A debate was organized in my school one lunch-time by Jack Smith, a physics teacher, and Brian Stokes, a chemistry teacher. They were outraged by the invasion. I attended the meeting, which was very crowded. I had in fact read some of the newspapers reporting the line of the Eden government, that their intervention was honourably motivated, being aimed at preventing a war breaking out between Israel and Egypt. Though sixteen years old, I was still naïve enough to believe this claim, or at least not to dismiss it out of hand for the lie which, manifestly, it was.

Our teachers put forward the obvious reasons against invading another country for commercial reasons, as a moral issue. During the debate, bearing in mind the government line, I put up my hand, and said that the moral issues were not always so clear as the speakers had said. Might it not sometimes be acceptable to use armed force to prevent a worse conflict? At the time, I did not know that St Thomas Aquinas was an early exponent of the idea of a ‘just war’. I was torn to pieces by my teachers, quite rightly. It was my first step towards a more critical approach to political matters.

This in no way prevented those teachers and I from being on continuing good terms. Though my A-levels were Latin, Greek and Ancient History (to which I was able to add English because of the selfless help given to me in his spare time by Frank Miles, who had been a pupil of F.R. Leavis), we were required to take science lessons once a week in the sixth form. The teachers did not have to follow any syllabus, since we were not going to take an examination. These periods stick in my mind today, well over fifty years later, especially those of Jack Smith. I could still probably say something not too stupid about Mach’s views about inertia, and the problems they raised about the cosmos, after a few hours in the laboratory/teaching room when I was 16 or 17. Those hours were exciting.

Politically, however, I remained pretty naïve, really until I became a research student. One of my good friends, a historian by the name of Tim Mason, opened my eyes in numerous discussions to the strengths in Marx’s accounts of economic and social forces and his view of historical change. I did not become a Marxist, but I learnt to have some respect for certain aspects of Marx’s views. After all, the maxim ‘from each according to his ability, to each according to his need’ is, or ought to be, a rather noble basis for a social order. I said this once to a very amiable American student whom I met in Paris when I was doing research there. He blanched.

But still, naivety persisted in me. (Perhaps the word is wrong. We all need to judge and decide when and whether to trust our fellows and our friends. And there is a spectrum between an outright cynicism which can close the doors to our common humanity, and an over-expansive faith in that common humanity which may incur danger to ourselves and others.)

I knew and liked George Thomson, the Professor of Greek when I was a young lecturer at Birmingham University. He was a greatly respected scholar, and a convinced Marxist. Once I fell into conversation with him about the Balfour declaration, which led in due course to the creation of Israel (for my part, it was already clear in my mind that this had been a mistake). The declaration, made in 1917, announced British support for the establishment of a ‘national home’ in Palestine for the Jewish people, but not for a state as such, and also stated that ‘nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine’. (The ‘declaration’ was actually a letter to Walter Rothschild, intended for onward transmission to a Zionist organization.)

When I mentioned this to George, he smiled, and said to me: ‘You know, Tim, that the Cabinet papers from the time are now available under the fifty-year rule?’ I said: ‘No, I didn’t know.’ He continued (I cannot at this distance of time remember his exact words): ‘Well, what Balfour actually said in Cabinet discussion was different from what is in the declaration. He said something like this: “Zionism is a historical inevitability, besides which the rights of the Palestinians are of no account.” ’

It was really time for me to be ashamed. Not so much ashamed of myself, even though like most of us I had made some questionable judgements about personal or social or political matters, not always out of sheer foolishness. No: ashamed for the country in which I was born and nurtured. And yet, so many countries in the recorded history of humanity have been responsible for so many lies and atrocities and stupid mistakes, as well as some good achievements. So I have no real need to trouble myself with this rather abstract shame. Even so, it is there. It was Samuel Johnson in 1775 who said: ‘Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.’ Perhaps it is better to be more ready to feel shame for what one’s country has done ill than to feel pride in its good achievements.