Connections: Hidden British Histories, the Jewish Museum, Finchley, London
Interesting, informative but not yet complete, are some of the words I would use to describe Connections: Hidden British Histories. This touring exhibition is at the Jewish Museum until the end of January when it will move to the Ragged School Museum in east London.
It feels like it is continuing the discourse of this year's Black History Month - a now accepted part of the literary, artistic and educational calendar - but thankfully, this exhibition is not limited by the conventions of an October finish.
Connections is tucked away, but not hidden, in the far corner of the museum, which feels a bit like walking into grandfather's study and rummaging around the place he keeps all his secret, ancient and favourite things. The museum is quaint, sedate, intense and reverent.
The exhibition comprises 24 panels, and has a colour scheme reminiscent of a carnival - there are reds and yellows, it is bold and a little gaudy, but without the drums and the wiggle of a tutu. It's like Jimi Hendrix playing guitar in a library.
The panels cover topics ranging from politics to culture and music, and provide summaries of the history of cities such as London, Cardiff, Liverpool, Edinburgh and Southampton. It is here that Connections is at its best, linking the experiences of modern minorities and showing how racism and anti-Semitism has shaped people's lives.
But just at the point of its most perceptive analysis, it fails to deliver the coup de grace - that everybody is in some way an immigrant in the UK. What matters is not our actual status, but how we are perceived.
While the initial panels on Asian, black and Jewish communities dispel some misconceptions, such as the belief that the first black people came to the UK on the Empire Windrush boat in 1948, it also misinterprets historical analysis. We know that black people came here with the Roman army, but we do not know if they were the first and it is presumptuous to say so.
The stories about life in Stepney that are on part of the panel about London are interesting, especially those regarding the strong Jewish community in the East End and its relationship to the incoming Asian and black populations in the 1940s and 1950s. But it could have been told more dramatically by using additional photographs and audio recordings, rather than just blank bold type.
There are some gems. In Voices - on one of the later panels - Oona King, the MP for Tower Hamlets, tells us eloquently about the fate of mixed black and Jewish people. But I still wanted to know more. Do they suffer twice the abuse for being black and Jewish or are they able to combine their knowledge of two cultures to enrich their lives and ours? This is surely the subject of an exhibition on its own.
Also in Voices, Sarabjit Singh, a volunteer at the anti-racist organisation Searchlight, gives some insightful comments on the experiences of Sikhs and British society. But he misses the chance to point out that ethnic minorities are not monolithic superstructures, but are comprised of different cultures and identities.
Black and Jewish people have a similar, not identical, history of systematic alienation. But in spite of the historical parallels and some cooperation, lines have become blurred and broken since September 11. Connections reconnects those lines, not just between visible and invisible minorities, but with all humanity.
I felt at home in a strange way, even with the comedian Lenny Henry beaming at me from under one of the main industrially lit installations. Henry is part of a panel on comedians, which includes Kulvinder Ghir from the television show Goodness Gracious Me and David Baddiel, and looks at whether humour diffuses racial tension, bring us closer together, educates or informs?
Certainly it is a less threatening way of getting one's message across, but as comedians have remarked, it is a double-edged sword. Are your audience laughing with you or at you?
You get a sense from parts of the museum, such as the Holocaust education gallery, that the spectre of past atrocities overlays everything - and so it should. On most Sundays, Leon Greenman, a survivor of Auschwitz, speaks in the museum about man's inhumanity to man.
One of the strengths of the Connections exhibition is that it can be used as a resource for schools and educational organisations, so that the debates it initiates can continue. The detailed and thought-provoking information and the teachers' guide and activity sheet help this process. The debate is also helped by the extensive Connections website and a CD-Rom that accompanies the exhibition.
What also pleased me were the numerous talks and events on offer. This continues a trend where museums are being used as multifarious spaces - why not run poetry evenings and reading evenings to help explore new visual technology. Connections uses this approach to help people access information in a variety of challenging and innovative ways.
The exhibition is not tokenism. In spite of its obvious drawbacks, it is an honest attempt to find context for the notion of the interconnectedness of us all. The information is not shocking or even particularly challenging. But it is the start of something that could hopefully lead to permanent structures, relationships, outreach and education.
Onyeka is the director of Narrative Eye and a lecturer in history and law
Interesting, informative but not yet complete, are some of the words I would use to describe Connections: Hidden British Histories. This touring exhibition is at the Jewish Museum until the end of January when it will move to the Ragged School Museum in east London.
