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When I think about leadership, I will always remember family stories told to me about my Welsh grandfather. Graham Roach was a miner who worked his way up to be the pits safety officer, a job which often involved dealing with painful and disfiguring injuries. People are often aware of mining disasters, but often, they are not so conscious of the accidents that happen regularly, every week even. How, for example, my grandfather watched a slice of stone fall down and cut off the four fingers of a man who had been resting his hand on the seam. The stories of these eponymous accidents and how my grandfather dealt with them, were passed along the family grapevine. My grandfather told my uncle who in turn told my mother who in turn told me.
One famous story tells how my grandfather himself was injured. The night was when a conveyor belt snapped and wrapped itself round the leg of my grandfather and another man.
The first man was screaming: For the love of God, get it off me, boys.
My grandfather, never one to waste words, simply said: Me too, boys. He was always a man of few words, and the story made us all laugh, even though it meant hours of agony for my grandfather. The first man was weeping and wailing and calling out for a doctor. My grandfather simply repeated: Me too.
On another shift, my grandfather was underground when the mine flooded. Down one tunnel, some of the machinery had been swallowed up by the water. At the end of the tunnel was a long black pool. Taking off his boots, my grandfather readied himself. Now he dived into the water-filled shaft meeting the waters cold slap. He dived down feeling his way along the side of the shaft in the dark. His hand blundered on something metallic and sharp. He came up with the drill and worked all night in his wet clothes.
It doesnt surprise me that during World War Two, my grandfather had one of the most dangerous jobs in the airforce as a rear gunner. In the airforce and in his job at the mine, he always seemed to be the one to take on the difficult task, the thing that no one else wanted to do. He is altogether the kind of leader that I admire. Not a showy or conspicuous man, but nevertheless a man who knows how to act in a crisis. A man who doesnt make a fuss when something goes wrong, but simply waits in silence for help to come. A man who does unpleasant tasks, not relishing them, but knowing that they have to be done and that he must lead by example.
Wars are not only fought along battlelines, but also at home. And while cultural and political tensions are played out on the field of war, they also show themselves in the towns and cities that soldiers are fighting to protect.
One sad story of the home front was told to me by my Welsh grandmother, Norma Roach. it told the tale a family of Italian immigrants, who during World War Two, lived in Maesteg, a small coal town in South Wales. Italians from the Apennine Mountains migrated to the UK during the nineteenth and early twentieth century, and many of them settled in Wales. The Welsh Valley people became used to Italian cafs and ice-cream parlours.
One such Italian family was the Bellis, who set up an Italian caf in Maesteg, the town where my Welsh family lived for hundreds of years. They were well liked in town, but during World War Two, a policy of internment was brought in for immigrants from Italy, Germany and other enemy countries. After Mussolini declared war in 1940, the British government saw Italian immigrants as enemy aiens and potential spies. To control this unknown quantity, the government decided to send these immigrants to Canada where they could do less harm.
This meant, however, breaking up families. The older Bellis who were Italian citizens were rounded up and put on a boat to Canada the SS Arandora Star, while members of the Belli family who were born in Wales had to stay behind.
The ironic thing was that the Bellis journeying to Canada on the Arandora Star never completed their journey. It was sunk in the Atlantic by a German submarine. There were over 1200 German and Italian internees on board, and over 800 people died including the Bellis.
Terrible News about the Welsh Publisher, University of Wales Press
By Zoe Brigley Thompson, 2010-12-08
Without a viable source of funding for academic publishing in Wales, Welsh Studies that is scholarship about Wales and scholarship in the Welsh language will be in an untenable position. It will be unable to perform in the Research Evaluation Framework (REF) and unable to take its place on an international platform. In order to understand its culture, interrogate its past and build a meaningful future, Wales needs its researchers and teachers. Without a means to circulate research, scholarship and teaching will fade and die.
WRITE TO HEFCW AND THE WELSH ASSEMBLYThe key issues involved in this issue are outlined below and we hope that as many people as possible will call for a reversal of HEFCWs decision.We suggest that you write to the following (contact details are given at the end of this document).Mr Roger Thomas, Chair of HEFCW CouncilProfessor Philip Gummett, Chief Executive of HEFCWLeighton Andrews, Minister for Children, Education and Lifelong Learning in the Welsh Assembly GovernmentYour constituency AMYour list AMYour MPA list of Council Members of HEFCW is given in a separate doc, do write to any you know personally.We suggest that your letters to HEFCW ask that the full Council be shown your correspondence.
The HEFCW Publications Grant has funded about 15 titles a year since 1999. It served (in HEFCWs own words) to boost research in Wales; to boost the standing of higher education and of higher education institutions in Wales; to fulfil the Councils objectives in relation to Welsh language and culture, particularly in relation to scholarship in these areas (from Criteria for the use of the HEFCW Grant). From now on, however, HEFCW proposes that these funds will be distributed to individual universities, which can then allocate funding for such publications if they consider that publication of the kind hitherto supported by the HEFCW Publication Fund is an academic priority for them (from HEFCW letter to UWP).
In the short term, with the REF just around the corner, individual universities might allocate some funds towards Welsh publications. However, there seems little chance that this will be sustained. In the longer term, this money (which is not ringfenced) is likely to be used for other purposes. Welsh scholarship will be seriously damaged as a consequence.The new funding system replaces the block grant paid directly to UWP with a piecemeal system. This will leave UWP with considerably reduced editorial control, as it will increasingly have to make decisions based on funding attached to titles rather than on their intrinsic quality. This will undermine the planning and sustainability of key series.Funds may not be allocated to the universities which are producing the best Welsh scholarship in any one year. Moreover, significant work in the field by scholars not based at Welsh universities will not be funded.
Welsh scholarship both work in the Welsh language and work about Wales will have no specialist University Press. As a result, very little scholarly research on Welsh subjects will be published.Younger scholars, those based outside Wales and others not directly employed by universities wishing to invest in REF publications will not be able to publish crucial research.A lack of research publications will be seen as a sign of academic weakness and will undermine scholarship in a diverse range of Welsh studies.
It is not economically viable. HEFCW recognises this under the new system when it suggests that individual Universities can provide publishing subsidies from the redistributed funds.
Publishers outside Wales tend to lack the interest or necessary expertise in Wales-related fields. As such, they are unlikely to accept Welsh-language material or books primarily exploring the history and culture of Wales.These were the conditions which prompted the creation of the HEFCW grant in 1999 and the situation has not improved.
When I was a little girl, my mother used to sing to me a lullaby, which her mother (my Welsh grandmother) used to sing to her. The words went: I never knew where the lullaby had come from, though I had an idea that it was something to do with the Irish immigrants in our family who came to South Wales at the end of the nineteenth century looking for work in the ironworks and the mines. My great-grandfather, my grandmother's father, was Irish. I was thinking about this lullaby the other day, and I was doing some research. To my surprise, I discovered that the lullaby was part of Isaiah 62.4, It just shows how ignorant I am of the Bible. I am not sure whether my mother and grandmother know this, but I will ask them when I next ring home. When I read the full scripture though, what struck me was how beautiful it was, how right it was too for the Irish immigrants, even if that is not where the lullaby tradition in my family came from. It's a little like hiraeth too, that longing for homes that have disappeared, friends who passed on and loved ones lost to us. Even as you read the lines (which I quote in full below), it is obvious that the joys described will only be experienced in restfulness and peace after death. I think I had a sense of this even as a child.
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