When to stand up in an increasingly insecure world

When war is ‘othering’ by other means, the brutal realities of our world can be overwhelming. Ziya Meral contemplates what it means to take a stand.

Ziya Meral

Dr Ziya Meral is a researcher, advisor and programmes director specialising on global trends shaping defence and security, politics and foreign policies. He is a Senior Associate Fellow of the Royal United Services Institute.

Recently, I found myself sitting quietly at a cathedral buzzing with tourists, reflecting on demanding global developments and uttering a few words of prayers, not for world peace, but for guidance on how I should live my own life amidst all these.

Today’s world is a brutal reminder of timeless truths about the human condition, about continuum of violence and aggression in human affairs, about exclusion and marginalisation of the ‘other’ amidst economic downturns, about how fragile peace and prosperity are, and how the future might not always be better than the past.

There is a bitter realisation that there is no clear end ahead of us in the near future to this war of choice by Russia.

As I write these lines, Russian forces continue their brutal invasion of Ukraine, killing tens of thousands, forcing millions out of their homes, destroying town after town, and intentionally pursuing a scourge earth policy to destroy the habitability of towns and cities and sustainability of life. Ukrainians continue to bravely advance their counter offensive to push Russian forces as much as possible, while NATO leaders gear up for a summit in Lithuania in July, which will assess and discuss future support to Ukraine. There is a bitter realisation that there is no clear end ahead of us in the near future to this war of choice by Russia. Some sort of ‘frozen’ peace might be achieved by stopping or reducing violence, but no matter what Ukraine needs our prolonged support to ensure it does not face yet another wave of invasion a few years down the line. This is why even President Macron, who has been cynical about NATO, is now talking about Ukraine’s membership to the alliance as lesser of all of the risks ahead of us.

We have entered a new era, that is not simply just about Ukraine. For the last decade we have seen a major shift in global affairs as not only world’s two major powers, US and China, increasingly saw each other as a competitor and threat against national interests, a long list of medium-sized powers actively used force in invading other countries, or pursuing proxy wars and meddling into politics of other countries. From cyberwarfare to a new era of espionage to attempts at influencing other nations and altering trajectories of their politics, investments into a new generation of nuclear weapons and increasing of nuclear stocks to major investments into defence, most states in the world are gearing towards a decade of instability ahead of us.

Thus, it is not surprising that Sweden and Finland gave up historic policies of neutrality and decided to join NATO, or that Japan is pursuing a historic investment into its defence in a break away from its historic stand, or that China is going to double (or more) its nuclear stocks by 2030, or that even France is about to undertake a historic level of investment in its defence. The list goes on. All of these happen within a context of genuine existential risks to our existence. Like climate change, there are the domino effects of conflicts into our lives from faraway places. From energy prices, to food shortages, to disruption of trade and electronic parts, to new technologies like AI raising all sorts of ethical and practical questions and risks. There are hundreds of millions of human beings living in geographies and countries that are not able to care, provide and protect and give them a sustainable and meaningful life. Irregular migration, named ‘illegal’ in today’s tabloid language, is only increasing across the world, with only a small percentage ever making it to UK or Europe. Human beings do not simply leave their lives behind and take clear risks if they do not feel they have to.

We are far from being the first-generation processing news of wars and conflicts.

All of these are overwhelming realities, ones that we cannot simply ignore. It is normal for us to feel guilty as our daily lives continue in relative peace and property compared to millions of others out there, and it is normal for us to feel helpless and at times despair about all these developments that are clearly out of anyone’s control.

But as I sat there in the cathedral, I could not help but think that this is not the first time the world has gone through such a convergence of insecurities, and unlikely to be the last time, and that we are far from being the first-generation processing news of wars and conflicts and seeing nations take aggressive postures against one another. I thought about so many heroic figures across history that stood up for truth, for peace, for reconciliation, for justice in such moments and so many heroes that gave their lives to defend us against those seeking to harm us. Their legacies remind us that we all have a decision to make, a stand to take and a role to play in such historic moments. On my part, I am all aware of my limitations, and at times feeble attempts to be part of conversations that point towards solutions. I am also all aware of the deep darkness out there, but also as a Christian, a gentle hope that lies within it. The light shines into the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. The promise I find in the figure of Christ on the Cross is not an escape to another world, but embracing of the only one we have here and now, in prayer that all of our efforts could together amount to something much bigger than we realise. As TS Eliot put it, for us there is only trying, the rest is not our business!

