‘A week is a long time in politics.’ This oft quoted statement is believed (rightly or wrongly) to have been uttered by former Labour PM Harold Wilson in the mid 60’s. Five decades on, following one of the most surprising elections in history, such an assertion is as apt as ever.
After all, a week ago we were on the brink of an election in which nothing seemed certain except that there would be no clear winner. Today, there is a Tory majority government, freed from the moderating shackles of the now decimated Liberal Democrats.
A week ago there was talk of the radical new makeup of British party politics. Today, despite an SNP surge, the first past the post system has ensured that within England the two-party system is stronger than ever, with the Lib Dems reduced to a tired remnant.
A week ago, there was a growing sense of excitement amongst Labour supporters that Ed Miliband might defy his critics in the press and that he had a realistic chance of becoming the next PM. Today, Miliband’s leadership is over and the race to succeed him already underway, with a return to Blairite centrism looking increasingly likely.
As a Labour member on the left of the party, the last week has caused the cautious optimism with which I went to the polling station to be replaced by bitter disappointment. Indeed, as I look ahead to what might prove a palpably painful five years for many, this disappointment becomes dread.
And yet, as I speak of dread I am acutely aware that the ‘many’ to which I refer does not include myself. Funded by the Church of England to train as a Priest, I am comfortable by most if not all measures. Even if the waves of austerity hit with the ferocity one might fear, its not the trainee vicars who are in trouble but rather the poorest and most vulnerable in society.
Of course, it is all too easy for me to sit here behind my keyboard, making pious pronouncements about Tory cuts and the potential harm they might cause. Similarly, it would be all too easy for me to sit back in dismay at the decision of the British electorate, my own conscience consoled in my belief that I voted progressively.
Perhaps one of the most helpful things articulated by both men in the now infamous Milibrand interview, was that democracy has to go beyond the termly election of MPs. This is a concept which, rather unsurprisingly, predates Brand and in fact played a key part in the thinking of 18th century political philosopher Jean-Jaques Rousseau in his work The Social Contract. Rousseau believed that representative democracy alone was so limited that it meant that the people of England were ‘overtaken by slavery’ as soon as our votes had been cast. This may well be an overstatement, and yet the challenge remains to consider what it means to engage democratically between elections and referenda.
The same can be said regarding one's apparent sense of compassion or concern for the poor. My convictions about social and economic equality may well in my case translate into a vote for Labour (I am aware that many with the same concerns might vote very differently). However, such concerns mean little if anything if that’s the extent to which this apparent concern outworks itself. I may well lament that the number of food banks in Britain continues to grow, but if I’m not giving them my time or my resources (and at present I’m not) then my cries seem somewhat hollow.
I suppose this is the kind of frustration that is being expressed in the famous passage in James regarding the relationship between faith and works (2.14-26). An alternative paraphrase of one section might read: ‘if a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, go and eat your fill, and rest assured I voted Labour,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that?' (v.15-16… sort of).
This is not to diminish the role of voting, which is a huge privilege and can effect enormous change. Furthermore, seeking to see political and social change on a broader level is a means of addressing the causes rather than symptoms of inequality. Nevertheless, if my concern for the poor stops at the ballot box, then what good is it? If my desire for justice extends no further than this blog, then who will it help? If my faith in equality manifests itself merely in reading and sharing sharply worded Guardian articles on social media, then such a faith is ’barren’ (v. 20).
Ultimately, despondent as I may be by the results last Thursday, it is awkwardly apparent that outrage and frustration won’t do. The challenge I face is to prayerfully consider how my beliefs might tangibly be worked out in such a way that might beneficially impact my community. I’ve barely even begun this process, I’ve no idea what it might look like and I’m open to suggestions. Perhaps over the next five years I’ll find out.
