Article
Comment
Loneliness
Mental Health
5 min read

What Bobby Brazier, Jo Marsh and Eleanor Rigby have in common

A public health campaign asks influencers if they are lonely.

Belle is the staff writer at Seen & Unseen and co-host of its Re-enchanting podcast.

a young man looks pensive as he answers a questuon while sitting in a fancy room.
Bobby Brazier at 10 Downing Street.
NHS.

‘Loneliness. It’s a part of life. Let’s talk about it’  

That’s the new slogan offered by the NHS in partnership with the Department for Culture, Media and Sport. As part of their campaign, they recently invited young influencers and TV personalities to Downing Street to do just that – to talk about loneliness.  

With those aged between 16 and 29 now twice as likely to report feeling lonely as those over 70, these celebrities were tasked with answering a few of the questions most asked by people within that age group. Their questions went along these heart-wrenching lines:  

Why am I so lonely?  

Is it normal to feel lonely?  

Will I always be this lonely?  

And while their answers to such questions were a little ‘meh’ (whose wouldn’t be? They were given seven seconds to answer some of humanity’s deepest questions), it doesn’t much matter, their answers weren’t really the point. Rather, viewers were presented with a handful of popular, successful, lovable (looking at you, Bobby Brazier) and happy looking people doing something notoriously difficult: admitting loneliness.  

And I think that may be the point.  

I am of the firm opinion that admitting to feeling lonely is one of the hardest things a person could do. I have certainly never had the bravery to do it.  

I remember watching Greta Gerwig’s 2019 adaptation of the beloved 1868 novel, Little Women, for the first time; I was always going to love it, I had decided as much before even stepping foot in the cinema. But there was one scene that felt as if it literally took my breath away. I was left winded in row C.  

It is toward the end of the film, and Jo Marsh, the feisty, strong and independent protagonist, is giving a feminist monologue  for the ages (albeit to her mum) as she stands in the attic of her childhood home. Jo speaks of women’s minds and souls, their ambitions and talents, she explains how sick she is of being underestimated, getting more impassioned with every word. That is, until she tearily ends her speech by declaring – ‘…but I’m so lonely.’ 

This isn’t in the book.  

This final line was written by Greta Gerwig specifically for this adaptation. And the only person who seemed to be more taken aback by Jo’s words than me (an owner of more editions of the novel than is cool to admit), was Jo herself, who instinctively clasped her hand to her mouth as if she couldn’t believe that she’d just said such words aloud.  

As far as filmmaking goes, it was genius. As far as human nature is concerned, it was, well, true. 

Not only do we find loneliness acutely painful, but we also tend to find it near impossible to admit to, so much so, the government currently feels the need to step in. Why is that, I wonder? Why does ‘lonely’ seem to be the hardest word? 

Those who admit to their own loneliness are wading into profoundly vulnerable waters. 

Part of it is certainly because there is a social stigma attached to feeling lonely. Ironic, isn’t it? How loneliness has social connotations. Nobody wants to be Eleanor Rigby, nor Father McKenzie, nor any of ‘the lonely people’ that Paul McCartney so pities, for that matter. It’s one of the only Beatles songs you wouldn’t want to have been written about you. Loneliness feels like a failure somehow, and so we struggle to admit it, even to ourselves. A failure because, we’re supposed to be self-sufficient, independent, free-thinking, emotionally-sturdy individuals (which is the operative word, of course). That’s what individualism has taught us, isn’t it? And so, how do we reconcile that with the piercing pain of isolation? How do we admit that there’s a deep crack within us that can’t be papered over by success, or wealth, or another episode of our favourite podcast? How do we go about admitting such a lack? A lack, which despite individualism’s best efforts, has us naturally wondering why it’s there in the first place; are we unpopular? Unattractive? Unlikable? Or worst of all, unlovable?  

Those who admit to their own loneliness are wading into profoundly vulnerable waters. And most of us are utterly unwilling to follow them there, lest we be spotted by a budding Paul McCartney and our loneliness be immortalised.  

And then, of course, there’s the other side of the coin: what does our loneliness say about the people who we are in relationship with? Nobody wants to unleash the panic and guilt tucked away in that can of worms (which, I must note, is unnecessary panic and guilt - there could be any number of reasons you’re feeling lonely, despite your very rich relationships).  

And so, we just don’t say the word. And that’s what appears to be making the NHS and, rather randomly now that I think about it, the Department for Culture, Media and Sport so nervous.  

We need to admit when we’re lonely. We have to pull a Jo Marsh and say it out loud. We must give language to the lack that we feel.  

To be known and loved is my deepest and truest need.

One of the things that I find myself most consistently thankful for when it comes to my Christian faith (you know, apart from the most obvious aspects…) is that it gives me such language. At the risk of sounding annoyingly self-centred, it dignifies the feelings that I find hard to even acknowledge. It offers explanation, and therefore, a comfort that I could never find anywhere else; a comfort rooted in truth.  

