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Old 10-06-2014, 11:16 PM   #41
bikerdruid
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Originally Posted by forestgreen View Post
Perhaps they meant boarding schools in a global sense biker- as most countries seem to have them.
actually, the british boarding school system is rather unique in the world.
in other parts of the world, boarding schools are quite rare and generally specialized, like military schools, for example.
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Old 15-07-2014, 10:17 AM   #42
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How can a British MP deal with child abuse when they have been corrupted by it themselves?...;

http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2...ical-sex-abuse




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The head of Boris Johnson's former prep school has been arrested and questioned on suspicion of historical sexual abuse.

Clive Williams, 69, was interviewed by Sussex police on Wednesday following allegations of sexual assault and child neglect. A computer and documents were taken from his home for examination.

The former head of Ashdown House prep school in Forest Row, East Sussex, was released on bail the same day and is understood not to have been charged. Williams was head at the school, of which he was also a former pupil, from 1975 to 2003.

Founded in 1843, the 125-pupil school has been owned by the Cothill Educational Trust since 2009. Former pupils include the mayor of London, his sister, Rachel, and the actor Damian Lewis.

A police statement said Williams was released on police bail until 11 November while inquiries continued.

"During January this year we were contacted by a firm of solicitors representing a number of clients who have reported to them that they were sexually and physically assaulted by staff while they were pupils at Ashdown House school near Forest Row in the 1970s," the statement said.

Police said they had contacted 20 people reporting offences, including clients of that firm. "Most have already been interviewed by officers from our specialist child protection team in East Sussex. Arrangements are in hand to interview the others, some of whom live abroad. The investigation continues and now spans a period from the late 1960s to the early 1980s."

The statement added: "Reports of this kind are always taken seriously, however long ago the offending is said to have occurred."

Police emphasised there were no current safeguarding issues at the school relating to the inquiry. "At this stage we are not disclosing the number of people against whom allegations have been made."

The trust said in January it had been "given to understand that it may be the subject of legal proceedings relating to episodes of abuse said to have taken place between 30 and 40 years ago".

It added that trustees were "deeply saddened" and wished to do everything they could to assist any former pupil who had been affected. The school received "informal approaches" from two former pupils in 2003 and advised them that the matter should be reported to the police, it said.

Sussex police encouraged anybody with relevant information, including any former pupils who may have been abused at the school during the period and had yet to come forward, to make contact by phoning 101 or emailing [email protected], quoting Operation Mitre.
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Old 15-07-2014, 10:38 AM   #43
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It`s all go . Another perv in charge of desensitizing and corrupting the future power-brokers... what a huge surprise eh? Not
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Old 21-07-2014, 09:48 AM   #44
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Another brilliant piece from The Guardian;

http://www.theguardian.com/society/2...abuse-children




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Marrying someone posh is an adventure.” Sally Fraser laughs. The child of doctors, her school was a comprehensive in Bradford where poshness was not an issue. Her husband, whom she met at a university drama group, is different. So is his family. “When we first met, his mother’s chief concern was that, being common, I might get our children to use dummies, which she disapproved of. We weren’t even engaged!”

Fraser’s blog, Boarding School Action, campaigns to try to curtail elite Britain’s hallowed habit of sending its small children away to be looked after by strangers. “Privileged abandonment,” it has been called. Sally, 31, whose husband went to prep school at eight and then to Harrow, has had to become something of an expert in the complex psychiatry of early separation and childhood trauma.

It was early in their marriage – now six years old – that Sally started to disentangle her husband’s past. “Having just started a family, I was into this idea that your childhood is everything in forming your nature. I’d done some therapy myself and I started to look at boarding school, wondering if it was harmful to him, and I came across Boarding School Survivors. And I looked at the symptoms, and my husband, and I just went: tick, tick, tick.”

“I thought of myself as a hero,” she writes on her blog. “That I could swoop into his life and give him all the love he needed. But I couldn’t, and one can’t, and it isn’t like that. Also, I had never really taken on the fact that boarding school had been his whole life, not just a one-off traumatic event or unfavourable circumstance but an entire upbringing, and so the problems he faces are not just bad habits or infuriating traits – they are the result of a decade of ingrained survival practices.”

She talks of how he would avoid his birthday and “sabotage” other people’s. Only in counselling did the reason emerge. His prep school’s tradition on birthdays involved a dunking in an ice-cold bath. Children would hide birthday cards and presents from home, so the older boys did not know the date.

So what are the symptoms of a boarding school survivor? “Well, obviously, a fear of abandonment. A tendency to shut down emotionally, and freeze out, in the face of something sad, or frightening or infuriating. There’s the ‘timetabling’!” she laughs. “You’re resented if you just want to relax and put your feet up, like a normal person. There’s always got to be a plan or a task.” The first time they went on holiday together, Sally and he nearly broke up – until she gave him a puzzle book so he would not feel under-occupied.


“He had no stand-out trauma. Just unhappiness. He was never buggered, or anything. It’s just that he left home at eight. And that’s why I feel so strongly about this subject – I just think that this is an enormous wrong to do to a child. Private school has contributed so much to social and educational injustice in Britain, and boarding school has had a particularly powerful effect – it has made an elite that is not empathetic, that believes hardship is good for you. That finds situations that should inspire sympathy deeply uncomfortable.”

After debating all this in couple-counselling sessions, Sally’s husband signed up for a weekend of “boarding school survivor” therapy. These are run by Nick Duffell, the psychotherapist whose writing and work over 30 years have dragged the issue of the damage suffered by children in boarding schools, state and private, into the public eye.

Sally says her husband is now better and happier. “He’s brave,” she says. “It’s wonderful to see him; he’s a great dad. I’ve never felt I have had to look after him. But I have thought I’m having to live with the consequences of this system.

“And I do feel we’ve got to do something about it, we who know about it, but weren’t part of it. We’ve got to change it. We have to stop early boarding.”

Three months ago I wrote about my own experiences in a 1970s private school and of the huge scandal now coming to light around systematic abuse of children in the boarding system. I asked readers of the Observer Magazine to tell me of their own experiences. Hundreds of you have. A third of the emails have come from women. Many of them are survivors of abuse, emotional, physical and sexual, at boarding school; the stories just as grotesque and damaging as those of the men. But many others wrote as people who have loved and lived with survivors – wives, sisters, mothers and children.

In their way these emails are just as painful to read as the raw counts of abuse, neglect and psychological damage that the survivors tell. You realise that when children are traumatised, a slow charge is laid that may detonate over decades.

I’ve heard stories of depression, divorces and of so many suicides. Of parents who say they never knew their child again after waving them a cheery goodbye at eight years old. Of children who did not work out why their fathers were so flawed until after they were dead and unreachable. Of husbands incapable of loving: “Such a closed, emotionally unavailable man. He only seemed to come alive when he was angry. And we lived in terror.”

