Northern Light?

Watching from the side-lines of the Labour leadership contest it seems that, so far, very few big ideas have been declared by our four candidates. Of course, the tabloid caricatures have been cast: from so-called Looney Left to so-called Blairite Revisionist. Meanwhile we wait for something to happen.

But the reality is that so much is up for grabs. Will we move back to the Centre? Will we return to the comfort of Blairism or continue the more radical critique of Miliband and beyond? How will we reconnect with the electorate of Middle England whom it seems we failed to persuade in the General Election? How on earth will we come back from the debacle of the Scottish result soon enough to perform well in next year’s Holyrood election? The political landscape has changed. And we somehow have to chart a course through it over the next five years.

Perhaps the first step in determining our direction of travel is to work out where we’re starting from. One of the most instructive articles prior to the election was by Paul Mason. He argued that the country is now dominated by three groups; ‘Scandi-Scotland’, the asset-rich south east and post-industrial Britain. He argued that the Scots, south-eastern England and the post-industrial North and Wales are now living out conflicting narratives. The danger for the Labour Party is that while Blairism recognised this trend and adapted to it, winning seats in the south, we were wrong to assume that post-industrial Britain and Scotland would come along for the ride.

Mason also points out that the SNP and the Tories have captured the zeitgeist of their heartlands well. Labour has not, ceding votes to Ukip, the SNP and the Tories. The upshot is the loss of Scotland to the SNP, the loss of the South East to the supposedly more aspiration-friendly Tories, and the huge increase in the Ukip vote in the North. If Ukip were as good at politics as the SNP would Labour have lost more seats in the North? Almost certainly. Labour needs to ensure that we don’t miss the writing on the wall: as well as developing a narrative that wins back Blair-era southern voters and reclaiming our place in Scotland, we need to talk about The North.

The long-term status of the North as a Labour heartland cannot be taken for granted. The tribal loyalties and family connections which used to define our presence in the North are waning. It’s arguable that, like the industry which once defined it, Labour’s roots in these communities have loosened. The roots are not gone. But we cannot afford to go any further without tending to them.

True, all is not lost. As accurate as that Maggie Simpson electoral map was, there remains strong support for Labour in the North East, and in urban centres like Sheffield, Liverpool and Manchester. Indeed, in areas like Wearside – first to declare on polling day – incumbents Julie Elliot, Sharon Hodgson and Bridgette Phillipson all increased their majorities considerably. Labour is still the party which can best represent the North. But to do that we will need to both up our game and lobby for changes that will allow the North to flourish again.

Sandwiched between the resurgent nationalisms of Scotland and Wales, pressured by protest votes, underwhelmed by deepening apathy and left behind by the relative affluence of the South East, the North has been taken for granted; not just by Labour but by the country as a whole.

That we have a dysfunctional economy, far too dependent upon London and the South East, is obvious. This imbalance is evidenced in the inequality that we find all over: from the East End of Glasgow to the docks of Sunderland, from the valleys of North Wales and, ironically, to the outskirts of London itself. Our politics also remains heavily-weighted to London with Westminster, and to some degree the London Assembly and the Boris Effect, creating a self-fulfilling gravitational pull for investment. This fact was only partially-acknowledged during the election campaign, even although it affects the whole country.

But crucially, whilst Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland have Parliaments and Assemblies to represent their voice and some of the powers needed to stimulate their economies, the North has been left with only local, and not regional, government.

The North has a problem. It has been taken for granted and ignored. But even now the Labour Party remains the best hope for a transformed, empowered and dynamic North. So what should we do?

In Glasgow, to be ‘Clyde-built’ was once a badge of communal pride, something that helped shape the identity of an entire city: it’s now a nostalgic reference to the industrial heritage of ship-building. At one time, the relationship in parts of the country between local education, employers and the wider community was so inter-related as to be inseparable. Even football clubs were part of this eco-system, with teams like The Blades, the Potters, the Cobblers or the Brewers named after the local industries. This socio-economic model is no more. All we have left are traces and disconnected parts. And it’s not just the loss of jobs and consequent wealth of previous generations which leaves a hole, but the dilution of the very sense of identity which many communities found at least in part from the ‘Made in’ stamp.

So what’s the lesson here? Firstly, communal identity can be an important factor in socio-economic success. The community that works together, stays together, it seems, even after most of the work has gone. Secondly, if we are to create the modern equivalent to the old communities centred around local industries and stimulate integrated local economies, focussed on creativity, hard work and shared identity, then more power needs to be held more locally. This is the opposite of the individualistic approach of neo-liberal economics in which each ‘producer’ is a singular widget in a vast economic machine. It’s an alternative to the creeping authoritarianism of the SNP in Scotland or the Conservatives in England.