It feels like it is continuing the discourse of this year's Black History Month - a now accepted part of the literary, artistic and educational calendar - but thankfully, this exhibition is not limited by the conventions of an October finish.
Connections is tucked away, but not hidden, in the far corner of the museum, which feels a bit like walking into grandfather's study and rummaging around the place he keeps all his secret, ancient and favourite things. The museum is quaint, sedate, intense and reverent.
The exhibition comprises 24 panels, and has a colour scheme reminiscent of a carnival - there are reds and yellows, it is bold and a little gaudy, but without the drums and the wiggle of a tutu. It's like Jimi Hendrix playing guitar in a library.
The panels cover topics ranging from politics to culture and music, and provide summaries of the history of cities such as London, Cardiff, Liverpool, Edinburgh and Southampton. It is here that Connections is at its best, linking the experiences of modern minorities and showing how racism and anti-Semitism has shaped people's lives.
But just at the point of its most perceptive analysis, it fails to deliver the coup de grace - that everybody is in some way an immigrant in the UK. What matters is not our actual status, but how we are perceived.
While the initial panels on Asian, black and Jewish communities dispel some misconceptions, such as the belief that the first black people came to the UK on the Empire Windrush boat in 1948, it also misinterprets historical analysis. We know that black people came here with the Roman army, but we do not know if they were the first and it is presumptuous to say so.
The stories about life in Stepney that are on part of the panel about London are interesting, especially those regarding the strong Jewish community in the East End and its relationship to the incoming Asian and black populations in the 1940s and 1950s. But it could have been told more dramatically by using additional photographs and audio recordings, rather than just blank bold type.
There are some gems. In Voices - on one of the later panels - Oona King, the MP for Tower Hamlets, tells us eloquently about the fate of mixed black and Jewish people. But I still wanted to know more. Do they suffer twice the abuse for being black and Jewish or are they able to combine their knowledge of two cultures to enrich their lives and ours? This is surely the subject of an exhibition on its own.
Also in Voices, Sarabjit Singh, a volunteer at the anti-racist organisation Searchlight, gives some insightful comments on the experiences of Sikhs and British society. But he misses the chance to point out that ethnic minorities are not monolithic superstructures, but are comprised of different cultures and identities.
Black and Jewish people have a similar, not identical, history of systematic alienation. But in spite of the historical parallels and some cooperation, lines have become blurred and broken since September 11. Connections reconnects those lines, not just between visible and invisible minorities, but with all humanity.
I felt at home in a strange way, even with the comedian Lenny Henry beaming at me from under one of the main industrially lit installations. Henry is part of a panel on comedians, which includes Kulvinder Ghir from the television show Goodness Gracious Me and David Baddiel, and looks at whether humour diffuses racial tension, bring us closer together, educates or informs?
Certainly it is a less threatening way of getting one's message across, but as comedians have remarked, it is a double-edged sword. Are your audience laughing with you or at you?
You get a sense from parts of the museum, such as the Holocaust education gallery, that the spectre of past atrocities overlays everything - and so it should. On most Sundays, Leon Greenman, a survivor of Auschwitz, speaks in the museum about man's inhumanity to man.
One of the strengths of the Connections exhibition is that it can be used as a resource for schools and educational organisations, so that the debates it initiates can continue. The detailed and thought-provoking information and the teachers' guide and activity sheet help this process. The debate is also helped by the extensive Connections website and a CD-Rom that accompanies the exhibition.
What also pleased me were the numerous talks and events on offer. This continues a trend where museums are being used as multifarious spaces - why not run poetry evenings and reading evenings to help explore new visual technology. Connections uses this approach to help people access information in a variety of challenging and innovative ways.
The exhibition is not tokenism. In spite of its obvious drawbacks, it is an honest attempt to find context for the notion of the interconnectedness of us all. The information is not shocking or even particularly challenging. But it is the start of something that could hopefully lead to permanent structures, relationships, outreach and education.
Onyeka is the director of Narrative Eye and a lecturer in history and law
Project data
Funders: Heritage Lottery Fund, AHRB Parkes Centre, Jewish Council for Racial Equality, Hanadiv Charitable Foundation, Kessler Foundation, Stone Ashdown Trust
Funders: Heritage Lottery Fund, AHRB Parkes Centre, Jewish Council for Racial Equality, Hanadiv Charitable Foundation, Kessler Foundation, Stone Ashdown Trust
