The Integrated School That Could Teach A Divided Town To Live Together - News - The Guardian

11/7/2015
The integrated school that could teach a divided town to live together | News | The Guardian
The integrated school that could teach a

divided town to live together
Can you solve conflicts between ethnic groups by forcing them to interact? A remarkable
experiment is taking place at Waterhead academy in Oldham and the results could change how
we fight prejudice
David Edmonds
Thursday 5 November 2015 06.00GMT
adiyah and Olivia live in Oldham and are best friends. They are 12 years old and met
on transition day, when primary school students are introduced for the first time to
their secondary school. They have been inseparable ever since. Olivia says one thing
that binds them together is that they both love the colour purple. She thinks Radiyah is
crazy and Radiyah thinks Olivia is crazy. When she sees my brother at school she
always says, Hi brother, Radiyah says. She never says, Hi Radiyas brother. Its
crazy. Olivia accepts that it is a bit crazy.
They help each other with homework. Radiyah excels at science and English. Olivia is
solid at maths.
Olivia does not attend church, but Radiyah, like almost every Asian student in the
school, goes to mosque. What does Olivia think of Radiyahs culture? They work so
hard for what they believe in. They pray five times a day, they fast. I admire that.
For her part, Radiyah confesses to some envy that white people are so chilled out.
Sometimes, if Im in the middle of something, and I have to go and pray, its annoying.
Last Ramadan, Olivia attempted to fast in solidarity with her best friend, but she
survived about 15 minutes. Maybe less, Radiyah scoffs.
Well, I cant go for long without water, Olivia explains. But I try not to eat and drink
in front of Radiyah during Ramadan because its unfair on her.
Radiyah laughs. I dont know if Id do that for her.
Radiyah and Olivias friendship is the happy result of an experiment, although that is not
a word anyone is prepared to use. You could say that it is an experiment in racial
integration. But it is also a test for one of the most important theories about how to
combat bigotry and the results could change the way politicians in Britain tackle the
problem of prejudice.
***
We all have an idea of some of the causes of bias and bigotry: divisions between racial
http://www.theguardian.com/news/2015/nov/05/integrated-school-waterford-academy-oldham
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and ethnic groups, geographic segregation and economic marginalisation, competition

for resources between rival groups. And most people, at least today, probably share an
essentially optimistic intuition about how to reduce racism and ethnic conflict, based on
the belief that as people and communities get to know one another better to interact as
neighbours and co-workers and friends their prejudices will melt away. This is a happy
story, but is it true? After all, some of the longest and most violent conflicts in the world
involve groups who know one another all too well whose proximity, in fact, seems only
to exacerbate ethnic tension.
Among the psychologists who study bigotry and ethnic conflict, this optimistic theory is
known as the contact hypothesis. It was introduced by the Harvard psychologist
Gordon W Allport, who published a book titled The Nature of Prejudice in 1954 the
same year that the US supreme court issued its landmark decision, Brown v Board of
Education, which forced the desegregation of American schools. Allport believed that
prejudice flowed from ignorance: people made generalisations about an entire group
because they lacked information about that group. Contact with members of the other
group could correct mistaken perceptions, improve empathy and diminish prejudice.
The theory has a beautiful simplicity and an instant feelgood appeal. But it has also
been also backed up over the years by well over 500 studies, of varying degrees of
scientific rigour. Allport himself believed that contact would only help if it occurred
under various conditions for example, the groups had to pursue common rather than
opposing goals. Nowadays, however, psychologists believe that almost all contact
improves relations between groups, provided that it does not take place in an
environment of intense anxiety or fear.
Allports hypothesis concerned how existing prejudice could be reduced. But other
academics wanted to discover what the origins of prejudice were. Before the 1970s, the
conventional wisdom was that it had two causes. One was competition: teams
competing at football, families squabbling over land, nations fighting wars. The second
was personality. Some people, the theory went, were more inclined to discriminate than
others; prejudice was linked to traits such as authoritarianism, associated with a highly
subservient attitude towards authority figures and an authoritarian attitude towards
lower-status minorities.
However, in the 1970s, a social psychologist named Henri Tajfel began a series of
experiments in Britain that would revolutionise how we understand the origins of group
bias. He showed that neither of the two causes competition and personality was
required for prejudice to emerge. All that was required was for people to be organised
into groups in the first place.
