Politics | Chris Beckett's Fiction

Toughness

I mentioned in my last post that I like talking to fellow passengers on trains. There’s a particular kind of intimacy in conversations with people you’ll never meet again. (I do always make sure I give them a get out if they don’t feel like talking!) In recent weeks, it so happens, I have had two long conversations with young Chinese people, one a young woman graduate with a background in mainland China (this was an extra-long chat because we were in a train that stood in the station for a whole hour waiting for a driver who never showed up, and eventually moved together to another train), the other a young male first-year student with a Hong Kong background. They were both very intelligent, thoughtful people and I liked them very much. Neither of them was a fan of the totalitarian government of the PRC, but both had the same criticism of Western society, as compared to Chinese society. It is too individualistic. Too soft.

The young woman spoke about the rights of individuals being elevated above duties and responsibilities to the family, the community and society. The young man raised the issue in the following interesting way:

‘There is something that troubles me about Western society, but I don’t like to criticise it because it’s basically a nice thing.’

He really was reluctant to even name the thing that bothered him, but, after he’d circled around it a bit, I put it to him that what he meant was that we were too preoccupied in our contemporary culture by people’s feelings and vulnerabilities. Yes, he said, that was roughly what he meant – and then he repeated that he wasn’t saying that being sensitive to people’s vulnerabilities was a bad thing —it obviously wasn’t— but that… he hesitated again and I suggested that, nice thing though it was, an overemphasis on vulnerabilities might place a society at a disadvantage when it came to competing in a tough world. What’s good for individuals in the short run, may not in the long run be best for their society’s long term survival – a certain toughness is necessary for that. He agreed that this was broadly his point.

I’ve heard, or sensed, a similar critique before from other people from developing countries and it connects with the point I made in a recent post about ours being an old society. And I guess I’ve heard it too from people politically on the right when they talk about ‘snowflakes’ and oversensitivity.

A further question is whether actually it is even in the interests of individuals themselves to make too much allowance for their sensitivities. For instance, a teacher wishing to avoid hurting the feelings of students might be overgenerous in praise and sparing in criticism, and award high marks for work that really wasn’t all that good, but would this actually be fair or helpful in the long run for the students themselves? Wouldn’t it actually help them more to give them an honest appraisal, or even a harsh one if their work is poor, even if it does upset them? At least that way they are given the opportunity to learn and grow on the basis of genuine feedback, and can prepare for a world which will want to know their real abilities and won’t, just to be nice, give them jobs they aren’t equipped for.

A long time ago, I wrote a short story called ‘Valour’ (not one of my best to be honest) which described an alien race that saw the world in threes rather than, as we tend to do, in binary opposites (good/bad, right/wrong, left/right etc). These beings had three sexes, their bodies were based on a three-way symmetry, and they had a three-way morality which did not simply involve good versus evil, but had two rival, but equally valid, alternatives to evil – gentleness and valour – meaning that valour, gentleness and evil were three separate poles. To defeat evil, valour and gentleness would need to form some kind of alliance in spite of their incompatibilities, but often valour allied with evil against gentleness, which created heartless, hyper-‘masculine’ militaristic societies, or gentleness allied with evil against valour, which created flabby, overindulgent societies that would ultimately decay and fall apart. The idea wasn’t fully developed, I must admit, but you get the idea.

Decadence

In an Apple store, while waiting for my phone to load up, I got talking with the young Indian man who was looking after me. He was a business studies student at a new university (i.e. former polytechnic). His parents had paid £20,000 to an agent in India to secure his place on the course, but they’d been told a lot of things that turned out not to be true, for example that graduates of the course had a 99% chance of securing a job – the real figure was very much lower. He felt he’d been lied to by the agent and by the university itself, but he dreaded telling his parents this because they’d invested so much to get him there, and were so excited on his behalf about what it would do for him.

