Light the Beacon of Hope

Declaration of a vision for peace

The Beacon Light by J M W Turner

With this faith we will go out and adjourn the counsel of despair and bring new light into the dark chambers of pessimism. We will rise from the fatigue of despair to the buoyancy of hope.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

In the end it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come, and when the sun shines out it will shine out the clearer… Folk in those stories kept going, because they were holding on to something. That there is some good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for.

J. R. R. Tolkien, Lord of the Rings

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The audio for this essay is also available as a podcast episode

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Dreaming of Blue Sky

Hello my friends. It’s been a long time since I wrote here. Almost a year and a half. Perhaps you don’t even remember subscribing.

One day, I may speak about what I have learned in this period of silence. But that is not my immediate reason for returning to writing. The trigger was Israel’s attack on Iran, something some of us saw coming years ago.

I first wrote about it here in July 2023, months before the Hamas attacks of October 7^th:

Netanyahu knows this is the moment of truth. He fears the US might strike a new diplomatic deal, which would provide cover for the Iranians as before. In his far right coalition, he has political allies who wouldn’t just support but might even salivate over a strike. Faced with destiny’s final call, I believe he will act.

Of course October 7^th provided Netanyahu with his overt excuse, one which I could never have anticipated. Beyond that, the dynamics I identified were right. And act he did.

It is not the first of my weather forecasts that has borne out. In February 2022, I wrote that Putin would undoubtedly invade Ukraine, which could lead to a Third World War and even nuclear conflict. At the time, most people were sceptical to put it politely. And yet here we are: nuclear threats are now a regular occurrence and we’re being told to stock up on tinned food.

I feel like a passenger on board a ship who knew storms were ahead, albeit far off. Helpless to influence our course, we steamed forward, oblivious. We’ve hit one, then another – but there are more in the making: financial crisis, ecological collapse, the rise of fascism, Taiwan… maybe even our very own civil war. Just a few years ago, such disasters seemed inconceivable. Now many of them seem unavoidable.

This time I want to tell you about something else, something different, that I have seen on the horizon, albeit again a great distance away. I hope that my record means you will take it seriously. For I can see the end of the storms, of these violent seas. Peace and the promise of blue skies.

No doubt that feels as unreal as my predictions of chaos did before. Even to me, the possibility we’ll make it there seems incredibly remote, almost impossible. Almost – but not quite.

Here’s the thing: the force that will decide our fate is you. Yes, you. Standing at the bus stop, or sitting on the toilet or staring at your screen in that hushed office. It all depends on you, and on me, on every one of us to shake off the torpor of apathy, banish the enchantment that says we are powerless and help create a movement that will steer us through the storms.

In this essay, I will show you a glimpse of what I think that movement looks like. Of course, we’re not going to solve the world’s problems in a few thousand words. But we can perhaps lay down the first brushstrokes of a new vision for our future.

At the Bottom of the Box

First, let’s check in. How do these words strike you? Optimistic, naïve – at best just empty rhetoric?

I wouldn’t be surprised; hope is so out of style. Just to speak of it is to be accused of spreading “hopium”, a drug to ease the pain on the road to inevitable disaster. That’s not where the cool kids are at, with their cultivated social-media cynicism and shallow swipe-won wisdom. Thanks to the internet, everyone thinks they know the truth, they’ve personally figured it out (and yes, I do recognise the irony that this essay might seem to fit the same mould!)

What’s perhaps surprising is that, whatever our personal vision of doom – whether it’s the climate or AI or the replacement of our population by a migrant horde – we often reach the same conclusion about our impotence; nothing can be done, it’s too late, the decisions are being made elsewhere; it’s out of our hands.

This tendency becomes personal for me over breakfast, bizarrely. It is a tough time and not only because of the ferocious tussles between my daughters (now aged four and two) over who will get the green bowl and who the yellow for their Weetabix.