In Tajfels most famous experiment, he asked a group of teenage boys to rate various
abstract paintings by Paul Klee and Wassily Kandinsky. Tajfel then placed the boys into
two groups: Klee and Kandinsky and told them they had been grouped according
to which artist they preferred. (In fact, they were sorted into groups randomly.) They
were then given some notional money and told to distribute it among the participants in
the experiment. They could not see or talk to the potential beneficiaries, who were
identified only on paper by a number and by their group identity Klee or Kandinsky.
The result was startling. The children showed a consistent pattern of bias. Although
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there was no competition between the two groups, the boys donated more money to
individuals who were members of their own group. Thus, a member of the Kandinsky
group was likely to give more money to other Kandinsky group members than to the
members of the Klee group. Tajfel had demonstrated that group bias will occur under the
most minimal of conditions mere categorisation. This result has been replicated many
times since Tajfels first experiment. The implications are profoundly unsettling. It
shows how easy it is to switch on discrimination: our belonging to social groups is
fundamental to our social identity and we like to see us as better than them.
Tajfel taught psychology for many years at Bristol University. In the 1970s one of his
undergraduate students was Miles Hewstone, who went on to become a professor at
Oxford University. Hewstone is a kindly, cheerful, bespectacled, slightly disorganised
professor who is always running late and usually one wardrobe malfunction short of
debonair. When I met him earlier this autumn, he was wearing odd cufflinks because he
had not had time to find a matching pair.
Miles Hewstone is the intellectual offspring of Henri Tajfel and Gordon Allport. Under
Tajfels tutelage, Hewstone learned how quickly individuals from one group could come
to scorn those in another. But, by temperament, Hewstone is much closer to Allport: he
is an optimist. Hewstone is less interested in how rapidly groups can make enemies than
how enemies can be turned into friends or, more modestly, how former enemies can
learn to tolerate one another. Over the past three decades, his work has taken him to the
places where group conflict has seemed most intractable: South Africa, Cyprus, Northern
Ireland, Bosnia, Serbia.
As an undergraduate, Hewstone had come across the contact hypothesis as a core part of
his psychology degree. He liked the optimism of the theory, but felt that it was flawed. It
had little to say about the importance of groups in the construction of our social identity.
In the mid-1980s, Hewstone gave the contact hypothesis a Tajfelian twist, one best
illustrated with an example adapted from research he conducted with a collaborator,
Rupert Brown.
Britons hold various stereotypes about Germans. As we all know, Germans are hardworking, earnest, technically proficient and that at precisely 6am they ruthlessly
commandeer all the deck chairs on the nearest beach. Plus, they are humourless: a
German joke is no laughing matter, as Mark Twain put it. Hewstone wanted to know
whether he could break down these stereotypes. He had seen how easy it was to turn on
prejudice; now he wanted to see how to turn it off. (His wife Claudia, born in the Black
Forest region of southern Germany, had a personal interest in her husbands study.)
Student subjects were split into two groups. They were told that there was a German
behind a screen, whom they were not allowed to see but about whom they were given
certain details. Half the subjects were presented with a German with stereotypical
characteristics he was called Heinrich, he was an engineer and half had a German
called Anthony, who had unexpected characteristics, such as studying Chinese
literature.
Participants carried out cooperative tasks with the invisible German and were then
asked about their attitudes to Germans and Germany. It turned out that those who had
cooperated with Heinrich were more positive about Germans in general than those who
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had worked with Anthony. Heinrich was so obviously German that constructive contact
with him influenced attitudes to Germans in general. Anthony, on the other hand, did
not positively influence attitudes towards Germans since he seemed so clearly
exceptional he was, in the jargon, a sub-type.
The result might seem counterintuitive. Indeed, Hewstone told me, other academic
experts thought their conclusions were bonkers. But as a disciple of Tajfel, Hewstone
had always recognised the centrality of group membership to identity. These days, his
findings are widely accepted: for group prejudice to be eroded, group identity has to be
maintained. In other words, contact itself is not enough.
Positive contact between members of antagonistic groups will improve how members of
these groups generally see each other only if the people involved are seen as
representative of their group. For contact to work, one does not want to put individuals
through some kind of identity blender, to produce a homogeneous group. The aim is that
people can see other people precisely as other and then realise that other isnt bad.