I said to him that I had heard similar stories elsewhere about very low quality business studies courses geared to the international students who keep universities afloat by paying much higher fees than UK students. For instance, courses that accept students with only a very poor grasp of English. I said that it seemed to me that Western countries are still trading on the cachet that comes from empire, the idea that we, who are still so wealthy and who so recently ruled the world, have something special to sell, a sort of magic cloak of prosperity. I said I thought the time would come when countries like India and China would see through that magic cloak just as the small boy in the story saw through the Emperor’s clothes, and realise that their own colleges could do courses as good or better than the ones they pay so much for in countries like Britain.

Britain, I thought, along with Europe in general, has become old like me, relying on our past. He agreed, and continued the analogy by saying that countries like India were young like him, energetic and with nothing to lose.

It so happened that I went to get a coffee afterwards and ran into a friend who has a Sri Lankan background. He said he had a cousin from Sri Lanka who’d come over to Britain to study 15 years ago, had had the same experience as the guy in the Apple store, and drawn the same conclusions.

Britain became rich because wealth from empire allowed it to industrialise – and then to sell its products to its own vast captive markets. But nowadays we import most of our manufactured goods from Asia, and rely on the export of services (including education) to generate the income to pay for them. We are going to be in trouble, surely, when those same Asian countries realise that, just as they have overtaken us in manufacturing, they could overtake us in services too. My friend agreed. Leaving the EU, he thought, had accelerated our decline but even if we’d stayed in, we’d only have delayed it, not stopped it from happening.

At the end of their careers, older people can rise to senior positions and command high salaries on the basis of their accumulated experience and the prestige that comes with it. But eventually it becomes apparent that young people know as much or more, are better attuned to the world as it is, and will get a whole lot more done for a whole lot less – and that’s when the old people get pensioned off. The trouble is that when the ‘old person’ in question is not really a person but a country, there’s no pension pot to provide for our old age.

Palestine Action

Rather incredibly, it is now a criminal offence to express support for this organisation. It’s been proscribed, and is therefore legally on a par with groups like ISIS and Al Qaeda. So, although prison would certainly be an interesting experience, I won’t express support for it here.

And actually I’m not sure I would support all their actions, even if it was legal to do so. I think direct action sometimes serves the purpose of making its practitioners feel heroic, while not really advancing their cause, and perhaps even sets the cause back at times by alienating people who might otherwise be sympathetic – but I have to admit that these reservations may often be a rationalisation of my own timidity and my ridiculous terror of being told off.

However, one thing I certainly do not support is the proscription of organisations that engage in non-violent direct action. Ordinary criminal law exists to prosecute people who trespass and damage property. There is absolutely no justification for placing people who do these things for what they believe are principled reasons, on a par with people who murder indiscriminately to get what they want.

Nearly 60,000 people, including many thousands of children, have been killed by the bombs, shells and bullets of the Israeli armed forces in the Gaza strip. Schools, hospitals and homes have been reduced to rubble, not only by bombs and shells, but also quite deliberately, by demolition machinery. Families have been forced to move back and forth through a landscape of destruction where they may be killed at any moment. A million children have had no school for two years, and all of them have been subjected to trauma that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. The Israeli authorities are now talking of herding much or all of the population of Gaza into a small enclosed area – that is to say, a concentration camp – which they will be prohibited to leave unless it is to go and live abroad. What’s going on completely dwarfs any attrocity that’s ever been committed by any terrorist group*.

And in this context our cloth-eared government decides to proscribe a group which uses illegal but non-lethal means to try to disrupt, and draw attention to, the ongoing supply of arms to those perpetrating the slaughter! I voted for this government. I don’t think I can vote for them again.

Palestine

A friend made herself watch footage taken by the Palestinian perpetrators of the massacre that took place on October 17th 2023. I don’t fully understand why she put herself through this, but the scenes she witnessed were absolutely hideous in their savagery.

But if the Israeli government had ever been serious about coming to a peaceful settlement with the Palestinians, it would not have deliberately neutered, humiliated and discredited the Palestinian partner that was available to it to deal with – the Palestinian Authority, a partner which accepts Israel’s existence as a fact – by, among other things, allowing settlements to continue to mushroom all over the West Bank, and by protecting the settlers with soldiers, even when they roam about with guns and terrorise their Palestinian neighbours.