It may sound nuts, but I have come to understand the reality of loneliness, not through influencers on a sofa in Downing Street (although that’s great), and not even through Jo Marsh’s monologue (which is even greater), but through an ancient Hebrew poem. This poem tells me that to be alone is ‘not good’.  

Not good. Not right. Not as it should be.  

That’s God’s point of view at least – that to be alone, properly, completely and permanently alone, goes against the very fabric of the world. It is at odds with human flourishing. I’ve come to deeply value how concrete that is. I’ve also learnt to relax into the knowledge that not only is loneliness ‘normal’ (referring to one to the questions referenced at the beginning), it’s natural, in every possible sense of the word.  

To be known and loved is my deepest and truest need. I was designed for relationship, with God and with people. And therefore – with all the complex ways that life unfolds - to be lonely, is to be human.  

So, with all of this in mind, I’m tempted to end where we began, to come full circle and once again borrow the government’s words: 

‘Loneliness. It’s a part of life. Let’s talk about it.’  

Explainer
Comment
Gaza
Israel
War & peace
8 min read

How redemptive justice could be a way out of a long and costly war

Dynamics of shame, dis-honour and vengeance swirl around the decision makers in the Israel-Hamas war. Steven Firmin explores how redemptive justice could restore a relationship of peace.

Steven Firmin is a lecturer in Christian Ethics at the University of Oxford. His research interests include the interaction of Christian and Muslim political thought.

An army general in green fatigues stands and address a group of soldiers sitting, squatting and standing around him
Israeli Chief of the General Staff Herzi Halevi addresses troops.

The horrific, indiscriminate attacks against Israel by Hamas terrorists have brought the larger Israel-Palestine conflict back to centre stage in international politics. The event has been called “Israel’s 9/11”, and senior Israeli political and military officials have vowed to “exact a price that will be remembered by [Hamas], and Israel’s other enemies, for decades to come.” , and to turn Gaza into a “city of tents”. Israel has begun bombarding thousands of Hamas targets and preparing for a ground invasion in Gaza.  

The die thus seems to be cast for a long and costly war which may not ultimately be able to achieve its aims, and that will halt or reverse any progress towards a resolution of the Israel-Palestine conflict in at least two ways. 

Much more important is that fair-minded Palestinians and their supporters in the wider Arab and western world are also able to understand Israel’s military actions as fitting and discriminate. 

First, the trauma resulting from a large-scale Israeli air and ground campaign in Gaza will be enormous for Palestinians. This trauma will almost certainly be the seedbed of resentment which gives the next generation of Gazans sufficient reason to hate Israel and work for its demise. Indeed, if the tragedy of October 7 is Israel’s “9/11” then it is imperative that Israel not neglect the difficult lesson the US learned through its “war on terror”: when you punish terrorists in a manner that destabilizes and alienates the wider population of a region, you merely create more terrorists. This is not to say that responding to Hamas’ attacks with military force is unjust. Military action should form part of a just response to Hamas’ actions. But this military action needs to be conducted carefully. Any military judgement must be done in such a way that not only Israelis and sympathetic westerners see it as a rightful judgement on Hamas. Much more important is that fair-minded Palestinians and their supporters in the wider Arab and western world are also able to understand Israel’s military actions as fitting and discriminate. This would require Israel, at minimum, to go to extraordinary lengths to minimize civilian casualties, even to the point of significantly increasing risks to Israeli soldiers.  

In the recent past, however, and perhaps also now, Israel’s military strategy, known as the ‘Dahiya Doctrine’ has geared in the opposite direction: it deliberately strikes back at enemy targets in a disproportional manner, in an effort to deter the enemy from further aggression. And when it faces a choice between increasing risks to Israeli soldiers or civilian populations, it often chooses the latter. If that strategy continues to play itself out in a drawn-out air and land campaign, any short-term military victory will only result in long-term creation of new and more determined enemies of Israel.   

A long and costly ground war against Hamas will only make things worse for Israelis and Palestinians. 

Second, Israel’s pursuit of a war against Hamas makes it all but impossible for the wider Arab world to pursue normalization of ties with Israel. Prior to Israel’s declaration of war, a fresh start was within reach. The 2020 Abraham Accords normalized ties between Israel and Bahrain, Morocco, and the United Arab Emirates, and this year an historic, US-brokered deal between Israel and Saudi-Arabia was well on its way to being agreed. Now, the Israel-Saudi deal is in tatters, and other Arab countries with diplomatic ties to Israel are feeling political pressure to show distance. This pressure is not arising because any of these Arab countries support Hamas. All are opposed to its Islamist ideology. It is because they are tied by bonds of affection and loyalty to the Palestinian people, and these bonds prevent Arab countries from negotiating in good faith with Israel when they have serious doubts that Israel’s military actions are making sufficient provision for the welfare of ordinary Palestinians.  

