5 days ago
28
I had thought my Dulwich days were well behind me and that I’d never again have to think about the antisemitic taunts I suffered from Nigel Farage at school. Then at some point in the late 2000s, a friend sent me a YouTube video of the then Ukip leader haranguing EU commissioners.
The instant I saw Farage, my blood froze. All I could think of was his 13-year-old self sidling up to me, growling the words “Hitler was right” and other odious remarks (“To the gas chambers”, “Gas them – ssssssssss”) which he now refers to, rather quaintly, as banter. The verb “trigger” is perhaps overused, but it’s the only word I can think of to describe the stomach-churning emotions I felt in that moment I laid eyes on him again on YouTube.
As Farage became an increasingly ubiquitous figure on the public stage, I would tell friends and strangers alike of my experience of him at school. It was alarming to me that all people seemed to see was Farage the entertainer, the nonconformist political figure, overflowing with bonhomie – a straight-talking man of the people, holding up his pint glass.
One of my friends with whom I shared my recollections of that darker side of Farage urged me to speak out about my experience in 2013 and put me in touch with the Channel 4 journalist Michael Crick, who was then compiling his report of Farage’s alleged racism at school.
I felt deeply ambivalent. I didn’t want to expose what happened to me on national TV, and I wondered if it was even fair to do so, given that we were only 13 to 14 at the time. But of course I followed the reporting closely, and it was Farage’s response to Crick’s questions that made me regret not having participated: “I said some ridiculous things, not necessarily racist things.” My anger at what I saw as blatant dishonesty meant I would not be quite so reluctant in the future.
I have seen Farage’s denials of the allegations made in the Guardian and I listened on Monday night to Farage’s response in a broadcast interview. I heard only more dishonesty. I would like to address the points he made directly.
Farage has said that this happened so long ago that people could not possibly remember such experiences. I ask, how could I not? It was the first time that I had encountered the “oldest hatred”, the one that claimed generations of my family. I had assumed that such views were a thing of the past – but he taught me otherwise. Maybe he cannot recall what he did. If so, such memory loss is perhaps not a great selling point for a potential leader of a country. But as the victim of his verbal abuse, I can assure you that I do recall it all vividly. His words, the tone of his voice, his physical posture, these are all intensely ingrained, as was the emotional impact – degrading, humiliating.
Farage suggests that he has never “directly” abused anyone, or at least he did not do so with any intention to hurt. He has said that those who have claimed otherwise are not telling the truth. Well, he did directly target me and I can tell you that it did hurt. How did he think it would make me feel? How does he think those who were called Pakis or told to “go home” felt? His aides have said it is “one person’s word against another”. The Guardian has spoken to about 20 people who witnessed or experienced racist behaviour, including a number who have corroborated my account.
A third strand of Farage’s explanation of events is that he may have simply “misspoken” as a child. How very woke of this culture warrior to use that term. He was not a child. He was 13 to 14 years old when he “misspoke” to me. The age when many cultures and religions encourage teenagers to face adulthood. I was doing barmitzvah classes during the year Farage was frequently misspeaking to me. His words made me feel conflicted about my Jewish heritage, ashamed even. Ridiculous, really. According to the allegations in the Guardian’s reporting, racist abuse of other pupils continued through to when he was aged 18. That is a lot of misspeaking.
Finally, there is the suggestion from Farage that this was somehow normal 1970s banter that is being wrongly reinterpreted today to fit a contemporary narrative. The cruelty of Farage’s words transcended typical schoolkid banter even back then in the 1970s. Racist attacks are becoming normalised once again in the UK, fuelled by the rise of populism and the far right across the world, and, of course, the anti-immigration agenda. Given Reform UK’s policies, it is even more pressing that questions about Farage’s own “banter” and “misspeaking” are raised.
I’d like to know why he has never shown the slightest contrition for the deep offence these allegations caused me and many others. And I’d like to know if what I view as his early racist mindset has truly changed with the passing of time. Because when I hear Mr Farage talking about rounding up and deporting hundreds of thousands of human beings, and threatening those with leave to remain or settled status, I cannot help but think of the schoolboy sidling up to me and telling me that “Hitler was right”.
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Peter Ettedgui is a Bafta- and Emmy-winning director and producer.