Indeed, as Israeli politicians openly admit (see this article in the Times of Israel), Israel quite deliberately built up Hamas in order to further weaken the Palestinian Authority (thus also helpfully building up a Palestinian enemy too fanatical for people in the West to feel much sympathy for). So Israel’s official justification for destroying Gaza is to eliminate an organisation which Israel itself helped to bring to power.

When Israel became independent, Palestinian Arabs were the majority in the area that is now Israel, Gaza and the West Bank. Palestinians still constitute about half the population of the area. If any of them claim that the whole area belongs to them ‘from the river to the sea’, there are howls of outrage – and yes, whatever the history, it’s not reasonable now to claim more than half of it. Yet many Israelis, including members of the current government, also claim everything from the river to the sea.

What’s worse is that, even when Israeli politicians did pay lip service to a two-state solution, they were in fact making that impossible by colonising the land all the way to the river. They must have known this. It’s been obvious for half a century.

And we’re all complicit because, though we could see perfectly well what was going on- it’s not difficult: you do not colonise territory you intend to give back – we allowed our leaders to pretend not to see it. We are like the man who makes friends with an affable neighbour and pretends, when he calls round to take him to the pub, that he doesn’t notice the bruises on the face of his affable new friend’s wife.

(To continue the analogy, the neighbour has now taken a hammer, smashed all his wife’s things, and is chasing her screaming round the house – and we’re just beginning to mutter embarrassedly, ‘Oh mate! We know she’s a nightmare, but don’t you think you’ve gone a bit far?’)

Meritocracy and Its Discontents

In his excellent book, The Tyranny of Merit, Michael Sandel, a Harvard professor of political philosophy, refers to another book, now out of print, published in 1958 by the British sociologist Michael Young. It was called The Rise of the Meritocracy, and took the form of a dystopia.

Writing as if he were a historian looking back from the year 2033, he [Young] described with uncanny clarity the moral logic of the meritocratic society that was beginning to unfold in the postwar Britain of his day. Without defending the class-bound order that was passing, Young suggested that its moral arbitrariness and manifest unfairness at least had this desirable effect: It tempered the self-regard of the upper class and prevented the working class from viewing its subordinate status as personal failure.

As Young’s imaginary historian writes:

Now that people are classified by ability, the gap between the classes has inevitably become wider. The upper classes are… no longer weakened by self-doubt and self-criticism. Today the eminent know that success is just reward for their own capacity, for their own efforts, and for their own undeniable achievement. They deserve to belong to a superior class. They know too that not only are they of higher calibre to start with, but that a first-class education has been built upon their native gifts.

‘Not only did Young anticipate the meritocratic hubris of elites;’ writes Sandel, ‘he glimpsed their affinity for technocratic expertise, their tendency to look down on those who lack their lustrous credentials.’ He quotes Young again (still writing as if a historian in 2033) who suggests that ‘some members of the meritocracy… have become so impressed with their own importance as to lose sympathy with the people whom they govern’. Some of them, indeed, are ‘so tactless that even people of low calibre have been quite unnecessarily offended’. Here Sandel references Hillary Clinton’s famous —and extraordinarily politically inept— remark about half of Trump supporters being ‘a basket of deplorables’. I saw the same kind of contempt over and over again coming from remain voters in the aftermath of the Brexit referendum. Indeed I felt so disgusted by it, as a remain voter myself, that I wished I’d voted leave.

