Article
Character
Comment
Politics
Virtues
5 min read

Are virtues irrelevant in today’s uncertain politics?

We need to exercise the character traits that uphold our values.

Emerson Csorba works in deep tech, following experience in geopolitics and energy.

President Zelensky raises a hand while President Trump talks at him.
MSNBC.

In Oliver O'Donovan's Finding and Seeking, the theologian makes a telling comment about virtue, virtue referring to ‘the goodness the world has already seen and known…. Talk about virtue is always third person talk, observers’ talk about deeds that have already taken determinate form.’ 

Put differently, virtue is about the past. It is about how others have lived and acted in admirable ways. But it is not about today, in all of its ambiguity and uncertainty.  

To put it directly – virtue falls apart when hit with reality. It is easy to talk about what virtuous people have done, much harder to be virtuous in the present. Or so O’Donovan says.  

There has been a lot of talk over recent years about the need for virtues and values in politics (and in the world more widely), but what even are these things?  

Values are principles or standards that individuals or societies consider important.  

Virtues are moral excellences or traits of character, such as courage, patience, or humility.  

Virtues are the moral character traits individuals need to uphold values, in practice. 

When thinking about virtues and values, I often reflect on a simple but profound point made by Nigel Biggar speaking at Oxford University many years ago: 

"If you want pure heroes, you won't have any."  

Put differently, people – including the most virtuous at first glance – are complicated.  

Yet, our world is one in which virtue seems to be in short supply. Some would even say virtue (and values) are non-existent, or on the verge of extinction.  

The older I become, the more I am left reflecting on why it is that so few individuals – in political life, but also more generally – seem to live without principle. Integrity – which I define as ‘your word (or principle), and action aligning’ – seems increasingly a thing of the past.  

Many seem to think that integrity is ‘old-fashioned,’ acting accordingly, saying one thing and doing another as if there are no repercussions.  

This is replaced with an ‘anything goes’ mentality, focused on short-term gratification. It is a “you do you” culture, acting without conscience. People seem to believe there are few if any repercussions for doing bad things. This culture is not only permitted, but even celebrated. 

The American situation is, of course, the example par excellence of this. American politicians and diplomats wake up each morning waiting for what their President will write on social media, responding accordingly. Alliances are thrown out the window. Nothing is off the table.   

There is seemingly less interest in Western societies in being good persons, doing what is right in hard circumstances, and where few or no people are watching.    

Whether in politics or in society more widely, people seem increasingly focused on protecting themselves, doing whatever they need to do to get ahead, rather than looking out for each other.  

So where do we draw the line? Is there space for virtue (and values) in a world where growth is slowing, and more people are battling for parts of a shrinking pie? 

I believe the answer is yes. My sense is that many people are today yearning for clarity of values and virtues in a world that is becoming much more anchorless.  

There does then seem to be interest in values and virtues, but it is perhaps worth remembering that values and virtues are like muscles... It is possible to lose these muscles without practice.

In my home of Canada, where I recently moved back, many value decency, politeness, and a sense of moderation.  

In 1955, while serving as Canada’s Secretary of State for External Affairs, Lester B Pearson put his figure on this pulse, delivering a series of lectures at Princeton University entitled Democracy in the World. Pearson argued that a sense of moderation is a leading value for Canadians.  

He described this as a ‘confidence in the ability of the peoples and the leaders of democratic nations to grow into the new situations and to accept the greater self-discipline which the preservation of freedom in an interdependent world requires.’ 

And he saw Canada as especially emblematic of this ability to grow into new situations, this adaptability in working in an interdependent world.  

Many Canadians believe that the thirteen provinces and territories need to adapt and work together in order to respond to the threat of the United States.  

The candidate for Leader of the Liberal Party, Mark Carney, seems to agree (and is rising in the polls because of this), whereas his opponent Pierre Poilievre is moving in the opposite direction given his more combative approach. But Poilievre has time and the opportunity to turn this around, channeling Canadians' frustrations into a vision focused on the values and virtues we share in common.

In other words, Canadians value working together when faced with challenges, valuing this solidarity when times are tough. We become more courageous the tougher things become.  

The virtue of courage is here a noteworthy virtue, so well proven in the Great War battles of Vimy Ridge, Passchendaele and The Somme, or the Battle of the Atlantic in World War Two.  

We see this Canadian virtue emerge often in times of crisis.   

Andrew Davison in previous writing in Seen & Unseen is especially eloquent on courage, writing that this virtue is:  

‘both bracing and realistic. It reminds us that all is not well with the world. We will often need courage because doing the right thing can be costly.’ 

There does then seem to be interest in values and virtues, but it is perhaps worth remembering that values and virtues are like muscles – a point made by Carney in previous writing and speeches. And Poilievre, well-known for his considerable discipline, certainly understands the importance of the exertion that builds muscle." 

It is possible to lose these muscles without practice. Over recent years, societies and individuals have become more permissive, rather than encouraging consistent exercise.  

The question therefore is less about whether values or virtues will survive in the harsh light of reality. Instead, it is whether societies – their political representatives and citizens – are open to making the short-term investments necessary to uphold what they believe is good in their countries and in the world?  

A tall task, to be sure, but one that I believe is both possible and necessary for Canadians and non-Canadians alike. Canada can here be an example for the world.  

This task – upholding certain values and virtues, is not third person talk, as O’Donovan suggests. It is rather an imperative for action in the present. We are called to act accordingly today. 

Article
Comment
Grenfell disaster
Trauma
6 min read

Grenfell: how long should we remember?

There are good and bad ways of remembering.

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

A white building wrap around a tower is topped by a green heart and the slogan: Grenfell Always In Our Heaets.
Grenfell Tower, Summer 2024.
Rc1959, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons.

