William Atkinson

Is history in danger of becoming a thing of the past on campus? In recent weeks, Aston in Birmingham announced a consultation on plans to close its entire history department. Meanwhile, London South Bank has announced that its history course will not be recruiting students from this Autumn.  The condemnation was swift. Former regius professor of history at Cambridge Richard J Evans and author of numerous books on the Third Reich, said that history was 'more important than ever', since it provides the skills to look critically at the evidence and to distinguish fact from fiction' in age of fake news and populism.  But as a history student myself, I'm not convinced a decline in the number of courses is such bad news.

There is a spectre haunting British universities: the spectre of institutional racism. 'There is a lot of evidence that points towards universities perpetuating systemic racism, being institutionally racist,' the University of East Anglia’s vice-chancellor, David Richardson, told an upcoming BBC Three documentary 'Is Uni Racist?'. Viewers are likely to be left in no doubt that the answer to that question is 'Yes'. Two people I know appeared in it, and it was moving to hear them share their experiences. Yet the reality is that for most black students there has never been a better time to study at a university in Britain. Of course, that doesn't mean there aren't still problems.

For millennials like me, talkin' 'bout our generation usually involves complaining. We Generation Zs – or zoomers – can’t seem to catch a break. Even before the pandemic, we were on track to be the first generation worse off than our parents since the Great Depression. It takes us twenty-somethings six times as long to save for a deposit as forty years ago. Having been told by Tony Blair a university education was essential, we leave, saddled with debt, to confront an over-stuffed and unwelcoming graduate market. After spending 2020 locked up against a disease that has a limited impact on young people, we face unemployment and decades of higher taxes to pay off Dishi Rishi’s debt mountain. Unsurprisingly, we’re a tad cross.

Oxford is famous for its pubs. Inspector Morse reveals that they are as much a part of the city’s life as any of its colleges. The insatiable undergraduate demand for cheap beer has meant that pubs like the Turf Tavern and the Eagle and Child have permeated (and intoxicated) the minds of students for centuries. So when the Lamb and Flag closed last week, it was as much a story as any of those bizarre murders John Thaw used to stick his nose into. No Jag-driving detectives are needed to work out why it has shut. A year of missed terms and lockdowns dramatically cut the pub's revenue. Owned by neighbouring St John’s College, the pub has stood on its current spot since 1615. C.S. Lewis and J.R.R.

Tearing down statues and renaming places is all the rage. But acting in this way isn’t always a mistake. Take Clive House, at my old school, Merchant Taylors’, which was, until this month, named after Robert Clive, conqueror of Bengal, hero of Plassey and my school’s most famous former pupil (asides from Michael Mcintyre). Now it will be known as Raphael House, after John Raphael, a former pupil who died fighting in Flanders.  Is this part of the worrying trend of ahistorical, post-BLM iconoclasm that dunked Colston in the Avon, graffitied Winston Churchill and renamed Birmingham’s streets after HR buzzwords? I'm not convinced – and not only because of what Clive got up to after he left Merchant Taylors’.