Credit: Paul Embery

The last few years of politics have tested loyalties and fractured tribes; for many, it’s tempting to disengage altogether. We have asked contributors to remind us of why politics matters, by reflecting on their formative years. This series of political awakenings shows how family, feelings and unlikely accidents can shape a lifetime of politics…
I’m sure there must once have been a law passed which prohibited the citizens of Barking and Dagenham from voting anything other than Labour. It would explain why, when I was growing up in the borough, I never met anyone who did such a thing. Such people did exist apparently, but whichever party they voted for never achieved the merest modicum of electoral success locally. Every MP and local councillor in Barking and Dagenham wore a red rosette.
The place was a working class, blue-collar, industrial heartland. The sprawling Becontree estate, built in the 1920s and 30s, was the largest municipal housing estate in the world. Thousands of families, both sets of my grandparents among them, settled there after moving down the track from London’s East End. The Ford motor plant in Dagenham dominated the horizon.
We were the first family in our social circle to own a video recorder. My dad won it in a competition at work. I recall that he recorded the 1983 election night programme on it, and I can see him now, cursing at the TV the following morning when he replayed the tape and discovered the scale of Michael Foot’s annihilation by Margaret Thatcher. I was eight years old, but I understood then that we were Labour. It was tribal. The party was our party. It spoke for people like us.
Trade unions were on our side too. I knew that, because my dad told me he was something called a ‘shop steward’ at his depot, and my mum worked for the GMB. That was good enough for me.
It was natural that I should stand as the Labour candidate at the mock general election held at my secondary school in 1987. (I won by a landslide — though, frankly, it would have taken some effort to lose.)
Later, as life’s grotesque social and economic inequalities became apparent to me, it seemed obvious that the labour movement — the Labour Party and trade unions together — was the only force interested in tackling them. And I wanted to be a part of it.
This innate tribalism and sense of injustice motivated my 16-year-old self to organise (unsuccessfully) a wildcat strike at the supermarket where I stacked shelves, and later to rub up against every boss who sought to exploit work colleagues or failed to treat them with respect.
It was also what inspired me to join the Labour Party at 19 and plunge straight into activism with the Fire Brigades Union (FBU) when I became a firefighter three years later.
The FBU — a proud, powerful union — had its share of hardline activists, many from the ranks of the Communist Party, Socialist Workers’ Party and their fellow travellers. These activists always wielded far more influence than their numbers merited. I fell in with some of them and soon became that very dangerous thing — a person who is utterly certain in his own mind that he is right. Anyone who didn’t subscribe to my worldview, which was so obviously correct, was plainly an Inherently Bad Person. That — trust me on this — is how most radicals on the modern Left think.
I embraced the standard patter and slogans of the far-Left and used them relentlessly in debate. (I often smile when interlocutors use the same language to attack me today — often in a way that suggests they think I have never even heard such clichéd arguments before, never mind deployed them, and will be instantly converted by them.)
Around this time, Barking and Dagenham, then still my home, was experiencing a period of rapid and deep-seated transformation. The settled, stable, culturally homogenous place in which I had been born and raised was suddenly caught in the crosswinds of globalisation. Thousands of newcomers had arrived in the borough in a few very short years. Most were fundamentally decent, hard-working folk, but in a social and cultural sense they had little in common with those who had lived there for years.
Very quickly, Barking and Dagenham found itself in the eye of a storm of national debate over immigration. Local people felt bewildered and disorientated by the abrupt and far-reaching change to their community. Many simply upped sticks and departed. Streets in which neighbours had known each other and grown up together, which had buzzed with friendship and human interaction, were now places of loneliness and solitude in which people often lived parallel lives. The social solidarity and common cultural bonds that had sustained the community over generations were suddenly fracturing.
Not that any of this bothered me at the time. On the contrary, I welcomed it. This was liberal cosmopolitanism in all its vibrant glory. It was enlightened and progressive. All decent people embraced it, didn’t they?
Besides, it was the class war that mattered most, and the newcomers were working-class allies in the battle against capitalism. Who cared if a few reactionary locals were uneasy about this dramatic change to their community and traditional way of life? These bigots, with their stupid notions of place and belonging and cultural attachment, obviously lacked ‘class consciousness’. And why did they doggedly refuse to be won over by the argument that open borders meant improved GDP?
It was because of people like me — tin-eared, patronising, certain in their own moral rectitude — that the British National Party won 12 seats on Barking and Dagenham council at the local elections in 2006. It was the party’s best ever performance in an election. The citizens of the borough, angry and resentful at being ignored and insulted, used the only weapon they thought was left available to them. Abandoned by Labour, they turned to the far-Right.