But we need to go above the level of the immediate town and the Local Authority. It’s the impact of that core Labour ideal – solidarity – which will help the North as a whole find its voice, not just in the UK, but throughout the world.

Politically this puts Labour in a complicated situation. We began devolution but we didn’t see it through, side-tracked by wars and declining radicalism after years in power. The result is a half baked devolution which is itself the cause of some of the tension felt in Wales and the North. Why shouldn’t Wales have the same powers as Scotland, ask Plaid Cymru? Why should the North be ignored or need to resort to ‘take us with you Scotland’ pleas after a Tory victory? George Osborne’s ‘northern powerhouse’ whether real or imagined is clearly intended to begin the decontamination of the Tory brand in the North and to centralise power in the hands of a sprinkling of city Mayors. To oppose it looks like meanness, yet if Labour is to reclaim the strong support of the North we will need to be much bolder than Osborne.

It is too soon to be setting policy for 2020. We have a leader and deputy leader to elect first and a defeat to digest. At the same time we must not cede the North to the Tories or to UKIP. For that to happen we must develop a strong narrative that offers hope to communities too often left behind; the non-voters, UKIP voters and those in Pudsey, Colne Valley, and Keighley that don’t like what Labour had to offer this time round. The offer must give hope to communities which have had little since before Thatcherism, communities New Labour too passed by.

And it has to be about more than devolution; it has to involve power and money. Bad decisions made locally are just as bad as bad decisions made far away. Labour needs to be content with the direction set by the North being different from that of London, the South, Wales or Scotland. This will require ambitious policy and a clear settlement for the other parts of the UK. The risks are real, the rewards – not least for the people of Newcastle, Liverpool, Leeds and Grimsby – are huge.

We end with some tentative suggestions. If power and money are needed in addition to deliberation, any devolution must involve tax raising powers, a demarcated area that is ‘the North’, and the ability to make choices which are different from those of surrounding regions.

We believe that this would be best realised by the creation of a ‘Mayor of the North’, a First Minister of Northern England. This role would have powers and budget akin to the Mayor of London, would be directly-elected every five years in line with Parliamentary Elections, and would be scrutinised by a Northern Assembly comprised by 100 Councillors from the Local Authorities of the North. This new tier of ‘super-Councillors’ would be paid a full-time wage and would split their time between their Local Authority responsibilities and the Northern Assembly.

Assembly Members would be elected by their peers in the Local Authority which would form an Electoral College, itself reflective of the popular vote in each Local Authority election. The Assembly (which would be at least as powerful as the London Assembly), and the Northern First Minister would operate a significant budget garnered from both Central Government and a proportion of Local Government Council Tax receipts and Business Rates. These funds would be used across the range of powers currently devolved to Local Government. But, significantly, the budget could also be allocated to one-off infrastructure or other flagship projects.

There are of course questions to be answered: How would such an Assembly and First Minister work in partnership with London, Cardiff, Belfast and Edinburgh? Where in the North would they be based? What would their exact powers be? How would the relative responsibilities of the Assembly and the councils of the North be integrated? Should this form part of a wider new constitutional settlement that finishes the incomplete devolution of New Labour and that benefits other regions?

These questions cannot be answered definitively without some degree of trial and error. But this is nothing to be scared of. These proposals are less dramatic than the waves of devolution the Celtic nations have experienced since 1999, continuing up to this day. And those waves are only moving in one direction.

Our challenge is to continue to outwork our mandate as the unity party; the party which transcends nationalism, authoritarianism, narrow sectionalism and self-interest, and which instead cultivates flourishing, confident communities that are rooted in social justice. To achieve that we have to do something that political parties don’t like to do with power: we have to give it away.

Campaigning 101

It’s only a few days since the debacle for Labour that was the 2015 General Election Result. The Tories have shuffled their cabinet, and we in Labour are currently shuffling our feet, thinking what to do next. So, whilst the posturing for the leadership contest gets underway and the weeping and gnashing of teeth slowly abates, I feel drawn to dwell on the lighter side of the campaigning of the last few months.

This was my first, end to end, General Election campaign and I’ve learned a lot. Here are the top lessons –

    • Comfortable footwear should not be under-estimated. This campaign saw me destroy three pairs of shoes. When you’re walking up to 15 miles a day, you want to be comfortable. Neon is optional though.

