Article
Comment
Digital
Politics
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
Belief
Creed
Leading
Politics
5 min read

Let's keep hope weird, Zack

Amid growing grief for the future, the Greens' leader is calling for 'ordinary hope'

Lauren Westwood works in faith engagement communications for The Salvation Army.

Zack Polanski walks down an alleyway
Zack Polanski returns to Manchester.
The Green Party

The recent Green Party’s political broadcast has been praised for its emotional clarity, moral urgency and a call to action that has seen party membership surge.  

Looking down the lens, recalling his years growing up in the north of England, party leader Zack Polanski sighs,  

“There was something in the air… a kind of ordinary hope.” 

As he walks through a typical British city, filmed in Manchester, lined with terraced houses and bright-white lights beaming over takeaway shops and industrial bins, he diagnoses the collective hopelessness of a ‘people too tired to fight, to sleep.’ 

In just under four minutes, Polanski disarms objections to his cause with a sensitive, poetic script. He opens by referring to the common experience of a satisfying bowl of cornflakes – before plainly illustrating the socioeconomic injustice facing the everyman. He then makes the case for fair wealth taxation, and closes with the cheery challenge:  

‘Let’s make hope normal again.’ 

It’s a compelling appeal that resonates with those weary of cynicism. But what does it actually mean? 

To be clear, I call this to question because I desperately want good things for our country. Warm homes, clean air, safe streets and an NHS that works for all – I believe these things should be normal. But I’m not sure I want to normalise hope. 

Because real hope is weird. 

Hope is not to be confused with optimism, or good prospects, or a positivity about the future reserved for the privileged. It’s not increased with social mobility or sitting comfortably in a five-year plan. Hope is not even the belief that things will get better. Real hope is much truer than that. It is a deep knowing that all shall be well, even when that seems foolish – a glance through the ancient literature of the Bible points to hope as singing in a prison cell, relief in the wilderness, resurrection in the face of crucifixion. 

As NT Wright, the theologian, puts it: ‘Hope is what you get when you suddenly realise a different worldview is possible, a worldview in which the rich, the powerful, and the unscrupulous do not after all have the last word.’ This kind of hope doesn’t waiver with the housing market, interest rates, or inheritance tax. It’s not the result of good policy or strong polling. It’s the stubborn belief that love wins – and has, in fact, already won – even, or especially, when it looks like all is lost. 

This is where Polanski’s got it right. There is a present and growing grief for the future. Across the UK, millions feel disengaged, disrespected and undervalued. Distrust of politicians, division in communities and loss of faith in the systems supposed to be for our benefit seem to be at an all-time high. 

Polanski’s call to hope comes at a time when a redeemed order seems impossible or, at best, several generations away. But, instead of accepting the kind of ‘ordinary hope’ Polanski experienced back in his youth, the answer to our deepest longing lies in realising we need something extraordinary to happen and knowing that we’re allowed to believe that it will. 

We don’t need to be desensitised to hope – we need the opposite. We need to be reawakened to everyday glimmers of redemption – the neighbour who pops by for sugar and stays for a safe conversation, the health worker who acknowledges a former patient with a grateful smile, the family whose fear is soothed by the kind gesture of an elderly white neighbour – and recognise our share and our part in bringing it on, believing there is yet more and better to uncover. 

Polanski is incredibly perceptive in his address to the concerns of the hard-working plumber and the fledgling hair salon owner, nervous that their hard earnings and ambition will be cut short: ‘I wondered, “Why did they think I was talking about them?” And now, I get it. It’s because it’s too hard to picture.’  

Hope, too, is hard to see. A better world is hard to imagine. Though Polanski is advocating for a public reform and reimagination of what it means to be taxed, our souls are capable of the sudden realisation that another way is possible. We can experience life-altering revelation that leads to fresh vision, both for what is seen and for the yet unseen. 

For the Christian, hope is not some far-out abstract concept, but a gift made real through belief in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ – a Middle Eastern man who walked the earth two thousand years ago, held no title, had no place to lay his head, and called himself the Way, the Truth and the Life. See? Real hope gets weird. 

Instead of being content to accept an ordinary hope – made small, palatable and unremarkable – we can embrace hope as it was designed. A liberating reality that brings steady assurance to every thought, every reaction, every decision and, yes, every vote. This confidence comes not because we are sure of our own rightness, but precisely because we are not. We submit to its mystery because a hope that we can control, mediate and measure will never lead to the transformation we most long for. 

Do I long to see an increased hope for the future across the UK? Of course. But do I believe we should ever grow accustomed to hope? I don’t think so. We need contagious hope – wild and holy and strange, anything but normal. 

Tax the super-rich so that children can eat, parents can sleep, and ordinary people can be lifted out of extraordinary poverty, if you want – but let’s keep hope weird. 

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