In a low, dishonest decade, there was only one real high point: 2012. If the decade has been one of division, anger, hyperbole and hysteria, 2012 offered us a glimpse of a different way of doing things — a way to reconcile our history and our future, our diversity and our patriotism, our ambition and our compassion. I’m talking about the London Olympics. If there are answers to the political culture war that is eating our democracy, that is where we will find them.
You probably think I’m overdoing the value of a bit of sport and the dancing and pyrotechnics of the opening ceremony. I’m not. But let me first persuade you that the identity politics culture war is one of the biggest problems of our age. Then I’ll explain why those Olympics were a model solution.
Of course, politics and identity have always been intricately linked. For many voters, their choice of party is linked to their sense of who they are, be that a member of the working class, an entrepreneur, a public servant, or a revolutionary. The thing we now condemn as “identity politics” started somewhere better: it brought us civil rights, women’s liberation, gay rights, and with them a generational shift towards individual freedom of which we should all be proud. The Paralympic movement wouldn’t exist without this kind of identity politics, which fought to prove all kinds of human experience and endeavour have value.
But those triumphs come into question when celebrating your group’s identity morphs into rejecting other groups’ right to exist or make change. The same arguments that used to liberate historically oppressed groups are now being used by white power leaders and men’s’ rights activists to reverse those gains. This new kind of identity politics, which exists on the Left and the Right, is all about closing down debate and denying voice to anyone who isn’t like you. It denies the simple truth articulated most brilliantly by Jo Cox: that we have more things in common than things that divide us. And it makes it almost impossible to make progress as a nation, because everyone’s at war with everyone else, unable to trust each other.
Nations need a demos — a way of being together, under a common flag, with a common direction and identity — if they are to feel the sense of solidarity on which we build public services and the rule of law. In other words, we need to vaguely like each other if we’re to pay taxes, and follow rules, that benefit other people. Identity politics eats away at that sense that we all belong.
As Francis Fukuyama put it: “Democratic societies are fracturing into segments based on ever-narrower identities, threatening the possibility of deliberation and collective action by society as a whole. This is a road that leads only to state breakdown and, ultimately, failure.”
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