Campaigning Feet

  • The designers of most letterboxes are sadists. My knuckles are evidence that ACME Cheese Graters Ltd also has a nice side line in letterbox design.
  • Dogs can be more cunning than you expect. It’s not the big ones or the loud ones that you have to watch out for; it’s the wee ones that wait silently under the letterbox that will give you a heart attack.
  • Take necessary precautions against chafing. Enough said.
  • The designers of most letterboxes are sadists. Who ever thought it was a good idea to put a letterbox at the bottom of a door?
  • Having a door shut in your face is a political rite of passage. A bit like childhood picnics in Largs, it’s not nice, but it’s characterforming.
  • Watch out for the SHOUTY MAN. You may not know it, but somewhere, even now, a SHOUTY MAN is poised in a hallway, just waiting for you to knock his door whilst wearing the wrong badge.
  • Some shortcuts are not all they promise to be. That route to the next door that avoids you having to go back up the path and down the next path? It’s a shrubbery. Just don’t.
  • Fuel up on polling day. Even if you’re campaigning in the seat that prides itself on declaring first (Sunderland), 7am to 1am is still a long time to stay alert. Bananas and French Fancies are essential.
  • We’re in a Party Rosette Arms Race. Did you see the size of some of those UKIP ones?
  • The Voter ID Board is like the Ring of Sauron. One ring to rule them all…The power of the board can do funny things to some people (not just Hobbitses).
  • The designers of most letterboxes are sadists. What are those brushes in the middle for? No-one wants to fight a hedgehog just to deliver a Sorry You Were Out card. Posties, I salute you.

But the greatest lesson of all? It’s that fighting for your ideals, taking them out onto the street, to the doors of strangers, and doing your bit to work for a better society is one of the most rewarding things you can do.

Redeeming Politics?

What would it be like to be awoken suddenly by your parents in the middle of a starry night, to roll yourself out of your bed, run down the close, and tumble into the Anderson Shelter for fear of the incendiary bombs that are falling from the sky?

What would it be like to drive a truck back and forth to the front line, constantly under fire, bringing back the dead and wounded from the battlefield slopes of Monte Cassino? How would that affect your view of the world? What would be your reaction to losing your best friend to the arbitrary trajectory of a high explosive shell? How do you think you would spend your life in the aftermath of these events?

Even in our turbulent times, it’s hard to imagine what my Grandparent’s and their peers had to endure during the Second World War. It’s also difficult to grasp how, after all they experienced, they managed to pick themselves up and throw themselves into building the peace, and to renewing a society which until that point had been grossly unequal. My Grandpa in particular found an outlet in the Union movement and in local politics to play his part in creating a new kind of society. If Union and Political Party membership is anything to go by, so did millions of others.

But by the early stage of the 21st Century this civic engagement – and in particular, engagement with politics – has become much more of a niche pursuit as apathy, disenfranchisement and disaffection with our political process has grown. Just ask any taxi driver the views of their customers on politics for a depressing insight into the rise of cynicism.

It’s become an almost-hackneyed idea to encourage voting by an appeal to the sacrifices of previous generations. For me, the stark contrast of how things could have been without the victory over Fascism secured by people like Bill and Cath, remains a powerful reason to not just vote but to get involved in our political process. But the truth is, it’s not really enough for many people today. Many feel that politics is something which happens to them, not through them, and have entirely given up, on the trip to their local polling station on Election Day, let alone any more active involvement in politics.

Although this spectrum of non-voters includes those of all Faiths or none, it’s interesting to note that, according to recent research, 8 in 10 Christians are likely to vote in the election; double that of the general population. With the first General Election in the UK in five years nearly upon us, one which is likely to be the closest and most unpredictable in a generation, why is it that Christians generally feel more of a compulsion to use their democratic franchise than others? And can this inform those who have lost hope in our democracy?

First though, a confession for the Register of Interests: I’m not only a Christian, I’m a Labour Party member and on the left of the political spectrum. Everything I say here comes from that perspective.

So, what kind of politics are we aiming for? Let’s assume we’re talking about democracy only. It’s what we’ve got, and as Churchill famously said,

“democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried”.

Simply put, democratic politics is the process through which society orders its priorities, and through which we express our understanding of Public Good.

This should be a concern for all people in society, and it’s certainly the concern of a Christian and Biblical worldview. Understanding and then creating Public Good is something that we can either participate in or not. But it’s never something which we can remove ourselves from. As Nick Spencer has said, “However much we might attempt to privatise life – whether through the adoption of human rights or the extension of market mechanisms into every aspect of life – shared public “space” is an irreducible phenomenon, and public space which is not simply anarchy must be governed by some idea of the public good”.

So why is Public Good so central to a Christian worldview, and how can this guide how we assess our politics, and even how we use our vote? I believe that the political party which most closely applies the following ideas in its policies and vision is both worthy of your vote and likely to form the best government:

Love of neighbour – we might as well take first things first. The injunction of Jesus to love your neighbour as yourself is the core idea at the heart of Christianity on how Christians should aim to live with other people. For the avoidance of doubt, the Parable of the Good Samaritan makes it abundantly clear that this means all people, including our enemies. If politics is the process through which society orders its priorities, loving your neighbour through politics means that we should shun individualism, selfishness and sectionalism in all areas of life, including in government.

