Article
Comment
Politics
5 min read

Why we need a gentle radical revolution

Our social arrangement needs to prioritise human relationships, argues MP Danny Kruger.

Danny Kruger is the Conservative MP for Devizes.  He is the author of Covenant: The New Politics of Home, Neighbourhood and Nation.

A group of people stand in a field by a fence and a railway footcrossing.
Danny Kruger with a campaign group in his Devizes constituency.

Democracy divides us. The political system best calculated to hold together a diverse society is also one that exacerbates differences and obscures our common opinions and interests. A two-party system - and all Western politics is largely binary, split between conservative and progressive parties or groups of parties - encourages vicious disagreement across the aisle, and polarises opinion in the country.  

The paradox is that, despite our party disagreements, the most popular opinion with the public is that ‘they're as bad as each other’. The view held in common across the country is that ‘they’re all the same’; that ‘there’s nothing to choose between them’. And deep down, the public is right, but in a good way. Fundamentally the parties share a worldview, which derives from our common inheritance as the heirs of the Christian tradition. 

That tradition taught us that individuals are intrinsically, personally, valuable, without reference to the identities of sex, household, tribe or race which, in pagan cultures, gave people their only worth (or for most people, their lack of it). It also taught us that, despite our individual personal value, our mission in life was other-facing. Our object of worship was outside the self. God’s will was made material and meaningful through the institutions of our common life, in what we came to call civil society. These institutions in turn, especially the institution of the law, worked to protect the individual and make diversity safe.  

This tradition split into two parts in the modern age, as an old, anti-Christian idea, which Christianity had expunged, crept back in. In my book Covenant I call it ‘the Idea’, as opposed to what I call ‘the Order’. The ‘Idea’ is that I am god, with the creative power to order reality and decide for myself what is right and wrong. This ancient heresy has been refreshed in our times precisely by the principle of individual rights and freedoms that Christianity gave us. This is because we have steadily degraded the other side of the Christian bequest: the other-facing, institutional life that gave individuals a more textured sense of who they were, i.e. members of a community with something to live for outside themselves. The consequence is both the narcissism of self-worship and the rise of identity culture - a return to the pagan belief that your value is determined by your sex, race or tribe.  

In the age of tech we can create a decentralised, responsive and personalised system that will give us both belonging and agency. 

Individual value and dignity, made safe and meaningful by a social arrangement which emphasises solidarity, peace and care for the stranger - these are the elements of what I call the ‘Order’. They are not absolute principles: even individual rights to life and liberty must be constrained in certain circumstances, and other-facing generosity likewise needs to be limited in order to be sustained. To take a current example, ‘care for the stranger’ does not, in my view, mean offering a home in the UK to anyone who manages to arrive on our shores and claim asylum. It does mean treating every asylum seeker humanely, whether we admit them or remove them, and it means committing part of our wealth and power to preventing, or mitigating the effects of, war and natural disaster in other parts of the world.  

How does such a covenantal politics approach other policy areas? The principles that Graham Tomlin set out in the report he compiled after the Grenfell Tower fire, after listening to local voices, are a helpful guide. We need to ‘humanise welfare’, dismantling the inefficient bureaucracies which see people as units to be managed, rather than as people to be helped and given responsibility and agency, and build instead relational systems of social support. We need to ‘provide homes’, which means so much more than the sterile term ‘housing’: it means attractive, affordable, safe buildings where people can live both with privacy and in community. As this suggests we need to help people ‘become neighbours’, with the means and the motivation to connect with others who belong to different identity groups. We should ‘notice faith’: as happened after Grenfell, it is local community faith groups which more than any official agency provide support, belonging, cohesion, and practical change at a local level.  

And lastly, overall, we need to ‘renew democracy’. In Graham’s words, ‘we need to find ways to enable people, especially in more deprived areas, to have more of a say in issues that directly affect their lives, rather than politics happening at a distance by competing parties remote from local life.’ The sense of this is both deeply conservative (small-c) and deeply radical. Of course, we need power to be close to the people; this was the traditional way of things before the Durkheim and his followers  decided that the centralised state, not local civil institutions, was the proper place for managing human services. In the Middle Ages, according to Robert Tombs’ history of England, fully a third of men, of all classes, played a responsible role of some kind in the management of their neighbourhood. Yet a return to this model would be radical, because it involves upending Durkheim’s assumptions - shared by his heirs in the school of New Public Management beloved of the Blairites - about the proper arrangement of society. 

We need a gentle revolution: a return to some old ideas about social organisation that prioritise human relationships, the organic and the natural over utility, efficiency and equality of outcome; ideas which actually lead to a more useful, more efficient and genuinely more equal system. These are the ideas of what I call the Order, derived from theories of the social covenant that lie deep in our history but which are also best fitted to the modern world.  

In the age of tech we can create a decentralised, responsive and personalised system that will give us both belonging and agency. We can recreate a more localised economy, but this time more fair, equal and capable of supporting a larger and more diverse population than the pre-modern world knew. And we can make a democracy that more closely reflects the principle that we all, whether progressive or conservative, share a common inheritance and belong to a single political community. 

 

Covenant: The New Politics of Home, Neighbourhood and Nation is published by Forum Press. 

