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Digital
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5 min read

The five reasons I go on GB News

Engaging is not endorsing, joining the dialogue prepares ways to peace.

Krish is a social entrepreneur partnering across civil society, faith communities, government and philanthropy. He founded The Sanctuary Foundation.

A TV news show panel discussion.
Krish Kandiah, right, debates the news.

GB News is no stranger to controversy. Since its launch in 2021, the channel—claiming to be the UK’s fastest-growing digital news outlet—has seen its live viewing figures rival those of Sky News. Yet, it has faced significant criticism. GB News has been accused of poisoning public discourse with its unapologetically anti-woke, and, many would argue, anti-immigrant editorial stance. Ofcom has investigated the channel for numerous impartiality breaches, issuing fines totalling £100,000 last year. Additional backlash has arisen over serving MPs, such as Jacob Rees-Mogg (before he lost his seat), and Nigel Farage of the Reform Party being paid to host programmes. The firing of Laurence Fox after his obscene and misogynistic on-air comments further fuelled public outrage—ironically also boosting the channel’s viewership. 

For the past year, I have regularly appeared on GB News, often to provide alternative perspectives on issues ranging from immigration to child welfare to slavery reparations. Some accuse me of selling out, of being unnecessarily political, or of lending credibility to a platform that often contradicts my Christian values. Yet I continue to accept these invitations, and here’s why.

Build bridges, not walls 

Peacemaking—the work I believe all Christians are called to by Jesus —is not passive. It requires engagement, courage, and humility. Being a peacemaker means stepping into uncomfortable spaces to foster dialogue, not retreating to the safety of ideological agreement. My faith compels me to bridge divides, treating even my most vocal opponents with respect, seeking common ground where possible, and disagreeing graciously when it isn’t. 

After one particularly heated debate on immigration, an opponent approached me off-air, saying, “We might disagree on almost everything, but I do appreciate your tone. If I had to hear devastating news, I’d want it to come from you.” Moments like these remind me that tone matters as much as content. Civility can be disarming, and small gestures of respect—even in disagreement—can create openings for deeper understanding. By showing up and articulating my views with, I hope, humility, I aim to challenge stereotypes, broaden perspectives, and build bridges toward peace. 

Break down ideological silos 

In an increasingly polarized world, echo chambers dominate. Thanks to AI algorithms that amplify our biases, many of us are surrounded by voices that mirror our own, while opposing views are dismissed or demonized. Appearing on GB News is one way I seek to counteract this dynamic. If I can present a thoughtful counterargument, even if it doesn’t immediately change minds, I hope to foster a culture where differing perspectives are heard rather than ignored. 

The Apostle Paul provides me with a compelling model for engaging in controversial spaces. Often facing hostility in synagogues where he was hoping for a receptive audience, Paul, at great personal cost and to much criticism, took his message to marketplaces, rural villages, and intellectual hubs like the Areopagus. His example reminds me that Jesus’ teachings are meant for everyone, not just those predisposed to agree.  

Model constructive politics 

For me, public debates are an opportunity to demonstrate that politics can be constructive. Too often, political discourse devolves into shouting matches, with each side entrenched in their positions. This approach benefits no one. I aim to model a different kind of engagement—one where disagreements are expressed respectfully, and common ground is sought. It’s not always easy, I have had many an encounter where I was shouted at, sworn out or dismissed, with one lady who was particularly aggressive and patronising. It is frustrating, to say the least, however these opponents help, I believe, in demonstrating the importance and value of being calm, measured and respectful.  

At its best, politics should be about collaboration for the benefit of the marginalized, not division at their expense. If, by God’s grace, I can contribute even a small measure of this spirit to public life, I consider it meaningful.  

Speak for those who can’t 

One of the main reasons I accept invitations to speak on GB News is to amplify the voices of those who might otherwise be overlooked. When I speak on issues such as immigration or child welfare, I do so not to simply promote my own perspective but to represent those whose stories are often ignored or distorted. The view of immigration espoused often on GB News is one which believes migrants to be a drain on our society. There is another viewpoint – they can enrich and benefit our society now as they have done in the past. Not only that, we all benefit when we live in a country marked by justice, generosity, respect, tolerance, liberty and compassion. 

Learn the language of engagement 

Appearing on platforms like GB News is a bit like learning a new language. Just as time spent in a foreign country deepens cultural understanding and fosters more meaningful conversation, so engaging with different media platforms, for me, broadens my perspective and sharpens my ability to articulate my faith, message and values in ways that resonate. Whether I am addressing audiences in Westminster, or through GB News, or in churches, or via Seen & Unseen, I aim to offer my opinions, values and expertise humbly, with integrity and relevance, recognising that I am on a learning journey.

A work in progress 

I don’t always get it right. Sometimes I fail to speak clearly enough. Other times, I fall short of speaking kindly enough. Balancing passion and grace, reaction and response, and raising my voice while also giving others a voice is a constant challenge.  

I strive to follow the example of Jesus—both gentle and firm. He was patient and gracious with his often-misunderstanding disciples, yet unafraid to show righteous anger when necessary, such as when he drove the money-spinners from the temple. In prayer, I lean on Jesus in prayer, recognising that I cannot change hearts and minds on my own.  