The inbox is daunting, full of anger and unresolvable regret. I’ve read many stories from people who wonder why, when their mothers or fathers had suffered so much at boarding school, it was decided they should go themselves, and stay there, even when it was clear they were suffering, too. Several ex-boarders say that the worst thing of all, after the agony of that separation at seven or eight years old, has been never being able to trust their parents, or any loved one, again. Parents talk, bewildered, of children who hate them, who blame them for all the sorrow and hurt when all they had done – often counting the pennies – was try to buy them a better start in life.

Most moving of all – because it touches on my own experience – are the stories of the loved ones: the people who have stuck by the victims of childhood abuse, coaxed them into opening up their past, and slowly, patiently turned damaged men into something like happy ones (as yet I have not heard from any husbands doing the same job).

Thinking of these untold heroes, I went to see Paula McFadyen. She is the wife of the most vocal survivor of boarding school abuse I’ve met since writing my own account. I heard Ian McFadyen ambush Nick Clegg on a radio phone-in (they were schoolfriends at Caldicott, where a ring of abusers, led by the headmaster, operated in the 1970s). McFadyen wanted Clegg to push for a government inquiry into institutional child abuse – a wish that was granted earlier this month. I had to meet the woman with this volcano of righteous outrage.

Sitting among her crystals and her paintings of hares, in a cottage embraced by the great green curves of Scotland’s border hills, McFadyen is one of the calmest and kindest people I’ve ever met. Calm is needed, because her husband, Ian, is her opposite. Over the two hours that we’ve been chatting, I’ve had to say several times, gently and then less gently, that I’d really like to speak to Paula alone.

Ian agrees. But he won’t leave it. He is forever leaning round a door jamb, or popping up by the sofa, to add his thoughts and even to complete her carefully considered sentences. She just laughs. “That’s Ian. He’s ADHD, on top of the other things. You live with him and you love him.”

Paula has supported him in the witness box – twice – in trials of his teachers. And she supports him as he tells his tale again and again, on talk radio and in the newspapers, even though that entails the most dark revelations. “I’m a happily married man now,” he said to Jeremy Vine on BBC Radio Two in May. “But I can’t use the term to my wife that ‘I love her’ because the first person I said I loved, outwith my family, was Mr Hill.”

George Hill, his teacher and serial rapist when he was 11, had made him feel complicit – a “special boy”. How does Paula feel about Ian bringing things like this to the public?

“Well,” she replies, in her soft Borders voice, “it is his mission. It wouldn’t be my way of doing it – I’m a private sort of person. Now my life is all over Twitter and Facebook. But that’s his healing. If that’s what he needs to do, who’s to say it’s right or wrong? And I think the only way to get over abuse is to start on that path of forgiveness towards the abusers, or to get some sort of resolution. Ian remained silent for 30 years: now he feels he has to speak out for those who still feel captive by their silence.

“Folk don’t want to hear that – but it’s only you that’s suffering by carrying that anger around. The abusers are not suffering, so they still have got the power over you. That’s Ian’s healing path – and it is so important. He can talk about forgiveness, and he can encourage other people that it’s not shameful, it’s not your fault. That’s the only reason I’m talking to you – because there must be myriads of other people who also need to speak.”

The “other things” Paula mentions about Ian begin with brutal abuse from the age of nine or 10, at the private boarding school, Caldicott, Buckinghamshire. He spent six years there. Sexually assaulted again and again, by the school’s deputy headmaster, George Hill, and other teachers, Ian left the school at 14 riven by guilt, confusion and self-hatred. He “went off the rails”, as he says, experimenting and testing himself. As a teenager he sought out groups of older men for sex. After working in the hotel industry, his parents’ profession, he was by his mid-30s living rough and begging on the streets of Edinburgh. Ian was an alcoholic and a heroin addict well-known for his violence and an upper-class accent that contrasted with the piercings, long hair and big dog that were his street uniform.

Rescued from that life by the brilliant Scottish charity Streetwork, Ian eventually became a support worker, counselling and helping the lost and rejected of Edinburgh, among whom he’d counted himself. This is how he and Paula met, 10 years ago. She is from a rather different background: she grew up in the Scottish Borders in a family that had for generations worked in the garment mills of Hawick; her first job was as a maker of knitwear, but later she got a degree in community education, helping homeless people find new careers. Now she paints, sculpts and, you realise, spends a lot of time listening to Ian. (There are the 2am Twitter jags – your timeline is never empty if you follow @IanMcFadyen1966).

Paula says she was aware of Ian’s past as a work colleague and when they started going out; he made no secret of it. “I knew he was a complex character.” On their first meeting, his mother asked: “Did you know he was a drug addict?” But it was only after they had married and she and her son, then 12, had set up house with him did Paula understand that Ian’s past was going to impinge on their future. For a start, sex and any physical intimacy stopped.

“I think he felt he didn’t have to pretend any more – he backed off completely: ‘We’re married now; we don’t need to bother with that any more.’ There was a rubber wall around him – you touched him and he’d jump.”

Ian set about helping bring up Paula’s son, but insisted that he wouldn’t have children with her himself. He told her he was frightened he might turn out to be an abuser: he’d read that that can happen to those who have been abused as children. “For nine years, he slept on the sofa. He’s coming to bed now. But he doesn’t hug or kiss or anything like that. That’s very hard. I can deal with the rest. But if you’re a tactile person, if that’s a big part of your life. It’s not the sex… it’s no cuddling. But I went on really nasty antidepressants, just to quell my sex drive. We’re aware of it; we talk about it now. But I don’t want him to do something he doesn’t want to do. That’s not going to work.”

The abusers, she suggests, stole from him the right to enjoy intimacy. “It’s taken me years to come to terms with the fact that it’s not me, it’s not my fault. I used to go to bed crying, on my own. But we are best mates…” She pauses, collects herself. “He’s working on the cuddles – I do get hugs off him now.”

“Supermarket checkouts,” Ian interjects.

“Yes, supermarket checkouts are good for hugs. Because it’s safe.”

“At the checkout, I can show what a great husband I am, how much I love and look after my wife. But safe – nothing can happen there. I won’t be put into a situation where I have to have sex.”

“We should put a supermarket checkout in the bedroom,” muses Paula.

I say it’s good they’re talking about it. “We do, now. A lot. We talk about it to death,” she says.

“Yes, but the problem is…” says Ian, and pauses to think. He starts again: “I’ve truly, truly found my soulmate. But I’m hurting her and that really upsets me, because I wouldn’t allow anyone else to hurt my wife. But I am hurting her emotionally and spiritually because I’m not allowing myself to feel safe with her. And that’s a result of what happened to me… Sex was never an issue, it was just a commodity to be traded, and because it was such a poor commodity, I don’t want to be involved in it. That is an issue I need to work over. I’m not a bad person; I’m a great husband. I have issues with intimacy and being close, but we’ll work on that.”

Paula nods emphatically.

“I mean, sex is not something I associate with intimacy. It means nothing; it was something I was taught to do as a child, to do well, to give pleasure to others. I do sex like a robot. I used to sleep with my female bosses.”

“Lucky them!”