Having travelled around the world testing his contact hypothesis, a few years ago a rare
opportunity to assess it again presented itself to Hewstone. This conflict zone was closer
to home a mere three-hour car journey north of Oxford. He heard about plans for a new
school that would bring together two communities in the heart of one of Britains most
racially segregated towns. For an academic in his field, it presented a unique
opportunity.
***
Oldham is a town of 200,000 people, a few miles north-east of Manchester. In the 19th
century, it was the worlds biggest producer of cotton textiles, but the industry began to
decline after the first world war and from the 1950s, its collapse became inevitable.
Today, Oldham is one of the most deprived towns in Britain, and one of the most
segregated. These are conditions in which the contact hypothesis predicts trouble.
Oldhams two largest minority communities are Pakistani and Bangladeshi together
they make up around 20% of the population. Immigrants from Pakistan arrived first, in
the 1950s and 60s, and those from Bangladesh began to arrive in the 1970s. Many came
from rural areas; some were illiterate, and many others spoke little to no English. They
mostly worked night shifts, which were introduced in the 1960s, as the mills struggled
to remain profitable. As the number of immigrants increased, and the night shift became
the almost exclusive preserve of the minority community, contact between white people
and Asians in the mills diminished.
The new arrivals settled into areas such as Glodwick, which is now mainly Pakistani.
There is a well-studied phenomenon of tipping points in housing markets, in which
individual tolerances for a certain racial mix say, a white resident who does not mind
living in a neighbourhood with a 20% minority population, but balks at one where 30%
of his neighbours are non-white can result in an area rapidly shifting from one ethnicity
to another. That is what happened in Glodwick and other parts of Oldham. It is true that
there were racist landlords and some evidence of official discrimination in social housing
allocation, but there was no engineered separation. In Oldham, segregation was the
result of tens of thousands of individual decisions.
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And segregation was not only about housing. With the decline of the textile industries,
jobs were scarce. From the 1990s onwards, many Asians who found work became minicab drivers or entered the restaurant business. Contact with white people was
superficial, and sometimes hostile as when Asian drivers took home drunk passengers
on a Saturday night. The Asians played cricket in their own areas, went to their local
mosques and socialised with fellow immigrants. The schools reinforced the segregation:
if anything, schools were more segregated than neighbourhoods.
Still, few could have anticipated the violence that erupted on 26 May 2001. That day, a
white teenager threw a brick at two Asian boys aged 11 and 14, who had been walking
along a street that divided the white neighbourhood of Roundthorn from Glodwick. One
of the Asian boys, along with his brother, gave chase. The white boy found refuge in a
nearby home and the Asian boys began to kick at the door. The white woman who lived
there shouted racial abuse at them. She phoned her brother to tell him:Some Pakis have
kicked the door in.
It was an unpleasant episode, but hardly exceptional. Yet it ignited a conflagration: by
the evening, hundreds of Asian men had gathered in Glodwick, where they put up
barricades and threw stones and petrol bombs at the police, who were now in full riot
gear. The crowd attacked a number of buildings, including the office of the Oldham
Evening Chronicle, a newspaper that some South Asians felt had cynically stoked racial
tension.
The unrest continued for three nights. Britain had not witnessed race riots on a similar
scale for 15 years. Radio and television bulletins all led on Oldham: Glodwick and other
neighbourhoods were invaded by journalists. The town became known as the race-hate
capital of Britain.
In hindsight, the seeds of the trouble should have been clear. The far-right National
Front and the British National party had been agitating in Oldham for a year, having
identified the town as fertile territory for recruiting. There had been reports that many
white people had been victims of racially motivated abuse and violence. A few weeks
before the riots, a war veteran in his mid-70s named Walter Chamberlain had been
beaten by a 14-year-old Asian teenager. Chamberlains battered face appeared on the
front pages of national newspapers, with hysterical headlines such as Whites beware
(Mail on Sunday) and Beaten for being white (the Mirror) despite the fact that
Chamberlains own family insisted the attack had not been racially motivated. The BNP
circulated leaflets alleging that parts of Oldham had become no-go areas for whites.
The Asian community, meanwhile, felt it had been left unprotected by the police.
