to the extent that the biraderi expect not only children but also specifically boys. In a community where marriages are alliances and carefully arranged between families, the outcome of the marriage is especially important, rather as it was to the princely houses of Europe in the past. A strong part of the tradition of arranged marriages is not so much the greater long term wisdom of compatibility weighed by the older generation but the personal interest played in alliances, in financial gain and the furtherance of ‘izzat’. This cannot be left to chance. One result of this is the big celebration for the ‘correct’ outcome, a boy, and the commensurate distaste for infertility, atavistically believed to be God’s punishment for some unknown sin. Even the birth of a girl is regarded as bad news, and words of comfort extended to the mother. The cases of extreme measures being taken to avoid giving birth to girls are numerous, and under reported. This tradition is very strong and one rooted in many cultures. And yet it cannot be found in Islamic teachings. Whilst one can find the importance of patrimony and dowries in cultures all over the world, it is rarely enshrined in religious doctrine. This distinction provides not only a point of difficulty between the older and younger generations, but a source of tension in the young people. They are brought up firmly in a cultural tradition, adhered to the more strongly for being in juxtaposition to another one. This tradition is both feared and utilised. This schizophrenic attitude gradually envelops a distinction between not only the

Ethnicity and Englishness

159

alternative cultural assumptions but the religion/cultural divide. Young people as they grow up gradually realise that the norms they have taken for granted as all embracing, as doctrine as well as habit, have no firm basis in the tenets of their religion, and no clear statement in any of the holy texts. Young people naturally tend to examine and to question the attitudes of their parents; whilst the beliefs are deeply imbibed there are bound to be growing realisation of different points of view, and alternative beliefs. The very juxtaposition with children of other creeds at school allied to young children’s capacity to detect different points of view, put the attitudes of the parents into context. Equally important is the awareness that within established religions there are different sects. For many people, of many generations, the adherence to a sect, and the definitions of a denomination was far more important than the general tenets of faith. Protestants were far more conscious of Catholics than the existence of other faiths, for example. The fact that Islam is itself divided, and the disagreement fierce, is often forgotten in the generalisations about the faith, until the differences have political consequences. Islam has been split almost from the start. The Sunni and Shia sects have had arguments that are unchanged. Whilst the Whah-bbi are the third major sect, there are many other smaller doctrinal nuances which are deemed important, and highlighted in the persecution of Salman Rushdie for giving one of them a voice. The differences between the sects are predominately religious but they have cultural consequences. The distinctions between castes are predominately cultural; but they have religious consequences. The Mirpuri community brings with it a whole set of different biraderis, according to tradition, interests and prejudices. There are the Raja and Jat, the landed, the Bengse, the small-holders, followed by a whole tribe of lower castes such as Morchi [shoesmith] and Majaar, the landless, the travellers. From the outside these distinctions are invisible, even meaningless. So much depends on picking up the cultural clues of behaviour from accent to deportment. They might even appear absurd, but it is a useful reminder of how deep the divisions can go and how much they can matter to people, to compare the notion of the Majaar, the landless, to Gypsies, our ‘travellers’. Nothing can evoke prejudice, from Finland to Hungry, more immediately and deeply than those who by being without fixed abodes seem to threaten all prevailing notions of belonging and whose evocation of a sense of threat results in experiences of loathing and contempt. From within, caste, especially when linked to family self-interest, as in marriage, matters. The young people are aware of all the differences, of religion and culture, that exist within the culture, and gradually realise that the notion of ‘Pakistani

