Deborah Faulkner

Why I Decided to Support the UCU Strike

My reflections as a student of the person-centred approach

My first response to news of the impending strike was somewhat muted. I imagined that a few of my lectures wouldn’t happen due to my tutors being unavailable. This inconvenience was one I was very willing to accept. I could clearly see that my lecturers were suffering an injustice enforced from above and this was something I was used to feeling compassion towards. The struggle of the oppressed resonates with me. I recognise the desire to have your voice heard and the feeling of swimming against a tide of injustice. I have felt that desire to shout loud to be heard against the clamour of the rest of the masses and it makes my heart sing to see others doing just that. I was comfortable with my response to this news and I didn’t envisage there being any conflict within me regarding my approach to the strike.

Hearing that there would be a picket line added a new layer to the situation. I was immediately taken back to memories of sitting at my Grandfather’s feet as a small child and hearing him having heated political discussions with my Grandmother and his seven outspoken children. His quiet strength echoes in my mind as he spoke about his unwavering views. He was a staunch Labour supporter, a union man. He spoke of picket lines with a kind of reverence. A line that should never be crossed if we are to respect the rights and humanity of people who are making such huge sacrifices for what they believe. I recall the images it brought to mind of men with angry and desperate faces fighting long and hard and against all odds to make a change.

I imagined that a picket line within a University campus, manned by lecturers rather than miners would be a very different scene. Having some knowledge of the character of my tutors, I could foresee a peaceful protest with a focus on dialogue rather than intimidation. Others amongst my group were less sure. A picket line, for them, immediately conjured up images of people being harassed and made to feel guilty for their decision to follow a different path. Their fears caused me to reflect on the huge influence that our background has on our response to this situation. To me, the picket line is a positive force, a symbol of hope and an exhibition of personal power. To others it appears to symbolise an uncontrolled and frightening place, where strong voices seek to overpower those who disagree with them. Processing this and searching back to understand my own response was hugely important in my decisions that followed. I was feeling an almost physical paralysis at the thought of crossing the picket line and attending lectures. Examining where this was coming from felt necessary before deciding what my level of support for the strike would be.

The next step in my process was a post on social media from one of my lecturers. It contained what I perceived to be a gentle request for support. Again, it has been perceived very differently by others on my course. This was another surprising turn of events. It was strange to me that two people could view the same post in such conflicting ways. Maybe this is something that has been in my awareness before, but this situation brought it home in a very tangible way. It caused me to reflect again on the many influences that mould our personalities. I considered the conditions of worth that influence not only our decisions and actions, but also our perception of the world around us. A significant moment occurred when a fellow student described their feelings towards the strike using the phrase ‘this is not my battle’. The strength of my response to this took me by surprise. Reflecting on this, I felt emphatically that standing up against any injustice, when I see it directly in front of me is always my battle. Mulling over these words was a big part of forming my response to the strike.

After looking into the details of the issue, I made a decision to respond to this request for support. It wasn’t a complicated decision at this stage. I imagined that it would be a response that many people on my course would make. I heard an injustice, a request for solidarity and felt a personal responsibility to do what I could to help. On the first day of the strike I made a trip to University to stand alongside my lecturers and let them know I was in full support of their action. It was surprising to me how few students were standing on the line on that first day. I felt disappointed and confused. It felt like I had misunderstood the theory of the person-centred approach that I was studying. Surely the others who were studying this approach would view this as an opportunity for real life application of the theory? I was aware of the multitude of reasons why someone may feel unable to stand on the line, and I could understand and accept these, but I felt very alone. Doubts began to arise as to the appropriateness of my support. Perhaps others knew that it was ‘not the done thing’ and I was making a fool of myself? These thoughts niggled at the back of my mind.

In response to this first day of strike action, a fellow student referred to student support of the strike as blind obedience. This angered me. What I had chosen to do was so far removed from blind obedience, and I hated to think that it was perceived as such. The decision to stand with my tutors had been an educated and considered one. I have been blindly obedient in the past and perhaps this is why the comment touched a nerve, stirring up difficult memories. Emotions ran incredibly high amongst my compatriots and I had many uncomfortable conversations. I felt conflicted at times and misunderstood.

The strike continued, and I supported it as much as I was able. The student support began to gather momentum and the focus of the action appeared to shift for me. This was no longer a battle focussing on the one element of the pension cuts, but it became representative of a much bigger issue. We were standing against the commercialisation of education and the skewed priorities of the powers that be. I was on the line as a personal symbol of resistance of the surge towards consumerism, with businesses and organisations putting profits before people. I was making a statement about my own struggle against apathy, pessimism and the avoidance of uncomfortable truths.

The experience of being part of the picket line was incredible. I met new people and reconnected with old acquaintances. I heard stories of oppression and injustice in other countries, and inspiring accounts of the sacrifices individuals make to stand against this, in the face of extreme opposition. I had deep and involved discussions about many important issues including politics, morality and person-centred theory. I listened to accounts from the lecturers on the line and heard of their individual responses to the strike, their pain at the inconvenience to their students and their collective passion for fighting against this injustice. Every time I joined them on the picket line was a step outside my comfort zone, but what I personally gained from taking these steps was monumental.

Being a part of this process was incredibly empowering. It awakened a voice within me that had been mute. It revealed to me the liberation that can be found in listening to yourself and living your truth regardless of how it may be perceived.

19th March 2012

'Everything passes and vanishes;

Everything leaves its trace;

And often you see in a footstep