The equal worth of all humans, before GodPart of the reason that we’ve to love our neighbours is because we’re all equally sinners (“All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God”) and because we all equally and beautifully reflect the image of God. In this sense, all humanity is equally precious and equally broken: no-one is inherently more valuable than another. Our political system and the Government it produces should reflect this in the way it views individuals, taking as a first principle the idea that all citizens have the same intrinsic worth – regardless of their social standing or background. But Governments should do more than recognise our inherent equality; they should actively work to reduce inequality. The Biblical understanding of human nature recognises both our tendency towards fallibility and the immense capacity within humanity for progress. If applied by governments, this understanding would lead to policies that encourage the goodness within humanity to rise to the surface and empower those who have been marginalised by the brokenness of our world.

God’s deep concern for Justice Love and Justice are closely intertwined. As renowned Evangelist and theologian Tony Campolo has noted, “If we stop to think about it, justice is nothing more than love translated into social policies”. Although the death and resurrection of Christ on the cross is the best example, God’s heart for justice is a consistent theme throughout the Bible and indeed throughout human history. Reflecting our creator, at our best humans recognise and express justice in our relationships with one another as we act upon the Moral Law (as described by C.S. Lewis) which we find within ourselves. In this sense, justice is simply love manifested in our interpersonal and social relationships. This is equally true when we think of government. So, to reflect God’s desire for justice, the Politics that Christians support should be that characterised by justice: economic, social and criminal.

Righteous and Servant Leadership – Whereas the typical approach to politics in general and leadership in particular has centred around the control of power – most often of one group over others – the Biblical template for leadership is one of humility and service to others. This template for leadership and authority again stems from the idea that we are to put the needs of others before our own. In the New Testament we see the explicit teaching of Jesus about the revolutionary nature of the Kingdom of God where the first shall be last and the last first. Practiced in politics, this counter-cultural worldview would create a system of governance in which elected officials would truly be public servants. This therefore requires a leadership which doesn’t accrue power for its own sake, but for the sake of the society it serves. It also implies the need for a political process which is open, transparent and which provides checks and balances against our autocratic tendencies. Finally, righteousness (often called integrity) is a characteristic of a servant leader who doesn’t accrue power or wealth for themselves. If you are truly serving others, you are not seeing political leadership as an opportunity to benefit yourself or your clique.

No political party perfectly reflects these values in their ideology. And political leaders will always let us down. But it’s incumbent on each of us to make a judgement about the individuals and political party which we think most closely characterise them, and give them our support, if only to hold them to the standards that we expect.

I know I have. And so did Bill and Cath.

Live at Peace with All

Stumbling along the dusty alleyway in the pitch black, guided only by the light of my mobile phone, my mind grasping for the lessons of my recent Hostile Environments training (Hint: don’t walk down a dark alleyway overseas), I really could have been anywhere.

Unless, that is, you ignored the wall of sound assailing me from both sides of the alley. On one side, the rhythmic chanting of the Muslim call to prayer jutted up against the melodic praise songs coming from the Pentecostal worship event, opposite, that I had just left. It was this fact which placed me in northern Sub-Saharan Africa; Addis Ababa, Ethiopia to be precise.

For it’s here, in the Horn of Africa and the region known as the Sahel, that the populations – and necessarily the worldviews – of Christianity and Islam live cheek by jowl in the most explicit way. It’s not that the people of the world’s two largest religions can’t be found living in close proximity elsewhere; from Indonesia to the Balkans.  But it’s in this region of Africa that the populations tend to be both the most numerous and the most equally-balanced numerically. Regionally, there is no overwhelming majority of one faith group over the other: such as there is in the United States, or in the Middle East.

Of course, you also find a liberal sprinkling of secular democracy and other political ideologies, and those of both other religions and none. Ethiopia is, after all, a strictly-secular post-Communist, semi-authoritarian state. But it’s arguable that the majority of the population tend to find – perhaps increasingly – their transcendent identity (that is, beyond national, tribal or temporal boundaries) in their faith.

This scenario is peculiar to the popular culture of Western Europe on two counts. First, these are overwhelmingly-religious societies. The language of God is the norm, not the exception. Second, the significant and long-term influence of two of the world’s great religions makes for an interesting mix when it comes to negotiating contested public space. I suspect that – in the UK – the wall of sound which I experienced in this Addis Ababa alleyway would quickly attract the attention of a local government official in a High-Vis waistcoat, investigating complaints of noise pollution.

So what can The West learn from Africa about religion in the public square?