160

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

community’, clearly defined and distinct, is absurd. They talked a lot about all the internal tensions that they were dealing with and trying to understand, and which made their attitudes towards other people’s cultures more complex, “There are others like, you know, based on the korm-ma [caste]…but caste is important. On the surface parents don’t say much but they always refer to people as Jats, Bhen-gse, that they are bad, arrogant” [Male, Aged 19] The notion of the biraderi takes on a different guise. Whilst there are obvious differences between ethnic communities, these are not unlike the internal divisions, “Also between Apna, and White people and the Indians” “Cultural! As you know, in Islam everybody is equal, with no one higher than the other. But we, between Sunnis, Shias, Whah-bbies; we shouldn’t have groups and just follow Islam and nothing else” [ibid] The questioning of established differences is like the criticism of norms: once a sense of absurdity in adhering to a particular point of view is felt, than the possibilities of a greater tolerance and cultural inclusion are opened up. There is a prevailing or growing belief in the young that the internal divisions of sect and caste are absurd. This does not mean that they want a greater, more general Islamic presence, but that they wish to see more openness. They believe that they have inherited a mess, “A lot of my friends and I blame the old people, especially these Mulvis. I think they’re the ones who created this mess” [Male, Aged 19] Far from belonging to a homogenous group, the young people express distaste for all the internal strife, “like you have korms and sects like Sunnis, Shias and Whah-bbies; they never get on or got to each others’ mosques even on Eid” [Male, Aged 19] If there are so many internal divisions, does that mean that the distinctions against the outside world as ‘kufr’, as generally wicked and threatening, make sense? The younger people believe there could be greater understanding and tolerance within a shared belief, “They put everyone into separate even though we’re all Muslims. I think that’s definitely wrong” [Female, Aged 16]

Ethnicity and Englishness

161

Even within the norms of religion the young people are aware of cultural divisions, of traditions prevailing over rationality and habits getting the better of values. Separate groups prevail, “As I said, we own a shop on ------ road and we get a lot of customers. My father and mother always say they’re Mor-chi, Bhen-gse, Jats, they refer to everyone by caste, so I think caste is important to them. also when someone comes into the shop during the day my parents and aunts say they are Shia’s or they are Whah-bbi…” [Female, Aged 16] This awareness of caste distinction is not one that is being taken on by the succeeding generations. Whilst they have plenty of experience of superciliousness, seeing in a different contexts makes it slightly more absurd. Looking at the divisions within other religions makes them wonder the more about the essential beliefs. They wander if they are supposed to apply a similar package of labels, “I don’t ask my friends what caste they are. I don’t care as long as they’re good to me and we have a laugh. I remember my father and relatives going on about that you shouldn’t talk to kids who are Shia, they are not nice people. They still say that now. Like I said its wrong” [Female, Aged 16] The biraderi in fact, consist of group within group, “You know when you go to a wedding you only see your biraderi and no-one outside of that” [Male, Aged 18] The relationship between culture and religion is always both a close and vexed one. Different castes raise money for their own mosques. Whilst the sectarian divisions are significant, the ability of some castes to raise money for their own exclusive places of worship demonstrates the strong hold of traditional interests. The young people are, of course, more aware of the denomination of particular mosques, “We go to the mosque on ---- road; it’s a Shia mosque. All our relatives go there and o have to go there” [Male, Aged 18] “My father prefers to go there…my father says Sunnis go to S so we should go to that on -----“ [Male, Aged 14] The avoidance of being contaminated by mixing with other sects is like a form of class, or caste, warfare. There are certain places that one needs to avoid, and these are not just mosques, “It doesn’t just apply to going to the mosque but all the other things. like people want to go homes of Whah-bbies or Sunnis…” [Male, Aged 18]

162

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

In the ghettoisation of certain parts of the cities, it is not just a matter of religion but of sect, not just a matter of sect but of caste, and not just a matter of caste but the particular biraderi. There are certain distinctions which are far more important to the older than to the younger generations. The younger generations repeat their ideal, of going to any mosque, of overcoming sectarian differences, and returning to the principle tenets of religion. One reason for this strong attitude is a plea for greater tolerance and understanding, for escaping from narrow-minded self-interest. Another reason is for greater personal freedom. They believe that religion should afford not only greater understanding but a deeper sense of the self. And they use the Quran to support them in this. One of the crucial distinctions between the outline of faith and practice of a religious basis, and the set of assumptions and traditions that make up powerful cultures, is that of gender and in particular arranged marriages. One should remember that the notion of ‘arrangement’ has all kinds of interpretation, with a variety of levels on tolerance, mutual understanding and autonomy. Many people, including those who have suffered divorce, will point out the merits at least of good advice, and the implied commitment to making the marriage work through thick and thin. This is the old fashioned view of religious marriage, ‘till death do us part’, and the certainty it rests upon includes the support of the families as a whole. At best the ‘arranged’ marriage can be something to be relished, not seen as a punishment but as a celebration. Despite this the majority of the young people saw arranged marriages as ‘bad’. This reaction includes those whose prospects were immediately curtailed by their parents’ wishes, and those who were aspiring to go to University. The shared assumption was that the ‘arrangement’ of marriage applied predominately to girls, and their constraints. Whilst this is not strictly logical, the feeling was that males had more choice. Nearly eighty per cent thought that arranged marriages are a bad thing; and the rest divided between those who supported the notion and those who were not sure. Whilst a significant proportion of these young people were going to have to submit to an arranged marriage, the prevailing feeling was that they resented it. “I don’t. not a forced one. I want to decide a marriage partner myself. I’ve seen a lot of people who have had an arranged marriage: they’re not happy at all” [Male, Aged 19] Their observations of other people’s experiences have not only rested on those who have submitted but those who want to get away from the notion, “like running away from home with their boyfriends, to get away from an arranged marriage” [Male, Aged 19]