As Sandel notes, in Young’s dystopia, ‘resentment against elites was compounded by the self-doubt that a meritocracy inflicts on those who fail to rise’, for, as Young’s historian wrote, ‘Today all persons, however humble, know they have had every chance.’ Sandel goes on:

Young predicted that this toxic brew of hubris and resentment would fuel a political backlash. He concluded his dystopian tale by predicting that, in 2034, the less-educated classes would rise up in a populist revolt against the meritocratic elites. In 2016, as Britain voted for Brexit and America for Trump, that revolt arrived eighteen years ahead of schedule.
Continue reading “Meritocracy and Its Discontents”

Trump etc

I have read a lot of pieces lately that thundered about the many infamies of Donald Trump. It’s certainly not hard to compile such a list, or to get upset about it, but I’m reminded of the aftermath of Brexit, when stunned/outraged remainers liked to enumerate, over and over, the many reasons why Brexit was wrong, why leavers had lied etc etc. In both cases (or all three cases, given that Trump is in his second term) what I think these pieces fail to engage with is the fact that people voted for Brexit and voted for Trump – a majority in the case of Brexit and Trump Mk. 2 – and did so in spite of all these many arguments against.

It should be obvious by now that what we are calling ‘populism’ is not just a glitch or temporary aberration from which we will one day return to the comfort of the old familiar world. That world is history now. It’s gone. If you are going to accuse Brexiters and Trumpers of harking back to a mythical golden age, then don’t do the same thing yourself. We’re here now, and wishing you didn’t have to start from here is as futile in politics as it is in personal life. You have to ask yourself why those things did happen.

Why did people vote for things you hate and not for the things you wanted? Why did they ignore all the wise counsel, all the expert advice? The answers often given are either that people were duped by bad actors and foreign dictators, or that they were in some way morally bad themselves (racists, bigots, misogynists perhaps – or wilfully ignorant – or only interested in their own financial gain…) I have seen both remainers and Democrat voters speaking of those who voted the other way almost in the way that religious folk talk about sinners. I have seen both remainers and Democrats say they are not prepared to ‘forgive’ those who voted the other way, even if they subsequently change their minds. (I mean, come on! You’re talking about people here whose votes you’re going to need!)

I have also heard many remainers say that people should not have been allowed a vote on EU membership (something, incidentally, that in relatively recent times has been a manifesto commitment of Greens and Liberal Democrats as well as of the Tories) or that the outcome of the vote should have been ignored. Casting your opponents as the dupes of saboteurs and foreign agents, demonizing them as evil, denying them the vote, or overruling votes that they win are surprisingly Stalinist moves to come from the supposedly liberal side of the argument. They also fail to engage with the new reality.

The people who voted for Trump 2.0 or for Brexit are not some small minority cult. They were more than half of those who turned out to vote. Of course they are deluded, but to varying degrees we all are. We all have our own dreams and fantasies, designed to comfort and reassure us that we are the good guys, that we are entitled to what we have, and that the ‘precious ordinary’* that makes us feel secure can somehow be preserved. And even the clearest-eyed among us project these fantasies into the political sphere where there are in fact no certainties, and no experts who can tell us for sure what the consequences might be of any particular action.

Politicians of all stripes seek to win our votes by pursuading us that they will nurture the things we cherish, and typically fail to live up to their own rhetoric. (Quick thought experiment: imagine that by some electoral freak, the Green Party, who I sometimes vote for myself, had won the last UK election. Would the gap between aspirational rhetoric and practical reality by this point have been any less wide than the gap between Leaver rhetoric and Brexit in practice?) We all know you can’t take politicians’ rhetoric literally, but we try anyway to choose the options we find the most reassuring, and in Britain in 2016 and America in 2024 that was, for a small majority, respectively Brexit and Trump. Unless the opponents of these things are willing to engage with that fact and address the fears and insecurities that Brexit and Trump apparently do address, then they’ll continue to lose, no matter how loudly they thunder their outrage.

The liberal elite/experts. Voting for Brexit involved voting against the recommendations of all the major political parties in mainland Britain, most of the intelligentsia, most business leaders, and most economists and bankers. Instead of asking, ‘how could people be so stupid as not to listen to all those wise, successful, and knowledgeable people?’, a more productive question might be, ‘why are all those voters so distrustful of the whole educated class?’ (I’m going to write another post about this soon, but previous thoughts here and here.)