When Ian has left the room, she cries a little. “You feel, when it’s abuse, the victim gets all the sympathy. But the other damage – his mother, his sister, his wife – we’re just left… Until he addresses these problems, they have won – they have still got the power over him.”

Many of the hundreds of people who have emailed me since early May seem to have found some satisfaction in the simple fact of recounting their story. I’ve been corresponding with men and women in their 70s and older who have never before spoken about what happened to them when they were just eight or 10. They may never do so, but opening that long-closed box does seem to help. For most the shame and anger has not dissipated, but many have said that opening that box is satisfying and helpful. Telling their story can be powerful medicine and many have found some relief and even resolution through counselling and psychotherapy.

For others, there is no consolation. Some of the relatives who have written just want explanations, and perhaps redress, even if these things have become impossible. One woman, a successful media executive, wrote with great tenderness and much anger about her beloved sibling whom she could now do nothing to help.

“My eldest brother (golden boy/head boy/witty, bright, clever, beautiful blond and blue-eyed boy) was at a boarding prep school from the age of six to 13. He was abused for years. It hardly matters as to the level as the effects were devastating, even though he buried it so deep that none of us even knew about it until a few months before his death, 15 years ago, when, a good 10 years after leaving the school, the matter finally came to light with the police… I don’t see my brother’s death as suicide any more. More like murder. I started to Google the links between abuse and mental illness – and there it all was. By the time the police finally started investigating my brother he was psychotic, depressed, schizophrenic: whatever the labels were, his brain was like a series of exploding Bunsen burners.”

This remains a very active problem for Mary – not her real name – in part because one of her brother’s two abusive teachers, a violent and sadistic man, is still alive. Y, as we’ll call him, has served a prison sentence since leaving the school, but his crimes against her brother and others had not featured in the court case.

I have also contacted the police, in search of a sexually abusive teacher from my school, and I wanted to talk through the ramifications of this with Mary. For me, for Ian McFadyen and for hundreds of others who attended schools like Caldicott, St Paul’s, Colet Court and Ashdown House, revenge through the legal system may provide some interesting therapy. But the exposure that involves is fraught with psychological and practical risks.

Mary is well aware of those problems. She’s also worried that her parents, all her family, still feel the effects of her brother’s abuse. “It’s in the air whenever we are all together – profound and horrifically tragic, yet somehow all of it unspoken. And with suicide comes the inevitable guilt that loved ones left behind feel, or indeed don’t allow themselves to feel by blaming others.

“I have tried to encourage my mother to have therapy, but she would never do that. She is of the stiff-upper-lip generation – which, of course, is part of the root of the problem with this whole issue.”

Ignoring the unacceptably ugly is deeply rooted in the class and its culture, Mary and I both agree. “As little as 10 years ago,” she says, “child abuse was hardly spoken about: it wasn’t acknowledged, perhaps it was almost expected as part of an induction into real life. There is a line in Alan Bennett’s History Boys where someone reminisces: ‘You know, before paedophilia got a bad name.’”

Mary is particularly driven by the fact that the jury that convicted Y, and the judge who sentenced him, never heard what he had done to her brother. These details, as horrific as any I’ve read in the emails, emerged as she questioned his friends and contemporaries.

“My father talked about killing him. I literally had to beg him not to as then he would go to prison, too. When your life feels like a movie you know something is very wrong. Y was in prison for 12 years and I have found him on the sex offenders register. But I just feel that 12 years was not nearly long enough. He ruined my brother. It was a gross misplacing of trust which my parents in no way deserved. And if he is alive, you have to worry if someone else is now suffering...”

I ask her if she really wants to pursue Y. She is doubtful. “You revisit the trauma too much – it’s like reliving it. That’s what has happened to me. I’ve thought so much as I’ve joined the dots about what happened to him, over the past year. I’ve really, really hated Y, to the point where I wanted him dead, and it’s become too much. It’s very unhealthy for me and I’m now on antidepressants,” she says. “I have to put a boundary up. There’s a balance between facing your demons and really feeling the emotions, and not spending however many years involved in it so it just takes over your life, and your family’s.”

There is a further thing. Y was married. “Though I hate him, I can’t help but think: he must have had something awful happen to him. Is that a reason to feel some sense of forgiveness? Would you forgive a serial killer because of his unhappy childhood?”

Many people caught up in this scandal and its reverberations have had similar thoughts. (There are now at least 150 private schools with serious current or recent allegations against them.) All the abusive men – and they are mostly men – I’ve been told about in recent weeks were once innocent, trusting small boys, just like Mary’s brother, like Ian McFadyen, and like me. It’s long been known that a significant proportion of sexual abusers were themselves abused. Early trauma can obviously play a part in forming, or warping, the emotional needs of the adult.

It is a mark of the immense generosity of many of the “survivors” and their loved ones, like Ian, like Paula and Mary, that they contemplate the origins of the monsters who have damaged their lives, and even the possibility of forgiveness.

Some of those who have loved the damaged will not forgive. “Please smash the system. Public schools ruin lives,” ends the email from a woman who feels her three brothers were made “alien” to her by their brutalising experiences at a Yorkshire school. She sees their emotional suffering then as the first chapter in a decades-long narrative of divorce, suicide attempts and family feuding that sours her life still. Other carers and survivors are driven – with a generosity I could not consider – to seek peaceful resolution. “I’m not sure I want inquiries and prosecutions,” one survivor’s partner said to me in early July, as Theresa May announced two independent investigations into historic child abuse and its cover-ups. “What we need – what the country needs, given the scale of all the abuse – is a commission like South Africa had. Truth and reconciliation. That’s what we all deserve.”
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Old 21-07-2014, 10:25 AM   #45
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Very good article which could have been on Todays News Forum yesterday . People have to see this barbarism for what it is and cut it out like a growth. No Public Schools would go a long way to end the Ritualistic Child abuse which is ingrained the Uk.

I have to say I `d judge any Parent prepared to send a boy/girl to this system as being complicit in the abuse of their own child.
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Old 21-07-2014, 12:12 PM   #46
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Great thread. I don't see any positives to kids being raised away from their parents...unless of course their parents are abusers....

I suspect that one day we'll probably learn that this separation helps develop psychopathy in the UK. First they're ditched by their parents, then they're abused or have to fend for themselves. Some will think this is how a strong adult emerges; I'm yet to be convinced. An unstable adult is more likely to emerge...not to mention one who's expected to please posh or rich parents.


My biological father was first raped when he was 12 years old at a famous Hampshire school.
By a member of staff. He was sent there when he was 6 yo.

The raping and the school fucked him up for life. And it meant he messed up all he came into close contact with throughout his life whilst he appeared so in control, so assured, so clubbable, so well-connected...

The first time I ever heard the word 'callous' was my mother's description of him after she'd divorced him when we we very young. He simply had no idea of how to love or how to care about anyone or anything but his own survival.

But, like all 'good' public schools, they taught him how to 'put on a good front', cover-up, callousness and to act like a 'gentleman' in that typically upper-class, urbane, unreachable way.

...the way I completely recognise in so many of our male politicians even now.