Ethnicity and Englishness

163

The reason given for not believing in arranged marriages was they wanted to select a partner for themselves. More than 80% asserted this. This suggests also the freedom to choose someone from beyond the biraderi, from outside a sect or a caste. Just 7.5% of them accepted that their parents would know best, and could be relied upon. Otherwise, they looked on the notion as something outdated, “Bad, bad thing. They were good for old people that was in Pakistan. That was then. times have changed. It’s just that a lot of Pakistanis haven’t accepted this. Young people should have the final say” [Female, Aged 19] The experience that young people have is not only of the greater autonomy and personal choice given to their friends at school, including the fulfilment of their academic promise, but the example of those who have had marriages forced upon them. They refer to their experience, “Many of my cousins have had forced marriages. There’s been loads of cases where a boy and a girl have run away and that has caused a lot of problems, especially if the boy is of a lower caste to the girl” [Female, Aged 16] The idea of an arranged marriage is bound up in the latent fear of reverting to the past, of being locked up in the traditions of Pakistan, and of being physically removed out of the country. The older and newer cultures are seem to clash, “Which has caused tension, arguments and fights between the girl who is from here and the husband from Pakistan” [Female, Aged 16] The threat of this deep and mutual misunderstanding is taken personally, “They want me to get married to my cousin. I don’t want to get married from Pakistan but they will force me to marry him at 16. They’ll take me to Pakistan” [Female, Aged 17] The reason for this fear is that they have observed many marriages of the ‘crosscultural’ or ‘cross-border’ kind ending in domestic violence, “I think especially females from England suffer a lot in terms of violence, getting smacked if they don’t listen to the husband. Nobody helps them, including the girls brothers, parents and relatives” [Female, Aged 16] The suspicion that the young people share, together with their fear of violence, is that the arranged marriages have nothing to do with religious precepts. They might acknowledge the particular concerns of sects, or the worry that someone would bring shame by marrying into the ‘wrong’ caste. But they see the arranged

164

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

marriage as essentially commercial. There are interests involved, in land, in visas, in houses, “Most parents want their kids to marry their cousins simply because they want them to get in Britain and nothing else” [Male, Aged 18] “Well everything like where to but land in Pakistan, what kind of house to build” [Male, Aged 14] The young men and the young women realise the pressure on them. It is in the interests of the family. It is a matter of tradition, of keeping the biraderi going, with a whole tribe of cousins maintaining the prevailing networks (Modood, 1997; Lewis, 1994). They do not see all these interests having much to do with religious belief. The distaste for other sects is understood; but this is also detected as a cultural trait. When young people ache for is a future of religious principal and personal choice, “There is enough boys and girls going out with each other and I think they are more capable of finding someone themselves” [Male, Aged 18] What these comments reveal is the tension between religion and culture. The way in which the young people present their ideas shows a surprisingly different circumstance than the popular image of them. They assert their independence not by rejecting their inherited religion but by invoking it. In all the possible interpretations of the holy Quran they are saying that there is no justification for some of the cultural habits that have been indulged in. Their own independence is given a greater strength by invoking the Quran. Their personalities can be the more assertive in wearing the traditional hejab, by demonstrating their personal backgrounds, by keeping the biraderi content with their supposed conformity, and by actually developing their own styles and beliefs and rules of conduct. It is tempting to associate culture and religion and if, as in these cases, they were the same. Culture is, however, far more complex. The inner thoughts and attitudes cannot be summarised by obedience to times of prayer or types of food, to dress or symbolic mannerisms. These are all the signs of the group. The individual is another matter, of more subtle understanding and more particular insight. Whatever the uses made of religion, and whatever the hold of the group norms, the hope for any culture lies in its shared values, its tone, its uses of literacy and its capacity for humour and implicit understanding. This is what makes up the “English” and the “British”, and neither the colour of the skin nor the way it is covered up, neither the religion nor the personal tastes. The sense of the individual, native to the catch phrases and accent of the locality, possessing the banter and the approachability of the person comfortable with his own and his shared identity, that is what culture really consists of.