Not all religion is the same: Religion is being increasingly discussed in publishing, the media and politics. There was a time when the mantra ‘We don’t do God’ seemed to fit perfectly with the times. No more. The twentieth century axiom that religion has had its day, and that social progress will see the inevitable triumph of secularism and rationalism over mysticism and faith is looking very tired indeed.

But even as religion is increasingly discussed – in the polemics of militant atheists or in BBC documentaries – there is an astonishing level of illiteracy on the subject. The preceding hundred years of religious decline in the West really has impacted the common understanding of what were previously well-understood (if not always accepted) beliefs. Aside from a general ignorance of religious beliefs and practices, the most common mistake by many commentators is to lump all of the world’s faiths into a silo marked ‘Religion’. This is rarely explicit. But it’s often very clear to the faith-based viewer that many commentators really don’t understand the very fundamental differences between Islam, Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism and the rest. Sure, these religions share many things in common; for example, the Golden Rule. But their core existential beliefs are also fundamentally at variance, leading to very different practices and worldviews across a range of subjects and even in their understanding of the purpose of life itself. The three Abrahamic faiths share much in common. But you only have to raise the question of the nature and purpose of Jesus and soon very different beliefs with their consequent implications will emerge. Even within religions, there can be considerable differences in belief between different denominations, sects or branches; Sunni, Shia, Protestant, Catholic, Orthodox, Reform and so on. These differences need to be acknowledged and understood.

Religions are often competitors but not necessarily antagonists:  In spite of these differences, antagonistic relationships between religions are not inevitable. Of course, antagonism can be found easily enough. But conflict between humans of divergent identities can be found everywhere, even where religion is largely absent. 2015 is the 40th anniversary of the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia – need I say more? Indeed, religions abound with resources to support an ideology of social harmony, peace-making and conflict resolution. Disagreement – even fundamentally so – is not inherently unhealthy. It is how we manage and accommodate our differences that matters.

There is a place for religion in public – and not just private – spaces: Part of the dominant narrative of Secularism is that, in order for fairness to be delivered, competing religious worldviews (interestingly, not other worldviews, only religious ones) should be consigned to the private sphere; what you do in your own home is up to you, but don’t bring religious reasoning or practices to the public square. As a result, religious groups who take their faith seriously have often found the public square to be a cold house for them. This is particularly true of counties like France, where the only religion allowed in the public square is the Cult of La Republique. Make of that what you will. But one thing is certain: if we are to address the threat of Religious Extremism, we must be careful not to marginalise religion as a whole. Which is why:

Theology Matters – Much of the lurch to Islamist extremism has been fuelled by bad theology. Of course, it has also been fuelled by an autocratic Saudi state awash with petro-dollars. But an extreme Wahabist interpretation of the Quran and Hadith in Sunni Islam is primarily a theological issue. The solution to this bad theology cannot be no theology: it is not an effective option to simply disengage with or parody the warped theology of ISIS or the Charlie Hebdo murderers. The ultimate solution to the problem of Islamism, Hindu Nationalism – or even the attempted co-option of Christianity by some elements on the extreme right – is good theology.

We need to do more to understand the complexities, differences and, yes, similarities between religious worldviews in order to understand how we can best live together. To this end, I’m reminded of two sayings of the Apostle Paul in the book of Romans. As we seek to address the core existential questions and understand divergent beliefs, we need to ‘Be transformed by the renewal of our minds’. As we seek to learn how to live together we should follow Paul’s injunction:

“Do not be overcome by evil but overcome evil with good”.

The Politics of Otherness

 

“It is now long ago that I learned this lesson from General Armstrong, and resolved that I would permit no man, no matter what his colour might be, to narrow and degrade my soul by making me hate him. With God’s help, I believe that I have completely rid myself of any ill feeling toward the Southern white man for any wrong that he may have inflicted upon my race. I am made to feel just as happy now when I am rendering service to Southern white men as to when the service is rendered to a member of my own race. I pity from the bottom of my heart any individual who is so unfortunate as to get into the habit of holding race prejudice.”

Booker T. Washington, Up from Slavery, 1900

Tourtoirac is a beautiful wee place, if in a kind of ramshackle way. Its intriguing maisons and petit chateau have a grandeur which, if somewhat faded, nevertheless retain a charm which deliver the sort of mystique that I was looking for on a maiden family holiday to France. Throw in a meandering river running through the centre of the village and the chance to buy fresh bread every morning from the bona fide boulangerie opposite the medieval Abbey, and you could say that I was happy with my holiday choice.

It’s the kind of place that seems untouched by the world. But not just by the apparent absence of satellite dishes and Dom Jolly-esque mobile phone etiquette; it gives the impression that the world has always passed it by. There is no urgency in Tourtoirac, and that is something I was very glad to experience.