Disruption. Also, instead of asking the question, ‘how could people be so reckless as to do such damage to so many precious things?’ it might be more useful, even just from a self-interested, strategic point of view, to ask ‘why are people willing to risk so much?’, or ‘what is it about major disruption that appeals to so many people?’, or ‘why does what seems precious to me, not seem equally precious to all these compatriots of mine?’

Globalisation. Both Trump’s programme and Brexit place a strong emphasis on restricting migration from other countries, and putting up barriers to international trade. While it’s possible to respond to this with a lot of thundering about racism, xenophobia, inward-looking nationalism, and how you ‘don’t recognise your own country anymore’ and are going to move somewhere else, it would also be reasonable to ask why so many people are hostile to economic globalisation.

It doesn’t require rocket-science levels of expertise to guess at answers to that one. Why would anyone be a fan of having their job outsourced to another country, or of having to compete for work with people from poor countries who are willing to work for much less, and put up with much worse conditions, than you’ve learned to think of as your due? There are no easy answers here -even people who are threatened by globalisation as producers, are beneficiaries of it as consumers – but these are reasonable concerns and, however simplistically, the populists address them while the old mainstream politics really didn’t.

Even concerns about losing a community of likeminded folk and being surrounded by people with an entirely different culture are actually reasonable ones -as any impeccably liberal person knows who prefers to live in a nice bougie part of town with likeminded neighbours. Populists are prone to address such concerns with dangerous rhetoric that encourages racist hostility, but mainstream parties have historically dismissed the concerns themselves as racist.

I saw someone saying the other day that it was time we understood that migration was part of human life and always has been. This is perfectly true. Every human being on Earth is descended from someone who came from somewhere else. But it would be equally true to say that frontiers, and restrictions on movements across frontiers, are part of life and always have been. If we want grownup politics that deals with reality, let’s try not to cherrypick the bits of reality that suit us and pretend the others don’t exist.

*The phrase ‘the precious ordinary’, a favourite of my wife’s, comes from Benediction by Kent Haruf, a novelist of small lives in small forgotten places.

Might is Right

‘The Americans want our resources, our water, our land and our country,’ says the new prime minister of Canada in his acceptance speech. Canada! Even a couple of months ago, a Canadian prime minister talking about the threat of annexation by its neighbour and long-term ally really would have seemed the stuff of speculative fiction, not something that could happen now.

Whether or not Donald Trump is a ‘fascist’ depends on how broad or narrow a definition of the word ‘fascist’ you use -Is Putin a fascist? Kim Jong Un? Narendra Modi? Erdogan? – but he represents an extraordinarily sudden reversion to a style of leadership that prevailed for much of history: the naked and unapologetic wielding of power, not to make the world better in some way, but simply in order to dominate and prevail.

The use of force by powerful countries has of course never gone away and America, Britain and other nations have been actively involved in very recent times in overthrowing governments they didn’t like, but America’s new posture of openly flaunting its power to dominate and spread fear, even among its supposed friends and allies, really is reminiscent of a medieval king, like King Scyld in Beowulf (that ‘wrecker of mead-benches’ who forced neighbouring clans to pay him tribute, and of whom the poet says ‘That was a good king’), or of the Roman generals who won adulation by conquering new territories, and bringing their defeated leaders back to Rome to be paraded through the streets in chains.

Since the Italian Fascists and German Nazis admired this kind of might, and claimed to be emulating this kind of leadership, it really isn’t an exaggeration to say that Trumpism is a cousin of Fascism and Nazism, an ideology, like them, based on the glorification of might. But Fascism and Nazism were very specific ideologies that emerged in Europe in the second quarter of the twentieth century, alongside Stalinism (which, barring the genuflection to socialism, was something rather similar) and to call Trump a capital-letters Fascist is perhaps to ignore how commonplace the rule of more-or-less naked might has been throughout history, and how commonplace it is around the world.

