It was 1981 and Nigel Farage was turning 17. He was already a figure of some controversy, as would become a lifelong habit, among the younger pupils and staff at Dulwich college in south-east London.
“I remember it was either in a particular English lesson or a particular form period that his name came up,” said Chloë Deakin, then a young English teacher, of a discussion with a class of 11- and 12-year-olds. “There was something about bullying, and he was being referred to, quite specifically, as a bully. And I thought: ‘Who is this boy?’”
Deakin conferred with colleagues in the staff room who corroborated accounts of harassment of fellow pupils and of Farage’s apparent fascination with the far right, including claims that he had been “goose-stepping” on combined cadet force marches.
“But initially I had heard it from boys,” she said. “I was shocked to hear that this Dulwich boy was apparently getting away with this kind of behaviour, at cadet camp etc, and I thought: ‘This is seriously out of order. It’s horrible.’”
Despite the chatter in the playground and staffroom, Farage was put on a draft list of prefects by the headteacher, David Emms, and his deputy, Terry Walsh. There was a meeting where strong views were aired, though Emms and Walsh were of the opinion that Farage was naughty, rather than being a malevolent racist.
“So when I heard that Farage’s name was on the finalised prefect list, I was appalled and that was why I wrote independently to Emms, because I felt strongly about it – I still do,” Deakin recalled.
Deakin’s letter of June 1981, first revealed by the Channel 4 journalist Michael Crick in a report in 2013, is uncompromising. She has never spoken before of this episode with the letter – written after Farage’s 17th birthday – emerging only as a result of her having given a copy of it to a senior teacher at the time, as was the practice at the school.
She wrote: “You will recall that at the recent and lengthy meeting about the selection of prefects, the remark by a colleague that Farage was a ‘fascist but that was no reason why he would not make a good prefect’ invoked considerable reaction from members of the [staff] common room.
“Another colleague, who teaches the boy, described his publicly professed racist and neo-fascist views, and he cited a particular incident in which Farage was so offensive to a boy in his set that he had to be removed from his lesson …
“Yet another colleague described how, at a [combined cadet force] camp organised by the college, Farage and others had marched through a quiet Sussex village very late at night shouting Hitler Youth songs; and when it was suggested by a master that boys who expressed such views ‘don’t really mean them’, the college chaplain himself commented that, on the contrary, in his experience views of that kind expressed by boys of that age are deep-seated and are meant.”
The letter concluded: “You will appreciate that I regard this as a very serious matter. I have often heard you tell our senior boys that they are the nation’s future leaders. It is our collective responsibility to ensure that these leaders are enlightened and compassionate.”
Fresh and detailed allegations about Farage’s teenage past, contained in a series of reports by the Guardian in recent weeks, have caused what has been described as the greatest crisis in the Reform leader’s political career, in large part because of the way he has responded.
Farage’s lawyer initially wholly denied any racist or antisemitic behaviour, and threatened to sue the Guardian. Farage then conceded in an interview with the BBC’s political editor in Wales that some things said in “banter” more than four decades ago might be construed differently today, but denied targeting anyone “directly” or with “intent” to hurt.
The Guardian has now spoken to more than 30 school contemporaries of Farage who have given testimony of being on the wrong end of racist or antisemitic abuse or witnessing it at the school.
Farage’s behaviour is said to have continued from age 13 to 18, after which he went on to a career in the City. But despite loud calls for a show of contrition and understanding of the hurt he is alleged to have inflicted, including through an open letter from 26 of his school contemporaries, he is yet to apologise.
Deakin, now 74, does not recall who had told her that Farage had sung Hitler Youth songs, for which no evidence has subsequently emerged, although the Guardian has heard testimony that he was involved in singing songs about gassing Jews and other minority ethnic people.
She was not personally acquainted with Farage and did not see or hear his alleged racism and antisemitism, she said. But her memories of boys’ complaints of bullying, the subsequent testimony of the staff, the contemporaneous letter – written by her decades before Farage gained public prominence – and the sheer weight of credible allegations in recent weeks should leave no room for doubt for the public, she said.
“Of course Farage directly abused pupils,” Deakin said. “His was the only name I recall boys mentioning to me.”
For all her efforts at the time, her protests to the headteacher did not dissuade him from making Farage a prefect. It was part of the reason why she decided to leave the school, later becoming a civil servant in the Department for Education, she said.
“Emms [the headteacher] called me in: he was quite a forbidding figure for me as a young teacher,” she said. “And he was very pleasant and polite, but nothing came of it; he had made his decision. Soon after that I started thinking, I don’t want to stay here. This is not the place where I’m going to make my future.”
In Crick’s broadcast in 2013, the deputy headteacher, Walsh, suggested Deakin might have been among a “leftist” group in the teachers’ common room. Farage has claimed that those making accusations were doing so as part of a political plot to undermine him.
Deakin said: “I was not then and never have been a member of a political party – indeed I have, over the years, voted differently in local and in general elections. Nor, of course, did any of us anticipate that Farage would subsequently become a politician: at that time he appeared to be focused on a City career.