CHAPTER 13: A CONCLUSION; THE CONTINUING PROCESS OF DEVELOPMENT The book has offered an analysis of a group of people with their own distinct inheritance and attitudes, but it has also tried to hear the voices of individuals. It is all very well to have a typology of groups, large and small. The key note in understanding, however, is to realise how different it is to look out from ones own point of view, than to look at things from the outside. To think solely about groups is as limiting as to think as a group. Groups are easily led, persuaded into hysterical actions and cajoled into following a prevailing trend. It is in the individuals that hope lies, those who question, who refuse automatically to be dictated by obedience to the norm. There are two sides of belonging to any cultural group, the strengths of mutual support and implicit understanding and the negative effects of prejudice and exclusion. We have all known both. We should therefore look at the changes in the make-up of society with a certain hope as well as apprehension, with confidence as well as concern. The young people given a voice in these pages have a number of conflicting affiliations. Their engagement with the home and with the family is as complicated as anyone else’s, with levels of submission and moments of rejection, of finding their own way against the dictates of their parents and also learning to respect their parents’ position. The tensions and conflict remain, even if they are easier to deal with as they get older. These young people also have ambivalent attitudes towards school, the sense of the urgency to do well, to conform to the demands of the curriculum, and the realisation that much of it is both irrelevant and unhelpful. Like all pupils they see school as essentially a social centre; unusually for them it is also a meeting place that offers something liberating. It allows them to explore beyond the parameters of their own cultural habits. The influence of the peer group is also very powerful, but in this instance they are also aware of the different peer groups, the distinct types of outlook. They possess the uncomfortable advantage of realising that the seductive voice of peer pressure is associated with particular groups, so that one can be held up against another. The experience of inclusion automatically brings with it the understanding of who is being excluded.

166

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

These tensions of belonging and exclusion are heightened by one central absurdity through which they have to live; that of being told they live in a ‘Kufr’ society. They are a central part of society, and yet have a lingering sense that they are supposed to be aliens within it. This is an unnatural position, although one felt by many a disturbed adolescent. The romantic notion of the ‘outsider’ has a long tradition, even if inherently absurd. What makes the case of these young people unusual is that the notions of being different takes them physically away in terms of distance, backwards in terms of time and into a world marked by a separate language and peculiar affiliations. It is also a world that is rule-bound. It is a view that puts a particular strain on young English people, At the same time the sense of difference, of being in a society but not quite belonging to it, has its nefarious attractions. It is also possible to use the divisions to ones own advantage, to make use of deals that have nothing to do with the normal economy on the grounds that the normal mode of transaction includes rates of interest, and can therefore be justifiably by-passed. There are many potential advantages in being part of what could be termed loosely a ‘gang’, a territorially and spiritually exclusive group. The temptations of exclusivity are well known but need to be understood. Being in a minority is not simply something to be pitied, something to be hidden or apologised for. It can be an advantage, and used or misused as such. One perspective these young people bring is a particular ‘take’ on being English. They might be burdened with the past, but it is a different past and it allows them to define the values of their shared society in their own way. What is interesting is how deep the real English values go; the peculiar sense of stubborn humour and friendly cheerfulness, especially marked in the face of unusually inefficient, unsympathetic and ungenerous institutions. One needs only to invoke the National Health Service and compare it, say, with that of France, or Spain, or Germany to see the truth about the subtleties of cultural tone and conduct. What ever the unjust inefficiencies and the expensive layers of bureaucracy, the ordinary cheerful humour remains. It is at this level of Britishness rather than a set of religious beliefs that culture really operates. It is important for people to have cultural norms with are admirable, rather than a host of enemies against whom one can cast aspersions. To invoke standards of conduct is not to revert to the past but to remind ourselves where the roots of culture lie, not in the symbolic artifice of dress, taste, appearances, superstition or belief, but in the ways in which thoughts, language and attitudes are presented by individuals to each other.