Please make no mistake, these schools actively teach callousness, cover-up, power-tripping elitism and, by default almost, pupils learn or are forced to learn sexual deviancy and perversions - and, because they have no one to care for them, children are traumatised and have to learn how to look out for themselves only. They are like Kincoras with money and posh accents.

All of them should be closed. There is NO reason or excuse for boarding schools now (no, not even for children of servicemen, there are plenty of good schools at the vast majority of postings).

Parents who want to send their children away should have their heads examined, literally, and investigated for child abuse.

(And I am eternally grateful that my mother soon remarried and we then had a wonderful, super-kind, caring real father - a state grammar school chap. RIP T)

Last edited by ceej; 21-07-2014 at 12:32 PM.
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Old 21-07-2014, 04:28 PM   #47
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I don't think it's only boarding schools, I think day schools can be pretty bad. I went to a private girls day school. I started in 1987 or 1988. While it wasn't as abusive as the stories that are coming out in the papers, it was horrible, and I hated it. The teachers did love to humiliate the pupils. One of the rules was that you had to wear blue underwear, and to make sure we were all doing this, the teachers marched us all down to a public field full of passersby and made us line up, pull up our skirts and bend over and stand like that for ages while they marched up and down looking at everyone's knickers.

The worst episode for me, was when the school decided to get a doctor to come and check us all over, for no apparent reason. Although it was a girls' school they got a male doctor and we were forced to strip down to nothing but our knickers, no vest or bra, to be inspected by him. He was in the nurse's room, and the girls, in only our knickers, had to stand outside in the corridor where anyone could walk past. I cannot tell you how much I did not want to do this. Normally I would not dare to disobey the teachers as they were so terrifying but on this occasion I couldn't help it. I ran into the toilet, locked myself in and refused to come out or get undressed. The school had to call my mother who came to the school and coaxed me out of the toilet. When I was out she grabbed me and forcibly stripped me and dragged me to the doctor.

Most of the teachers were female but there was a male janitor and two male teachers. The janitor used to spy on girls when they were undressing and, towards the end of my school days when mobile phones started becoming more common, the male teachers started sending sexually explicit texts to girls whose numbers they could get hold of and tried to arrange to meet them outside of school. I told my mother and some of the other parents but they were uninterested and laughed it off.

On at least two occasions I saw teachers slap pupils. But the worst thing was the constant barrage of extreme discipline designed to break you, and it really does. I remember once we were standing up, practising for an assembly display, and one of the girls needed the toilet desperately but the teacher said no you can't go and made her stand there for so long that she pissed herself in front of everyone.

Once somebody had done diarrhea in the toilet and made a mess. The teachers demanded that whoever had done it must stand up inassembly and admit it in front of the whole school. Unsurprisingly the culprit did not come forward so the whole school was punished by being made to stand to attention for five hours on a boiling hot day. I had anaemia and low blood pressure at the time and it was so hard to stop myself from fainting, I could feel all of the blood just draining out of my head and my vision went totally black. It was absolute torture.

The discipline was constant, you would get a detention of suspension for everything - for your hair not being tied up properly, having the wrong colour hairband, shoes or skirts being a millimetre to high (they used to measure with rulers) forgetting to get a letter signed, just anything. I had so many detentions that they always carried over into the next week and I could never complete them all.

The weird thing was, despite it being a private school, they didn't seem that bothered on actually educating us. They wanted to discipline and humiliate us but that was all. Many kids failed numerous GCSEs, and we left without even basic knowledge of many things. The teachers were rubbish and I later found out that many of them weren't even qualified and didn't even have qualifications in the subject they were teaching.
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Old 21-07-2014, 05:18 PM   #48
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Smile boarding school

An old friend of mine was left at a boarding school in Greece in the 1970's.
The school was like a nunnery. All of the girls lived in black uniforms and cloddy shoes. No real education was given.

My friend began to realize that she was a prisoner in Greece while the trust in NYC had complete control of the family estate. My friend had to escape from the girls school and escape from Greece and travel to NYC to confront the trustees. It was very dangerous. She won her case got control of the family fortune.
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Old 22-07-2014, 10:36 AM   #49
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Filmmaker Don Boyd's experience at Loretto School.

http://www.theguardian.com/theobserv...1.lifemagazine
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Old 22-07-2014, 01:11 PM   #50
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Ritual Child abuse has no roots in the peasant classes of the UK but instead is transferred down from the higher echelons. This article is starting out from the assuption that All Child abuse centers round care homes and the unfortunate residents. The truth is that Institutional Child sexual abuse stems from the establishment. the same establishment that parades itself in the English upper and middle classes and that holds power in Westmonster and the Civil service, education,youth groups the church etc.

This article appears to be inferring that even the sacred Establishment is not immune from the odd bit abuse . when in fact it is the very brood chamber from which the disease spreads

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Old 30-12-2014, 10:20 AM   #51
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I am surprised no one has picked up on this legal issue;

The boarding school system is in direct contravention of the UN's Convention on the Rights of the Child;

http://www.unicef.org/rightsite/file...lylanguage.pdf


the main points of contravention are as follows:

Quote:
Article 9

You have the right to live with your parent(s),
unless it is bad for you. You have the right to live
with a family who cares for you.


Article 18

You have the right to be raised by your parent(s)
if possible

Article 19

You have the right to be protected from being
hurt and mistreated, in body or mind.

There is also the issue that boarding school interferes with a child's right to a family life under EU human rights legislation.


I smell legal action being viable...
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Old 11-02-2015, 11:27 AM   #52
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Although i am not "digging" the new layout of The Guardian website... here is a brilliant piece by George Monbiot on why boarding school is child abuse. The video is about 3 mins long;


http://www.theguardian.com/commentis...ld-abuse-video


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Old 02-03-2015, 05:33 PM   #53
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Boarding Schools eh ... what's that all about?

http://www.pearshapedcomedy.com/Lowe.html
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Old 13-04-2015, 10:05 AM   #54
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http://www.theguardian.com/society/2...chool-scotland



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It was the happiest time of the school year. Kate and her class of 12- and 13-year-olds would soon leave Aberlour House, their home for a third or more of their lives. Next term most of them would start at the senior school, Gordonstoun, a famously severe Scottish institution that Prince Charles had once described as “Colditz in kilts”. Fifteen children, all boarders and fresh out of exams, set off into the Scottish mountains for a week’s camping.

“Exped” is one of Gordonstoun’s traditions, born of the unique vision of the school’s founder, the educational innovator Kurt Hahn. A refugee from Nazi Germany, Hahn is most famous for founding the Outward Bound movement. But before that, in 1934, he set up a revolutionary new school in a dilapidated stately home in Moray, northeast Scotland. Schooling would include mountains, the sea, fresh air and soul- stiffening adventures.

Gordonstoun was a success, especially after Prince Philip of Greece, now the Duke of Edinburgh, arrived. Other royals followed: five of the Queen’s children and grandchildren went there, despite Charles’s complaints. By the 1970s it was touted as a place for spoilt or wealthy children who needed toughening up – Sean Connery and David Bowie’s sons went, and so did Charlie Chaplin’s granddaughter. Physical punishment, strict discipline and cold showers were key to Hahn’s approach to keeping children in line.

