There is an obsession, nowadays, with forcing people to apologise. With politicians, on television and radio, it goes like this: “You said in your manifesto that you would mend potholes in the road. You haven’t done so. You should apologise.” “But I’m trying to prevent a third world war. Gaza is in ruins, and then there’s Ukraine.” “Never mind about that. What about the potholes? Why won’t you say sorry?”
Interviewers waste precious airtime—which is always too short for rational debate anyway—by banging on about why politicians should be sorry for past misdemeanours, or about daft statements dug up from when they were spouting rubbish at the Oxford Union. Who cares? People change, and hopefully grow up—and our leaders should be asked about what they are going to do in the here and now about our dying planet and the rise of mindless populism.
What is the value of saying sorry about things anyway? “I am sorry I murdered your daughter.” “Oh, thanks. That’s all right, then. Now I can have that closure everyone talks about.”
Confession and apology are not that easy, I fear. As I discovered in my Catholic childhood, when inventing colourful sins to satisfy the priest and nuns.
Do I sound frantic? Well, I am. I am frantic that no one seems to be standing up to the mad men (and they are men) who are threatening our planet. In Trump, we have a dangerous, power-drunk, ignorant man who is causing untold trouble and suffering. And in Netanyahu we have another, who uses appalling, cruel aggression to solve a problem that calls for incredible wisdom and mediation. But at diplomatic meetings, world leaders allow the American clown to flounce around talking rubbish—( “a riviera of the Middle East”)—instead of trying to teach him about diplomacy, history and compassion. Let’s hope a lot is going on behind the scenes.
Opposition in America has been slow starting, but the No Kings demonstrations show promise. However, I listen in disbelief to people blithely saying that the leader of the western world is volatile and always changes his mind, so we should not trust a word he says. When I marched against the atomic bomb in the 1950s, many people insisted that having our own bomb was a safeguard. Our argument was that one day a madman might have his finger on the button. There are at least three world leaders in that category now.
Protecting our beautiful universe will take immense skill, imagination, new thinking and vision. Where are the leaders demonstrating those things? I worry that we are stuck in a rut—a pothole, even.
Men seem to think their clever fighting toys are the answer, but they are not and never have been. There is evidence that if the world had intervened in 1933, the Second World War could have been different. Maybe we thought a clown such as Hitler need not be taken seriously.
There is the usual absence of women from decision-making bodies. We need the balance of the female approach. I went to a wonderful party celebrating some women’s book awards, and was moved to tears by the compassion, intelligence and truth they demonstrated in their speeches. We have to challenge the rigid, old principles that seem to guide our politicians’ thinking.
Firstly, the insistence on growth. We don’t need it: there is enough wealth already to feed and care for the world, if it is properly managed. And what about taxes? All parties, as a matter of pride, insist they will not raise them. This is irrational, unrealistic and vote-seeking. I am sure people would be prepared to pay if it was pointed out that some people, not all, paying a little more upfront would provide the good schools and healthcare we need. Take away the £300 winter fuel allowance from relatively rich people like me and feed a child living in poverty. This is common sense, surely.
So forget the pointless, hypocritical apologies about slavery, environmental abuse, imbecilic governance and neglect of the needy. I don’t want us to grovel over past errors. We need to act courageously now in the face of existential crises.
Let us demonstrate that we are sorry for our errors by finding ways to mend the damage we and our ancestors have caused—as I hope future generations will do for us. If we continue as we are, there will be much to forgive.
We need action, not words. We must stop fooling about with pointless questions, and take on the challenge of brave but compassionate radical change.