Ethnicity and Englishness

167

The dangers of exclusion, of excluding oneself and others from the free interchange of curiosity and understanding should not be underestimated in their subtlety and insidious influence. Defending territories might be the attitude of the small of soul, but there are times when such diminishing can affect many. Globalisation might seem a great idea, an inevitable spread of contact, but it can also mean greater separation, less tolerance and the hardening of collective attitudes. Given the way in which young people form their views of the world and their own place in it, with such natural intelligence, the need for intellectual relationships and the open minded reception of information, one should be hopeful for the future. This does not mean that there are no fears, given the vulnerability to trauma and to influence, but if we invoke the individuals with a personal sense of understanding and confidence in the self and a compassion for others then any cultural inheritance becomes a strength rather than a weakness.

REFERENCES Adams,S (1988) Asian Survivors of Domestic Violence. Norwich. UEA Allen, S (1971) New minorities; Old conflicts: Asian and West Indian Migrants in Britain. New York, Random House Allen, S and Barrett, J (1996) The Bradford commission report. London HMSO Anderson, B (1991) Imagined communities: Reflections on the Origin and spread of Nationalism. London Verso Ansari, H. (2005) “The Infidel Within”: Muslims in Britain since 1800. London Hurst Anwar, M. (1998) Between Cultures: Community and Change in the lives of Young Asians. London Routledge Appadorai, A (1968) The Substance of Politics Oxford University Press Arendt, H. (1969) The Banality of Evil: the Trial of Adolf Eichman. London Secker and Warburg Azam, N. (2006) Second Generation Mirpuri women in Bradford. Ph.D University of Huddersfield Barker, C (1997) Television and the Reflexive Project of the self: soaps, teenage talk and hybrid identities. British Journal of Sociology Vol. 48 No 6 pp 611628 Basit, T (1997) Eastern Values: Western Milieu: Identities and Aspirations of Adolescent British Muslim girls. Aldershot Ashgate Belson, W (1967) The Impact of Television: Methods and Findings in Programme research London Crosby Lockwood Bennett, M., Dewberry,C. and Yeetes, C. (1991) A Reassessment of the Role of Ethnicity in Children’s Social Perception. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry Vol 32 no 6 pp 721-750 Berghahn, V. and Schissler, H. (1987 Perceptions of History: An analysis of School text books Oxford Berg Bhatti, G. (1999) Asian Children at home and at School: an Ethnographic Study London Routledge Billig, M. (1995) Banal Nationalism London Sage Bloxham, D (2005) The Great Game of Genocide: Imperialism, Nationalism and the Destruction of the Ottoman Armenians. Oxford University Press Boorstin, D (1972) The Image: A Guide to Pseudo-events in America New York Atheneum Bourdieu, P (1984) Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste London, Routledge and Kegan Paul

Ethnicity and Englishness

169

Bourdieu, P. et al (2003) The Weight of the World Cambridge Polity Press Braham, p et al (1992) Racism, Anti-racism : Inequalities, Opportunites and Policies London Sage Brake, M ( 1995) Comparative Youth culture: the Sociology of Youth cultures in America, Britain and Canada London Routledge and Kegan Paul Brown, C. (1984) Black and White in Britain: the third PSI Survey London Heinemann Brown, J and Foot, R (1994) Migration: the Asian Experience Oxford St Martin’s Press Browning, C (2001) Ordinary Men London Penguin Canetti,E. (2005) Party in the Blitz: the English Years London Harvill Press Cohen, C. (1997) Rethinking the Youth Question. London Macmillan Cole, M. and Stuart, J. ‘Do you ride on elephants’ and ‘Never tell them you’re German’: the Experiences of British Asian and Black , and Overseas Student Teachers in South East England. British Educational Research Journal Vol. 30 no. 3 pp349-366 Coleman, J ( 1997) Key Data on Adolescence TSA East Sussex Colley, L. (2002) Britons : forging the Nation 1707-1837 London Yale University Press Cullingford, C (1996) Parents, Education and the State. Aldershot , Ashgate Cullingford, C (1996) Children’s literature and its Effects. London Cassell Cullingford, C (1999) The Human experience: the early Years Aldershot Ashgate Culllingford, C (2000) Prejudice: From Individual Identity to nationalism. London Kogan Page Cullingford, C. and Morrison, M (1999) Relationships between parents and schools; a case study Educational Review vol 51 No 3 pp 253-262 Cuthell, J (2001) Virtual Learning Aldershot Ashgate Dahya,B (1973) Pakistanis in England New Community no 2. pp25-33 Davey A and Mullin , P. (1980) Ethnic Identification and Preferences of British Primary Children Journal of child Psychology and Psychiatry Vol. 21 no 3 pp 241-151 Davies, N (1999) The Isles: a History London Macmillan Demasio, A (2001) The Feeling of what happens: Body, Emotion and the Making of Consciousness. London Heinemann Din, I (2001) The New British: Generational Change in the Mirpuri community. Ph.D University of Huddersfield Donald, J, and Rattansi, A (19920 ‘Race’ Culture and Difference London Sage Dorsett, R. (1998) Ethnic Minorities in the Inner City. Bristol Rowntree