And yet there is one very visible reminder that the paysage francais has not always been the sleepy, presiding reality in this Dordogne village. Situated beside the Post Office, opposite the village square, is an obelisk-shaped war memorial adorned in French flags, the state of which clearly shows the place of importance that it holds amongst the local population.

Tourtoirac War Memorial cropped

Around the base of the monument dozens of names of local men killed during the First World War are listed, grouped around an engraving which proclaims: ‘Tourtoirac, to her children killed for their country 1914-1918’. On the same level, but on a different panel is a smaller, but still lengthy, list of local men killed in their turn during La Deuxieme Guerre Mondiale.

In a sense, this monument and its rude interruption into my family holiday should not be a surprise. It stands to reason that most towns and villages in France, much like those in the area that I grew up in Scotland, have war memorials to those lost in the two conflicts which were played out largely in Western Europe, and largely in France. But I nevertheless felt a dissonance to the surroundings which I was enjoying and the peace that I was experiencing.

A plaque on the upper part of the obelisk particularly caught my eye. On that plaque are listed five names. The names have a decidedly Jewish tint – Kohn, Aaron, Samuel – and the testimony which accompanies them is chilling: Assassines par Les Nazis (assassinated by the Nazis), Le 1er Avril 1944.

Tourtoirac Jewish names cropped

I have visited a concentration camp. Yet this plaque particularly shook me. Since encountering the Tourtoirac War Memorial, I’ve found it difficult to forget. It may be that I’m feeling nostalgia for my grandparents and their experience of the Second World War, at a time when we as a family are marking the first anniversary of my Gran’s death, a particularly poignant loss for us as the last surviving member of my family from that generation.

However I think that my awareness of war, violence and hatred, and the dissonance to that peaceful place, was particularly heightened because of what was – and is still – going on around the world even as I was reading the names on that monument.

This year alone we have seen vicious civil wars taking place in eastern Ukraine, Syria and Iraq. We’ve seen hundreds of young girls abducted by Boko Haram in Nigeria. We’ve seen Iraq fall apart in a sectarian blood-bath. And that was before the horrors of ISIS and the so-called Islamic State began to be visited upon much of that country. We’ve seen civil unrest in Missouri as yet another young African-American man is shot dead by the police. And, of course, we’ve witnessed the continuation of the ancient conflict in Israel-Palestine with thousands killed, maimed and displaced, predominantly in Gaza.

These conflicts bear witness to the triumph of fear and of scapegoating. They exemplify the politics of division, and the worldview which says; you can’t be part of this community unless you look like us, talk like us, think like us. It is, and always has been the politicisation of the Other: whether the Jew, the Russian, the Kafir, the Palestinian, the African-American – the list is endless and changes depending on where you’re standing.

Where have all the big ideas gone? The ideas which transcend identity – religious, national or racial? Many of the 20th Century’s big ideas, like Fascism or Communism, soon revealed their true colours. They were equally as hostile to the Other, and as equally prone towards using violence to achieve their ends. The Tourtoirac War Memorial shows that much.

Yet I can’t help noticing that the ideals around which we organise our world today are those which either idolise profit-making or seek to define us by the lowest common denominators. We seem to be left with either the Market or the Tradition. Important though these are, they leave me feeling cold as ideologies around which we will build our world. They lack vision, purpose, and often even a narrative. They represent the politics of survival, nothing more.

It may seem like a stretch to mention the Scottish Independence Referendum in a blog in which I’ve also mentioned Boko Haram. However – in a fundamentally much more benign form, of course – these are the terms on which even this debate is being conducted. Most of the key arguments on both sides are being made via appeals to Tradition/Identity (whether, Scottish or British) and the Market (i.e. which settlement will leave Scotland better off financially). This amounts to a great deal of heat and not a lot of light.

What inspires me are the possibilities that we have in this world to transcend otherness whilst recognising our differences; to find our shared humanity when it’s tempting to simply use labels to demean; to work for a whole that is greater than the sum of our parts; to aim for solidarity when it’s easier to divide.

In a word, Unity.

A Seismology of Political Earthquakes

What should we make of the recent European and Local election results? Nigel Farage’s claim that his party has secured the “most extraordinary result in British politics for the last 100 years” is, at first glance, hard to deny. As the party with the largest share of the national vote (around 28%) – the first time that the Tories or Labour have been displaced at the top of the pile since 1906 – UKIP have achieved a remarkable entry into mainstream UK politics. Their 24 MEPs are very hard to ignore indeed.

Likewise in the local elections; although Labour have topped the polls, winning control of six more Councils and adding 338 new Councillors, UKIP gained 161 new Councillors, to give them 370 Councillors overall and make them the 5th largest political Party in local government (after the SNP).