It was only in the years afterwards, once I had taken the time to actually engage seriously with local people and listen to their concerns, rather than simply bombarding them with boilerplate rhetoric, that I began to understand how wrong I was, how wrong Labour was, and frankly how wrong much of the political establishment was, to dismiss the grievances of communities such as Barking and Dagenham so scornfully.
Here was a place of largely decent, tolerant people who would have been perfectly willing to accommodate a modest and manageable number of new arrivals without complaint, but which had instead been expected to accept fundamental social and cultural change, imposed at breakneck speed. And if they did quibble, they were called racist. No wonder they hit back.
The whole experience taught me that, contrary to what so many on the Left now seem to believe, it isn’t all about the economy or austerity or the class struggle. Of course no place can remain for ever unaltered, but if you are going to foist change upon hard-pressed working-class communities, you had better do it carefully. These places are often bound together organically through a culture of language, custom, solidarity, tradition and social mores passed down through generations. Violate that so casually, and you are inviting blowback.
I am still Labour to my bones. That’s why I argue night and day that the party — and indeed the wider Left — needs to urgently rethink its entire worldview if it is to maintain the support of its traditional base. If we keep force-feeding working-class voters a globalist, liberal cosmopolitan view of the world that fails to resonate with them, we are inviting electoral wipeout. And it would be thoroughly deserved.
Delivering a fairer, more equal economy — crucial though that is — is only half the battle. Millions are crying out for a return to a more rooted, patriotic, communitarian politics that respects their sense of belonging and seeks to build a nation of shared values and common bonds — one in which everyone, regardless of their background, should be encouraged to participate, and where communities are not simply abandoned to the forces of globalisation.
To this day, very few in mainstream politics are speaking for these voters. The lesson of Barking and Dagenham — and I learned it up close and personal — is that if you neglect a community for long enough, the quiet anger will soon become a roar. And the price to be paid will be a high one.
Join the discussion
Join like minded readers that support our journalism by becoming a paid subscriber
To join the discussion in the comments, become a paid subscriber.
Join like minded readers that support our journalism, read unlimited articles and enjoy other subscriber-only benefits.
SubscribeI am not a massive fan of taking the law into one’s own hands but this is one of the rare occasions when I think it is not only OK to do it but that it is absolutely the right thing to do. I can see not one single argument for the H of Bishops’ rule on this and many against. So go on, clergy, grow some, break the stupid law, get into your church ..or one of them, as so many clergy are in charge of several…and pray, sit, think, be with God, by yourself, because nothing will do you more good, your family and friends and neighbours and parishioners more good. I would say ‘what are the Bishops thinking ?’ Except that I fear they very often don’t think at all
The Church of England, our national church, should have insisted on remaining open all through the emergency as a point of principle; the government would have certainly acquiesced. After all, with the numbers of people who typically go into churches there would have been no problem with keeping people apart.
But the CoE couldn’t wait to get into full lockdown and this, unfortunately, illustrates the current state of a church which has ceased to believe in itself and does not believe its own message.
Do we look for the Resurrection of the dead, And the life of the world to come, or do we put our faith in social distancing? The CoE has made its decision.
Why should churches be different to anywhere else?
Because one of the functions of the Church is to provide consolation in times of crisis. Although a church building is not an absolute necessity, they are an established part of our social fabric and therefore offer people reassurance. An open church would also demonstrate that the CoE is with us alway, even unto the end of the world.
My concern is not with the article but with the implications of what it reports. These implications have been evident for too long.
The church, by which I mean the Christian faith, is nothing if it’s not supernatural. If it has nothing to say and prove in a time of crisis for the nation, then the doors should stay closed for ever. It is occupying beautiful buildings under false pretences. Unfortunately, what it says to the cameras from archbishops’ and bishops’ kitchens under the circumstances is immaterial, at least for the most part. If it only offers politics in a dog collar, accompanied by limp sermons which can’t be remembered by lunchtime on Sunday, then it most certainly is irrelevant.
One can be accused of being a fundamental Christian, but if one is not fundamental why bother to be a Christian at all? In fact, whatever label we attach to ourselves, if we don’t believe what the scriptures say, if we reason them away according to the diktats of the age, then it is doubtful we were ever Christ’s. What a pointless exercise and what a waste of a career elsewhere because it surely isn’t a calling.