The riots in Oldham sparked similar scenes in the nearby towns of Bradford and Burnley.
The government and local authorities immediately commissioned reports on what lay
behind this unrest. The reports, which were delivered before the end of the year,
highlighted the role that segregation had played in fostering animosity between white
and Asian citizens. The Cantle report, commissioned by the home secretary, found that
white and Asian communities were living parallel and polarised lives. (Ted Cantle,
the sociologist and local government official who led the inquiry, had said that he was
very familiar with the contact hypothesis from his undergraduate studies.) The Ritchie
report, which focused on Oldham specifically, concluded that the major issue in
Oldham town is the segregated nature of society. Amongst the reports
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recommendations was that wherever possible, the rebuild of schools should create the
opportunity for further integration of pupils.
The reports were published three months after the 11 September terror attacks, at a time
when politicians were becoming increasingly anxious about segregation and Islamic
extremism. But tackling racial segregation is no easy process. For one thing, it is a
notoriously complex phenomenon. In the social sciences, it is hard to think of a more
contested arena geographers and political scientists cannot even agree on how to
quantify the extent of segregation. One difficulty is deciding where to draw the
demographic dividing lines: changing the boundaries of a given area even slightly can
result in a highly segregated area being reclassified as a mixed one, and vice versa. When
you drill down into the figures, the complexities multiply.
That debate aside, even if towns such as Oldham are segregated, some might say: So
what? Isnt it natural for people of similar cultural background whether whites or
Asians to want to live and socialise with one another? Shouldnt we be more relaxed
about this? After all, there is evidence that residential clustering can foster a sense of
belonging and security. Charlie Parker, who was chief executive of Oldham council from
2008 until 2013, told the writer David Goodhart that segregation was a sign of people
feeling comfortable with their identities.
But after the 2001 riots that position no longer seemed tenable. The received wisdom, at
least among policy makers, was that segregation did exist and that it was a disaster. So
they took action and that is how Radiyah and Olivia came to meet.
***
Until a few years ago, OL4 3NY was the postcode for an abandoned and derelict cotton
mill. Now, in its place, stands an impressive red brick and glass structure. The corridors
and reception areas are generously laid out, the classrooms pristine, the facilities firstrate. Welcome to Waterhead academy. Ted Cantle calls it a unique school. Miles
Hewstone likened it to mixing a pint of milk and a pint of Guinness in a quart pot.
The idea for Waterhead goes back to 2007. It was designed to take advantage of the
Building Schools for the Future programme, introduced in the last term of the Labour
government, which set aside money to construct new buildings for Britains secondary
schools. For most of the schools that received this funding, the new building or school
was intended to symbolise a new educational start. But for Waterhead, it symbolised
something more: the academy was created at least in part to bring communities
together.
Waterhead was born from two turbulent parents. Breeze Hill was an almost entirely
Asian school, Counthill almost entirely white. They both drew from working-class
communities. They both had what educationists call challenges. Attainment levels
were low. Aspirations were low. Both schools had serious disciplinary and drug issues.
The idea was that Breeze Hill and Counthill would shut and their students be relocated
to the brand new Waterhead academy.
Before Breeze Hill and Counthill were closed in 2010, there was a consultation period.
The proposal to create one large school of 1,400 pupils had caused consternation. Some
of that was understandable resistance to change, but some Asian parents and teachers
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from Breeze Hill were nervous that their kids would be subject to racist abuse. Local
whites in the lower-middle-class neighbourhood of Waterhead demonstrated against the
merger. They said they were worried about the disruption that a big school would cause
in the area. There was also an element of dog-whistle politics: one senior figure in
Oldhams educational establishment told me that many white parents in the area would
rather send their kids to a failing monocultural school than a thriving mixed one. A
teacher at Waterhead sheepishly admitted that his mother and brother had joined the
placard-waving protestors: his brother, who was caught up in the 2001 riots, is a BNP
sympathiser. (There was also a separate political strain of opposition to Waterhead:
some of the placards said: No to academies.)
When Miles Hewstone heard about Waterhead, he was eager to see how it went: a
perfect test of his contact hypothesis. Waterhead is what Hewstone calls a natural
experiment one that he, along with his two post-doctoral researchers, Katharina
Schmid and Ananthi Al Ramiah, was granted access to study.
