Article
Comment
General Election 24
Politics
5 min read

What happens when you lose an election?

Spare a thought (and prayer) for the defeated.

Ross leads CARE, a Christian social policy charity.

A mayor reads an election result as a despondent candidate looks on.
Penny Mordaunt loses in Portsmouth.
BBC News.

Friday morning, 6 May 2005 I awoke wondering whether the past few months had been a bad dream, and contemplating what my future might hold. It was the day after the general election. ‘My’ party had won, but my result, while respectable, was a distant second place. So, in the wake of this election, I know what the vast majority of the 4,379 candidates who ran are feeling, which is why I would encourage us all to spare a thought and prayer for them. 

Few people apart from close family and friends and the most ardent party activists will give much attention to the candidates who lost. Perhaps a few prominent politicians will be interviewed alongside pictures of the ex-cabinet member who lost their seat to a fresh-faced young candidate. But in general, life moves swiftly on, and those who lost will be quickly forgotten about. 

It's understandable. We want to know what a new Government will do – who will be the leading figures shaping our lives over the next few years. If we do think about those who lost it will be in the context of the next competition – party leadership. Will there be a change in party leaders? Which ‘faction’ will come to dominate their party, and so on. This is an important consideration. 

There will be hundreds if not thousands of candidates who will need to be reminded that their identity and worth is not in politics, being a candidate, or seeking the approval of local voters. 

Of the 3,729 candidates not elected to sit in Parliament for the next five years many will face a similar mixture of emotions as I did on that morning in 2005. There may be regret and anger. I know for a long time I wondered whether there were things I could have done differently. Things I did not say or do that could have made a difference. “If we had planned to do this… if we could have avoided that…, should I have…” will be questions on the lips of many on Friday morning. 

Personally, I also felt that there were things said and done against me that were deeply unfair, so I was also angry that the unjust had seemed to prevail. I could identify with the  ancientthe ancient writer of the Psalms poetry who cried “why do the wicked prosper?” Politics is unfair and cruel. That is the reality. Too often it is not a meritocracy. Candidates lose, not because they are less able but because voters preferred another party or leader. 

In these days following the election, I suspect there will be hundreds if not thousands of candidates who will need to be reminded that their identity and worth is not in politics, being a candidate, or seeking the approval of local voters. For me, I was immensely grateful for close friends and teachers who reminded me that my identity was in Jesus Christ. I was part of a holy nation, a royal priesthood and God’s special possession. God knows how those former candidates and MPs without that security will cope, which is why they need our prayers. 

Being a candidate is hugely costly. Some do it for fun, others might be motivated by spite, but the great majority run because they want to serve others. 

I also needed to learn what it meant to forgive. I felt that untrue claims and accusations had been made against me during the campaign, and tactics deployed that were designed to intimidate and mislead. I did feel that the result was unfair, and I was angry that my opponent and his team would stoop very low to win, But I also needed to learn how to forgive. To this day I believe I ran an honourable campaign, giving more respect than I received; and I would like to think I would have made a good MP. I believed God called me to run but I do not feel he let me down. That does not mean he still needed to teach me how to forgive my opponent. That is an ongoing process I am learning over time.   

There will be many like me who will need to learn forgiveness in the weeks, months and years after the election. Like me, they may need to learn how to forgive opponents that hurt or wronged them, or learn how to forgive themselves, the electorate, or even God for not giving them their hearts desire.

And I'll pray that those who were defeated in this election will still have sense of calling to public service, despite their loss, if this is right for them. Being a candidate is hugely costly. Some do it for fun, others might be motivated by spite, but the great majority run because they want to serve others. We need to remember this in an age where people are increasingly cynical about politics and politicians. 

I lived in the constituency I was running in for over four months before the election. The Monday after polling day I was back at the desk I had not seen for months. It took several months for me to slowly work out that God could still have a calling for me into the public square and that his plan was good. 

There is evidence that in the current environment, good people are staying out of politics and public life because of the cost and the emotional toll it has on the individual and their family. I know firsthand some of what that means. But if good people are deterred, they leave a vacuum that will be filled by others of less capability and virtuous character. That would be a tragedy for our national life.  

So, in the days after the election, I will intentionally remember how I felt nineteen years ago and send a card or text message to those who I know have lost, thanking them for their service and reminding them that God may still be calling them into public life and service, just in a different way. And I will pray for them, as I also pray for the new government, and the peace and prosperity of the UK in the next five years. 