Article
Comment
Community
Nationalism
5 min read

One flag two nations: the view from Leicester

Raising the national flag won’t secure the future for our grandchildren
A suburban English street with St George's Cross flags on lamposts.
Mtaylor848, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

I was in the local pub the other week and overheard a conversation at the bar prompted by Operation Raise the Colours, the campaign group that advocates for the Union flag and the St George’s Cross to be hung in public places.  

Striking was the opinion of one man who repeatedly stated that he was not a fascist or a racist but supported anti-immigration policies and the deportation of migrants and asylum seekers for the sake of his young granddaughter. It was a lack of hope for her future, he kept asserting, that meant politicians needed to take a more aggressive stance against people arriving in this country hoping to live here. He therefore supported the raising of the St George’s Cross as a sign of the national identity he hoped his granddaughter would grow up to experience. 

In the last hundred years the St George’s Cross has been a sign of Empire, military might, hooliganism, English Nationalism, xenophobia, fascism, and other violent and oppressive worldviews. It meant for many who did not want to be associated with these things that they could never raise or recognise the flag at all.  

But there has also been some reclamation of our national symbols. Cool Britannia and Britpop under New Labour saw a new pride in the Union flag; England’s football team under Gareth Southgate and the ‘proper’ English Lionesses were successful, articulate, and diverse under the Cross of St George. It's why even now it’s hard to discern whether someone with a Cross of St George stuck to their house endorses Tommy Robinson, or whether they’re showing their support for the England women’s rugby team, who are swept all opposition before them whilst cavorting in pink cowboy hats and redefining all kinds of feminine stereotypes. 

These myriad options for painting identities onto national colours seems particularly clear in Leicester, where I live and work. We live in the outer suburbs, meaning two miles in one direction, humans are outnumbered by sheep, and two miles in the other is the incredibly diverse edge of the city.  

Leicester famously has the most diverse street in the UK, Narborough Road, where people from many nations live and work, generally in relative harmony. Skills are shared: help with government forms for those without good English are informally bartered for meals, haircuts, or produce. Christians, Jews, Muslims, Sikhs, Hindus and many other faiths worship within close proximity. It seems a place symbolic of one kind of England: diverse, tolerant, enriching the lives of one another by the sharing of culture and skills.  

It’s easy to point to recent riots between Hindu and Muslim populations in the north of the city as proof of the opposite. Nevertheless, having worked in a diverse city centre church and visited schools and hospitals where many cultures and faiths study and work together, there are large pockets of the city that do generously manage to embody this vision. Faith leaders are overwhelmingly committed to mutual tolerance and respect. 

I know many people in the county also wish for this version of England, but it has been striking to see how many villages surrounding the city have joined in with Operation Raise the Colours. Its anti-immigration message provides a clear-cut visual contrast. In the city there are no St George’s Crosses but innumerable signs of inter-culturalism brought by immigrants, asylum seekers and refugees. It is the first city in the UK where being white British does not put you in the majority. In the county, these flags seem to state that these signs are not welcome. That to ‘Unite the Nation’ is to expel those different to us. That the only culture available is the one they want to equivocate with the St George: white, British, suspicious of outsiders.  

Both of these contexts seem to be fully fleshed out alternatives for the future of England. Who do we want to be? Tolerant, inter-cultural, diverse? Or exclusive, suspicious, nativist? The guy in the pub was staking his hope for the future on one of these alternatives, and I’m sure he’s not unique. There will be others who are fully devoted to the opposite: a diverse and welcoming state of which Leicester appears an imperfect harbinger. 

It’s important to note that a fair reading of the Bible cannot help to highlight the theme of welcoming foreigners, perhaps particularly those who are not able to contribute financially. The Israelite faith of the Old Testament specifically commands farmers to leave a border of crop unharvested for such struggling migrants.  

One of the most beloved stories of the Jewish scriptures is that of Ruth, an Edomite woman who comes destitute to Israel and finds provision in the righteous life of Boaz, who has left such a border of crop for her to glean. Eventually they marry, and their offspring is blessed by God: including King David and Jesus Christ. I do believe that welcoming foreigners, and particularly those who have been affected by poverty or war is just. Any form of Christianity which puts nation before those different to us or those who suffer is a false one. 

But, just as I believe that man in the pub is wrong for putting his hope in the tightening of borders, anybody who puts their hope in any philosophy or system a flag can represent is mistaken. Liberal policies towards immigration and open hearts towards those who must seek asylum or refuge will always fail and fade. Neither England represented by the city and county of Leicester can or will last a millennia, let alone an eternity. Neither can guarantee a better future for our descendants. 

Jesus spoke of a Kingdom without flags, without an army, and without borders. One in which all tribes and tongues will be welcomed as the foreigners we are to the Holy God. One which is already recreating the Earth to be a place without death, enmity, and suffering and one day will bring this work to fulfilment. This Kingdom of God is the only political entity in which hope can be securely placed because it keeps its promises and never passes away. Our political parties, national identities, and nation states may be more or less like the Kingdom of God but they are never secure foundations for our future.  

If I were braver, I might have broached this reality with the man at the bar. I might have suggested he makes an error in placing hope for the future generations of his family in a particular understanding of the national flag. I could have invited him to see the truer potential for hope in a Kingdom which is not directly seen but nevertheless is more real and secure, and discussed with him about what that means for our temporal reality. And challenged him to see past the flag to a Kingdom which will provide for his granddaughter without measure. 

Support Seen & Unseen with a gift

Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,500 articles. All for free. 
This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?
 
Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin
Editor-in-Chief