The merger between Breeze Hill and Counthill was handled with caution. Between 2010
and 2012, the schools continued to operate on separate sites, and the children were
brought together for particular classes or activities. The new building was opened for
business in September 2012. Like many of her colleagues, one former Breeze Hill science
teacher, Faizal Ahmed, who now teaches at Waterhead, was afraid that there were
going to be clashes every single day, there was going to be uproar; we were going to be in
the papers.
The newly merged school had to carefully navigate various multicultural sensitivities:
boys and girls play sport separately, there is a modest uniform code, and assemblies
draw from a number of religious traditions. Halal meat is available, but so are bacon
sandwiches. All these issues seemed more prickly in anticipation than in practice. And
remember that according to Hewstones version of the contact hypothesis, contact
works best when British white children see British Asian pupils as being in some sense
typical of their culture, and vice versa.
Radiyah was one of the students who were apprehensive about Waterhead. The school
had not been her parents first choice. There were lots of menacing rumours, Radiyah
said. I thought, because Im a different skin colour, people might say things to me
racist things. But, first day, second day, everything was perfect. The rumours werent
true.
***
Radiyahs friend Olivia also loves the school. Their friendship offers anecdotal evidence
that, in terms of social cohesion, Waterhead has been a resounding success. But
Hewstone does not believe in drawing conclusions from anecdotes. He is a social
scientist, and he likes to stress the second half of his job title. He collects data and
subjects it to rigorous analysis.
Over the past three and a half years, he and his team of half a dozen post graduates have
amassed an enormous amount of data. As well as surveys tracking changes in attitudes
and values, Christina Floe, a doctoral student working with Hewstone, has painstakingly
gathered statistics on friendship networks at the school. She asked every student in
several year-groups to list up to 10 of their closest friends, and monitored how their
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social groups evolved over a two-year period. The data Floe gathered was then uploaded
onto a computer program, which turned the information into diagrams that look like
they have been drawn by an inebriated spider.
Floe also studied friendship groups in Waterheads cafeteria. Her aim was to chart who
sat next to whom at lunch. It was important that the pupils did not know what she was
checking for, so she needed a cover. Floe approached the students in the canteen to
hand out food-satisfaction surveys. Underneath the surveys on Floes clipboard she had
a map of the room, with all the tables and seats marked up, and as the forms were filled
out she quickly scribbled the appropriate acronym for the relevant seat AF (Asian
female), AM, WF or WM.
Depending on your viewpoint, the results of some of these studies are either positive or
positively depressing. The observational data from the cafeteria shows that whites and
Asians overwhelmingly eat in their own ethnic groups. As for the network study, shortly
after the pupils first arrived at school, only 2.5% of the close friends of white students
were Asians. Even by the end of that year, close friendships remained almost entirely
segregated Asians accounted for just 7.5% of the friends of white children. Still, there is
some cause for hope: Hewstones team has found that each year is slightly more
integrated than the one below it.
But the survey data which begins from the period just before the schools physically
merged in 2012, and is based on following up the same sample of hundreds of students
year on year is much more impressive. The aim was to investigate attitudes towards
members of the rival ethnic group over time.
It asked the children, for example: When you meet white British/Asian British boys do
you feel nervous? And the children rated their answer on a scale of one (not at all) to
five (very). Another question, on the same scale, was: How much do you trust white
British/Asian British pupils?
Hewstone says that he is completely blown away by the results. The findings show
that each and every year the positive variables trust and liking improve. And each and
every year, even more dramatically, the negative variables anxiety and nervousness
about the other group decrease.
So, on the one-to-five scale, the negative attitude of Asians to whites from 2012 to 2015
dropped from 3.078 to 2.583. For the white group the drop is from 3.572 to 3.183.
Maarten van Zalk, another member of the team, who performed the data analysis on
these statistics, says this was much better than expected. And it looks like the
improvement just continues with time. He is excited to see the next set of figures in June
2016.
Hewstone is very upbeat, even about the less than spectacular friendship stats. As he
points out, the context in Oldham was not auspicious, which led countless people to
predict disaster for Waterhead. Had there been no school merger, then chances are that
11-year-old white students, rather than having a few Asian friends, would have had
none at all.
