All posts filed under “Politics

The General Election, 2024

This photo was shot on the day my wife and I took afternoon tea to mark the turning of a page: a month later, we’d be parents and this was our acknowledgment that this kind of life would be out of reach for a while.

By the time our daughter was born, we were already five years into a Conservative government. A party that gave us austerity, Brexit, and an aggressive language of dehumanisation for immigrants, foreigners, the poor, disabled, homeless, and queer. And so much more.

I would very much like to turn another page today. To tell a new story, a different story. A more hopeful and loving story. For my daughter, for my wife, for me, for the people I love, and for millions of people I’ve never met but who deserve the dignity and joy denied them in the climate the last 14 years of Farage-poisoned Conservative rule has created.

We can choose to bring that kind of life into our reach.

An open letter about the open letter about homophobia

A currently running government and police campaign aims to address hate crime, and it’s getting lots of praise in my cosy liberal-progressive echo chamber. (I must add more soft furnishings!) And for good reason; it’s optimistic, inclusive, and has a message of love and tolerance.

There’s one line that rankles in one of the posters, though, and it’s a trope that is often used by GSRM people.

It’s “…because of who they love”. I know, and have been subjected to abuse by, homophobic people, and ‘love’ never enters into it. Their intolerance and fear and revulsion is not because of who we love but because of who we fuck. Picture it: a man stands up in a pub with his partner and declares “I love this man!” In a progressive city, he’s met either with polite indifference, or support. In a conservative city, awkwardness or hostility.

“I fuck this man!”? Very different. Even if it’s just because they know they risk vilification from progressives, conservatives and bigots tend not to fight about ‘love’, but they’ll fight about sex.

And I fear that GSRM people are being disingenuous, being all wide-eyed innocent, when we claim we’re discriminated against because of who we love. That may indeed be why we are, or it may at least be what it feels like for us, but I don’t think that’s why people feel licence to abuse us.

Love is noble and pure and good. Or at least, it’s complicated and disorientating and hard to define, which might actually just be what ‘noble and pure and good’ looks like from behind.

Sex is simpler. It’s not literally more visceral unless you’re into a kink I’m pleased to say up until this point it hadn’t occurred to me to imagine, but it’s certainly more animal. (That one we know about, by the way.) Our buttons are more easily pushed when it comes to sex, although most people counsel a little foreplay first.

GSRM people shouldn’t just be demanding respect from the cishet majority because we think they can just about stand non-heterosexual love being shoved down their throats.

Look, I’m getting silly, but there’s something here that seems important to me. Too often, society of all genders and sexual preferences use ‘love’ as a euphemism for ‘love and fucking’ because we think we can swing ‘love’ while hoping everyone else forget genitals will likely be involved. And that’s generally neither here nor there, but it bugs me a bit when GSRM people do it then feign outrage when cishet people crack their cunning code. How dare they? How dare they judge me for who I love?

I’m not saying they should be able to judge you for who you fuck either, to be clear, but this coyness, even deliberate dissembling about sex does nobody any favours.

If I’m going to be judged, let it be for the whole me, not some sanitised, saintly, de-sexed subset of me.

Trick-or-treating in another guise

Every year, I see and hear stories about the American import of trick-or-treating at Hallowe’en. The ones I’m thinking of roll their eyes and almost audibly tut at this, another example of good, wholesome Brits swallowing another vulgar American import.

I have decided that this year I shall allow myself to get annoyed at this, and it’s for two reasons. The first is: and so what? It’s fun, exciting, and gives a focus for activities as the weather worsens, and it may even prompt some interesting discussions about spirits and evil and death that could help kids process the world around them. Don’t be such a wet blanket; buy some fun size Mars bars, make the effort to be more neighbourly for one night, and get over yourself.

More prosaically, though, I think it’s a shame that these reports – which usually emanate from a media machine which ostensibly serves the UK yet is persistently England-centric – demonstrate how little the prevailing cultural narrative makes an effort to understand and include the whole country.

Scotland and Ireland have long had a Hallowe’en tradition of guising, going door to door in the neighbourhood in fancy dress; it’s a little different from trick-or-treating in that kids usually do a turn – tell a joke, sing a song, do a trick – before getting sweets or pennies, and the familiar pumpkin lantern is instead a hollowed-out turnip. And I know the turnip bit especially sounds quite funny – the kind of “what is like a pumpkin but more drab and dour?” fiction you’d write in translating a real-world American tradition to your novel which features a population that if not explicitly modelled on the Scots are definitely a bit Scot-ish – but there are records of guising from long before America existed.

I know too that I sound humourless and chippy, and this is hardly a pressing issue, but at a time when so many forces seem intent on dividing us, it’s sad both that the UK can still be snobbish about arriviste American traditions, and that neighbours who don’t even have the excuse of an ocean separating them can still know each other so little.