For me, engaging with GB News is not about endorsement; it’s about dialogue. It’s not about proselytizing, or politics, it’s about preparing a way for peace. It’s about building bridges, offering hope, and fostering understanding across divides. I hope that others will join me in this vital task so that together we can sing a song of hope, not just to the choir, but to everyone else who needs to hear it too. 

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Article
Comment
Community
Nationalism
5 min read

I protested against the Unite The Kingdom protest

The need to see one another

Thomas is a writer exploring the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

CCTV footage show two rival protests divided by a line of riot police.
CCTV image of the rival protests on Whitehall.
Met Police.

I don’t know why I was so concerned about the horses. I kept noticing them swaying through the sea of shivering bodies. I was so drawn to them that I tried to take a photo, a rare occurrence for me, but I was too far away. The horses riders, dressed in full riot gear, were being pelted with beer bottles. Maybe the horses were getting hit too, but it felt like they were recoiling on behalf of their riders. 

In front of the horses, engulfing Trafalgar Square, were tens of thousands of “Unite the Kingdom” protestors. From what I could see, they were predominantly white men. Many of them were dancing and waving flags, but a sizeable contingent was furious, drunk, and insisted on attacking any unfortunate police officer in their way. 

Behind the horses, lining the streets of Whitehall, were five thousand counter-protestors, including me. Unlike our opposite numbers in Trafalgar Square, we were trapped, surrounded on every side by St George’s flags, Union Jacks, and, oddly, some Georgian flags too. Maybe the shop had sold out. To my right, I could see the counter-protestors defiantly dancing. To me left, I could see a group chanting “Nazi scum, off our streets” whilst swearing towards the St George’s flags. 

There in the middle, I found myself feeling a curious mixture of discomfort, sadness, and anger. Uncomfortable because I’d been trapped for four hours, stuck on a continuous cycle of rinse and drain. Sad, because I knew that much of the “Unite the Kingdom” violence was built on misinformation and the scapegoating of refugees, a group I know well, and because this fog of violence blew over the counter-protestors as they hurled insults towards the St George’s flags. And angry, because figures like Elon Musk were using their extraordinary wealth and influence to spread fear and lies: “Whether you choose violence or not, violence is coming to you. You either fight back or you die. You either fight back or you die. And that’s the truth. It’s only a matter of time till that happens to towns and villages. It will spread. And no one will have any peace.” Over the years, I have spent many hundreds, if not thousands, of hours with refugees and asylum seekers, both in my home and at my church. I had experienced no violence. In that moment, I was surrounded by “leftists”, socialists, and trade unionists, and the only violence I was experiencing was from the glint of beer bottles raining down on the police two hundred meters away. 

I was grateful for the interruption of an elderly lady asking if she could get past. I’d been asked a number of questions throughout the day, primarily because I was one of a group of four Christians holding signs like “Jesus was a refugee”, “love thy neighbour”, and “I was a stranger and you welcomed me”. At the start of the protest, an older lady and a young man joined our circle. The young man asked “I’m glad to see there are some Christians here. What do you think of Christian nationalism? Your religion doesn’t feel much like Jesus?” He was a brave Saudi Arabian refugee with a bright smile, earnestly questioning the fractures in my community of faith. Taken aback by the poignancy of the question, I fumbled a response before being rescued by one of my friends. 

Protest signs written on cardboard.
Tommy's protest signs before the rain.

 

After a while, the older lady started speaking. “Sorry for interrupting. I used to be a Roman Catholic, but I’ve lost my faith. On days like this though, I always want to pray. I don’t feel much hope for the church. A while ago, I went into a catholic church. I asked if the church could do anything about the divisions in our community and the anger at refugees. The priest shrugged and said no. I’m glad you’re here.” Her short, staccato sentences mirrored the tension of the day. I told her about how our church serves refugees, how I struggle with the anger of days like today, and how some of us have forgotten that the bible tells us to welcome the stranger dozens of times. As they walked away, I felt touched by the honesty both the young and old had gifted to four strangers, and I was glad to be carrying our smalls signs of hope. 

The megaphone brought the present back into view with another question. “Could everyone please get ready to leave up the left of Trafalgar Square?” it said. The police had cleared a path for us to leave, the sea of flags artificially parted by riot gear. We were escorted to Green Park tube station, at which point we turned off towards Oxford Street. My wife remarked at how quickly normality returned. I was devastated by the day, but felt too tired to weep. I wasn’t quite the same Tommy that I’d been that morning. The man who shares my name, and the chaos he wrought on my city, had turned a dial in me a little further than it had been turned before. 

I knew that I would have more days like this. In the midst of my discomfort, sadness, hope, and fear, I knew that I was supposed to be there, holding my soggy “Jesus was a refugee” sign, shivering in my damp clothes, and praying under my breath. I knew that I needed to gather other reluctant protestors alongside me, holding their own soggy signs and praying their own prayers. 

And I also knew that there was a better way to carry this fragile message of unity in our increasingly fragile land and increasingly fragile time. As a half-British, half-South African man, I’ve had the privilege of growing up with the stories of the anti-apartheid movement, stories which steward the hard-earned truth that defiant, tenacious, persistent love is the only antidote to hatred, misinformation and fear. As Desmond Tutu once said, “when we can accept both our humanity and the perpetrator’s we can write a new story”. Saturday left me feeling that we desperately need a new story, and that requires us to look beyond the swaying horses and see one another clearly. 

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