“My motive in writing to Emms was neither political nor anti-college but was, rather, driven by my disgust at the accounts I had heard of Farage’s racist and neo-fascist views and behaviours: that he was a bully, that his rightwing views were extreme, that he revelled in the fact that his initials were the same as those of the National Front, that he imitated neo-Nazi singing and marching, etc.
“I had previously taught in a large, culturally diverse comprehensive school in Brent, with many Jewish colleagues and other staff of colour. It would have been unthinkable for such behaviours to have been tolerated there, or to have gone unpunished.”
Among those who have spoken of their disappointment in recent weeks at Farage’s approach to the claims have been 11 Holocaust survivors who have been concerned by attempts to dismiss Farage’s behaviour as banter.
Deakin said she had been similarly appalled by what she believed was a lack of a regard for telling the truth.
“Of course it is absolutely normal for teenagers and students to debate hotly about politics, religion and other significant issues,” she said. “But Farage’s extremist views and behaviours appeared to be singular and to go well beyond any normal discussion of party politics, freedom of speech, or even teenage ‘high jinks’ … Farage’s unwillingness to offer a straightforward apology to those men affected by his past behaviours is also both puzzling and concerning.”
Reform did not respond to a request for comment. A new letter written by Chloë Deakin to the Guardian can be found below:
* * *
Once upon a time – in June 1981 – I wrote a letter to the then master of Dulwich College, David Emms, about a teenage pupil named Nigel Farage.
My letter followed a heated meeting between Emms and my Common Room [teaching staff] colleagues, during which a number of us had objected to Emms’ inclusion of Farage in a list of nominations for new prefects.
I was a young English teacher, in my late twenties, at the time. I neither taught Farage nor knew him personally, but I had been hearing about him from colleagues and from boys I taught.
In his book about Farage, Michael Crick quotes Emms describing Farage, retrospectively, as having been a “naughty boy” who had “got up the noses” of staff because of his “chirpiness and cheekiness”. But in 1981 we had taken a more serious view of Farage’s reputation and behaviour, arguing that it was inappropriate for him to be rewarded and that he was not a suitable role model for other pupils. I was therefore dismayed when I learnt that Emms intended to override the meeting and proceed with Farage’s appointment.
I wrote a personal letter to Emms, setting out in detail why I disagreed. We had a cordial meeting to discuss the matter, but he would not be swayed from his decision. Farage’s appointment went ahead and I imagined that my letter had been consigned to Emms’ waste paper basket.
Regarding my motivation for writing the letter, it was not the case (as suggested by a past deputy master, Terry Walsh in Channel 4’s programme in 2013) that I objected to Farage’s appointment because I was part of some Common Room “leftist” element. I was not then and never have been a member of a political party (indeed I have, over the years, voted differently in local and in general elections). Nor, of course, did any of us anticipate that Farage would subsequently become a politician: at that time he appeared to be focused on a City career.
Nor was it the case (as suggested by a former colleague, the Rev Neil Fairlamb [in the Guardian]), that my letter was “motivated largely” by my “dislike of the college’s culture”. (Fairlamb also described Farage as “cheeky and charming and you could never quite believe him”.)
Dulwich College offered wonderful facilities and opportunities to its pupils (in painful contrast to my previous school) including, at that time, many boys still on the assisted places scheme, whose families would not otherwise have been able to afford to educate them there.
I participated fully in College life and enjoyed teaching such lively, intelligent and talented pupils, whom I remember with affection. (There were touching moments too: the boys were unused to women staff – three of the four of us were recently appointed – and I was occasionally asked out by senior boys, unsure of our status; while younger boys, when raising their hands in class, often called me “Sir” or occasionally “Mum” instead of “Miss”, to the great amusement of their peers.)
There was a house system for sports and other competitions; a form system, which dealt mainly with administrative procedures; and a sanatorium, for physical health issues: but there was neither a pastoral system nor counselling support available to pupils, such as those in private and public sector schools today. So it is perhaps unsurprising that pupils – the majority of whom were day boys – would have kept their problems to themselves.
My motive in writing to Emms was neither political nor anti-College but was, rather, driven by my disgust at the accounts I had heard of Farage’s racist and neo-fascist views and behaviours: that he was a bully; that his rightwing views were extreme; that he revelled in the fact that his initials were the same as those of the National Front; that he imitated neo-Nazi singing and marching, etc.
I had previously taught in a large, culturally-diverse comprehensive school in Brent, with many Jewish colleagues and other staff of colour. It would have been unthinkable for such behaviours to have been tolerated there, or to have gone unpunished.
Of course it is absolutely normal for teenagers and students to debate hotly about politics, religion and other significant issues: but Farage’s extremist views and behaviours appeared to be singular and to go well beyond any normal discussion of party politics, freedom of speech, or even teenage “high jinks”. So it concerned and disillusioned me that Emms, Walsh – and some other members of the Common Room – seemed to take an indulgent and, I thought, somewhat naive attitude towards Farage’s reputation. (No doubt this was a sign of the times: I recall Emms, expressing appreciation for something I had done, saying “Thank you Chloë, that’s very white of you.” I remember feeling puzzled, never having heard this expression before. Many years later I realised, with distaste, what it meant.)