The collective church seems not to really believe its creeds or confessions. It reasons that wine should not be offered at Eucharist to protect communicants from infection ““ as if any germ, bacteria or virus would last for a microsecond in the presence of the Blood of Christ consumed in faith with a tender heart. But then if clergy don’t preach the gospel and don’t really believe, it makes sense to ban the communal cup in favour of the superior nature and power of a pandemic.
At the danger of insulting the Bishops and clergy, there is the very alarming underlying concept (as expressed by Archbishop Welby and also, singing from the same hymn sheet, my local bishop when I protested about this policy) that the church is about people, not buildings. But for some of us, it is the other way round; our current church leadership lets us down sadly with its urge to pursue every modern trend, its adoption of the trendy, the abandonment (it often seems) of grace and faith and spirituality.
But the buildings stand signal as to the holiness of the church, peace, calm, a place to reflect and pray, a long lasting faithful congregation through the ages, that here the spirit has been present in good times and bad. Until now, when the Archbishop ordered the church doors locked against the faithful and retreated to the kitchen.
I am glad to see that Giles, like Marcus Walker and other priests, have not lost faith in the distinctive Christian voice.
‘Lack of confidence’ certainly covers the outward appearance of the C of E’s behaviour in this; but sadly I fear that the root cause lies much deeper, in an institutional lack of faith in its own mission. Too many of the heirarchy give the impression that they are mere administrators in fancy gowns, and their woeful leadership sows despair, not inspiration, within their congregations.
“… it [the church] has lost confidence in its own distinctive values, looking instead to the government to set the moral tone. ….”
What absurdity have we reached! This Prime Minister takes his morality from Ancient Rome – he has no affinity for Judeo-Christian values.
More tellingly, the CofE has lost its faith in God, offering a moral therapeutic deism rather than a call to repent and enter into the righteousness, joy and peace of Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the World.
Why does this discussion revolve almost exclusively around clergy? What, in the view of most people, are churches there for? To mark life’s great transitional moments, but also, though this may seldom be acknowledged, as a sign of the enduring presence and love of God. There are many people who may value them as a sacred space, somewhere to go and simply be in a space that has perhaps been prayed in for centuries, to experience consciously or unconsciously something of that prayer, to sigh and yearn and weep into that great presence. Churches should remain open for the people. Some may never have prayed, or felt the need to do so before. They need that sacred space. I think we could trust them to respect social distancing, especially if a polite sign at the door reminded them to do so, while also making them feel welcome. They are unlikely to turn up at any one church in droves. Time to get our priorities right.
Why do you HAVE to pray in a church? isn’t God supposed to be everywhere? What about pubs are landlords allowed to drink in the bar, even if they live on the premises? Why should there be separate rules for churches, or a church goers better than us?
Very interesting article.
Since the days of Lewis, Muggeridge and Barclay etc, Christianity has had no theology, meaning or intellect in this nation.
Basically, just collects old batteries for the ecoloons, puts former witches into diosceses , virtue signals for Channel 4 and fills boxes for food banks, not allowed to pray or even talk of Jesus
Anti Semitic supporters, hating Brexit and vilifying Trump. Who at least still has his mum’s bible and has read the Ojd Testament. And turns out to know it better than the Dalai Papa in Rome.
Of course, I feel for the old and lonely who had a connection with their parish church, and Welby’s rush to flee from the scene at the first wave of a white tissue was disgusting dereliction, cowardice and lazy. But they’ve said nothing since Temple, so Asia Bibby and those hounded out of the NHS for praying or wearing a cross know how effete, pathetic and irrelevant the church now is.
Hope it does like the Labour Party. Both long gone as any use.
So the C of E is having a lack of in its ‘values’ and is becoming nothing but a department of the secular state. Awww diddums. The C of E has been a department of state since Henry VIII went all heretic and dragged the Church out of Catholic Christendom. As for its values, I take it the piece actually means ‘Christianity’? You know the C-word other than Covid-19. Again it has not exactly been at the forefront of preaching the Gospel. It has become nothing but a SJW branch of social work. Sadly it looks like the Catholic Church is going down the same road under the Bergoglians, becoming less Christian (yes Catholics are Christians, and the very first), more subordinate to the secular powers, and don’t really believe in God, resurrection, salvation, Hell or even poor old Jesus, but Pachamama and Gaia they absolutely adore. The difference is that there are more Catholics who are still fully Catholic and Catholic clergy (from Cardinals down) beginning to fight back and ensuring the Catholic faithful have access to the Mass and the rosary. In a time of pandemic, where our mortality is in full view, where mankind stands stripped of its overbearing confidence, God begins.
“When bishops retire they get braver.”
