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Eating

29 September 2025

4 min read

Why cafes are sacred spaces

Socrates had the agora, we have the cafe

Joshua Nurcombe-Pike

Joshua is a church planter and DPhil student at Wycliffe Hall, Oxford.

Cafe culture.

Autumn’s here. I can smell it before I even find a seat. The waft of pumpkin spice lattes hangs in the air of my favourite coffee spot – the unofficial sign, for me at least, that it’s time to wrap up warm.

Personally, I’ll stick to my batch brew coffee, but I get the appeal.

And while these drinks may change with the seasons, the ritual doesn’t. We keep coming back to cafes and coffee shops. To me, it feels as if we’re craving something more than just the caffeine.

Cafes that fail to ride the wave of seasonal trends suffer – as the high street giant Costa found this summer, when it failed to cash in on the TikTok-accelerated bandwagon of matcha lattes as the summer “it” drink and saw profits plummet.

But it’s about more than just what’s on the menu.

Starbucks has just announced plans to close branches across the UK, citing an inability to create the kind of physical environment customers now expect.

Indie cafés, on the other hand, are growing in popularity, with the Observer putting this down to the “lifestyle experience” they offer. This is certainly true, but only half the story. From where I sit, these seasonal drinks appear to be the latest frothy disguise for our very human need for meaningful connection.

Socrates had the agora. We have the café.

Think about it.

Cafes have become shared spaces where people work alone together, catch up with friends, debate, discuss, purchase, and consume. We signal loyalty with stamp cards, publicise our purchases on social media, and even join communities that gather around the cafés – running clubs;, book groups;, new parent meetups.

A sweeping glance from my current table offers an insight into this hive of connectivity.

The walls are home to a temporary art gallery paying homage to local landmarks.

The noticeboard is stacked with volunteering opportunities, mental health classes, indie gig flyers, and an invite to a Halloween party.

A mother attempts to photograph and feed her child a babycino at the same time.

A job interview, or perhaps a painfully awkward first date, unfolds quietly in the corner.

Two young women laugh at last night’s antics.

The barista explains the tasting notes of the latest batch brew to a customer redeeming a fully stamped loyalty card.

An empty chair sits opposite me, waiting for a friend who, I know, will soon be bearing his soul.

It all tells me that cafés have commodified our desire to belong. And we’re more than willing to buy into it.

Something is still missing

But I reckon there’s still something missing.

Coffee culture doesn’t just tell us about our habits. It tells us about our humanity. In a world that longs for belonging but can’t stop scrolling, cafés hint at something deeper: that we were made not just for surface-level connection, but for something more lasting.

In ancient Athens, the agora wasn’t just a marketplace or social hub. It provided a context for people to explore big questions of truth, beauty, virtue, and justice. It was the setting for public dialogue and philosophical inquiry. It was noisy, informal, often disruptive but always a space for serious thought.

I’m not suggesting you take a soap box with you on your next caffeine fix. But I do think our modern cafés, for all their cosiness and cinnamon, are agora-like spaces which offer us an opportunity to go deep.

They invite us to pause, to talk, to really think.

Could it be that cafés offer us a place not just to consume or connect, but to consider the unseen things? To get beyond the froth and to the things of real substance?

Over the years, I’ve found cafés can be unexpectedly sacred spaces.

I’ve sat across from friends as they’ve wrestled with doubt, grief, purpose, and belief. And friends have sat across from me as I’ve worked these things through too.

One tells me he’s started going to church, but doesn’t exactly know why.
Another wants to read through a Gospel with me and figure out who Jesus is.
One doesn’t really know who he is any more after a breakdown but is glad for the company.
Another says his doubts about God began when a childhood friend was killed in a car accident.
One wonders if God might be nudging him toward a big move to Cardiff.

None of these conversations happened in a church. They happened here, in spaces designed for comfort but used for something far more courageous.

This isn’t a new idea. Some of the earliest stories about Jesus show him not just teaching in temples, but sitting at tables, sharing meals, asking questions, listening. Real life. Real conversations.

In my line of work, if Jesus does something, it’s advisable to follow suit. And I’ve found doing exactly that immensely rewarding. So much of my own spiritual formation has happened within the confines of a café.

So perhaps the café could be a place where the unseen comes close. Where, over a batch brew or a seasonal latte, you might find yourself not just connected, but known.

Maybe, like my friend, you’re not exactly sure what you believe. Maybe, like many of us, you’re just trying to make sense of it all.

Either way, next time you’re in a café, don’t be afraid to go beyond the froth and get to the stuff with real flavour.

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Economics

29 October 2024

6 min read

How to tax ethically to avoid a two-tier society

From income tax to property and inheritance taxes, which is fairer?

Laurence Fletcher

Laurence is a journalist at the Financial Times.

Sarah Agnew on Unsplash.

Few doubt that Chancellor Rachel Reeves will be putting up taxes when she presents her first Budget on October 30th.

The political narrative of recent months has very much been of an alleged fiscal “black hole” of £22bn - or is it £40bn? - that somehow needs to be filled.

While the size of the shortfall and the identity of those responsible are both hotly disputed, and despite a lack of detail from the Treasury about what it actually consists of, the questions now being asked are not whether taxes will rise but which ones and by how much.

Months of speculation have focused on employer National Insurance, capital gains tax and freezing income tax thresholds as areas that Reeves could look to for the additional revenue.

