The thoughtful activist need look no further than Strathclyde for inspiration, writes John Crace in the Guardian.

You used to know where you were. Back in the 70s and early 80s, political activists were instantly identifiable by their tribal colours. Straggly hair, beards - compulsory for men, optional for women - placards on the picket line and lifetime membership of the Socialist Workers party. By the end of the decade, activists had, for the most part, moved into the shadows as police surveillance was stepped up. The closest anyone got to them in action was a grainy, distant image of a balaclava-clad figure. But you still kind of knew who they were: people operating outside society.

There remain a few extremists hanging out beyond the margins, but activism is now a high-street phenomenon. Activists come in all shapes and sizes, as globalisation, the environment and third world debt have become mainstream issues. Involvement in causes became the hottest ticket to social inclusion this summer as Make Poverty History and other campaigning wristbands became the must-have fashion accessories for anyone under 60. The message was clear. Students, middle-class folk from the burbs, City whizzkids: anyone could be an activist now.

One of the hallmarks of social acceptability, though, comes when a university decides to take up the cause and this month, Strathclyde University, in partnership with the Centre for Human Ecology (CHE) in Edinburgh, offers its first postgraduate degree in political activism. Not that it goes under that title, mind. With respectability comes refinement and gentility, so the course trades as the rather less threatening masters in human ecology.

Call it what you like though, political activism is exactly what it is, insists David Miller, sociology lecturer and co-director of the masters degree. "We're not talking about violence, or any of the stereotypical images associated with activism," he says. "What we look at is how to engage with the system in order to change things. This can, more often than not, mean working within - or in partnership with - existing organisations to exert influence, rather than operating on the outside. It's not about shouting from the margins, it's about being a role model for others and being effective."

This all chimes nicely with Strathclyde's mantra of useful knowledge, but the course still pushes back the boundaries of academic convention. Emotional engagement with one's work has often been looked down on in university circles, as if the purity of the intellect might be contaminated by strength of feeling, but for Miller's course it is a core requirement. "Our motto is head, heart and hand," he says. "The academic cannot exist in an emotional and practical vacuum. Students must not only be passionate about what they are doing, they must also understand how to translate that passion into action."

This is certainly what students Adam Howard and Jenny Patient had in mind. "I was working in community finance and social enterprise," says Howard, "and I was looking for a course that could provide a better, more pragmatic, understanding of how to develop a sustainable way of life."

Patient was an adult educator working in community regeneration. "This course embraces activism in its widest sense; it combines the passionate with the pragmatic and gives you new ways of thinking about sustainability and social justice."

The syllabus - one year full-time, two years part-time - is split into two compulsory modules on human ecology covering the self, the community, integration, vocation and leadership, combined with options on eco-psychology, food culture and spiritual activism.

Strathclyde's decision to go into partnership with the CHE is an important vindication for the Edinburgh institution. The CHE was established in 1972 as part of the same response to the Limits of Growth report that saw the emergence of Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth, and was initially attached to Edinburgh University as a centre for research into environmental issues. Edinburgh broke off its involvement in the late 90s, though the reasons remain blurred. The university claimed the CHE had become financially unviable. Students and academics believed Edinburgh wanting to distance itself politically.

"Well," says Osbert Lancaster, the CHE's director, carefully, "we have survived financially, so ..." He lets the sentence tail off. "We have continued as an independent research consultancy and managed to obtain the outside validation of the Open University for our courses. But we're delighted to have become partners with Strathclyde, because there is such a clear crossover between their interests and ours."

For Miller, who was involved in the G8 protests in Scotland during the Gleneagles summit in July, the course is a symbol that activism has come of age. "It's no longer a question of gesture politics to shift public opinion," he argues. "Public opinion is already far to the left of current Labour and Conservative policy. There's almost no argument to be had about the rights and wrongs of debt relief and environmental issues. What's at issue is how best to influence government institutions that have become steadily less democratic."

He might exude idealism, but Miller insists he and the course are pragmatic. "Of course, there will be arguments about whether Bob Geldof was picked off by Blair and Bush," he says, "but the reality is that the protests in Scotland were a success on their own terms. No one in their right mind ever thought that we could end world poverty that quickly but, by holding Scotland's largest indoor political meeting, we showed we weren't going away.

"Properly channelled protest can work. The Venezuelan elections, the vote against the EU constitution in France and the kicking out of the privatised water companies in Tanzania all showed that people can take on governments and win. On a smaller scale, closer to home here in Scotland, protesters have managed to get the Skye bridge toll lifted after a sustained campaign of non-payment." This, agrees Lancaster, is the whole point. "It's not the level at which you get involved that matters," he says, "it's how intelligently you do it."

It sounds grown up, and it certainly comes with a grown-up price tag. With more than 20 students from the UK, US, Canada, Ecuador and Cameroon having paid £4,500 each for this year's course, Strathclyde might just have proved that its brand of political activism can pay off.
 

from the Guardian, 18 Oct 2005