Not just bishops! Retired medics like pathologist Dr. John Lee have proved refreshingly candid regarding the current Corona-Crisis. And amen re celebrating services in churches! If the Catholic Mass could be broadcast from the still-damaged Notre Dame cathedral in Paris, why not from, say, St. Paul’s, which famously defied and survived the Blitz?
I’m a Protestant in America. We also seemed to have succumbed in my church to the notion that meeting away from our physical buildings or campus is fine, short term, as we have also done with our public schools and universities. We conduct our lives from home. But not for much longer. The public is restless as cabin fever has taken a wearying toll on our civic life and especially on our personal, family, and work relationships. The state motto of Vermont, “Live Free or Die” is echoing in our collective consciousness, but for Christians there is our Lord’s mandate to, “Go into all the World and preach the Good News.”
We are not sure how much more of this lockdown we can take. Children need to run out and play with their friends in the sunshine and fresh air. The science now tells us the Swedish herd immunity model was best. Patience is a virtue, but so is going back to school and work, to worship services, and in actively reaching out and participating with others in maintaining a free society for ourselves and our children. When it comes right down to, do we allow God or the secular State to tell us what is “essential” activity? How do we, “Live Free or Die”, when going about our normal daily lives is viewed by many as being, dangerous and immoral?
Not to quibble but “Live Free or Die” is the state motto of New Hampshire. Vermont’s is “Freedom and Unity”.
This is beautiful
https://youtu.be/LvHQAVOwEDc
Can the ABC be impeached or something? I mean he is giving Satan a field day.
I joined the CoE when I lived in England — I ventured inside the Anglo-Catholic church across the street and was immediately at home. Back in the States, I became an Episcopalian. My parish and diocese are very liberal, but our priests, deacon, lectors, etc. are at least allowed by our Bishop to conduct Mass in the empty church, and we attend via Zoom.
We do get more attendees via Zoom than we usually had in person, but it’s not really the same. I feel the Spirit more when I say the Daily Office than I do during a Zoom service. And I miss taking communion and being with my fellow parishioners terribly.
I find it hard to believe that the CoE is forbidding priests to enter their church or to conduct services from their church. This is ridiculous! Like closing beaches and arresting surfers, which we are doing here in California.
However, rebellion is stirring. Folks have realized how power-mad and totalitarian our bureaucrats actually are — this has been very educational. When the dust settles and the numbers are added up, there will be a lot of people angry that we have trashed the economy with little to show for it.
Our national religion used to be the C of E, but now it’s the NHS.
If a kitchen is better than a cathedral, then presumably the next step is for the CofE to knock down all its churches. Think of the money they could make selling the land to developers!
Then would they stop begging off us when we have to pay to go into a cathedral?
If the church can’t survive without a building, it’s a very sad and irrelevant church indeed.
Exactly
As a committed Christ-Follower I have been in awe of the way that local church leaders have stepped into the community to serve and to lead. The oft-used anacronym WWJD applies – our church leaders are where it matters right now and – I believe – where they are supposed to be. I absolutely accept that for some the buildings are important but please let’s not squabble about that now…
As a busy full-time worker using all sorts of new online technologies to connect with others I have been struck by a new authenticity of communication that Covid-19 has created: people of all disciplines in their homes, no room for airs & graces, focussed on making a difference and getting stuff DONE. Sweeping away obstacles wherever they can.
Right there in the midst of it all is the church.
Hallelujah
Sadly the subject of this article is very much beside the point.
I don’t think 99.9% of the population will be concerned at all about whether their parish priest is able to access the church or not. What some might be interested in are the attempts of the priest to offer ministry using the online opportunities. For instance the zoom services I participate in are attracting more than the regular congregation. The potential for preaching the Gospel, teaching the Faith, involvement in worship, pastoral care and church growth is enormous as we look to the future.
I also think that rather than moaning about church building lockdown we clergy ( including retired bishops) would be better used in encouraging people to use this crisis as a time of reflection on mortality, our personal relationship with God, and the state of our nation which has lost its way largely because it has turned its back on Him.
I live next door to my church: I miss the bells, the choir,the singing the coffee mornings and Yes mass- and i wish it were open for private whatever, although it does tend to gather in others looking to sleep somewhere, and so on- but it is a very large church- I wonder how and when things will begin again.
However, I do take issue to some extent with the ‘kitchen’ (often the heart of many homes) having enjoyed ordinary bread and wine- in many a small and large kitchen, which gives an ‘ordinariness’ and every-day-ness to the celebration.
But I get the point.