There are several surprises and nuances in the data. You might assume that the most
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popular children would be the most outgoing ones, and that they would be most likely to
make friends across the racial divide. In fact the reverse is the case. The popular kids
have the fewest number of cross-racial friendships. (A plausible explanation is that
humans can only cope with a few close friends, and the friendship quota for popular kids
is more rapidly filled; having many friends makes people less inclined to seek new ones.)
How long the beneficial impact of contact lasts is open to debate. Once their education is
over, many pupils will return to segregated neighbourhoods and their separate lives. But
Hewstone likes to quote Thomas Paine: The mind once enlightened cannot again
become dark. He argues that a dose of integration acts as a kind of inoculation for life
a permanent booster of tolerance and understanding.
There is a fly in the ointment, however. None of the more extravagant fears of racial
conflict at Waterhead has come to pass. But, ultimately, for the school to succeed it has
to improve academically. The latest Ofsted report, following an inspection in November
2014, makes demoralising reading: Leadership and management Inadequate;
Behaviour and safety of pupils Inadequate; Quality of teaching Inadequate;
Achievement of pupils Inadequate. In December 2014, the school was placed under
special measures. That means Ofsted will make regular inspections and if the poor
performance continues the school may even be closed.
In September 2014, Colette Macklin, a new head with a nononsense reputation, was
appointed, and the governors are convinced that they now have the right processes in
place to turn Waterhead around. Headteachers at Waterhead, however, do not seem to
survive very long. Macklin is the third in five years. And this year, Waterhead ranked in
the bottom 200 schools in the country for GCSE results. It would be naive to expect too
dramatic an improvement in results, given the social and economic context in which the
school operates. Almost half of the children at Waterhead qualify for pupil-premium
funding additional money to help schools cope with the most disadvantaged children.
All the problems aside, an extraordinary fact remains. In the year since Macklin became
head of this extremely deprived school, in a town with a long history of segregation and
tension, there has not been a single racist incident among her pupils.
***
In July, the prime minister made a speech on extremism that ended with a call for action
to tackle ethnic segregation: It cannot be right that people can grow up and go to
school and hardly ever come into meaningful contact with people from other
backgrounds and faiths. He mentioned two cities where segregation was particularly
marked. The first was Bradford, the second was Oldham. Cameron was careful not to lay
the blame on any one community. Housing was an issue, he said, as was education.
The speech tackled sensitive issues around segregation and extremism, but in one
respect it was gutless. Faith schools tend to exacerbate segregation but Cameron
defended them. Challenging the power of the faith schools and their (often middle-class)
admirers was clearly an electoral risk too far. Still, taking the contact hypothesis theory
seriously would require confronting the faith-school lobby.
More broadly, taking the contact hypothesis seriously demands directing resources in a
way that does not create a backlash towards bringing segregated groups together,
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whether this be in education, housing or leisure. It means helping people become

proficient in the English language and making public spaces attractive to all
communities.
Back in Oldham, Radiyah and Olivia could serve as poster girls for Camerons integration
agenda. At school their cultural differences of which they are aware seem small
compared to what they have in common. Olivia is joking about Radiyahs purple pencil
case, and her obsession with all things purple. Their rapport has an infectious quality.
Even so, it is more complex than appears at first sight. They have never visited each
others homes they do not even know where the other lives, though they regularly talk
on Skype after school. That is not unusual for cross-racial friendships at Waterhead the
friendship checks in and then checks out again at the school gate. As they stream out of
school at 3pm, the Asian and white kids go home to separate neighbourhoods. Radiyah
and Olivia live less than two miles apart though the psychological distance between
their two neighbourhoods is substantially greater.
This, then, is a slow, incremental evolution, not an overnight revolution and one
susceptible to setbacks. As for the two girls, will they be best friends for ever? Olivia
thinks so, but Radiyah is less convinced. Maybe not forever, because sometimes shes
really annoying. Olivia looks momentarily pained. But I like it that shes a bit
annoying, because I dont want boring friends. And with that, they are off down the
corridor, nudging each other and giggling.
David Edmonds is a senior research associate at the Uehiro Centre for Practical Ethics. His
Radio 4 documentary Will They Always Hate Us? will air on Monday evening.
Follow the Long Read on Twitter at @gdnlongread, or sign up to the long read weekly
email here.
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