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The five reasons I go on GB News

Engaging is not endorsing, joining the dialogue prepares ways to peace.

Krish is a social entrepreneur partnering across civil society, faith communities, government and philanthropy. He founded The Sanctuary Foundation.

A TV news show panel discussion.
Krish Kandiah, right, debates the news.

GB News is no stranger to controversy. Since its launch in 2021, the channel—claiming to be the UK’s fastest-growing digital news outlet—has seen its live viewing figures rival those of Sky News. Yet, it has faced significant criticism. GB News has been accused of poisoning public discourse with its unapologetically anti-woke, and, many would argue, anti-immigrant editorial stance. Ofcom has investigated the channel for numerous impartiality breaches, issuing fines totalling £100,000 last year. Additional backlash has arisen over serving MPs, such as Jacob Rees-Mogg (before he lost his seat), and Nigel Farage of the Reform Party being paid to host programmes. The firing of Laurence Fox after his obscene and misogynistic on-air comments further fuelled public outrage—ironically also boosting the channel’s viewership. 

For the past year, I have regularly appeared on GB News, often to provide alternative perspectives on issues ranging from immigration to child welfare to slavery reparations. Some accuse me of selling out, of being unnecessarily political, or of lending credibility to a platform that often contradicts my Christian values. Yet I continue to accept these invitations, and here’s why.

Build bridges, not walls 

Peacemaking—the work I believe all Christians are called to by Jesus —is not passive. It requires engagement, courage, and humility. Being a peacemaker means stepping into uncomfortable spaces to foster dialogue, not retreating to the safety of ideological agreement. My faith compels me to bridge divides, treating even my most vocal opponents with respect, seeking common ground where possible, and disagreeing graciously when it isn’t. 

After one particularly heated debate on immigration, an opponent approached me off-air, saying, “We might disagree on almost everything, but I do appreciate your tone. If I had to hear devastating news, I’d want it to come from you.” Moments like these remind me that tone matters as much as content. Civility can be disarming, and small gestures of respect—even in disagreement—can create openings for deeper understanding. By showing up and articulating my views with, I hope, humility, I aim to challenge stereotypes, broaden perspectives, and build bridges toward peace. 

Break down ideological silos 

In an increasingly polarized world, echo chambers dominate. Thanks to AI algorithms that amplify our biases, many of us are surrounded by voices that mirror our own, while opposing views are dismissed or demonized. Appearing on GB News is one way I seek to counteract this dynamic. If I can present a thoughtful counterargument, even if it doesn’t immediately change minds, I hope to foster a culture where differing perspectives are heard rather than ignored. 

The Apostle Paul provides me with a compelling model for engaging in controversial spaces. Often facing hostility in synagogues where he was hoping for a receptive audience, Paul, at great personal cost and to much criticism, took his message to marketplaces, rural villages, and intellectual hubs like the Areopagus. His example reminds me that Jesus’ teachings are meant for everyone, not just those predisposed to agree.  

Model constructive politics 

For me, public debates are an opportunity to demonstrate that politics can be constructive. Too often, political discourse devolves into shouting matches, with each side entrenched in their positions. This approach benefits no one. I aim to model a different kind of engagement—one where disagreements are expressed respectfully, and common ground is sought. It’s not always easy, I have had many an encounter where I was shouted at, sworn out or dismissed, with one lady who was particularly aggressive and patronising. It is frustrating, to say the least, however these opponents help, I believe, in demonstrating the importance and value of being calm, measured and respectful.  

At its best, politics should be about collaboration for the benefit of the marginalized, not division at their expense. If, by God’s grace, I can contribute even a small measure of this spirit to public life, I consider it meaningful.  

Speak for those who can’t 

One of the main reasons I accept invitations to speak on GB News is to amplify the voices of those who might otherwise be overlooked. When I speak on issues such as immigration or child welfare, I do so not to simply promote my own perspective but to represent those whose stories are often ignored or distorted. The view of immigration espoused often on GB News is one which believes migrants to be a drain on our society. There is another viewpoint – they can enrich and benefit our society now as they have done in the past. Not only that, we all benefit when we live in a country marked by justice, generosity, respect, tolerance, liberty and compassion. 

Learn the language of engagement 

Appearing on platforms like GB News is a bit like learning a new language. Just as time spent in a foreign country deepens cultural understanding and fosters more meaningful conversation, so engaging with different media platforms, for me, broadens my perspective and sharpens my ability to articulate my faith, message and values in ways that resonate. Whether I am addressing audiences in Westminster, or through GB News, or in churches, or via Seen & Unseen, I aim to offer my opinions, values and expertise humbly, with integrity and relevance, recognising that I am on a learning journey.

A work in progress 

I don’t always get it right. Sometimes I fail to speak clearly enough. Other times, I fall short of speaking kindly enough. Balancing passion and grace, reaction and response, and raising my voice while also giving others a voice is a constant challenge.  