Soon afterwards I decided to leave the College, to pursue my career in the public sector. Over time, I forgot about the letter and must have destroyed my own copy at some point: so I was surprised when Michael Crick contacted me in 2013, having seen a copy of it, asking me to participate in Channel 4’s programme about Farage. (At first I did not recall the letter, until I saw the redacted version online and remembered my feelings about the original sequence of events.) However, my work role at that time prohibited me from commenting on, or engaging in, political debate, so I had to decline. The main thrust of criticism of Farage in that programme focused again on his generalised racist and neo-fascist views and behaviours.
So I was distressed to read in recent weeks accounts by many former pupils – now middle-aged men – of Farage’s targeted racist and antisemitic bullying of individuals, both before and after he was appointed a prefect. It seemed that Farage’s behaviour was much worse than I had been aware in 1981. Multiple, consistent accounts described him generally acting alone, singling out and pursuing specific pupils repeatedly, solely because they were Jews, or because of their skin colour.
[The Reform deputy leader] Richard Tice has referred to these accounts as “made-up twaddle”. Farage himself has offered various explanations of events, including that whatever he might have said at the time was merely “banter”. There have also been allegations of an orchestrated intention to “smear” the Reform party, because of its elevated position in recent polls.
I write this letter, as I wrote my original letter to Emms, of my own free will. I have not been approached by the Guardian, nor by any former Dulwich pupil, to support their points of view. I am not receiving any payment for it. I write it simply because, in the light of having worked for nearly fifty years in education and mental health, I regard these pupils’ accounts to be painfully authentic and sadly consistent with Farage’s previously recorded views and behaviours whilst a pupil at Dulwich College.
I agree with the many online comments by people unconnected with the College confirming that, across the years, you never forget the names, faces, words or actions of individuals who have bullied you.
Anyone who has worked with people who have been deliberately targeted and demeaned – by bullying or assault, for instance – knows that the legacies of such experiences are shame and secrecy (the shame that belongs to the perpetrator is felt by the victim).
It has taken time and courage for these men to speak out – courage which has, however, been met with derision and dismissal by Farage, Reform and some media commentators, who have described Farage’s words as playground “banter” and former pupils’ words as politically-motivated “smears”.
The word “banter” generally carries the sense of a playful, teasing or good-humoured exchange: but there was nothing playful, teasing, good-humoured nor reciprocal, about Farage’s attacks, as reported by former pupils who suffered them.
Similarly, the word “smear” carries the sense of a false accusation or slander, intended to harm a reputation: but there was nothing false about the reports relating to Farage that I recorded in 1981. Recent reports are consistent with those.
Meanwhile, Farage himself has claimed (BBC, 24 November 2025) that he “never directly racially abused anybody … by taking it out on an individual on the basis of who they are or what they are” and that he would “never, ever do it [ie use racial abuse] in a hurtful or insulting way”.
His statement is inconsistent with the multiple accounts of his targeted behaviour; and I am at a loss to understand how racial abuse could be used in any way that was not hurtful or insulting. (In the same interview, Farage also cited free speech – “Sometimes you say things that people don’t like” – as a defence. “Free speech” seems to have become, for some, a justification for saying anything to, or about, anyone.)
But where does all that leave us now? Does any of it matter? Some commentators argue that Farage’s schooldays are irrelevant now: that reports about them were unfounded, or too long ago, or that we should be focusing on larger, current, pressing issues.
But there seems to be a curious link between Farage’s obsessive teenage preoccupation with targeting, demeaning and frightening only those fellow pupils who were identifiable in ways that accorded with his far-right views – ie by their Jewishness or their skin colour (not, for example, ginger hair or lack of sports prowess) – and how this has burgeoned into his adult preoccupation with immigration/deportation as the main plank of his political campaign.
Farage’s unwillingness to offer a straightforward apology to those men affected by his past behaviours is also both puzzling and concerning. The prime minister, the attorney general, a group of Holocaust survivors and now, a group of former Dulwich pupils and staff – to which I add my own name here – have all called upon him to do so: but there is no evidence to date of any regret or change of view on his part.
On the basis of recent polls there seems a strong possibility that Reform could win the next general election and that Farage would be appointed prime minister. Anyone engaged in public life is required to adhere to the seven Nolan Principles – selflessness; integrity; objectivity; accountability; openness; honesty; and leadership. We need Farage to demonstrate his active commitment to all these principles now, if we are to have any confidence in his future leadership.
Some commentators have argued that pressing current issues (such as ensuring that Jews and others can live safely in our communities) are more important than the events of Farage’s school days, some forty-odd years ago. Of course current issues do need addressing urgently. But we should also remember that the small seeds of large issues find space to grow and flourish wherever prejudice, discrimination, victimisation and persecution are permitted to go unchallenged. They need rooting out.
Chloë Deakin
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