This demonstrable shift rightwards in British politics is a challenging reality for those of us on the political Left. What this might mean for the General Election in 2015 is open for discussion, but it’s certainly not to be dismissed.

Meanwhile, we are well and truly in the countdown to September 18th, the day our friends in Scotland will make a decision on whether to separate from the rest of the United Kingdom and form an independent country. Although the No vote has consistently remained out in front in all polls, there’s no question that a sizeable Yes vote exists in Scotland, and that the referendum result can yet go either way.

So what does all of this mean? I think that there are a few points worth making:

1. The UK electorate is tired of political business as usual – I think that the drive for an independent Scotland by a large minority on one hand and the remarkable growth in support for UKIP are both indicative of a more widely-held frustration with the way that we do politics in the UK. The lightning rod for this politics fatigue was, of course, the Expenses scandal. But the national furore around this scandal was actually encouraging – if society can’t raise its voice on an issue like this, then there really is no hope for our politics. Instead it’s the widespread apathy and disengagement by huge sections of the electorate which is to me a more worrying phenomenon. It’s the failure of all of the major political parties to really connect with and inspire the great mass of the electorate (and in fairness, we’re trying!) that has been the handmaiden of the rise of Scottish Nationalism and UKIP Little Britainism. If your narrative is that the system doesn’t work, and that politicians aren’t listening, then why not fundamentally alter it and just hope for the best?

2. The UK electorate is feeling fearful and protective – Although supporters of Yes Scotland and UKIP would each claim to have very little in common, both are supporting a political programme which is fundamentally about a retrenchment away from internationalism and collaboration, and back into what they regard as their primary identity – whether British or Scottish. These are political views which have been with us for a long time, particularly in the case of Scottish Nationalism. But their resurgence in recent years is, in my view, closely connected to the economic situation which began in 2007 and which we are still trying to untangle. When we are fearful about our material situation, we tend to withdraw to the familiar. We also tend to think that we can spend limited resources better than ‘them’. There is some truth in this, and I’ll say more about localisation of power below. But this withdrawal often correlates to – or even facilitates – an irrational fear of the Other; and soon some are complaining about the Romanian family who have moved in next door.

3. The Labour Party needs a reformation – I would say this, but I think that the mainstream political party trying hardest to move to a new model of politics is the Labour Party. We’ve always been about community organising and everyday people, but initiatives like Your Britain and the Future Candidates Programme are trying to move Labour Party politics beyond the usual suspects. Nevertheless, Labour needs to go further. As I’ve become more involved in the party over the last three years, it’s been a steep learning curve. Coming in with the zeal of the convert, looking to change the world, it’s easy to quickly get bogged down in a whole new lexicon of in-group language and behaviour, which can tend to dampen enthusiasm. It strikes me again and again just how similar this must be to a non-Christian joining a church for the first time. Like most long-established institutions, people don’t want to engage with the Labour Party in the same way as their parents or grandparents generation. They want to be part of a movement for change, something that focuses less on meeting protocol and more on policies that bring tangible social progress. If we’re going to re-engage our society with a new enthusiasm for the political process, we’re going to have to go deeper and faster in our attempts to change business as usual. Constitutional reform – such as a serious democratisation of the House of Lords, or implementation of a version of proportional representation in General Elections – would help. But the Labour Party can continue to lead by example, by introducing more measures like one member one vote for leadership elections, the Union opt-in and more grassroots campaigning.

4. The country needs to localise more political power – On paper our political system is fairly well set up to balance local and national decision-making. Yet if we can draw one lesson from all of the above, it’s that the common experience of politics in the UK is that it’s too remote. Many people feel like politics is something that happens to them, not through them. The more we can move decision-making downwards towards ordinary people, the better. The hope that ordinary voters can influence their communities around them is a strong card to hold. I believe that it’s the relative lack of that hope and connectedness to the political process which is a major factor in parts of the electorate turning to alternatives like Scottish Independence or UKIP or being turned off politics altogether.

One thing’s for sure, if we don’t do something about it, there are many more political earthquakes to come – and I can’t remember hearing an earthquake described fondly.

What We Owe Each Other

I call it the Man Case. If you’re a father or husband of a particular age, you probably have one too. Some guys have a Designated Drawer or Bespoke Basket. You know what I mean: the one place in the house that is exclusively yours, the place where you keep all your assorted bumf that is either useful for recurring man-tasks (bleeding radiators), sentimental (that ticket stub from the cup semi-final a couple of years back) or apocalypse-averting (your replica Swiss Army Knife with the built-in horse shoe stone-remover).

