If the recent General Election has made anything apparent, it is that the power of youth activism should not be underestimated. But youthful political energy is not a new phenomenon – despite what political correspondents would have you believe. There is a long history of student activism in the UK that has acted as a powerful force for change.
As a nucleus of intellectual debate and, more often than not, a home to a constant stream of free-flowing alcohol fuelled debates, university is a petri dish of activism. Whether this results in tipsy students arguing endlessly about neoliberalism, or in young people orchestrating one of the thousands of effective movements against the institutionalised oppression of vulnerable groups, it is self-evident that politics and student life go hand in hand. This work should neither be underplayed nor overlooked.
Student activism is not limited to the politics of Westminster, even if an imitation of this selective political culture remains an integral part of it. Student activism is a broad, all-encompassing concept, encapsulating everything from the refugee crisis to mental health awareness and disability rights. Student campaigns have shown positive and long-lasting effects, such as Northampton University introducing gender-neutral bathrooms; or Durham University finally acknowledging their responsibility to eradicate rape culture. The seemingly endless areas of activism open to students results in an astonishing number of graduates committing their university careers to a cause; their passion boundless and their work often astounding.
But while university is a time when people should be finding their political conscious and joining societies, this does not mean that these societies aren’t hindered by the issue of equality.
“They’re not being malicious, they just don’t understand. And that’s the worst thing.”
So many women students are generating waves in their political societies, and they do so whilst fighting against a backdrop of inequality and consistent othering because of their gender. Political societies are labouring through the unequal environment of UK politics that still sees women’s representation stumbling short of fair representation. The rise of twitter trolls disproportionately attacking woman MPs remains just one of the many reasons why there is such little incentive for women to speak publicly about political views. Nothing exemplifies this more than the media uprising against Diane Abbot, whose success as a black female MP was hardly recognised by her critics during the latest election cycle. The political atmosphere that breeds self-doubt is evidently destructive and disabling, and worryingly, is instilled into a number of women by university age. This issue extends beyond gender, with BAME, working-class, LGBTQ* and disabled representation falling consistently short. In brief, political societies are a natural territory for abled white men.
Vicki Lincoln was the sole woman exec member of the Conservative Party at her university this year. Despite her work on the exec, she talks of her decision to not continue her position next year: “it’s not explicit sexism or lack of sensitivity, it’s difficult when you are different than everyone around you… I’m very much alone in a room in thirty men.”
For someone extremely passionate about politics and activism, and whose work should make her an integral part of the society, Vicki’s experience with political groups at her university was extraordinarily negative. The reasons university politics consistently continues to exclude women may not be explicit, but the entrenched elitism and an imitation of the “old boys club” seen at parliamentary level certainly remains an obstacle. The members of these political societies take their roles and opportunities for networking seriously–and rightly so–but their lack of awareness around the issues of gender is resulting in severe repercussions.
“Sometimes they will talk over me, sometimes they will message my (male) flatmates to pass on a message when they can contact me.” Vicki explains how, during a networking meal with one MP who was invited to speak to the society, she was placed at the end of the table; unable to join the debate. Furthermore, as the only woman and BAME member in the society, her gender was only recognised when it was an advantage for society, and when women speakers were needed from the society and she was not available, the society had no one else to turn to.
“It’s implicit. They’re not being malicious, they just don’t understand. And that’s the worst thing.”
“The sexism is subtle… but it is still dangerous and deters many women from entering politics.”
Vicki is thankfully in no way deterred. This academic year she co-founded the Women in Politics Society at her university. “We wanted to raise more awareness about the lack of women in politics. And we wanted to know why women didn’t participate, what is stopping them,” and after a highly successful first event the society has plans to grow in the next academic year. Crucially for Vicki, this society hopes to offer a safe place for women to network freely and effectively, an opportunity they far too often miss out on.
Vicki’s case is subjective, and applying her negative experience to every woman student involved in a political group is far too simplistic. Yet, universities that remain consistently high on the leaderboards, especially the older universities that are characteristically defined by their elitism, seem to be consistently and infuriatingly continuing this cycle of naturalised and prevalent sexism. This sexism is subtle, as Vicki’s case shows, but it is still dangerous and deters many women from entering politics. If women find themselves deterred from political societies that represent their party affiliation, their activism starts moving away from politics altogether, and becomes limited to areas where they feel safe to express their views.
Keisha Gani, a recent graduate in Social Policy and Politics from Edinburgh University, and Chair of Save the Children at her university, explains how although the group’s activism was decidedly political, it steered clear of party politics. The society would deal with members of Parliament, but avoided the issues of party politics–partly because many of the female members were uncomfortable with speaking up about politics; but also because their campaigns transcended party politics.
Their campaigns, such as focussing on childhood illiteracy in the UK, were immensely successful in raising awareness of the issue to the student population, and highlighted how student activism doesn’t have to be all about politics.
“These students are heading into the professional world enriched by their activist work.”
Keisha looks back on her activism with Save the Children fondly, and hoped to continue her work for Save the Children professionally after completing her masters’ degree. “[Save the Children] gave me purpose,” she explains. Keisha came from a volunteering background, “but coming to the UK, I didn’t know how to start working with children. I saw the logo for Save the Children back home… and when I went to the stall [at Fresher’s Fair] I found them approachable.”
Keisha’s example highlights the positive effects activism can have on the university experience. It also highlights the gendered nature of student activism. Whilst Vicki’s experience of student activism and politics opened up her eyes to sexism and misogyny, Keisha’s experience was distinctly lacking in sexism–largely because the society was dominated by women, with no more than a few male activists compared to twenty or thirty women. While this in no way is ideal either, it does highlight the gendered spheres of student activism.
Yet, not all is lost. The consistent precedents being set by student groups every year in fighting for equality shows we are heading in the right direction. These students are heading out into the professional world enriched by their activist work, and the country will be better for it – as long as we stop belittling the impact of student activism.