Article

Comment

General Election 24

Politics

5 July 2024

5 min read

What happens when you lose an election?

Spare a thought (and prayer) for the defeated.

Ross Hendry

Ross leads CARE, a Christian social policy charity.

A mayor reads an election result as a despondent candidate looks on.

Penny Mordaunt loses in Portsmouth.

BBC News.

Friday morning, 6 May 2005 I awoke wondering whether the past few months had been a bad dream, and contemplating what my future might hold. It was the day after the general election. ‘My’ party had won, but my result, while respectable, was a distant second place. So, in the wake of this election, I know what the vast majority of the 4,379 candidates who ran are feeling, which is why I would encourage us all to spare a thought and prayer for them.

Few people apart from close family and friends and the most ardent party activists will give much attention to the candidates who lost. Perhaps a few prominent politicians will be interviewed alongside pictures of the ex-cabinet member who lost their seat to a fresh-faced young candidate. But in general, life moves swiftly on, and those who lost will be quickly forgotten about.

It's understandable. We want to know what a new Government will do – who will be the leading figures shaping our lives over the next few years. If we do think about those who lost it will be in the context of the next competition – party leadership. Will there be a change in party leaders? Which ‘faction’ will come to dominate their party, and so on. This is an important consideration.

There will be hundreds if not thousands of candidates who will need to be reminded that their identity and worth is not in politics, being a candidate, or seeking the approval of local voters.

Of the 3,729 candidates not elected to sit in Parliament for the next five years many will face a similar mixture of emotions as I did on that morning in 2005. There may be regret and anger. I know for a long time I wondered whether there were things I could have done differently. Things I did not say or do that could have made a difference. “If we had planned to do this… if we could have avoided that…, should I have…” will be questions on the lips of many on Friday morning.

Personally, I also felt that there were things said and done against me that were deeply unfair, so I was also angry that the unjust had seemed to prevail. I could identify with the ancientthe ancient writer of the Psalms poetry who cried “why do the wicked prosper?” Politics is unfair and cruel. That is the reality. Too often it is not a meritocracy. Candidates lose, not because they are less able but because voters preferred another party or leader.

In these days following the election, I suspect there will be hundreds if not thousands of candidates who will need to be reminded that their identity and worth is not in politics, being a candidate, or seeking the approval of local voters. For me, I was immensely grateful for close friends and teachers who reminded me that my identity was in Jesus Christ. I was part of a holy nation, a royal priesthood and God’s special possession. God knows how those former candidates and MPs without that security will cope, which is why they need our prayers.

Being a candidate is hugely costly. Some do it for fun, others might be motivated by spite, but the great majority run because they want to serve others.

I also needed to learn what it meant to forgive. I felt that untrue claims and accusations had been made against me during the campaign, and tactics deployed that were designed to intimidate and mislead. I did feel that the result was unfair, and I was angry that my opponent and his team would stoop very low to win, But I also needed to learn how to forgive. To this day I believe I ran an honourable campaign, giving more respect than I received; and I would like to think I would have made a good MP. I believed God called me to run but I do not feel he let me down. That does not mean he still needed to teach me how to forgive my opponent. That is an ongoing process I am learning over time.

There will be many like me who will need to learn forgiveness in the weeks, months and years after the election. Like me, they may need to learn how to forgive opponents that hurt or wronged them, or learn how to forgive themselves, the electorate, or even God for not giving them their hearts desire.

And I'll pray that those who were defeated in this election will still have sense of calling to public service, despite their loss, if this is right for them. Being a candidate is hugely costly. Some do it for fun, others might be motivated by spite, but the great majority run because they want to serve others. We need to remember this in an age where people are increasingly cynical about politics and politicians.

I lived in the constituency I was running in for over four months before the election. The Monday after polling day I was back at the desk I had not seen for months. It took several months for me to slowly work out that God could still have a calling for me into the public square and that his plan was good.

There is evidence that in the current environment, good people are staying out of politics and public life because of the cost and the emotional toll it has on the individual and their family. I know firsthand some of what that means. But if good people are deterred, they leave a vacuum that will be filled by others of less capability and virtuous character. That would be a tragedy for our national life.

So, in the days after the election, I will intentionally remember how I felt nineteen years ago and send a card or text message to those who I know have lost, thanking them for their service and reminding them that God may still be calling them into public life and service, just in a different way. And I will pray for them, as I also pray for the new government, and the peace and prosperity of the UK in the next five years.