170

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

DuBois-Reymond, M (1998) ‘I don’t want to commit myself yet’: Young people’s life concepts Journal of Youth Studies Vol 1 no 1 pp 63-79 Dunn, J (1987) The Beginnings of Social Understanding Oxford, Blackwell Egan, K. (2002) Getting it Wrong From the Beginning. Our Progressivist Inheritance from Herbert Spencer, John Dewey and Jean Piaget London Yale University Press Eshun, E (2005) Black Gold of the Sun: searching for Home in England and Africa. London Hamish Hamilton Eslea, M. and Mukhtar K. (2000) Bullying and Racism among Asian School Children in Britain Educational Research Vol 22 No 2 pp 207-217 Fraser, R. (2001) The voice of Modern Hatred. London Picador Furlong, A and Cartmel, F (2000) Sociology and Social Change; Young People and Social Change Buckingham Open Univeristy Press Furnham, A (1993) Communicating in Foreign Lands: the Cause, the consequences and the Cures of Culture Shock. Language, Culture and the Curriculum Vol 6 No 1 pp 91-109 Furnham, A and Bochner, S (1986) Culture Shock: Psychological Reactions to Unfamiliar Environments. London Methuen Gaine, C. (1995) Still No Problem Here Stoke Trentham Books Ghuman, P. Coping with Two cultures: British Asian and Indo Canadian Adolescents Clevedon Multilingual Matters Ghuman, P. (1999) Asian Adolescents in the West Leicester British Psychological Society Gill, D. Mayor, B and Blair, M (1992) Racism and education: Structures and Strategies London Sage Glover, D, Gough, G and Johnson, M (2000) Bullying in 25 Secondary Schools: Incidence, Impact and Intervention Educational Research Vol 42 no 2 pp 141- 156 Goetz, A. and Heim, S (2004) the Architects of Annihalation: Auschwitz and the Logic of Destruction London Weidenfeld Goldhagen, D. (1996) Hitler’s Willing apprentices London Little Brown Green, J. (1874) A short History of the English Peoples London Macmillan Haeri, F (1997) The Elements of Islam London Elements Books Haffner, S. (2002) Defying Hitler; a Memoir London Weidnefeld and Nicolson Hagell A and Shaw, C (1996) Opportunity and Disadvantage at Age 16 London Policy Studies Institute