The school was notorious not just for being tough, but for bullying. The novelist William Boyd, who started boarding there aged nine, described his nine-and-a-half years at Gordonstoun’s junior and senior schools as “a type of penal servitude”. Smaller children were at the mercy of older ones and violence, theft and extortion were common. As part of his initiation at Gordonstoun, Prince Charles, aged 13, is said to have been caged naked in a basket and left under a cold shower.

In 1936, Hahn founded a preparatory school for Gordonstoun, to cater for children as young as seven. The regime at Aberlour House was not much softer. In the 1970s there was no central heating. Windows were left open at night: in the winter, the children could wake up with snow on their blankets. The school was separate, situated half an hour away, though Gordonstoun helped manage it. The schools shared a uniform, school song and the motto Kurt Hahn had devised: “Plus est en vous,” a contraction of a French phrase – there is more in you than you imagine.

Mutual respect, resilience and trust were the cornerstones of Hahn’s notions of how to educate a child. His ideas have made Gordonstoun one of Britain’s most famous public schools. But a series of complaints sent to me covering 40 years reveal a dark alternative history. Not all of the stories can be detailed here. But, too often to be excused, Gordonstoun and its junior school appear to have let down the trust of parents and failed to respect the rights and needs of children. Predatory paedophiles are a part of the history of many celebrated schools in Britain. But Gordonstoun’s story is particularly urgent because Scotland’s archaic laws around proving sexual assault dissuade victims from coming forward. They can mean predators, who might be brought to trial, remain at large and free to offend.

Kate arrived at Aberlour House on a bursary in the 1980s. She was nine years old. Initially she was bullied by other pupils for being poor and having a Scottish accent. But by her last year at the junior school she was a prefect – a “colour bearer”, in Hahn’s militaristic system. She was, she says, a perfect, docile product of the educator’s ethos. “I was a really good girl, I didn’t misbehave, I got on with my work. I was a good citizen,” she explains, a twist in her smile.

The lochside where the children camped saw the end of that Kate. What she says happened beside it has tarnished her life: an assault by a serial rapist, the trusted young teacher in charge of the expedition. Her most vivid memory of the subsequent summer days in the Highlands is of the moment when she went to a cliff-top, having decided to end her life. She was 12.

The exped was led by a male teacher. “He was young and everyone thought he was cool. We wanted to go,” remembers Kate.

Mr X, as we must call him, was in sole charge of the trip. As the excited children got ready in their dormitories at Aberlour House, he supervised the packing. He told them – as other witnesses told the police – not to bother with bathing costumes. “As a kid, I suppose, you just think – skinny-dipping! As an adult, you go… What?”

The exped set off in high excitement. “We got there, the banks of a loch, somewhere in the middle of nowhere and he said there weren’t enough tents. So, we were a tent short, which meant that somebody would have to sleep in his tent each night. We’d have to ‘rotate’.”

“At dinner-time we all had coffee and, a few of the girls, he filled their mugs with alcohol. I think it was rum. I felt a bit giddy. In the tent, the first night, it was me and two other girls. I remember being cold, wearing a jumper. And he started touching me, when they were still in the tent. I didn’t know what to do. I was totally frozen, scared. I pretended to be asleep thinking it might stop. They left the tent, they were embarrassed, they knew what was going on. So they went to sleep somewhere else and left me alone with him. They were just in another tent, they must have heard everything. So they all knew it had happened.

“I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t do anything. I was terrified. I don’t remember much but the pain, on my cervix… He wore a condom. What kind of a man takes a packet of condoms on a school camping trip?”

She didn’t confide in anyone. “It was awful. Five or six more nights. Nobody spoke to me. I didn’t speak to anyone.”

For the rest of the trip Mr X ignored her. One day, lonely and confused, Kate wandered away from the campsite, contemplating suicide. “I got to the edge of the cliff, completely on my own, in the middle of nowhere. I was going to do it, and then I just thought, ‘No. Actually, maybe, I won’t do this.’”

Kate then began to have an inkling that she was not the only girl targeted. “The girls who were bitchy to me already were more bitchy, led by Jane. She was, I realise now from what the police have told me, already in a relationship with him. And the other girls were her gang.

“Later on, X said he had to go down to the village for something. It was because one of the boys had to make a call to his parents. He said to this other girl, Jane, she had to come as well.”

This boy remembers the event well. “He bought us two drinks each – half-pints or pints. I’d never had alcohol in my life. I remember giggling about it with Jane. I think now that I was there because it would have been weird for him to have gone just with her, in a pub buying a 13-year-old drinks. It’s better if there are two of you.”

The boy believes that X’s relationship with Jane lasted a year or more. “Once I was with her in his bedsit in the school, chatting with him. I left the room, but I went back very quickly and the door was locked. When I knocked no one answered, but I knew they were in there.” This was just one of several incidents when X and Jane were in rooms alone, often with doors locked. “You don’t think much of it at the time, but something lodges, because you do remember them as something that wasn’t right – an adult and a 13-year-old.”

X continued for at least another year at Aberlour. He would occasionally see Kate in a corridor: “He was checking up on me. He used to say to me: ‘You’ll die before me.’ I’ve no idea what he meant.”

At Gordonstoun the following year, the bullying began. It was led by Jane and it was rooted in the rape at the campsite. Girls would sing a song in Kate’s hearing about “That night in the tent.” The rumours of what happened at the campsite spread. Both she and Jane subsequently changed their names by deed poll – not unusual for adults trying to rebuild themselves after childhood abuse.

Now, Kate can begin to understand the root of Jane’s antagonism. “I always had a feeling there was something there – and now I realise the extent of what happened with her and the reason why she bullied me so much. In some ways, she had it worse than me. She considered herself in a relationship with him. I suppose she was in love with him.”

When she was 16, Kate’s father died in an accident. She had always been close to him. When she was 14 she had tried to tell him about X. “I started by saying a teacher made a pass at me and he freaked out. I didn’t tell him any more, I didn’t want to hurt him.” His death hit her hard, and she ended up in hospital after overdosing on paracetamol.

“I was such a mess. Gordonstoun threatened to kick me out, after my father was killed, unless I had psychiatric help.” After treatment, she returned to the school and found that one thing had changed. The bullying, the gossip and name-calling stopped. But now, in her 40s, with her own children, Kate is still dealing with X’s assault.
The silent walk: a punished pupil walks along the lane from the school to the kirk.

The silent walk: a punished pupil walks along the lane from the school to the kirk.
“Just recently, I realised I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove I’m not his victim. I’ve always said it has not affected me. Not me, I’m absolutely fine. In actual fact it has given me some very unhealthy patterns of behaviour, and also feelings towards myself. I only realised this in the past year, on my own. I wanted to prove I wasn’t scared, of men, of sex. All that stuff. I wasn’t going to be the classic rape victim. I thought I had sorted it all out.”