England

My sister told me the following. Her sons play online games in which players identify themselves with a name and a flag to indicate their their country of origin. Scottish players use the saltire, Welsh players the dragon, but my nephews don’t use the St George’s flag because it has become associated with far-right politics, and they avoid players who do use it. Instead they choose the union jack.

I can’t criticise my dear nephews’ pragmatic choice – they are there to play a game, not to get involved in unpleasant conversations, and of course they don’t want to be ostracised by other players – and yet a part of me wants to yell, It’s our fucking flag! Are we really just going to lie down and let those people steal it? England is already the only part of Britain that doesn’t have its own parliament, meaning that its government is also the government of the UK (one consequence of which is that England can have a government that wasn’t elected by a majority of English MPs – something that never seemed to be mentioned when English remainers were wailing that Brexit wasn’t democratic because Scotland didn’t vote for it!) Are we also to be confined to using the UK flag?

If English people say ‘England’ when we mean Britain, or ‘Britain’ when we mean England, we get ticked off. But you can see why we get confused!

I’m not trying to suggest that England is hard done by. It’s the richest, and by far the largest, part of the UK – several times more populous than the other three countries combined – but I do think we should be allowed our own identity.

Perhaps more importantly, I think that this kind of move – eschewing our own national flag, expressing distaste for our own country – is exactly the kind of thing that alienates the general population from left-leaning middle class folk like myself, thus contributing to the disastrous rift that’s opened up in the century-long class alliance that used to sustain progressive politics. We liberal types are very hot on respecting other people’s cultures. We should apply the same principle to the culture of our own compatriots. Not least because, if we don’t, they’ll turn to people who do. But also because disparaging your own just isn’t a very appealing habit.

And anyway, look at it, what a beautiful flag it is! The flag of England!

The wrong side of history

I don’t always like Marina Hynde’s column in the Guardian – her heavy sarcasm can get a bit relentless – and, for that matter, I don’t always like the Guardian, but I thought this piece of hers, about the reaction to the movie Emilia Pérez and what it tells us, was right on the nose, so much so that I’m going to quote about half of it right here:

… A few months ago I was chatting to the pollster James Kanagasooriam about something, and he noted that “the left tends to issue-bundle”. Which feels a good way of putting it. Many people will have felt the increasingly illogical strictures of this all-or-nothing deal in recent years of supposed progressivism. It’s as though you can’t consider each subject or cause on what you, personally, judge to be its individual merits. Instead, you must buy the entire suite of opinions off the shelf, and you have to agree with all of them, or you are “on the wrong side of history” with the ones you don’t. This was odd, James pointed out, because outside the small minority of the hyper-politically-engaged, most people in the world are not actually like this. His example was to say that most people in the UK are extremely pro gay rights, but a substantial proportion of this group might also support the non-progressive cause of the death penalty.

Anyway: Emilia Pérez. A trans story! Latin actors! Big-swing cinema! It’s all good, right? Except: no. Apparently Mexicans hate it. Apparently trans people hate it. Now old-skewing liberal Academy voters – who loved it – have seen these controversies and know they have to do a 180 and hate it too… It was pitched as a progressive triumph – now it’s on “the wrong side of history”.

… I can’t stand that infantilising, hectoring phrase, which has spent the past decade being the laziest but most successful way to force someone to agree with you. Ditto the idea that if you share any opinion – at all – with people on the other side of a supposed divide, then you should just consider what that makes you, and fall back into line with your tribe. What bollocks.

In fact, the present political climate in the US seems to have been exacerbated by people performing their endless taxonomy of what is and isn’t on the wrong side of history. It’s enough to make you feel that the left, who bang on about polarisation the whole time, are actually more invested in it than the right…

I agree. I think that particular kind of judgy, conformist, witch-hunting ‘leftism’ must take some share of the blame for the rise of the authoritarian right. In other words, in its own terms, it’s ‘on the wrong side of history’, though, like Marina Hynde, I’ve always hated that phrase, with its smug implication that the speaker’s world view is the one that will ultimately prevail.