Ethnicity and Englishness

171

Hallak, J, (2000) Globalisation and its Impact on Education in Mebrahtu, T. Crossley, M and Johnson, D Globalisation , Educational Transformation and Societies in Transition Oxford Symposium Books Hamerow, T (1999) On the Road to the Wolf’s Lair: German Resistance to Hitler. Cambridge, Mass. Harvard University Press Harre, R (1998) The Singular Self: and Introduction to the Psychology of Personhood London Sage Hendry L et al (1993) Young People’s Leisure and Lifestyles. London Routledge Hennink, M, Diamond, I and Cooper, P (1999) Young Asian Women and Relationships, Traditional or transitional. Ethnic and Racial Studies Vol 22 no 5 pp 867-891 Hill, M and Tisdall, K, (1997) Children and Society London Longman Hiro, D (1991) Black British: White British: A History of Race Relations in Britain London Grafton Hofstede, G (1991) Culture and Organisations: software of the Mind London McGraw-Hill Holmes C (1991 ) A tolerant country? Immigrants, refugees and Minorities in Britain London Faber Huntingdon, S (1996) The Clash of Civilisations and the Remaking of the World order New York Simon and Schuster Hylton, C (1997) Family Survival Strategies in Moyende S Black Families Talking London Exploring Parenthood Inglehart, R. (1990) Culture Shift in Advanced Industrial Society New Jersey Princeton University Press. Jacobson, M. (2001) Whiteness of a Different Color; European Immigrants and the Alchemy of Race Boston , mass. Harvard University Press James, L. (1997) Raj: the Making and Unmaking of British India London Little Brown Jarvie, G (1991) Sport and Racism and Ethnicity London Falmer Kapferer,J (1987) Rumuers: Le Plus Vieux Media du Monde Paris Seuil Kashti, Y. (1998) Nationhood, Modernity and Social Class in Israeli Education British Journal of Sociology of Education Vol. 19 No 3 pp 355-363 Kerdourie, I (1968) The Origins of Facism London Methuen Khan, V. (1979) Minority Families in Britain: Support and Stress London Macmillan

172

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

Khanum, S. (1995) Education and the Muslim girl in Blair, M, Holland, J and Sheldon S. Identity and Diversity: Gender and the experience of Education. Buckingham Open University Press King, D (2005) The Liberty of Strangers: Making the American Nation. Oxford University Press Lambert. W. and Klineberg,O. (1967) Children’s Views on Foreign Peoples: a Cross-National Study. New York Appleton-Century –Crofts Lamming, G (1954) The Emigrants London Alison and Busby Lane, D. (1989) Violent Histories: Bullying and Criminality in Tattum, D and Lane, D Bullying in Schools Stoke Trentham pp 95-104 Linssen H and Haagendoorn, L (1994) Social and Geographical Factors in the Explanation of European Nationality Stereotypes British Journal of Social Psychology Vol 33 No I pp 165-182 Lukes, S (2003) Liberals and Cannibals: the Implications of Diversity London Verso Macey,M (1999) Influences on changing patterns of Pakistani Muslim male Violence in Bradford Ethnic and Racial Studies Vol. 22 no 5 pp 845-866 MacConnel, D (1976) The Tourist: A new Theory of the Leisure Class New York Schocken Books Mandar, J. (1974) Our German cousins: Anglo-German relations in the 19th and 20th Centuries London John Murray Mason, D. (2000) Race and Ethnicity in Modern Britain Oxford University Press Mirza,S. (1997) Black British Feminism London Routledge Modood, T. et al (1997) Diversity and Disadvantage: the fourth National Survey of Ethnic Minorities London Policy Studies Institute Moyenda, S (1997) Black Families Talking London Exploring Parenthood Naipaul, V. (1998) Beyond Belief: Islamic Excursions among the converted Peoples London Little Brown O’Neill, D. and Cullingford, C (2005) Cultural Shock or Cultural Acquisition? The Experiences of Overseas Students in Cullingford C and Gunn, S Globalisation and Culture Shock Aldershot Ashgate pp 107-123 Osgerby, B (1998) Youth in Britain since London Blackwell1945 Osler, A (1998) European Citizenship and Study Abroad; Student teacher’s Experience and Identities Cambridge Journal of Education vol 28 No 1 pp77-96