Driving each other crazy

If two cars reach an impasse in Britain, and one flashes its headlights to the other, it means “come on; I cede”. In France, it means “stay there; I’m going to push through”. Imagine the scene where a Brit in France or someone French in the UK gives or sees a flash and interprets it the wrong way, judged against the dominant convention in that place. There’s a crash, and both aggrieved parties leap out of their car, each thinking they’re in the right as they talk at each other, not only in a foreign language but from a completely different context.

Neither is right, neither is wrong; but both think both that they are right and the other is wrong, by sheer force of cultural conditioning. It’s not merely a question of perspectives, but of failing to realise that the lessons and values of your culture have been so subtly but fundamentally and perniciously codified into your worldview that you don’t think to ask if there could even be another perspective. What is this wanker doing? He flashed his lights for me to come on so I drove forward but then so did he and now there’s car on the ground and we’re both shouting at each other.

I think about this often.


I went to bed last night as Twitter was just starting to twitch with news of something happening around London Bridge, assuming that when I woke it would either have been jumbled mis-reporting or the latest in the capital’s history of terror attacks.

This morning, as we read and listened and reflected, my daughter was playing on some foam climbing blocks when she slightly overreached her balance and toppled slowly off, crying – mostly from surprise – when she hit the floor.

It is a trite point, but, curiously, a legitimate and profound one too, that ‘being safe’ doesn’t – rather, shouldn’t – mean that one must never come to physical or emotional harm; it means an environment wherein you are confident in exploring and playing and expressing yourself, knowing that if you overreach and come to harm, there is kindness, support and comfort.

‘Never coming to harm’ is a dangerous fiction, one that legitimises and excuses authoritarian behaviour and policies that actively damage those for whose lives you are responsible.

Name and shame

Vervet monkeys have a proto-language, a series of different calls they can make to warn the troop of a specific danger. The call for ‘eagle’, for example, triggers them to look up and to scamper for cover.

I’ve been thinking about the word ‘demagogue’, in light of the Brexit campaign and of Trump’s improbable rise. A demagogue is someone who builds power by appealing to emotions and prejudices rather than to reason, and it’s a word I knew but which had slipped from my mind.

As much as I find demagoguery distressing and worrisome, working as it does hand-in-glove with an unsettling and seemingly growing anti-intellectual rhetoric, I take comfort in the fact that we have a word for it. It says that, as a culture, we are on to you, sonny-jim. We recognise what you’re doing. We know its danger.

We might not all react in as sensible and predictable a way as the vervet monkeys do when one of their number shouts “Snake!” but at least we too have a word we can shout, because we’ve seen this slimy, venomous behaviour before.

Letter to my MP and MSPs following EU referendum

I voted in the EU referendum to remain, and the turmoil and ugliness that has followed in just the few days since the result was announced further strengthens my belief that an outward-looking, collaborative, humanitarian approach is the correct one.

Though born in Scotland, I was living in England when the Scottish referendum was held, but had I been able to vote I would have voted to remain a part of the UK – for basically the same, broadly federalist reasons. However we choose to move forward – with the Scottish government stymying a UK government that has chosen to listen to the referendum, in order to hold the UK and the EU together; with Scotland breaking up the union but quickly joining the EU; with chaos; or with another path I haven’t envisaged – what I hope for more dearly than anything is that when the dust settles I find myself living in a country which is characterised by compassion, respect and a cheery, hopeful confidence.

I ask that as we navigate the coming weeks and months you strive to maintain a high standard of debate, and, whatever route we chose, that the destination is one which is welcoming, progressive and kind.

Thank you for your time and for your service.

Letter to my MP regarding the Human Rights Act and Communications Data Bill

Dear Mr Howlett,

My congratulations on your election as MP for Bath. My politics diverge from your party’s – in some cases quite sharply – on many issues, but I’ve been given no reason to think you’re anything other than a good man and a hardworking public servant.

As one of your constituents, I would like to highlight my concerns with two national policy proposals from our new government.

The Conservatives’ plan to replace the Human Rights Act with the British Bill of Rights strikes me as being driven by dogmatic, ideological and even jingoistic objections to Europe rather than by pragmatic concerns, and I am deeply worried that recusing ourselves from a charter that spells out and protects self-evident truths both further isolates us from the rest of the global community and has the potential to expose vulnerable people to harm.

My second concern is with the Communications Data Bill. As someone who works in the technology field, I believe the proposed bill won’t – can’t – achieve its objectives, and that the costs to our society would be too high a price to pay even it did.

I’d be grateful if you’d outline your position on these two issues, and if you support the government’s proposals then I would like to hear your reasoning. If like me you oppose them then I look forward to cheering you on as you do so.

Yours sincerely,

Christopher Phin