But beyond the immediate issue of raising enough revenue to make good any shortfall, lies a deeper, trickier question about the way in which taxes should be levied for the good of society. If a government is to force people and companies to hand over their money, then what is the most ethical way to do this? Who should pay and who shouldn’t? How can tax be used to reduce inequality and build a better society?

Answering such questions is, of course, far from straightforward, because there are plenty of other factors in play.

For instance, some taxes are surely levied because they are simpler to collect. Take income tax - an unpopular measure introduced in 1799, then abolished before being reintroduced as a supposed temporary measure. It could certainly be argued that taxing people’s income - their attempt to get on in life and improve their lot in life - is less “fair” than taxing wealth that has been accumulated by someone’s ancestors years ago. Working hard and earning income is often surely a way of breaking down class divisions. But income tax - contributing 28 per cent of UK government tax take in 2023-24, according to The Institute for Fiscal Studies - has the advantage that it is relatively difficult for the average worker at a UK company to avoid it. Ease of levying it is surely a driver.

Equally, some taxes that might seem “fairer” have deliberately not been levied because of the difficulty in collecting them, and/or because to try to do so could be counterproductive.

A wealth tax, for instance, would be “economically damaging”, according to one of the UK’s highest profile tax experts Dan Neidle.

Or take the politically contentious issue of non-doms, a colonial era tax break allowing rich foreigners to avoid UK tax on overseas income. It would be fairer, the argument goes, to tax them on the whole of their income. If they are going to be resident in the UK, then surely they should be taxed like a UK resident whose home is here?

Former Chancellor Jeremy Hunt abolished this regime earlier this year but left a number of concessions that the incoming Labour government pledged to abolish. But non-doms are tax-sensitive and highly mobile, and a number of jurisdictions compete to attract them. Many are entrepreneurs and wealth creators that many countries need. Reports have suggested a clampdown could raise no money or even cost money and could drive people away.

“Housing is being treated as a commodity. The problem is, it’s not; it’s not just an asset. It has utility value and a communal and quasi-spiritual value, enabling people to feel rooted.”

Paul Williams

So, what can be done to use tax in an ethical way? Paul Williams, research professor of marketplace theology and leadership at Regent College, Vancouver and chief executive of the Bible Society, takes a Biblical perspective that he believes offers some solutions.

He takes as his starting point a story from the gospel of Matthew, where Jesus is asked whether people should pay taxes to Caesar. The question is a trap - either Jesus gives his backing to taxation that is highly unpopular with the Jewish people, or he rejects the tax in an act of rebellion against the Romans.

Jesus replies that they should “pay to the Emperor what belongs to the Emperor, and pay to God what belongs to God.” We are to pay our taxes to those in authority, but we are also to honour God.

While Williams believes that too much emphasis is placed on the Budget and political parties’ promises to be able to fix everything, and that a more radical rethink of our economy is required, he also sees room for positive tweaks to the current system.

One key area is the property market, the manifestation of so much inequality in society, with some people owning multiple houses while others cannot afford to buy one.

Williams argues that the ready availability of debt finance has allowed those who already hold assets to easily acquire properties, turning real estate into an investable asset class to the detriment of many of the poorer in society.

“The reason there’s so many homeless people and empty houses is due to debt finance. It makes it easy for a relatively small proportion of the population to acquire a large percentage of the assets.

“The system has allowed a structure in which a small advantage in the beginning can lead to big, big differences over time.”

Williams highlights parts of Devon and Cornwall that have been, he says, “completely ruined” by wealthy people from elsewhere buying second homes, leaving property “out of reach of anyone who lives and works there”.

Nevertheless, he believes taxation can be used in this area to help level the playing field.

He proposes a “pretty punitive” marginal rate of tax on ownership of more than one home. (Stamp duty only partly does the job and is a blunt instrument also affecting people moving homes, thereby makes mobility expensive).

“You want to disincentivise the way the housing market is used for speculation,” he said.

“Housing is being treated as a commodity. The problem is, it’s not; it’s not just an asset. It has utility value and a communal and quasi-spiritual value, enabling people to feel rooted.”

Buy-to-lets, meanwhile, are better than having empty second or third homes, but “wouldn’t it be better if occupiers could buy that house?” he adds.

Meanwhile, research by the Financial Times recently found a huge wealth gap between the average millennial and the top 10 per cent of millennials, who are benefiting from family wealth to accumulate substantial housing assets.

So, would increasing the rate of inheritance tax - one of the most hated of taxes - and/or lowering the threshold also help reduce some of this inequality? After all, how is it fair that one child in the UK is born to inherit large property wealth while another is born to inherit little or nothing? Or, even worse, that second child will only ever be able to afford to be the tenant of the first, paying them rent for the rest of their lives?

Williams is not a fan of inheritance tax per se, arguing that it is “not part of the package” in a Biblical image of a flourishing economy.

But he adds an important caveat: “the playing field is not level.

“There might be circumstances to impose a one-off tax on the very wealthy… if you want a transition to a more equitable society.”

Such steps are not easy to take. It is, he admits, probably “career suicide” for a politician to adopt such views. But if we are to take steps towards a fairer way of life, and avoid a two-tier society in decades to come, then maybe the conversation needs to shift this way. Perhaps the Budget could be the time to start.