In the Spring of 2012, I took part in a seminar about the Black Death.
It was part of a course about politics and the arts in Medieval France: compelling, comprehensive. Full of those juicy anecdotes that make history so worth studying. In particular, we were talking about the French chronicler Jean Froissart, and how he depicted the flagellants. No to be confused with flatulence (although that was also rife at the time), the flagellants were groups of fanatics who made their way from town to town whipping themselves. They did so in the belief that their public penance would offset the pestilence, and get them out of the horrible situation they found themselves in. Much like we can only hope the leaders of the Leave campaign do come Spring 2019.
We had a wonderful lecturer, Yolanda Plumley, who combined a formidable knowledge of Medieval French history with perhaps the most English-sounding name of all time. She presented the group with a question about why Pope Innocent was so opposed to the flagellants, and why he would excommunicate anyone who either took part or lent support. We weren’t given long to contemplate. Yet after a few seconds, a girl known for partying hard, studying little, and contributing even less looked up and confidently proclaimed:
“Well… it makes sense if the Black Death was sent by God.”
This utterly stumped us. It was academically existentialist; the sort of game changer where the player picks up the football, slices it into the shape of a cross, and humbly offers it up to his opponents, taking them completely by surprise. But Yolanda, cool as you like, just smiled warmly and encouraged her to “try and focus more on the evidence.”
One of the best things about studying the humanities or social sciences at university is you can say pretty much whatever you want. That is, of course, provided you back it up with evidence. Otherwise you run the risk of sounding ridiculous. More than being able to though, you’re actively encouraged too. After all, our subjects can’t live on recycled food. They are nourished only on new ideas.
Academia encourages debate. And with the anonymity afforded many voices on today’s comment sections and social media platforms, debate is becoming an increasingly rare (and therefore increasingly valuable) commodity. This is why it’s so shocking that the Tory Whip and MP for Daventry, Chris Heaton-Harris, has recently gone out of his way to stifle it.
Towards the beginning of the month, Chris Heaton-Harris wrote to every vice-chancellor in the UK asking for the names and course syllabi of every academic teaching European politics and Brexit at their universities. To make his request even more chilling, he did so without giving a reason.
Here’s one of his letters:
Just a brief glance over Chris’ Chris’ Wikipedia Bio suggests that Heaton-Harris should know better. Educated at one of the grammar schools his party so ardently supports, he then went on to study at…
Oh fuck, he studied at Wolverhampton
…before working briefly for his family business in Covent Garden Market. In 1999 he was elected a Member of the European Parliament, and since 2010 he’s been rising through the ranks of the Tory Party (though not without the odd controversy to add a bit of excitement).
His attempted intervention has gone down like a lead balloon in academia. Academics across the board have been queuing up to condone him, calling him, amongst other things, a McCarythite, and calling the letter, amongst other things, an “extraordinary example of idiotic Leninism“.
I mean, surely Heaton-Harris realises that the moment he tells academics they can’t teach Brexit, they’re all going to start packing references into their syllabi, to the point where the average lecture comes to resemble a game of Brexit bingo. Even scientists will join in, referring to any ill-advised experiment held in the absence of control groups as “a Brexit.”
Even members of his own party have spoken out against him, with one government spokesman stressing he was writing “in his capacity as an MP, not as a representative of the government”, and No.10 distancing itself as much as a postcode physically can.
Not everyone in his party has condoned him however. Andrea “the-children-are-our-future” Leadsom failed to see what all the fuss was about, calling the letter “very courteous and not at all threatening.” Then again, Andrea Leadson also thinks that people who don’t procreate don’t have a legitimate stake in the future of our country. Perhaps she’d be better off in Mongolia, where children are so scarce the government pays people to procreate.
No but really, Andrea… please go to Mongolia. Sorry, Mongolia. Not sorry, Mongolia.
What’s curious about Heaton-Harris’s intervention, as his Twitter Feed shows, is that he’s obviously a man who places high value on the freedom of speech. In fact he loves it; revels in it; positively can’t get enough of it. The Right Honourable tease.
Seriously. Check out his Twitter profile and you’ll see it’s littered with jokes. Shit jokes. Posted every day at 9:AM.
Here’s one:
Good banter Chris. Top banter. Here’s another:
Nice… Nice… I can’t help noticing both jokes revolve around the severely disabled. But I don’t imagine many people with disabilities follow Tory MPs on Twitter, so you’re probably safe on that one. Alright, what have you got next?
Well fuck, at least your mate was offered a job Chris… Imagine if he was stuck on that Universal Credit scheme you’re rolling out. The poor bastard would starve.
Wait, what? He turned the job down? Is he allowed to do that? I mean, I know he’s your mate, but surely it’s your duty as a Member of Parliament to report him?
Not that it’s not my business. Just maybe don’t publish it online. Anyway, what have you got today?
Ahahahahaha!! Chris!! You’ve absolutely smashed it!!
I must admit it’s a slight change of tone from the others. I see it was posted earlier than normal too? But hey. Really funny nonetheless. Bravo. I mean we all know you don’t really believe in free speech amongst academics. Just imagine what they could do if they analysed some of your writing. Actually, fuck it, let’s do that now.
“Heaton-Harris begins by stating his wish “to be absolutely clear”, thus seeking to lend credibility to any subsequent sentiment he expresses. However, Heaton-Harris’s audience has come to learn what to expect; and having had the run-up to the joke, they now expect the punchline. Being the political maverick that he is, Heaton-Harris, does not disappoint.
He calls for a “debate” on Brexit that is both “open” and “vigorous”. Not only does this subtly undermine–if not treacherously contradict–the message behind his premier’s slogan of “Brexit means Brexit”,1 it also weakens Heaton-Harris’s own formerly stated position: that he wants “out” of the European Union, and that any debate regarding any future potential membership of the EU is “closed”.
1. Admittedly, the notion that "Brexit means Brexit" carries homogenous, readily extractable meaning is misleading. Most political analysts, however, take it as a declaration of the UK's firm commitment to leaving the EU; or, in the words of another prolific commentator, to "taking back control" (Johnson 2016).
It’s no wonder that Chris Heaton-Harris should want academics to steer clear of discussing Brexit. I mean 80% voted to remain, so they’re bound to be partisan. And God forbid they should inject any of their liberal pan-european propaganda into their teaching material. He should be ashamed of his foolish attempt to impose censorship on universities. To think that as a…
Wait a minute. Hold on. Did Chris actually mention anything about censorship in that letter?
Stop press.
Chris Heaton-Harris isn’t trying to censor universities at all.
He just wants the contact info of professors who know about Brexit.
This explains why when journalists have reached out to him for comment over the last few days, he’s refused. He’s done a U-turn; He’s realised Brexit is a terrible idea; Now he just wants to learn more about where to go from here.
And he wants access to online lectures, the lazy bugger.
We’ve got Chris Heaton-Harris completely wrong. He isn’t a Brexiteer at all. The poor guy’s lapsed. He’s been privately flagellating himself this whole time in realisation of his sins. And we’ve just called him out and got him excommunicated.
Sorry Chris.
Then again… when it came to phrasing that letter, you’ve got to admit… He really fucked that one that up.
Sorry Chris.
Not sorry Chris.
