About a fortnight ago, a friend asked me how I felt about the rising torrent of racism and intolerance that has engulfed the UK in recent weeks. The answer is complicated.
We have all seen a renewed obsession with St. George's Cross, plastered across buildings, roads and houses across the country. Culminating in 'Unite the Kingdom', the largest far-right gathering in London, consisting of almost 150,000 people, flag-bearing has once again reignited the perennial immigration conversation.
"Scary, isn't it?", my friend asked. Indeed, lots has happened in the two weeks since to reinforce that feeling for anyone of colour in the UK. Yet, with an air of inevitable cynicism, I disagreed. "To be scared evokes a feeling of surprise, shock and anger. It's hard to feel that when it's been so the path has been built long before this month." Racism is entrenched within this country, and it's not just from the working-class. It's not just from those in power either. It resides within our psyche and it's something we need to unlearn.
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Perhaps it feels worse now, because the veil is slipping and flagrant racism is becoming more acceptable. The recent racially motivated sexual assault on a Sikh woman in the West Midlands is one example. And Youtuber Niko Omilana's undercover venture into Unite the Kingdom was an eye-opening but honestly mental insight into what many far-right protesters truly think.
But we cannot pretend that this is a new phenomenon. Nor can we pretend that racism is solely a class problem, something that only resides in uneducated, football hooligans or in those from deprived and politically-ignored towns.
Since I took an interest in politics ten years ago, we have seen countless examples of racism. They are all fuelled by divisive elites. Brexit was the silver bullet that would stop immigration, we were told, but it's had the opposite effect. It's architect, Nigel Farage, now conveniently ignores that, blaming successive governments for not clamping down on it. That same patriot Nigel Farage whose children get freedom of movement from their European passports that's denied to the rest of the country because of Brexit.
Farage's claim that Tory governments let immigration fester unchecked is dubious to say the least, when outwardly racist policy and rhetoric was their modus operandi for almost six years. Boris Johnson, Farage's anti-Brexit sidekick, labelled Muslim women in burkas as "letterboxes"... and was still allowed to become Prime Minister a year later. And before the most recent election, Rishi Sunak hung his hat on the most nonsensical policy ever seen, and tried to send immigrants to Rwanda.
Labour are complicit too. PM Starmer has rowed back on comments that echoed the fascist Enoch Powell's infamous Rivers of Blood speech, but that's all a little too late.
While we can point fingers at this hateful and futile political action, as a society we ought to look within, because it's our unconscious behaviours that do so much to bring this to the surface.
Part of the reason why I am not scared nor surprised by this uplift in racist protest and rhetoric is because this blog has repeatedly said the same thing: our capacity for empathy and introspection only goes so far, and racism festers as a result.
It was that way in 2017, when after a deadly shooting in Las Vegas, I reflected that we feel more hurt and pain when we hear stories and see pictures of people affected by tragic crises. It is still that way in recent weeks when half the Western world has finally sat up and took notice of political violence, after the murder of right-wing American personality and activist Charlie Kirk.
The outpouring of grief and sentiment that followed strikes a stark contrast to the ambivalence many have shown towards the internationally-sponsored genocide brutally orchestrated by Benjamin Netanyahu and the IDF over the last two years, with over 60,000 Palestinians - the majority civilians - targeted and murdered.
That Charlie Kirk's killing was so shocking despite two years of ethnic cleansing, broadcast live daily on our TV screens, underlines the point I made in 2017 - storytelling piques our attention in ways figures cannot. Mourners across social media pointed to the fact he "was a father, husband and a human being" to cite just one random example. Yet if our moral outrage extends so far for Kirk because of his humanity, we must be far more sad for the thousands of mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, sons and daughters killed in Gaza. And not just in Gaza. In Sudan. In Myanmar. In the Democratic Republic of Congo.
Incidentally, as Trump and the US use the murder to fuel their march towards fascism, right-wing politicians and activists have used Kirk's killing as a means of tone policing the liberals for their lack of empathy towards him. JD Vance suggested "we do not believe in political violence, but we do believe in civility", in martyring Kirk, sweeping aside his years of divisive and harmful rhetoric - for which he obviously did not deserve to be killed - that have consistently targeted minorities and encouraged damaging and consequential behaviour in America and beyond. Within this hyperbole, the hidden implication is that liberals must be better, rise above hatred and be more empathetic. It is a bizarre and dangerous line to expect more from some people than others, especially when cases of political violence in that country largely come from the right. There was no such rebuke when Melissa Hortman, an elected Democratic representative from Minnesota, and her husband, were shot in their home in June.
These political events also uncover the thinly-veiled, pervasive racism tinged throughout Western society. Compare media coverage and popular opinion of Russia's invasion of Ukraine, to the Israeli genocide in Palestine. Compare how the UK has welcomed almost 250,000 Ukrainians since the start of the 2022 war to the aforementioned anti-immigration policy.
Almost all of that policy and ensuing media furore centres around young men of colour invading our shores. Like it or not, this racist mentality stems deeply from colonialism. We characterise Africa and the Middle East as barbaric, lawless places, when in fact they pioneered aspects of modern society that underpin science and mathematics. The rapper Akala, in a debate with Tommy Robinson Steven Yaxley-Lennon (that's his real name), puts this more eloquently than I ever could.
While humanity has advanced to a peak of intellectualism, our tribal and animalistic traits still exist. We crave belonging and need to be part of a community. It's why we organise ourselves into countries and states - a collection of arbitrary borders and lines that determine culture, language and identity. And it's why we often understand the plights and struggles of people whose experiences match ours. And therefore why many people struggle empathise with people from different ethnicities, races, genders, socio-economic backgrounds, the list goes on.
Far too many times in this blog I have bemoaned problems like these, fuelling negativity and division that is so common when we look at the news or online. Now gives me an opportunity to flip that and use this platform in a different way. Over recent years, I feel so privileged to have met people from so many diverse backgrounds, and on a daily basis I am heartened and touched by people's small actions that restore my faith in humanity.
Many people of colour are exhausted from having to offer a bridge and bring people together in the face of renewed attacks that cut right to the core of their identity. So if you are white, do remember that. But also remember you have such a great power to engage and learn. Here's some brief thoughts on what we could do well to remember.
1. Have humility and self-awareness
In such divisive times, where elites and politicians look to spin narratives to pit us against each other, understanding our privileges is more important than ever. We must recognise that we exist in a society where no person treads their own path alone, and through no fault of our own, we all benefit in different ways. Understand that some people will know more than you about certain things, which presents you the chance to learn and accumulate knowledge.
2. Listen and validate experiences
We can only understand others if we listen and validate their experiences without judgement or emotion. Too often we are inclined to project our own views on what someone should/shouldn't feel, because we interpret their situation through the lens of our own deep-seated worldview.
3. Believe in humanity
It's something that goes missing these days, because we always assume the worst of other people, but people's good intentions usually far outweigh their bad ones. Think about the little things that people do for you, the ones that you may take for granted and be grateful for those. Everyone, whether a controversial right-wing political activist or an immigrant smuggled on an illegal boat, is capable of humanity.
We might have a limited capacity to feel empathetic, but none of this gives people a pass to spread hatred. Racism, both conscious and unconscious, is taught out of fear of the unknown and something we can all rail back against.
Above all though, as media and politicians cycle through the same reductive differences that have created the epidemic of racism, it is a reminder that behind each number, face, and story is a human being just like you and I.
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