I was filled with a desperate sadness as I attended the protests in London on Wednesday. As a politics and philosophy student, I regularly encounter rolling (or glazing) eyes when I drive discussions towards areas of my own personal interest, and I am deeply aware of the apathy and lethargy that many people of my age feel with regard to politics.
But, as much as the cynicism of it pained me at the time, Nick Clegg and the Liberal Democrats’ wooing of students before the last election was genuinely impressive, and could have been an incredibly positive thing. Clegg shined, particularly in the televised leadership debates, and communicated with students in a way which some of us found smug, limp and patronising, but which seemed to strike a chord with many of my peers.
There was something reassuring about the fact that there was no significant groundswell of support for David Cameron, who had marketed himself exhaustively to young voters, and of course I can sympathise with those students who wouldn’t countenance voting for Labour. The fact is, the Liberal Democrats were an attractive option for many first-time voters, not least because of their famous pledge to vote against any rise in tuition fees.
But I was deeply saddened when, whilst marching through Whitehall, past Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, I observed the number of ordinary, not greatly radical or politicised students, holding banners such as “I agreed with Nick,” or “Clegg on my face.” Light-hearted slogans such as these belie the extraordinary wretchedness of a situation where many people voted, filled with optimism and hope, only to find themselves abandoned months later.
Generally speaking, I don’t feel the same sense of vitriol for the Liberal Democrats as some on the left-wing do, because I didn’t see them as a genuinely attractive alternative before the election, and would never have expected genuinely positive, radical government from them. Admittedly, I did expect them to be a far more moderating influence on the nastiest excesses of the Tories, but, in reality, I know that they’ll probably pay for their decisions at the next election. It is unforgiveable, though, that they have let down so many young people who voted for them in good faith.
The whole issue of the Millbank protests has served primarily as a distraction so far, so I don’t wish to dwell on it too much. What I have found more worrying, though, is the level of condemnation that the protesters have encountered. For people who have voted and protested and written to their MPs but still feel a profound and overwhelming sense of anger and hopelessness, I can feel nothing but sympathy.
This whole argument is essentially about whether the government ought to retreat from its role as the primary funder of higher education. I don’t think it’s idealistic, or that I’m speaking from some liberal, middle-class student bubble, to assume that the majority of people in this country favour the current system over the Browne proposals, which seek to substantially shift the burden of payment to individuals.
The Conservatives (along with the traditional Tory press, and their new Liberal Democrat allies) have done a sterling job of setting a cuts agenda, and lowering public expectations of what the government can realistically do. In such a context, it’s true, and probably reasonable, that many people probably reluctantly accept the reasoning behind charging students more.
Accordingly, I think it’s extremely important that the fees issue is incorporated into a broader anti-cuts agenda. We cannot expect people to sympathise with students over and above other sections of society who are set to be seriously adversely affected. Crucially, we cannot accept the logic of cuts, but expect public support for our own protest against student fees.
And, as such, it is extremely important to include more people in the struggle. If we allow our political opponents to cast students as an isolated vested interest (as the Conservatives have had so much success in doing to their opponents in the past – see the miners’ strikes), then we will have no success. We need to appeal to the millions of people who agree that cuts in higher and further education are extremely damaging, not just for the poorest young people who might see as fees as a psychological and/or economic barrier to improving themselves, or the ordinary graduates who will be setting out into the world of work with all the stress, anxiety and desperation that comes with significant personal debt. We need to stress the argument that a properly funded education system benefits all of society, and that a good education is one of the most benign influences on human life. But we need to remember that if we expect support from other sectors of the population, we have to offer our solidarity and support to other battles being fought against cuts by all other members of the working class.
One of the starkest conclusions that can be drawn from this whole episode is that to cast ‘students’ as one, cohesive and united body is fallacy. This is an issue as much about left versus right as any I can imagine, and although I have been shocked by the amount of negativity and cynicism that Wednesday’s protests attracted from some of my peers, I am also encouraged that this deeply malign, socially damaging cuts agenda is finally being aggressively challenged.
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