Column
Culture
Nationalism
Politics
4 min read

What Tom Paine really said about globalism and religion

We can’t live without homelands, but we need to be generous with them.

George is a visiting fellow at the London School of Economics and an Anglican priest.

A statue of a 18th century man holding a pen and a book.
Richard Croft, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

We live near Lewes in East Sussex, a town surrounded by genteel Conservatism but which inherits a certain edgy radicalism from Thomas Paine, whose utopian politics emerged there in the eighteenth century to inform both the French and American revolutions. 

Paine haunts Lewes and his paraphernalia are everywhere. Walk the streets and it won’t be long before you spot posters quoting his most famous lines, among them “My country is the world and my religion is to do good”, from his seminal work Rights of Man

He was a vicious critic of all organised religion, leading to the widespread assumption that he was an atheist. More accurately, he was a deist, a believer in a God who could and would deliver a global redemption of humankind, if we could and would only work towards that. The bit that’s most often left out of that famous quote is the phrase: “… all mankind are my brethren.” 

Sometimes it takes a prophetic voice from outside mainstream religion to point us towards a world peace and a concord that seems beyond our faithful grasp. As ultra-nationalism is the go-to political ideology of our age, it’s such a voice that demonstrates that these populist creeds are the very antithesis of Paine’s globalist utopia. 

There are tinpot nationalists throughout the world – Erdogan of Hungary, Meloni of Italy, Bolsonaro of Brazil, the list goes on – but it’s the superpowers that demonstrate most starkly the contrast between the narrow, inward and dark heart of ultra-nationalism and the generous, outward and illuminated vision of the globalist revolutionary.  

It’s not just the contrast between what we currently have on the world stage and what we could have that’s remarkable, it’s the similarities between the psyches and prejudices of the ultra-nationalist super-powers, all of which sacrifice any worldview they might hold on the altar of their homeland self-interest. Take Russia, Israel and the United States. Don’t even start me on China. 

Vladimir Putin’s Russia is embarked on an imperial expansionism that is positively tsarist. The attempted annexation of Ukraine is only the start, before reclaiming what are purported to be “Russian” state assets in the Baltics and beyond. Putin channels Peter the Great. This isn’t just demented desire for historical legacy, it speaks at home to the restoration of the motherland.   

It’s the same incentive for Benjamin Netanyahu in Israel. Only continuing to oppress and purge the Palestinian state from its lands can the homeland of Israel be protected. It is precisely to satisfy the ultra-nationalists behind him that pushes him forward. 

President Donald Trump in the US isn’t the peacemaker he fantasises about. To “make America great again” he has to put “America first”. This is about satisfying the baying boot boys that form the sump of Trump’s power base. Americans must live high on the hog at the expense of the rest of the world. Hence tariff wars, watch-the-lady trade deals and pan-arctic territorial aspirations. 

This is not to say that peoples are to live without homelands. But it is precisely to tell us to be generous with them, to be good neighbours and to govern self-sacrificially.

What these three world leaders absolutely have in common is a worldview that predicates itself on satisfaction of nationalism at home that has to be paid for with suffering elsewhere. What they tell us is the exact opposite of Paine: “My borders are my country and my religion is to do harm.” They might add the sub-phrase: “… only my people are my brethren.” 

The difference between patriotism and nationalism spawns many aphorisms. One such is that patriotism prioritises love of one’s own people and nationalism prioritises hate for other people other than one’s own. That’s not quite right, because both still hold the primacy of one’s own people over others, while Paine inferred the primacy of all people. 

That’s what ultimately gives religious fervour to his voice. His declared detestation of religion seemingly ignores the tenets of the three Abrahamic faiths of the world, which have in common the welcome of the stranger, a duty to the poor and equality of all before God.  

These commandments extend patriotism to love of all people. And, rigorously, they leave no room for nationalism at all. As for ultra-nationalism, we’re in the territory of abomination and sacrilege. 

This is not to say that peoples are to live without homelands. But it is precisely to tell us to be generous with them, to be good neighbours and to govern self-sacrificially. That’s admittedly a tall order, but these are qualities that can either be identified in or imported into national identities as diverse as the American Constitution and Zionism.  

The methodology for that is, admittedly, demanding. But it requires the ability to look outwards to the world, rather than inwards towards nation. And that becomes a religious vocation.  

Our instincts, as nations, are inwards, but our callings our outwards. Sometimes it takes an outsider, like Paine, to point us in the right direction, outwards.  

Celebrate our 2nd birthday!

Since March 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,000 articles. All for free. This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you’re enjoying 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