We learnt about the roots of the concept of multiculturalism - 1960s Canada where the rapid influx of economic migrants forced government and academia to consider the new arrivals' impact on the wider society. We then deconstructed it's meaning and connotations, comparing it to 'multiethnicity' (which is what most people really mean when they use multicultural, as they refer not to customs and habits but ethnicity), the new vogue term, 'diversity' and its ideal outcome, 'community integration'.
We also had some fascinating discussions with two local policeman and a community cohesion officer from the local council, however these were somewhat eclipsed by the heated and heartfelt discussions that they prompted after they left. Of the three visitors, one was white, one was Asian, and one was black - incidentally all were male, highlighting another axis of inequality that's been a running theme for us - and some in the group felt that the dynamics between the visitors, and between the visitors and the group, exhibited an unspoken and underlying racial tension. It all boiled down to people from minorities sometimes feeling that they don't have the right to speak.
The comment brought interesting reactions: I along with many in the room (which was, predictably, mostly white) became instinctively defensive, however as the discussion progressed I realised that an important point had been made: that I - a white, middle class male - must accept that others may feel discriminated at times, even though I can't see it, and only by being sensitive to that can I hope to understand and help people overcome it. It wasn't about me (or anyone else) being racist, but someone taking the brave step of sharing a very personal insecurity that resonates with people from minorities around the world (it did with me when I represented an ethnic minority in Africa), and underpins so many of the challenges that modern, diverse societies face.
We also compared different views towards nationalism. Many of our group had just returned from international conferences where they had met with intercultural navigators from the other participating countries (most of them in Central and Eastern Europe), and noted the strong sense of nationalism that their peers from the new EU member states felt. The only country that was more nationalist was Ukraine, which is still in the EU's waiting room. By contrast the Brits and the Scandinavians had felt uncomfortable (as I do) discussing and enacting their national culture. This was described as 'post-nation statism', a label that struck a chord with me.
The venue for these intense discussions was, bizarrely, the National Space Centre, which is located on a bleak industrial estate on the outskirts of Leicester. Approaching on the dundering local bus, we suddenly saw an enormous transparent beehive rising from the cracked car parks and crumbling warehouses around us. As we got closer we saw that it housed two NASA rockets.
Initially I thought it slightly surreal but ultimately pointless that such a venue had been chosen. I'd never really been interested in space. But we were given an hour to wonder around the exhibits on the second day, and I soon shed my cynicism and was running around as giddily as the primary school kids that frantic teachers were trying in vain to control. There were all sorts of red buttons for me to push and simulations to experience, but my favourite part was footage showing astronauts larking about on the moon. Some of them were skipping along, enjoying the reduced gravity; one was whacking golf balls as hard as he could; another was struggling to lift machinery and flailing around as if a wearing giant sumo outfit on a budget gameshow. It looked like a lot of fun.The most memorable exhibit was a series of astronaut profiles. Being among the most competitive professions in the world one would expect the chosen few to be high-calibre individuals, but there was one, Kalpana Chawla, who caught my attention. Predictably she was an outstanding scientist, and a dedicated servant to NASA, but unlike the others profiled who listed hobbies such as 'winter sports' and 'scuba diving', her hobby was aerobatic flying. She was the first Indian woman in space in 1997, and though one of her experiments went badly wrong, a five month investigation found that a technical error was responsible, and she was fully exonerated. This meant that she would be able to return to space, which she did in 2003, however following a successful mission her space shuttle disintegrated upon re-entering the atmosphere.
I was surprised by how much it affected me, and in the week since I read it the tragedy of her (and her six crew mates) dramatic death has stayed with me. There are many themes to draw from her extraordinary life and death - how great that an Indian woman could achieve so much, but how much easier would it have been were she a white American man; why did NASA not allow the astronauts to repair the damaged insulation before it cost the crew their lives - but I've focussed on the simple story of a person doing something that she wanted to, despite the clear risk to her life. It's been said that those who aren't willing to die for something, will fall for anything. I'm not sure I want anything enough to risk that much, but then I am only young.
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