Political Prodigies
This house has confidence in St Andrews political societies
As I write this, several St Andrews students are on a plane headed to Paris to protest. Elsewhere, five feminist societies have joined forces to “reclaim the streets” in the wake of the Cornell controversy. And somewhere between the pub and the library, discussions of anti-Scottish classism have become strikingly urgent.
For a town small enough to walk in fifteen minutes, St Andrews has a surprisingly crowded political life. Its societies debate, campaign, organise, protest. They form committees, hold meetings, drink port, and argue with one another. They are, in other words, busy. But for all this activity, St Andrews has a reputation for being relatively apolitical compared with other universities. Perhaps that is the paradox: in a town this small, political activity can feel conspicuous without necessarily being especially extensive. What, exactly, do these societies do, and what keeps them doing it?
A favourite event across the societies is the time-honoured combination of port, pints, and politics: a process that undoubtedly produces its fair share of political prodigies. Motions are proposed, arguments made, positions defended. Someone keeps an eye on the time and someone else, usually, orders another drink. Political disagreements are rehearsed over alcohol, different societies occasionally brought to the same table, and eager hands measure the pulse of contemporary politics, one motion at a time.
Other societies marry this theoretical side of politics with what Jamie Hutchison, honorary president of the Socialist Workers Students’ Society (SWSS), calls “mass-action to solve an issue.” Politics leaves the meeting room and becomes something more physical: campaigns organised, protests advertised, demonstrations joined. Labour, the Liberal Democrats, and SWSS are affiliated with their respective national parties, giving their St Andrews branches access to speakers, events, and political networks that extend well beyond the town.
Yet for some societies, maintaining this momentum has not been easy. Their fortunes can be surprisingly responsive to the politics happening beyond St Andrews. Labour Society, for instance, has seen its activity ebb and flow alongside interest in the party itself. As its chairman put it, students tend to be less enthusiastic about whichever party is in government. In their debates alongside the Conservatives, the motion ‘this house has confidence in His Majesty’s Government’ has failed every year since the 1990s.
Other societies have faced more immediate problems, such as small memberships or overlapping committees. For Socialist Society, this became apparent when its committee became intertwined with Labour’s. As Conor Mitchell, the current chairman, recalls, “During the time the socialists and Labour were intertwined, lots of people were more focused on Labour.” The issue was not necessarily a lack of political interest, but the more prosaic problem of having enough people to turn that interest into meetings, events, and a functioning society.
So what is the appeal? Why return to a place where the politics are rarely simple, and where there is not always an obvious cause to rally around? Perhaps, as Jamie puts it, the consensus is that “oftentimes there won't be something obvious we can all rally around, most of what keeps us going is the sense that the world is in major crisis and the fight back needs to begin now.”
Maybe there is something else, too: an unspoken agreement that however much the opinions differ, St Andrews should remain a place where they can be aired. The committees will change. The members will come and go. But on a Thursday night in St Andrews, someone will still put a motion to the floor.
Artwork courtesy of The MET Museum
Comments