There are other stories, too. At the age of seven, John also started at the school one summer in the 1980s. Kate remembers him: “Just the sweetest little boy.” He was following a family tradition: his father went to both Aberlour and Gordonstoun. John’s father remains a believer in Kurt Hahn’s philosophy of teaching trust and self-discipline. He is a member of the fundraising committee of the Kurt Hahn Foundation, which raises money for scholarships to the school.

Most of John’s memories of Aberlour are of happiness and success. He wanted to board and did well. He excelled at sport and passed the exams to go on to the senior school with a commendation.

After a year or two, a new teacher arrived to take charge of English. “An eccentric,” says another student from that time, “a know-it-all and a show off”. Derek Jones was a keen photographer and ran the photography club. Pupils remember him wandering the school, a camera hanging down to his belly, his hands resting on top. His wanderings took him to the sports changing rooms. Supervision of this place was the matron’s job. Nonetheless, “Jones would often spend prolonged periods around the changing rooms and in the shower room,” says John.

John got to know Jones well after he was cast in the 1988 school panto. Late one night in his final year, 1990, John left the dormitory seeking help. Two of his toenails had been surgically removed after being broken in a rugby match that afternoon, and the painkillers had worn off. Jones found him, took him into his bedroom and said that he could provide some special, very strong painkillers so long as John promised to keep it secret. “He told me if I told anyone he would get into trouble, while he was only trying to do me a favour and help me.”

Half an hour later, Jones assaulted John in his bed in the dormitory. After stroking and patting the boy, he reached under the covers, pulled down his boxer shorts and attempted to masturbate him. John, under the effect of the pills, tried to push the teacher off him. He found he could not speak. After minutes of panicky struggle, Jones stopped the fondling and put his head under the covers, turning on a torch. John heard a camera’s shutter click and click again. He believes Jones took half a dozen photographs.

After Jones left the room, John struggled to get out of bed. It took a while, but eventually he woke his best friend, Michael. He told him what had happened and together the two 12-year-olds went to Jones’s room to confront him.

The stand-off lasted an hour. Jones denied all. He said that John must have imagined it, as a result of the pills. John and Michael demanded the camera and the film rolls they could see on Jones’s desk. If nothing had happened, then surely Jones wouldn’t mind them getting the films developed. The teacher refused and eventually the boys, exhausted, went back to bed.

A few weeks after the assault, John was driving with his mother. They were both listening to a Radio 4 programme and a woman was talking of her abuse as a child. “I know just how she feels,” said John.

The parents took their child to see the much-liked headmaster, David Hanson. “I went with John,” his father told me. “It was obvious that the headmaster believed him. There was no reason not to. He referred the matter to Gordonstoun.” The police were called and interviewed John and other pupils and members of staff. Jones was sacked. John’s parents say that they were encouraged not to seek a prosecution. Going into a witness box might be damaging for their son.

The school promised that in return for co-operation over not insisting on prosecution, it would ensure that Jones never taught again. “We accepted that,” says John’s father. “It was adequate, because there was a categoric assurance, a cast-iron guarantee that under no circumstances would Jones ever again teach children in a school. He would be barred.” He adds that this pledge was repeated in a letter from Gordonstoun’s then bursar, George Barr.

When John returned to the school, Jones was gone, but things had changed. “There had naturally been a lot of gossip among the pupils. I felt eyes in the back of my head from other students. I remember being called a ‘homo’. I suppose in the eyes of some children I must have been a ‘homo’ to have ‘allowed’ it to happen. There was a fight arranged in the senior boot-room during break time and after that I was no longer a ‘homo’. The remaining time there was happy.”

But as he went on to the senior school, the wider repercussions of Jones’s assault became apparent. The head boy and sporting hero of the junior school now kept his head down. Crucially, his faith in adults was gone. “It changed me completely,” he says today. “I was a model student until that evening. I became a nightmare. If I was bored, I made mischief. I left Gordonstoun having failed my A levels, I didn’t go to university. My life since school has involved drug use, alcoholism and a distinct lack of belief and trust that those who say they will always be there, actually will.”

John eventually got on with his life and became a successful businessman. But he was not at ease: his sense that justice was not done back in 1990 exacerbated with the worry that Jones might have preyed upon other children.

The stories told here are not the only ones to stain Aberlour House and Gordonstoun. A startling series of allegations, dating back to the 1960s, has emerged in recent years. They’re not all ancient history. Kevin Lomas, a teacher at the senior school during Kate and John’s time was jailed in 2008 for sexual offences against young girls at a tutoring school he ran in Oxfordshire.

During the 16 years Lomas worked at Gordonstoun he had a reputation for inappropriate sexual activity: he was known for his fumbling attempts to kiss the girl pupils – “with tongue”. He, too, took children on exped. A Gordonstoun spokesperson told us: “There is no suggestion that Mr Lomas committed any criminal behaviour during his time at the school.” If there were, then or now, the school would inform the police.

Such events and others, coupled with the stream of recent stories about sex scandals and cover-ups in celebrated public schools, sparked talk among Gordonstoun’s ex-pupils. In 2013 some of them began a private Facebook group, discussing things that had happened at the school, “that you don’t see in the brochures and the class photographs”, as one of them put it. Rapes, of boys and girls, were mentioned. Kate started to receive messages from girls she had known, apologising for the gossip and rumours, for the bullying, and for not having done more to help.

The group eventually involved more than 100 ex-pupils. Acting in concert, they presented the school with a list of demands: it should do more to address bullying and sexual abuse, issue an apology to past victims and fund help for them and, notably, promise in future to report any incidents to the police.

John briefly joined the group, but left it, thinking the chatter was futile: “It was mainly about bullying, old classroom rows.” But he had already decided that he had to act on Jones: “I had a duty to make sure this bastard was not still out there doing things to kids.” So in February 2014 he went to the police. Their subsequent investigation stretched as far as New Zealand. Eventually, John was told Derek Jones could not be brought to trial or offend again. He had died in a car crash in Kenya, five years earlier.

But if that was any consolation for John, it was spoilt by the shock of the other information the officer – who has declined to comment – then handed over. Despite Gordonstoun’s solemn assurances, Derek Jones had gone on to teach, and potentially abuse, elsewhere. He had been forced to leave a school in Essex and had then surfaced and taught in Kenya. It is unclear what happened in East Africa, but former colonies there have provided a home for several predatory paedophiles sacked from English private schools – some of whom have gone on to offend again. Scottish police have identified both the Essex and Kenya school where Jones taught, but have refused to name them to the Observer.

John’s parents were horrified at the news. John’s father told me: “I trusted the school. They said they’d make absolutely sure he’d never teach again. They didn’t. And, if he did teach, that tells me someone at Gordonstoun must have given him a reference.”