For nearly eight years now, Grenfell Tower has remained standing as a reminder of one of the most painful days in recent British history. The news that the government intends to dismantle the remains of the Tower has split local opinion. Some of the bereaved and survivors suggest that the government has scarcely consulted them. For many, the building is a tomb, still containing the memory, if not the actual remains of their loved ones whose bodies could not be recovered. They understandably fear them being forgotten when the building no longer stands as a reminder. Last year I sat in on a gathering where bereaved families and survivors of the fire told their stories in the hearing of representatives of the companies who were responsible for the cladding which caused the fire to spread. The memories and emotions are still raw and unhealed.  

On the other hand, many local residents would like it taken away, as its constant, looming presence is a painful reminder of that dark night. They also see the logic in bringing down a fatally damaged and increasingly dangerous structure that costs the taxpayer millions each year to keep from collapsing under its own weight.  

The key issue at the heart of this debate is how we remember - especially, how we remember pain. In the rhetoric around Grenfell, as with many other tragedies, we often hear calls to ‘always remember’ and that we must ‘never forget’ the wrongs done which caused the deaths of those 72 people. The Grenfell Memorial Commission, which was charged with thinking about what memorial should stand on the site of the building in future, claimed as its aim to “make sure the Grenfell tragedy can never be forgotten.” 

Such calls to ‘never forget’ are powerful. They seem a proper tribute to those who died, they ensure that those culpable are not let off too easily, and that justice is properly done. To blithely forget such horrendous evils seems an affront to justice, and a morally culpable act. 

Yet must we always remember the hurts and pains of the past? Can we imagine a future where such memories fade into the distance and no longer cast their painful shadow over our lives?  

Whether and when Grenfell Tower comes down, is yet to be determined. Yet only when we keep in mind the destination of the journey of healing can we make good decisions...

Theologian Miroslav Volf asks all these questions in his book The End of Memory. He describes good and bad ways of remembering. We can remember to cherish the dead, to learn lessons for the future, to ensure justice is done. Yet we can also remember to nurse grievances, to cling onto grudges, to imagine horrible pain inflicted on those who wronged us. Memories of wrongs done to us can imprison and define us purely as victims, never in control, always subject to the actions for others, with no agency of our own. 

Volf’s Christian faith tells him that the human race is beckoned towards a new world, in the full presence of God, of what he calls ‘final reconciliation’. It is a place where we will be captivated by a vision of the beauty and goodness of God, a vision that we only dimly glimpse in this world. He asks the question: in such a world, will we remember all the wrongs done to us? Can we imagine still clinging onto the memory of the sins and crimes that others inflicted on us? Even if that were in principle possible, would we remember all the harm done to us? And the harm we did to others? If not, which sins would we remember? Which ones would we forget? Would not such memories blight the joy that such a world would surely offer? 

Reflecting on his own youthful and painful memories of interrogation in communist Yugoslavia, and other tragedies such as the 9/11attacks, Volf imagines getting to the point where we don't forget the terrible things that others have done to us, but when we actively don't remember them. They still occupy a place in our minds but are instead relegated to a corner of our consciousness, under our control, no longer rearing their ugly and painful heads when triggered by other events. Such an ability not to remember, he suggests, is a good thing: 

 "Non-remembrance of wrongs suffered is the gift God will give to those who have been wronged."  

At the same time, Volf is careful not to imagine getting to this point too easily. Wrongdoers cannot for a moment insist that those they have wronged forget their misdeeds. Such non-remembrance can only happen when truth has been told, sins punished, and justice done. Yet when all that has taken place, that ‘final reconciliation’, Volf imagines, might even embrace the unimaginable - an ultimate reconciliation between the wronged and the wrongdoers.  

Is it possible to imagine children whose parents were killed because of the negligence and culpable cheating of contractors who knowingly put unsafe cladding on Grenfell Tower, ever being reconciled to and even embracing the perpetrators? Volf suggests we can, while recognising that this can only happen when the crime has been identified, fully recognised, repented of profoundly, forgiveness offered and accepted and the appropriate penalty paid.  

While such a process remains incomplete, the obligation to remember remains, and reconciliation cannot yet take place. But true healing from such hurts is not to be forever dominated by them, defined by them, or to live in constant enmity and resentment because of them. It is, instead, to gain the strength and ability not to remember them, not to be defined by them, and even - possibly, perhaps - to find reconciliation with their perpetrators. 

The Grenfell Public Inquiry that reported last year was an important step for the bereaved and survivors. It was not the end of the journey. Far from it. The process of enacting justice through prosecution of the guilty lies ahead. But as an exercise in truth-telling, in giving perpetrators the opportunity to own up and confess their guilt, in a truthful recognition of what went wrong, it was a vital step towards the possibility of reaching that stage when the memory of Grenfell no longer defines its victims. It opens up the possibility at some point in the future, where they might be in control of their memories rather than their memories controlling them. 

The Danish Christian philosopher Søren Kierkegaard once wrote that we humans need to learn both “the art of forgetting” and “the art of remembering”. To know when and how to do one and when to do the other is the gift of God and an art of true wisdom. 

Whether and when Grenfell Tower comes down, is yet to be determined. Yet only when we keep in mind the destination of the journey of healing can we make good decisions about such fraught and emotionally charged issues. The Tower cannot remain as it is - everyone acknowledges that . Yet it's hard for many to think about its disappearance without knowing what will replace it. Which is why plans to demolish the Tower must go hand in hand with the plans for the lasting Memorial that will stand on the site. Yet that can only happen if it serves the goal of being able truthfully to remember no longer the pain and injustice of the past.  

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