Democracy and dairy don't mix

Let's remember the principles of political engagement.

Yaroslav Walker

Yaroslav is Vicar of Christ Church, Hampstead.

A woman throws a milkshake at a politician, the milk is mid-flight in a curved shape.

Political engagement?

Twitter

Nigel Farage is best known for dividing opinion. It is for a politician like Mr Farage that we adapted ‘Marmite’ from a noun to an adjective - people either love or hate him. I’d like to think of myself as an elevated individual, floating above the fray of yeast-based debate with grace and equanimity. I find Mr Farage funny, because he is. I dislike much of what he stands for, because it is unlikable. It all balances out. I neither love nor hate him. I see him as a, somewhat amusing and somewhat problematic, bit of topography on the political map. I can’t really bring myself to have any feelings towards him which are stronger than a chuckling-wincing-indifference.

Others, it would seem, have more passion. On Tuesday, Mr Farage was doused in milkshake; ‘vanilla’, intrepid journalists reported. The response was immediate. Howls of laughter from those who find Mr Farage odious. Fulmination from those who support him. Claims of a ‘false flag operation’ from some. Shouts about ‘political violence’ and a ‘slippery slope’ from others. Much like the man, the milkshake roused the commentariat into absolute histrionics. Who on earth is right?

The latter group.

Obviously!

Shock often elicits a laugh - a way of softening the tension one finds themselves inhabiting. It doesn’t mean the joke is funny. The milkshake wasn’t funny, however much some forcibly bray with laughter. It was an unkind, juvenile, contradictory act of foolishness from someone who seems to believe that true political engagement is dairy-based. It was also an attempt to set a precedent which no civilised person can accept. Those shouting about the ‘slippery slope’ are correct, for the ‘slippery slope’ is simply a phrase which is synonymous with the concept of ‘precedent’.

I do not mean that we must treat our political class with kid gloves. We must interrogate their platforms, positions, and policies with rigour.

Precedents’ are fundamentally progressive. You set a precedent for something, and soon people wish to argue for a precedent which goes further. Be under no illusion, milkshake can very quickly become a much nastier and more dangerous liquid in the minds of many. The principle that those who are standing for elected office must be treated with absolute respect is one which is either absolute or non-existent. There is no in-between.

I do not mean that we must treat our political class with kid gloves. We must interrogate their platforms, positions, and policies with rigour. If they propose an idea which we find deficient or problematic (or even odious!) then we must hold them to account and demand an explanation. This is the right (perhaps even the duty?) of all engaged in the democratic process. We can never, however, allow our passion and consternation to devolve into the physical. Language and action are inextricably linked, yet there is an obvious and distinct gulf between them which we must preserve at all costs.

The milkshake incident might elicit a laugh at first, but I hope anyone laughing ends up frowning.

On the day the election was announced, the Archbishops of Canterbury and York issued a plea: put “…good grace and a commitment to truth and integrity…” at the heart of the campaign. We ought to demand this of our political class; but we can’t expect it of those standing for election if we do not practice it ourselves.

Our elected representatives feel embattled like never before. The number of MPs standing down at this election is remarkable. The number who are calling for mandatory police protection of MPs is depressing. The number who have experienced threats and/or/of violence is unconscionable. The number who have been murdered in the last thirty years - two - is horrific and shameful.

We will never get the best out of our MPs if we do not give them OUR best!

If the Archbishops are not enough to convince you, perhaps Jesus will be. Jesus was faced with regular attack, both verbal and physical. He responded with love (‘turn the other cheek), verbal wit (render unto Ceasar that which is Ceasar’s), and, ultimately, loving sacrifice (the Cross). He also regularly reminds us that our actions inform who we are and will become: “Listen and understand: it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles.”

The milkshake incident might elicit a laugh at first, but I hope anyone laughing ends up frowning. Firstly, because it was vulgar, callous, and rude: it was everything a civilised democratic process ought to reject. Secondly, and most importantly, because it demeans and degrades us all as a culture. Every such incident which is tolerated at all sets a precedent which we cannot accept.

Our political processes, flawed and hypocritical as they might sometime be, are intended to engender the fundamental principles of respect, integrity, and love of neighbour. If we see the meeting of Mr Farage and a milkshake as anything but disgusting, we are not worthy of such principles.

Article

Comment

Feminism

Leading

23 October 2024

5 min read

Can Kemi really have it all?

For female experiences to mean something, we need to be part of something bigger.

Sian Brookes

Sian Brookes is studying for a Doctorate at Aberdeen University. Her research focuses on developing a theological understanding of old age. She studied English and Theology at Cambridge University.

A woman works at a laptop on a desk surrounded by picture frame.

Kemi Badenoch campaigning.