A long and costly ground war against Hamas will only make things worse for Israelis and Palestinians. But what would make things better? Rather than a vengeful justice, Israel might consider pursuing what is called ‘redemptive justice’ in its war against Hamas.  

This kind of justice is exactly the path Jesus urges his followers to follow in his Sermon on the Mount: 

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist by evil means. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.  

The teaching here about retaliation has three parts. 

First, Jesus presents a traditional teaching from the Mosaic law, sometimes called the lex talionis: ‘You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”’ In its Old Testament contexts, this principle was supposed to prevent violence from spiraling out of control. When someone wronged you, your injury didn’t give you unlimited right of revenge. Wrongdoing had to be addressed with strict retribution. No more.  

Next, Jesus warns of a deeper dynamic which leads to problems: ‘But I say to you, do not resist by evil means’. Jesus’ warning is not opposed to the lex talionis. What Jesus is warning about, as New Testament commentator Peter Leithart argues, is not to apply this law in ways that perpetuate violence rather than limit it. The example Jesus gives next is illuminating: a slap on the right cheek is not a violent threat to life. To slap someone on the right cheek, you must use either your left hand, or the back of your right hand. Either of these would have been understood as acts of dishonour and shame to a first century Jew. They were not acts intended to harm grievously. And when someone is intent on publicly shaming or dishonouring you, responding with a counter-act of shame or dishonour only heightens the antagonism between you and encourages further retaliation. Strict retribution in these situations will not achieve the law’s aim of limiting violence.  

This leads us to the third part of the teaching, where Jesus proposes a creative solution to the danger: rather than respond to dishonour with dishonour and risk creating a cycle of vendetta, take the penalty of the law on yourself he says – “accept the second slap rather than giving it” as Leithart puts it. This is what redemptive justice means. It cuts evil off at its root and restores a relationship of peace. After all, a person seeking to humiliate you runs out of ammunition very quickly when you show yourself willing to be humiliated.  

Lex talionis is a principle which limits violence to strict retribution. Adopting this approach would require Israel’s leadership to renounce formally the “Dahiya Doctrine.” 

How then might Israel’s political and military leadership enact redemptive righteousness in the situation it now faces in Gaza and in the areas under its effective control? First, let me say it again, Jesus’ commands do not abolish the lex talionis “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth”. Judgement via military force against Hamas is thus not forbidden by the Sermon on the Mount. But as was noted earlier, the lex talionis is a principle which limits violence to strict retribution. Adopting this approach would require Israel’s leadership to renounce formally the “Dahiya Doctrine” and commit publicly to a more proportionate, discriminate form of retaliation to the Hamas attacks.  

Second, we should note that the political situation which has been created by these attacks has deeper dynamics than merely trying to achieve justice for the victims of the attack. The situation also has important dynamics of shame and honour. Unable to prevent this horrific tragedy, the competency of Israeli political and military leaders has been called into question. They have been humiliated by these attacks, and the great temptation for them now is to ‘resist by evil means’, projecting strength by responding to dishonour with counter-dishonour, humiliation with counter-humiliation. This teaching warns Israel’s leadership to do otherwise: accept the second slap, rather than give it.  Although it may sound counter-intuitive, allow yourself to be humiliated by Hamas rather than perpetuate further humiliation that will alienate the wider Palestinian population and potential Arab allies. Undercut the cycle of humiliation by going out of your way to honor ordinary Palestinians, protecting them from harm and blessing them even if it means incurring greater risks to your own soldiers or civilian population. This is the kind of bold, innovative leadership that Graham Tomlin has argued is needed in this most complex of global conflicts. 

Would adopting such a self-sacrificial military strategy be ultimately self-defeating? Would it weaken Israel’s military advantage and prevent them from achieving victory over Hamas? The opposite is true. The Israeli military, with its superior military capability, is not at all in danger of ceding victory to Hamas by fighting a more self-sacrificial form of warfare. But if Israel fails to adopt a self-sacrificial strategy as it pursues military action, the sweetness of any initial victory will sour into a long-term defeat as the contagion of resentment is sown among a new generation of Palestinians and their supporters.  

But surely this would be politically unfeasible for Israel’s leadership to implement? Any leader who enacted redemptive justice towards Hamas and the wider Palestinian population amidst the current national mood of mourning and outrage would face certain political demise. That may be so. Jesus warns those who follow him that they must be prepared to take up their cross. What would motivate that kind of decision, given the cost? The confidence to enact redemptive justice cannot ultimately be separated from confidence that death has been overcome through resurrection, bringing life to the whole world. The call to enact redemptive justice can only be sustained with a recognition of both the wisdom and the ultimate victory of the Jew from Nazareth.  

Israel’s leadership is at a cross-roads. In response to the horrific attacks of Hamas, it has begun a severe bombing campaign in pursuit of a vengeful justice that will soon be followed by a ground invasion. If it wants long-term peace, it must consider changing course quickly and drastically. It must pursue the redemptive justice of the crucified Messiah that overcomes evil with good.