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General Election 24
Morality
Politics
3 min read

The morality of defection

Why I respect 'traitors'.
A man sits in a TV interview, below him is a captions stating 'Mark Lognan. Former Conservative MP
Mark Logan explains his move.
BBC.

Defection is a dirty word. 

It evokes feelings of treachery. Betrayal. Backstabbing. 

All in all it leaves a bad taste in the mouth. 

  

Defectors always carry with them a whiff of suspicion. 

Are they genuine, or are they just opportunists? 

Who do they really work for? 

What do they get out of it? 

Have they truly renounced their old ways? 

  

There has been a lot of defecting going on in UK Politics over the last few weeks. For good or ill, a number of political parties have members who, up until recently, wore rosettes of a different colour. 

The defections have been dramatic – and public.  

Think of the recent defections from the Conservatives to Labour. Two in a fortnight. 

First Dan Poulter and then Nathalie Elphicke crossing the Commons floor with moments to spare before Prime Minister’s Questions. Then Mark Logan last week. 

Perhaps one encouraged the other. Defections and resignations in politics always seem to arrive like buses.  

And each of these defections was accompanied by a public story about why they’ve changed their minds. A testimony, if you will.  

It was these stories which drew the most fire, from both former friends and new allies. In most cases, it hasn’t taken a lot of digging to find statements made when these people had a different allegiance which call into question the truth of their supposed conversion.  

Conversion, though, is just the right word.  

And this service to a higher power is often experienced by others as a betrayal.

Christianity knows a lot about defection.  

Right at the heart of the Jesus story is a moment of betrayal.  

Judas turns Jesus over to be crucified. 

The price to betray the saviour of the world? A few silver coins. 

 

But in Christianity, defection is not always a bad thing. 

If defection is a dirty word, repentance and conversion are a positive counterpart. 

Saying Jesus is Lord in a world where Caesar is Lord is an act of subversion. 

It is a recognition that the authority of Caesar, of any government, has its limits. 

Christians are called to serve and love their communities and nations – but they only ever have a provisional allegiance to any earthly power or government.  

And this makes Christians untrustworthy.  

 

On a deep level, to be a Christian is to have defected from an allegiance to a world which values power and money to service of the God of love. 

And this service to a higher power is often experienced by others as a betrayal. 

It is little surprise then that from time to time, governments across the world have treated Christians with that same whiff of suspicion reserved for defectors.  

But in the United Kingdom, religious freedoms afford believers with the same luxuries afforded to MPs. They can defect publicly – they can tell their stories. They can encourage others to cross the floor. 

  

Can a bird change its feathers, or a leopard change its spots? 

The Christian story says yes. 

  

As the election campaign draws on and as people defect from one party or another and as people ask those questions of defectors 

Perhaps it is time to focus less on others, and instead ask those questions of yourself. 

  

Are you genuine? 

Who do you really work for? 

What do you get out of it? 

Have you truly renounced your old ways? 

  

Defection can be a good thing. 

Will you tell your story? 

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Character
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1 min read

The bird-brained behaviour of holding a grudge

Cranky corvids and feuding pop stars share something in common.

Jamie is Associate Minister at Holy Trinity Clapham, London.

A crow stands at the end of an overhanging rock.
Still in the huff.
Haaslave185, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

Sometimes it's just too hard to let it go. Art Garfunkel recently told The Times that he and Paul Simon have put aside their feud. Again. I was at their gig in Melbourne in 2009, four rows from the front. Although Art's voice soared, it faltered on Bridge Over Troubled Water. But it was glorious. Their setlist began with Old Friends, the name of their reunion tour, tragically describing a duo marked by both harmony and discord. 

It's not just old friends who can harbour old grudges. It turns out, according to John Marzluff from the University of Washington, that crows can similarly prolong a grudge for up to 17 years. Putting aside a longstanding grudge can be a good commercial decision, as evidenced by a certain Britpop band recently... but when I heard on the radio the other morning that crows are good at holding grudges, I must admit it made me laugh. There's something about the pettiness, the silliness of human grudges that seem to befit the ridiculousness of a bird. The bird-brained behaviour of holding a grudge may similarly find its root in fear: just as Marzluff has discovered that crows' brains show evidence of human-like fear. 

But grudges, just like fear, are no laughing matter. They aren't light, and they don't soar like crows or an ageing rocker's voice, but thud and squelch in all their onomatopoeic heft. We hold onto petty and significant grievances because, however unpleasant, we feel we have control. But the language we use around grudges is telling - we bear grudges, hold them, nurse them. Grudges, just like children, grow over time. And whether they last for weeks of crow-like decades… they destroy things around us and within us. Perhaps it's apt that the collective noun for a crow is 'murder'. Indeed, it's old wisdom that such grudges are destructive. Jesus said 'anyone who is so much as angry with a brother or sister is guilty of murder. Carelessly call a brother 'idiot!' and you just might find yourself hauled into court.' 

Grudges towards coworkers, family and friends can be subtle and invisible but no less real and consequential as visible damage. When Garfunkel asked Simon recently why they hadn't seen each other, 'Paul mentioned an old interview where I said some stuff. I cried when he told me how much I had hurt him. Looking back, I guess I wanted to shake up the nice guy image of Simon & Garfunkel. Y'know what? I was a fool!'  

The sense of freedom, joy, yes tears, and the possibility of singing together again has only been possible by them talking it through. 

Forgiveness won't necessarily mean condoning or reconciling, particularly if a crow has swooped on you. And sometimes those opportunities will be out of our reach. But however out of control our grudges may feel, we can hand them over, in all their deathly ugliness, to someone who is willing to absorb them.