One of my most important formative experiences happened in April 1982 during the Falklands War. I was 12 and in first year at my Northern Ireland grammar school.

My English teacher ran the school’s debating society and asked if any first years wanted to take part with the big kids in a debate about whether or not the country should go to war.

Being as gobby then as I am now, I volunteered. Mr Jones asked me what my opinion was, and I said I didn’t support the war. Okay, said Mr Jones, you’ll argue for the war, Mackay.

I was horrified. How could I argue for something I didn’t believe in, sir, I asked? I whined and moaned, but Mr Jones was adamant. I could take part according to his rules, or I could forget joining the debate.

"This will be good for you, Mackay," he said, "I promise you."

Mr Jones was right. He taught me an invaluable lesson. I went home and wrote up an argument for the war. I took part in the debate. I was actually rather good at it. And I won.

I came away still believing that the war was wrong (not an opinion I hold today, incidentally) but I’d learned a lot.

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I’d learned to see the world from my opponent’s point of view; I’d learned to respect not denigrate people who thought differently to me; and I’d learned to think about important ideas and issues in ways which forced me to question and interrogate my own beliefs.

Mr Jones crept back into my mind when I was........

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