Kemibadenoch.org.uk

Apparently Kemi Badenoch is unfit for leadership due to a ‘preoccupation’ with her children. Such comments are hardly a surprise. After all, she is both a mother and a woman vying to be in a position of power. Since the beginning of time women have been mothers, but women haven’t always been in positions of power. So it is not surprising that some people have problems adjusting to the change. But it isn’t just Robert Jenrick who finds this adjustment difficult. In my experience, most women find it hard too. Becoming a mother is a beautiful but body-breaking, exhaustion-inducing and identity-questioning process. And that is just in the first few months. Add to that the expectations of also having successful careers as well, and it is no wonder we find it hard.

Kemi Badenoch’s response, naturally and rightly, was to show how capable she is to lead the Tory party alongside her maternal responsibilities, whilst challenging the view that just because she is a woman she is more responsible for her kids than a man with similar age kids would be. But her lack of acknowledgement of the hardship involved in being a mother and having a successful career does leave an awkward silence around what is an ongoing imbalance in many relationships when it comes to holding the fair share of parental, household and professional responsibilities.

This relentless pursuit of the ability of mothers to do everything else as well as being a mother says something about what we expect from women in our society. We need to prove that it is possible to be a woman and do all the things men have traditionally done. Yet sometimes I do wonder if we make it harder for ourselves. Is it our own expectations which make this thing called being a woman much harder than it needs to be?

Perhaps she is valuable not because of what she does or the choices she makes and what that says about the feminist cause, but because her worth lies elsewhere.

I’ve been blessed with the task of raising three boys, but I think about my friends who are raising little girls and the hopes they have for them. The hopes that they will grow to defy the expectations placed on them because they are female; to counter the oppression put upon them by breaking through the ceilings that may be built over them by others, to become whatever they want to be; engineers, consultant doctors, CEOs, even builders or plumbers if they so desire.

At the same time, (if the girls want them), they are expected to build families and loving safe homes. All of the things our mothers hoped for us and their mothers before them hoped for their own daughters.

Yet now, alongside those hopes for domestic fulfilment, so many other expectations have been added. Of course, the obvious solution to this, as Kemi has argued, is for men and women to share the load on both sides – to build the home and work life in a way that benefits both in the partnership. But the fact remains that relatively speedily in the course of historical development, we have come to a position where we are all expecting to have it all, all the time. And especially for our girls – we want them to be strong, powerful, successful, fruitful and productive all at once.

Now, this is not to say that we should revert to a time when only women ran the household and only men inhabited the professional domain. But sometimes perhaps it’s OK for a woman just to be a mum, if that is what she wants. She doesn’t have to also show the world she can be everything else as well. Some would criticise that decision as selling out on the relentless need to fight for equality with men. But not everything a woman does has to demonstrate some ideological end in fighting for equality, as though that is what gives her value as a woman. Perhaps she is valuable not because of what she does or the choices she makes and what that says about the feminist cause, but because her worth lies elsewhere.

Whatever we do, we do it to witness to a love, a truth which goes beyond whatever we can give to the world.

Many of the friends I spoke of earlier who have those little girls chose to have their daughters baptised as babies. This act of infant baptism puts the stake in the ground for the belief that before they could do anything, before they could prove their worth as a female member of society demonstrating all that power, strength, purpose and ability to right all the wrongs of the past, they were loved and valued beyond measure, without condition.

As a girl, and before they grow to be a woman, maybe a mother, and then potentially the leader of a political party, they are a child of a God who values them not because of what they have done or will do, but because they are His child. At the same time, this doesn’t mean we sit back and do nothing – it’s central to the Christian faith to fight injustice and overturn oppressive powers, but this is never achieved by human action alone as though the weight of the world falls on our shoulders, it is done by bearing witness to a God who has a better plan for the world and for society than we could ever dream or imagine. It is only when we realise this that the burden might be lifted from all the women fighting for all the things we are supposed to fight for.

Of my three closest friends in the church, one is (currently) a stay-at-home mum, one a doctor, one a vicar. As for myself, I am studying for a PhD in theology. We also all spend a lot of time looking after children, cooking and doing the dishes (as do our husbands). And yet, when we reflect together, these choices feel less statements of how we might be empowered or not as women, but more the result of a belief that whatever we do, we do it to witness to a love, a truth which goes beyond whatever we can give to the world. And so, we can each celebrate what we “do” because in each offering of ours can be found meaning, purpose and life beyond our own abilities, even our own individual actions. Perhaps, this is better than any kind of feminism you find around these days, because it allows us each to do the small thing in front of us without loading more on ourselves than we can bear alone. Only together, and only in knowing we are part of something bigger than ourselves, can our variety of female experiences mean something. In this way of living, being a woman feels very free indeed.