I’m an orphan. Not literally, as my late parents embraced the daunting task of raising their natural offspring rather well. I’m a political and emotional orphan, a saddened figure wandering in no-man’s land and lamenting the lack of belonging.
Because I’m the sort of person we read about in modern history. Liberal, social democratic, progressive Christian, looking to a left formed more by Methodism than Marx, seeking to be motivated more by love for the oppressed than hatred for the oppressor. I think that capitalism needs to be controlled by ethical governments, and parliamentary democracy refined through a moral filter. I support charitable causes, I find Dickensian optimism to be moving rather than maudlin, and I’m optimistic about human nature. Which to the new and hard left makes me part of the problem and not the solution.
As an Anglican priest I’m privileged to still see the best of humanity, often produced by the worst of human suffering. Soup kitchens, shelters, hospices, home visits, funerals. As a journalist, however, I see something else: a fierce and increasingly intolerant polarization that lacks the gorgeously softening qualities of empathy and humour. Dehumanize your opponent, turn your critic into a cartoon of evil, generalize, marginalize, and dismiss.
When I left conservatism nine years ago I was canceled by more people than I can even recall. The cancel culture of the left is undeniable, and the social media mobbing of even moderately conservative figures has become invincibly predictable. But the right too often reacts by refusing to embrace their own history of power and censorship, and by failing to listen to the pain of, for example, Black or trans people who have been eliminated from the public square for most of their lives.
There is none so angry as a true believer scorned. I was fired, dismissed, subjected to campaigns to have editors and program managers never use me again. Those who believe in exclusive truth, right and left, have far more in common than they would like to believe — it’s just that the stacked deck of history has been given a reshuffle and the left now has the strongest cards.
Those who believe in exclusive truth, right and left, have far more in common than they would like to believe
To judge an entire movement or community by the extreme actions of some of its most strident adherents is misleading and unjust. I’ve met many trans people in the last five years and their lives have routinely been ones of physical violence, abuse, family rejection, and often appalling degrees of self-harm. They’re too busy trying to cope with their own pain to spend time silencing those who oppose them.
So there is a temptation to retreat into tribal safety and that’s entirely understandable. There is security is consensus, warmth and peace in the reassurance of congratulation. But I’m not sure if comfort is what it’s all about at this point. It would be much easier for me to choose a team and damn the gang at the other end of the field. But that would be to deny their uniqueness, to see them as the “other,” and to inevitably and exponentially divide the world into good and bad, right and wrong. A twisted Manichaeism that can only lead to disaster.
I won’t dismiss British Brexiteers as brutes or Remainers as elitists, and even though I struggle I refuse to condemn Trump supporters as demons. I believe that the former US President caused profound harm to his country, and hope and pray that he remains out of office. But then there’s my dear friend, a south Asian Muslim gay woman, who was introduced to her wife by her loving and kind next-door neighbour—who is a Trump man through and through.
Nuance is hard, being shouted at as a compromiser by both sides is unpleasant, and it may well be that the men and women who worked so that a working-class Essex boy like me could have free school milk, a National Health Service, fully funded university education, a safety net and a good job with opportunities, would today find themselves in the political wilderness. Perhaps it’s not such a terrible place to be.
Flee the person who has all of the answers, embrace those who ask the questions, and listen rather than react. Being a progressive or an old-style radical will not win me an election or even many friends but I’m staying put. Pathetic, sad, and lacking in realism? Possibly, even probably. But that’s the way it is and I’m not moving. Even more to the point, I really do rather like it.