Last week I found myself rummaging through my Man Case, searching for a matching cuff-link, when I accidentally came across a forgotten treasure: my Widow’s Mite. Now, this is no ordinary item on the Man Case inventory. I was given it a few years ago in the Shuk, Jerusalem, by a kind Palestinian Christian who owns a market stall trading in antiquities. Technically, the ‘Mite’ is a lepton, the smallest and least valuable (Roman or Greek) coin used in the Palestine of Jesus’ day. Despite its small worth – both then and today – I was delighted to be given it. There is something particularly cool about owning something which is over 2,000 years old.

The lepton gets its generic name from the teachings of Jesus in the Gospels of Mark and Luke:

Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.

Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on. Mark 12, 41-44

I’ve been thinking about the story of the Widow’s Mite this week as the debate over the 50p Tax Rate has raged back and forth, following Ed Balls’ announcement that the Labour Party would re-institute the rate (for income over £150,000) should the Party be elected to government in 2015. The coalition government dropped the top rate of tax from 50% to 45% in 2013.

Much of the response to the announcement has become pretty ugly, pretty quickly. There has been the usual ‘bad for business’ rhetoric coming from the Tory Party. Then a group of Business Leaders sent an open letter to the Press, decrying the short-sightedness of the Labour Party, suggesting that this retrograde step would both put jobs at risk and would chase ‘wealth creators’ from the country to jurisdictions where their unique skills would be appreciated with a more lenient tax regime.

Now, leaving aside the fact that several of the 24 signatories to the letter have donated hundreds of thousands of pounds between them to the Conservative Party, it seems to me that this is perhaps one of the most outlandish acts of self-interest I’ve witnessed recently. Through it, we see some of the wealthiest people in the land speaking out against a relatively-modest tax adjustment (in France, the top tax rate is 75%) that is intended to help with balancing the nation’s books, in order to protect their own income.

In fairness, the opponents of the proposed increase argue that it will depress investment in the economy and therefore affect the jobs and income of the less well off. But this is an argument that is rolled out every time there’s a threat to the vested interest of the super-rich. Think that the Bankers Bonus is a bit generous? Well, it’s needed to remain ‘competitive’. But I believe this is a smokescreen. The truth is that the United Kingdom is a great place to live and to do business. It’s a stable, safe, prosperous and relatively non-corrupt society where a good standard of living and global connectedness are possible. Top Executives are not going to give it up and move abroad for the sake of five percent.

Likewise, I find the investment argument unconvincing. The idea of the ‘trickle-down’ of wealth is at best hard to prove and at worst an axiomatic Myth of the Right. It’s much more common in my view – and the current difficulty of securing Credit in the economy lends itself to this notion – that the rich tend to either put their added wealth into their (offshore) bank accounts or spend it on luxury goods, depending on how secure they feel. The following sentence is rarely heard on the lips of a millionaire: “Ah, it seems that I have an additional 5% on my income this year. I think I’ll open a cod-filleting factory in Grimsby”.

What about the claim that the reduction in the top rate actually improves the tax revenue of HMRC? This is something of an intractable and statistic-laden part of the argument, which I confess to being somewhat bamboozled by. Although, I have a sense that most others are too. The variables at stake, and the changing context of the economic climate over the last few years, plus the difficulty of predicting the response that individuals make to changes in tax rates, makes determining the causality of tax rates vis a vis revenue raised a mind-bender for the layman. Yet HMRC’s own figures do seem to suggest that, the last time the 50% rate was in place, it raised around an additional £3 billion per year in tax, and in all of the debate I haven’t heard many voices denying that the 50p rate will actually increase the revenue intake, even if only in the tens of millions of pounds.

But of course, ultimately, the debate over the top rate of tax should not be primarily determined by the bottom line of the revenue it generates, but by the principle of fairness and the connected principle of civic duty.

The key lesson that I take away from the story of the Widow’s Mite – other than the idea that all of our wealth, however big or small is actually given by and therefore owed to God – is the principle that each of us should give to each other according to our ability to give. And what else is Taxation in a democratic society, other than each of us giving to one another for the benefit of the whole?

How we share the cost of our Nation says so much about the kind of society that we want to create. If you were out for a meal with a group of friends and, when the bill arrived, you discovered that one of your friends had recently fallen on hard times financially and so could only contribute a small amount to the bill, you and the rest of your friends would club together to make up the difference. You would also have a loftier view of the contribution your hard-up friend made to the cost of the bill, even if it was much smaller than your own contribution.

This is really the heart of the matter of why the Labour Party is proposing the return to the 50p tax rate, and it’s why I support it. In our approach to taxation, we should prioritise the ideals of fairness, of civic mindedness, of compassion, of generosity and of mutuality. If the Widow can give her Mite, then I and the wealthier members of society can give ours and more.