Sola fide and the ‘internet Left’

In an earlier post, I talked about the disadvantages of ‘belief’ but also its necessity in a world where so much can’t be known for certain. However I didn’t even mention the utility of ‘belief’ as a marker of belonging, as when a religious person explains their faith by saying ‘we believe X’, where it is the belief that makes possible that ‘we’ – and therefore also an excluded ‘them’. In many religions, notably in Protestant Christianity, belief in the correct dogma is, or at least has been, seen as far more important than moral behaviour. Only faith – sola fide – can save you from the fires of hell. And of course many religions, including Islam and most branches of Christianity, have not even waited for the afterlife, but have had people tortured and killed in this one for not subscribing to the correct dogma.

There are all kinds of advantages to sola fide. It’s easier to conform to a set of beliefs than it is to change your way of life. It’s also helpful for the wealthy and powerful who might otherwise have to take seriously moral teachings such as, in Christianity, Matthew 5.5 (‘blessed are the meek’), or Matthew 19:24 (‘ it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God’). At my primary school – a famous fee-paying school, and therefore only accessible to well-off people- the ‘eye of the needle’ was explained away by the chaplain as the name of a gate in the walls of Jerusalem through which a camel could actually pass, though it might be a bit of a squeeze, which makes the whole saying rather lame, and is quite funny when you consider all the other sayings which religions have insisted should be taken completely literally. Many people have been burned alive, for instance, for denying that communion bread and wine are literally the blood and flesh of Christ.

But this takes us back to importance of belief as a marker of belonging, the means by which a virtuous ‘us’ is separated from a ‘them’ which at best is ignorant and in need of enlightenment, and at worst does not deserve to be treated as part of the moral community at all. This is very handy. It makes priesthood important, for one thing (because priests are the ones who let you know what you have to believe in). It gives even the lowliest of believers the comfort of feeling superior to somebody (which is useful for elites who want to keep them in their place). And it provides a rationale for treating unbelievers badly, which is great if you want to conquer their country, or make them into slaves, or even just dismiss them as of no account.

The thing about this kind of belief, though, is that it’s no good just asking people to believe something obvious. You can’t build an ‘us’ and a them’ on the back of, say, ‘the sun rises every day’ or ‘on the whole, it’s good to treat people nicely’. It has to be something that isn’t obvious and that wouldn’t normally occur to you. In fact, more than that, it needs to be something which everyday experience would suggest there is no evidence for. Even ‘there is a god’ isn’t really sufficient, because that’s a pretty widespread idea which isn’t associated with any particular belief system, but ‘God consists of three persons – not two, mind you, or four, but three – who are all distinct, but are still somehow only one god’ – now, that’s more like it, no way is anyone going to come up with that empirically! And ‘bread and wine are literally blood and flesh’ is perfect.

Sorry to pick on Christianity by the way -I know many good people who are Christians, and who don’t use their religion in this kind of way- but it just happens to be the religious tradition I was brought up in, and therefore the one I feel best qualified to criticise. The point I am actually coming to is that sola fide is not confined to religions. In particular, I am struck by the way that politics has degenerated into competing belief systems of this kind. Hence the so-called culture wars, the internet-fuelled tendency to separate into competing tribes, each with its own priesthood and its own rigid and often arbitrary beliefs which you have to subscribe to in order to belong, even when your head is secretly saying to you ‘it’s really not as simple as that.’

Since my own politics, cloudy as they are, are on the left (which is to say, it seems to me that the people at the bottom of society get a lousy deal, and the people higher up are obscenely privileged) my particular concern is this tendency on the left. If being on the left is reduced to expressing the latest ‘correct’ views on social media in the latest approved language, with the aim of demonstrating your loyalty to your faction, and your distance from that other lot, it has ceased to really be politics in the sense of a practical attempt to make things different, and has just become a way of feeling superior.

And this at a time when oligarchy is on the rise and oligarchs are managing to persuade a lot of people who would normally be your natural allies, that you belong to a haughty self-righteous elite who don’t even like them, and that they should throw in their lot with them, the oligarchs.