The school told police that it could not find a copy of the letter the Gordonstoun bursar, George Barr, sent to John’s father, promising Jones would not teach again, because paperwork had been lost. It says that during this period, Aberlour had separate ownership and management. But one ex-head teacher of Aberlour from the time says that Gordonstoun staff were often involved in the junior school and that the two shared governors. (Since 2002 Aberlour has been fully merged with Gordonstoun). The school says it has co-operated with the police in its investigations into Aberlour House, Jones and Mr X.

“When the Facebook thing kicked off, says Kate, “my daughter had just turned 12. And I thought: ‘You know, she’s still got gappy teeth!’ And I actually started to see myself then differently, completely differently. For all these years I’d not seen myself really as a child. My daughter brought it home to me that that is what I was.”

Kate made a formal complaint, which was dealt with by the same police team who addressed John’s case. The subsequent investigation – again, Police Scotland won’t discuss it – turned up impressive numbers of witnesses with evidence to support Kate’s claim. Crucially, police also found Jane and interviewed her. She told Kate, indirectly, how grateful she was that Kate had come forward. An arrest was made and Mr X made his first appearance in court – a process which in Scotland is private – to face allegations spanning four years.

For nearly a year, Kate prepared herself for facing X in court. It was very hard: the prospect of seeing him again was anguishing. She’d already had to identify him in a police line-up. That had caused her near-collapse. A local policewoman was made her liaison officer and became an emotional support; one of the things she told her was that Jane had asked the police to pass on her thanks: “Getting X to justice was the best thing that ever happened to her.”

“When [the Procurator Fiscal’s office] rang me and said, ‘It’s all fallen apart,” I could not believe it. They were so certain it was all going to happen, that it was a done deal. I’d hung my hopes on the fact that it was. I was looking forward to it even though it would be horrendous. I knew I’d be a blubbering mess in court, but I wanted it and now it was taken away. I thought, how do I move forward? I still don’t know how to move forward. I’m angry I allowed the whole thing to dominate my life again. And now I know I haven’t got anywhere.” Unfortunately the case was dropped when it became clear that Jane would be unable to give evidence. Kate cannot help but feel bitter. “I want to have compassion for her and at times I do. I know she’s been through an awful lot. But it’s hard not to have dark thoughts.”

In truth, what has dragged Kate back to the horrors of her school days is not Jane’s inability to give evidence but an arcane piece of Scottish law – the principle of corroboration – even in sexual offences. Under it two independent witnesses must confirm any piece of evidence – in this case, both the identity of the rapist and the fact of the crime. This is far from easy with crimes that tend to take place in private, such as sexual assault and domestic violence – and as a result, Scotland’s rates of reporting of rape and convictions are among the lowest in the world.

Without forensic or medical evidence, prosecuting Mr X demanded two victims – Kate and Jane. The loss of Jane’s evidence was fatal to the case, because the offence was in Scotland. If the allegation against X had concerned an event in England, or almost anywhere else in the world, the case would, the Observer has been told, have gone ahead without the need for corroboration. In England, also, John, Kate and others who suffered at the school would be able to bring civil compensation cases if their allegations were proven.

No official is permitted to discuss the case of X, but we have established that a thorough investigation was carried out, involving many of the people who were present at the campsite as well as other teachers. Nothing other than the lack of a corroborating witness, after Jane’s withdrawal, emerged that might have derailed the case coming to court. The only consolation for Kate and Jane is that there is no bar to the investigation being reopened.

There is a simpler question for Gordonstoun and the 160 or more private boarding schools currently facing allegations about sexual crimes committed against their pupils – can they protect their children properly now? The Observer passed Gordonstoun’s lengthy manual of “Child Protection Policy and Procedures” to Mandate Now, a campaign group lobbying to make child-protection systems in British institutions effective.

It examined the document in the light of many others adopted by hospitals, schools, care homes and social services and gave it a score of 4 out of 10. “It is verbiage, containing a number of disturbing flaws, ” Mandate Now says. Reflecting the point made by the Gordonstoun ex-pupils, the report fails, it says, to make it clear that abuse or allegations of abuse need to be reported to an outside authority. Without that safety net, in place now in most British schools, cover-up always remains a possibility.

Gordonstoun says this complaint is irrelevant because the analysis is based on English practice. Its policy is based on Scottish government guidelines. A spokesperson said: “Pastoral care at Gordonstoun is highly regulated and is at the heart of everything that we do… Child protection is something we take very seriously and we are committed to providing a safe and nurturing environment for all our students. We have rigorous child-protection policies that have been developed with guidance from expert agencies. The latest independent report into the school… made particular reference to ‘the extremely positive health promotion and child-protection procedures’ in place at Gordonstoun.”

The response went on: “We want our students to take full advantage of all the opportunities available to them and they can only do that if they are happy.” That seems an admirable ambition – and a change of philosophy for Gordonstoun. For all the talk of service, honour, compassion and self-sacrifice in Kurt Hahn’s teachings, the great educationalist and his disciples seem to have put less weight on the notion that, to learn and grow, children need to be happy. And safe.
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Old 20-04-2015, 07:47 PM   #55
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Quote:
Originally Posted by bulletproofaquarium View Post
So again we see these links showing that boarding schools like Marlbourough are essentially "satanic incubators" which will manufacture and produce the next generation of political satanists and psychopaths who are desensitized to murder rape and death in all its forms.
That's quite an extraordinary claim. Could you connect the dots a little more there. How does the fact that Brittish politicians have graduated from a particular school prove that it is a "satanic incubator"?
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Old 20-04-2015, 07:51 PM   #56
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Quote:
Originally Posted by monteglenn View Post
That's quite an extraordinary claim. Could you connect the dots a little more there. How does the fact that Brittish politicians have graduated from a particular school prove that it is a "satanic incubator"?
you will soon learn that, on these forums, the term "satanism" is used to cover everything from ingrown toenails to genocide.
it has become a meaningless term, much like "communism," here and on many other forums.

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Old 05-05-2015, 09:35 AM   #57
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Gordonstoun again.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotlan...tland-32582527


Quote:
Another former pupil of Gordonstoun public school in Moray has contacted police over claims of historical sexual abuse, it has emerged.
The latest claim came as a female pupil, who alleged she was raped by a teacher in 1990 while attending its former junior school, spoke to the BBC.
Kate, who we are not identifying, told her story to the police two years ago but the case collapsed.
Gordonstoun said it was committed to assisting the police.
BBC Scotland spoke to Kate, who claimed she was raped by a teacher while on a camping trip in 1990 when she was a 12-year-old pupil at Gordonstoun's prep School, Aberlour House.
She eventually told her story to the police but the case collapsed after another witness withdrew her statement at the last minute.
Kate, who now lives in England, has now joined a group of former pupils who are pressing for a change in Scotland's corroboration laws and asking the school to deal with the many claims of bullying and abuse.
'An apology'
She said: "I do remember feeling very isolated, because it was the first night of the trip it happened. I just had no idea what had just happened to me.
"I hold the school in great esteem but obviously there were failings at the time.
"An apology is always a nice thing to hear. I know it's a different era but it would be nice to hear an apology."