Ethnicity and Englishness

173

Pardesh,D and Shaw, A. (1994) The South Asian Presence in Britain London Hurst and Co Parker-Jenkins, M (1995) Children of Islam London Trentham Pearce, N and Hillman, J. (1998) Wasted Youth: Raising Achievement and Tackling Social Exclusion London Institute for Public Policy Research Peyrefitte, A (1993) The Collision of Two Civilisations: the British Expedition to China 1792-4 London Harvill Phoenix, A Difference and Differentiation: Young Londoner’s Accounts of ‘Race’ and Nation in Chisholm, L, Buechner, P, Krueger, H and DuBois-Reymond, M Growing Up in Europe; Contemporary horizons in Childhood and Youth Studies Berlin Walter de Gruyter Piaget, J and Weil, R (1951) The development in Children of the idea of the momeland and of relations with other countries. International Social Science Bulletin No 3 pp 561- 578 Pye, J, (1989) Invisible Children: Who are the real Losers at school Oxford University Press Ramdin, R. (1999) Re-Imaging Britain: Five Hundred Years of Black and Asian History London Pluto Ranger, T, Samad, Y and Stuart, O (1996) Culture, Identity and Politics: Ethnic Minorities in Britain Aldershot Avebury Rapaport, R and Fogarty, M (1982) Families in Britain London Routledge and Kegan Paul Raza, M (1991 ) Islam in Britain; Past , Present and Future Leicester Volcano Ridley, M (2004) Nature Via nurture: Genes, Experience and What makes us Human. London Harper Perennial Ringmer, E (1998) Nationalism: the Idiocy of Intimacy British Journal of Sociology Vol 49 no 4 pp 534-549 Roche, J and Tucker, S (2000) Youth and Society London Sage Said, E (1993) Culture and Imperialism London Chatto and Windus Sassen,S. (1991) The Global City New Jersey Princeton University Press Sassen, S (1999) Globalisation and Its Discontents New York The New Press Scharma, S (1992) Patriots and Liberators: Revolution in the Netherlands 17801813 London Fontana Seton-Watson, H. (1997) Nations and States: an Enquiry into the Origins of Nations and the Politics of Nationalism. Boulder Colorado Westview Press Shain, F. (2003) The Schooling and Identity of Asian Girls Stoke Trentham Books

174

Cedric Cullingford and Ikhlaq Din

Short, G. and Carrington, B (1995) Anti-semitism and the primary School: children’s Perceptions of Jewish Culture and Identity Research In Education No 54 pp 14-24 Smith, A (1979) Nationalism in the Twentieth Century London Martin Robertson Smith, A (1992) National Identity and the Idea of European Unity International Affairs Vol 68 pp 55-76 Social Trends 30 (2000) London HMSO Stoll, P (1994) Truancy in English Secondary Schools Education Today Vol. 44 no 1 pp 35-57 Stone, O (1980) Hitler London Hodder and Stoughton Stopes-Roe M and Cochrane, R (1990) Citizens of This Country: the Asian-British Clevedon Multilingual Matters Suvantola, J. (2002) Tourists’ Experience of Place Aldershot Ashgate Tajfel, H. (1981) Human Groups and Social Categories Cambridge University Press Tajfel, H et al (1970) The Development of Children’s Preferences for their own country: a Cross-national Study International Journal of Psychology No 5 pp 245-257 Thomas, E (2005) Globalisation, cultural Diversity and Teacher Education in Cullingford, C and Gunn, S Globalisation , Education and culture Shock Aldershot Ashgate Thornton, S. (1995) Club Cultures: Music, Media and Subcultural Capital Cambridge Polity Press Tizard, B. and Phoenix, A (1993) Black, White or Mixed Race? Race and Racism in the lives of young children of mixed parentage London Routledge Toivonen, K and Cullingford, C (1998) Racial Prejudice in a Liberal Demopcracy Politics, Groups and the Individual No 7 pp 45-56 Tomlinson, S. (1984) Home and School in Multi-Cultural Britain London Batsford Tomlinson,S. (1997) Diversity, Choice and Ethnicity: the Effects of Educational Markets on Ethnic Minorities Oxford Review of Education Vol 23 No 1 pp 63-76 Troyna, B. and Hatcher, R (1992) Racism in Children’s Lives London Routledge Wahhab, I. (1989) Profile of a community London Runnymede Trust Watson, K (2000) Globalisation, Educational Reform and language Policy in transitional Societies In Mebrahatu et all op . cit. pp 41- 68

Ethnicity and Englishness

175

Wazir, B. (2004) Four Articles on the Muslim community 26th -29th July The Times White, J. (2000) The Child’s Mind London Routledge Falmer Wiegand, P (1993) Children and Primary Geography London Cassell Wright, R (2002) Patriots: National Identity in Britain 1940- 2000 London Macmillan Wrench, J and Solomos, J. (1993) Racism and Migration in Western Europe Oxford Berg Varshney, A. (2002) Ethnic Conflict and Civic Life: Hindus and Muslims in India. Hew Haven Yale University Press