I strive to follow the example of Jesus—both gentle and firm. He was patient and gracious with his often-misunderstanding disciples, yet unafraid to show righteous anger when necessary, such as when he drove the money-spinners from the temple. In prayer, I lean on Jesus in prayer, recognising that I cannot change hearts and minds on my own.  

For me, engaging with GB News is not about endorsement; it’s about dialogue. It’s not about proselytizing, or politics, it’s about preparing a way for peace. It’s about building bridges, offering hope, and fostering understanding across divides. I hope that others will join me in this vital task so that together we can sing a song of hope, not just to the choir, but to everyone else who needs to hear it too. 

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4 min read

Is it OK to pray for the death of a dictator?

What happens when the mighty lose their thrones.

Simon is Bishop of Tonbridge in the Diocese of Rochester. He writes regularly round social, cultural and political issues.

Bullet holes on a wall and white paint outlines mark the site of an execution
The wall where Nicolae and Elena Ceausescu were executed.
NPR.

The end, when it comes, can be nasty, brutish and filmed. 

Muammar Gaddafi, self-styled Brotherly Leader and Guide of the Revolution, spent the last moments of his life cowering in a Libyan sewer after an air strike on his convoy. On discovery, a mob subjected him to some ghastly final abuses before death – the kind of ending he had mercilessly condemned thousands to. It was almost biblical in its parabola, and it was recorded on a wobbly camera. 

But it was not the first of its kind in this generation. On Christmas Day 1989, the disfigured face of Nicolae Ceausescu was broadcast on TV following his summary execution by hastily assembled opposition forces in Romania. Only days previously, he had been an unassailable dictator.   

Vladimir Putin has spoken about Gaddafi’s ending, and it clearly troubles him, but perhaps Ceausescu’s death is lodged in the dark recesses of his mind because it was the one bloody end of all the communist leaders of eastern Europe. 

Being a dictator is an all-consuming job. Too many domestic and foreign enemies are made along the way for the dictator to drop their vigilance. And their downfall often comes at the hands of those closest to them; by definition, these people know the dictator’s movements and weaknesses better than others and are best placed to exploit them. The military must be equipped to suppress dissent, but give it too much power and the generals pose a risk to the dictator. Yet if the military lacks the hardware, control of the population becomes harder. Many dictators surround themselves with specially trained loyal guards to defend against the military, but the rule of terror means no-one speaks the honest truth and so risks appear everywhere. No wonder dictators are usually paranoid and themselves racked with the fear that a culture of capricious violence induces in everyone.     

These and other theories are explored by Marcel Dirsus in his compelling book How Tyrants Fall (John Murray, 2025). Dirsus notes how dictators require money, weapons and people to survive in office and for the elites around them to believe these goods will remain in place. They also need to immerse the surrounding elites in blood guilt, so that their fate becomes entwined with the dictator’s; Saddam Hussein compelled others to join him in the murder and execution of opponents. 

For Dirsus, there are two ways to topple a tyrant. The most direct is to take them out, but this is rarely straightforward. Coup attempts are often shambolic in their planning and even well-orchestrated ones usually fail; the consequences for those implicated are always horrendous. The second route is patient and pragmatic, looking to weaken the tyrant, strengthen alternative elites and empower the masses. External powers often have minimal influence unless, like the US in Iraq, the country is invaded and the tyrant deposed. Sanctions often fail to hurt the elites; a state’s geographic proximity to the tyrant’s nation can be useful, as it gives a base from which opponents of the regime can work. 

Modern technology is changing the face of political action, making it easier for large groups to mobilise against regimes, as seen in the short-lived Arab Spring. It also enables dictators to track opponents more successfully than even the feared Stasi in East Germany. Right now, it feels like the tyrants are ahead in this game. 

Shortly after the full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, a friend said to me that he was praying for Putin’s death or downfall. I asked him how sure he was that the person who replaced Putin would be better. If the pragmatic route for toppling a dictator involves strengthening different elites and empowering the masses, the likelihood is that the elites will take over, not the masses. Dictators never allow the components of civil society to form; democratic institutions take decades to build.  And they rarely anoint successors in advance, for fear alternative power bases are created. When dictators fall, it usually leads to initial chaos and violence before another elite can establish itself from which a new dictator will emerge.   

In her inspired song of praise at the news she would give birth to the long-awaited Messiah, Mary observes how God ‘has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly’.  It is a role reversal typical of St Luke, recorder of Mary’s song, a gift of eschatology many want realised today, not just in the world to come.  When the powerful are brought down from their throne today, they are typically replaced by the next most powerful person, and if the throne remains vacant or is contested, what follows often feels like the spirit that went out of a person in Matthew Gospel returning with seven other spirits more evil than itself, meaning ‘the last state of person is worse than the first’. 

This need not be a counsel of despair, but a call to informed intercessory prayer which is short on controlling advice for God’s geo-political strategy, and long on the wisdom and patience of the one throne that endures.  

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