Police Scotland confirmed that it has been contacted by another former pupil in recent days concerning what it calls a historical matter at Gordonstoun.
In a statement, Gordonstoun said: "We were shocked and saddened to hear of Kate's account of her experience at Aberlour House.
"Cases of this kind must be unimaginably distressing for the victims and we are committed to managing any case of historic abuse as openly as possible, assisting the police with any inquiry and, above all, supporting victims in any way we can.
"We have given the investigating police unrestricted access to the archive records we hold for Aberlour House.
"We were surprised and disappointed that her case did not go to court and remain available to assist future investigations."
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Old 05-05-2015, 12:35 PM   #58
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I know this is off topic for this thread but it's just a heads up on this Radio 4 programme tonight.

Targeting the Vulnerable
File on 4

It's taken a long time to break through the culture of denial, but child sexual exploitation cases from Rochdale to Oxford have shown that grooming of children can happen in any community.

There seems to be a growing acceptance that what the Deputy Children's Commissioner says is true: 'there isn't a town, village of hamlet in which children are not being sexually exploited'.

Councils that thought they were immune from groomers and traffickers, are now training staff to spot child sexual exploitation. And children are being taught how to avoid falling prey.

But, as children become more aware of grooming, are abusers increasingly turning their attention to people with learning disabilities?

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b05stkrm
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Old 23-08-2017, 06:19 AM   #59
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I'm very happy about this news......


http://www.scotsman.com/news/politic...hike-1-4539422




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Fee-paying schools should have to pay business rates for the first time, according to a major review of the tax which also targets universities and private sports clubs. A review into the levy commissioned by the Scottish Government has called for an end to the arrangement that sees private schools excused from the levy courtesy of their charitable status. Universities which rent out accommodation outside term time should also be eligible for rates, said the report by former RBS chairman Ken Barclay. The review has been taking place while Scottish businesses, particularly those in the hospitality sector, have expressed outrage over a huge hike in business rates earlier this year.

Although some of the reforms were welcomed as a step in the right direction by business organisations, fears remained that many firms could still face difficulties next March when the 15 per cent rates rise cap expires. The Scottish Council of Independent Schools said ending private schools’ exemptions would cost the Scottish taxpayer and have “serious consequences” for staff and the 30,000 pupils taught in the sector. Parents of privately educated children were warned that they could face fee increases if the government adopts the recommendations. A 135-page document prepared by Mr Barclay said the schools measures would bring in £5 million a year. Education insiders said around 60 fee-paying schools would be affected. The amount they would have to pay will vary, but large secondary schools with a lot of property could be looking at a bill of up to £500,000 a year. Mr Barclay’s proposals, which are “revenue-neutral”, would see new-build property and expanding businesses benefit from a year-long tax break from raising business rates – a measure that would cost £45 million a year. Among the 30 recommendations were a proposal for three yearly revaluations from 2022 based on market conditions. Further recommendations include halving the large business supplement, which is paid by firms with properties with a rateable value of more than £51,000, from 2.6 per cent to 1.3 per cent, to bring it into line with England. More cash for town centres was accompanied by a new relief for day nurseries to support childcare provision which would cost £7m a year. Mr Barclay also suggested a drive to close tax avoidance loopholes on second and empty properties – a measure calculated to bring in around £21m a year. On the proposal that would affect private schools, the report acknowledged that an overhaul of charity relief was “controversial” but necessary to increase fairness. Also affected would be so-called arm’s-length external organisations (ALEOs) which are often created to run councils’ leisure facilities. The report claimed ALEO charitable status gave them an “unfair advantage” over private sector businesses offering similar services and said they should have to pay business rates. Commercial elements of universities, such as halls of residence rented outside term time, should also be liable. Rates relief for sports clubs should be reviewed to ensure they support affordable community-based facilities rather than private members’ clubs – a proposal that will affect many golf clubs. Yesterday John Edward, director of the Scottish Council of Independent Schools, said: “The findings of the Barclay Review run completely contrary to the charity test the Scottish Parliament required all schools to undertake; would put Scottish education at a competitive disadvantage in the UK and globally; would substantially impact the work schools can do on offering bursaries and other community provision; and would set independent schools aside from all other charities – for no sound legal, political, educational or economic reason. “Most of all, for a rates review, they would most likely cost the Scottish taxpayer and Government more than they seek to raise. “A review of business rates should not be used to single out 0.3 per cent of Scotland’s charities for differential treatment, when the exception to the rule is not the independent school sector – rather the council-run one.” At the start of the year the Scottish Government came under fire from business over the first rates revaluation for seven years. Businesses complained they would go to the wall when their tax bills went up by thousands of pounds. In response to the outcry, the government imposed a 15 per cent cap on increases for hospitality firms. Last night the Scottish Conservatives voiced concern at what would happen to businesses once the cap runs out. Shadow finance secretary Murdo Fraser said: “Many firms will feel this is tinkering round the edges of a broken system, rather than the fundamental overhaul that’s required. “The hospitality sector ... will be worried that history will repeat itself next year. “If that industry is hit with the kind of increases suggested last time, it would almost?certainly mean the closure of businesses and job losses. “Proposals around independent schools and sports clubs will also have alarm bells ringing in those sectors.” Mr Barclay said: “Ratepayers providing the same goods or services should not be treated any differently because of their location or by virtue of them operating in the public or private sector. “We have also highlighted unfair advantages gained by anomalies within the system, and of those who deliberately avoid payment of tax. Neither is fair.” His proposals were welcomed by Finance Secretary Derek Mackay, who said: “This report offers recommendations for reform of the system to make it work better for ratepayers across Scotland, while ensuring that the contribution they make to important local services is maintained.”



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Old 08-09-2017, 04:07 PM   #60
PathogenAlpha
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I had forgotten about this illuminati conditioning hub until Icke's podcast on Dunblane connected the links between Queen Victoria School, Prince Phillip, Thomas Hamilton & the Dunblane enquiry.


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queen_Victoria_School


Quote ;

The idea of the school was originally proposed to Queen Victoria as a memorial to the Scottish dead of the Boer Wars, and after her death it was thought fit to name it in her memory. With the support of former politician Robert Cranston, money was raised from Scottish servicemen and the people of Scotland to complete the project. Queen Victoria School was opened on 28 September 1908 by King Edward VII. The Chapel was completed in 1910 and is Scotland’s memorial to Queen Victoria. Girls were admitted for 1996-97 academic year into all years and the first female senior monitor, Victoria Harris, was elected in 1999.[2]

Queen Victoria School (QVS) is a non-selective, co-educational, boarding school predominantly for children of Scottish Servicemen/women (but see full admissions criteria, below) aged 10/11 to 18. It occupies a Scottish Baronial-style building on a rural campus just outside Dunblane, a short distance away from the city of Stirling, Scotland. It is the only school in the UK managed and funded by the Ministry of Defence (Duke of York's Royal Military School in Kent is now managed by the DfE).[1]


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The disturbing thing about this boarding school is that the Scottish public wouldnt have known about it, if it wasnt for the Dunblane massacre.

A highly disturbing place.
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