It’s because as they sit there, bathed in the dawn’s light, full of passionate tears and joy over the simplest things, in the background the radio intones an endless cycle of atrocity, stupidity, disaster – coupled with our complete inability ever to meet it effectively.

Faced with the dissonance between their innocence and our annihilation of the world they will inherit, what can I do? What power do I have? Only turn the radio off. Stick my head in the sand.

Well, that’s not enough any longer. Having no hope is a luxury you simply cannot afford when you have children. Sure, I know what the science says and I know how the trends look and I despair of the state we find ourselves in too. But for my girls’ sake, I cannot just quietly accept that my only choice is to pour out the milk and put on the toast while we await the moment when the lottery of catastrophe picks us too.

I will bet that none of those willing to wait for collapse, or worse, wish for it to hurry up and get here, have any idea of what it’s actually like to live through. I have glimpsed the process in places like the Democratic Republic of Congo and Gaza (a decade before today’s annihilatory war) and Yemen and Syria. Those insights into the scorching reality make me determined to do everything in my power to protect my girls from it.

And those places also offer a source of solace that the radio rarely reports: the incredible capacity of human beings for kindness, courage, hope and humour in the face of horror. In the worst of times, I have witnessed the best of what we are capable of. That makes me believe in us, in human beings, in our power to ride out the storms and make it to a new land, together.

Finally, there’s something I know in the depths of my bones, a knowledge that can’t be gleaned from surfing the web: that there are things science cannot behold; deeper mysteries that we may have forgotten but which have not gone away, because they are fundamental to the oceans of life. I first started writing this Substack to highlight them.

The people who dwell in despair are severed from those mysteries; what we might call mythic ground. The mythic ground that says miracles can happen. That says even the worst of stories usually have a happy ending. That reminds us that hope always perseveres even if lost deep within Pandora’s box.

The Almost Impossible Alternative

So let’s stick with the metaphor of our society as a ship – hopefully not the Titanic – and imagine for a moment how we might better our chances of weathering the huge seas ahead.

First, look to the crew: the people with their hands on the wheel and engine, who are reading the maps and plotting our course – our politicians. Say no more, right? Though we might disagree on the reasons, whether it’s because they’re corrupt, idiotic, impotent or incompetent, surely everyone’s conclusion is the same: they cannot be trusted with our lives.

It’s not only the ones in power or just out of power but also those trying to capitalise on the current ineptitude, like Farage or Zack Polanski of the Green Party, making familiar promises, “Oh, we’ll be different. We’ll do this and that and then it’ll be calm seas and plain sailing”. I’m sure some of their lines are heartfelt and, of course, they are designed to appeal to one end of our spectrum or the other. But we have been here before, so many times. Einstein’s famous definition of madness.

Even our short memories know that the promised salvation never appears. In fact, things just carry on in much the old way or worse. The truth is that the ship is not easy to turn. Their promises cannot make the seas any less wild. And for all their heartfelt intentions, most of the crew just do not have the experience or the vision or they’re too susceptible to a backhander to do what’s right for the voyage.

But if not them, who else could possibly pilot the ship?

It’s simple: us. The passengers. The people ourselves.

After all, the ship was built for us. Sure, the owners just see it as a way to enrich themselves and everyone in first class. But it’s our money that pays for the thing to sail. And it would not exist if it were not for us; to get us where we’re going.

Think of the collective wisdom among us: people with experience of every kind of storm; who’ve been sailing ships all their lives, or who know how to swim in ice cold seas, or who have bold, innovative visions for our navigation. But as the ship currently runs, that energy and knowledge does not come to bear. Partly because our only influence is to elect a new crew every four years on the basis of their lies and our desperation. No wonder so few of us even bother to vote.

But there’s another obvious problem: instead of plotting our course together, we’re busy fighting on deck.

Your identity today is in part defined by who you choose to blame. It’s the fascists, it’s the woke, it’s the immigrants, it’s the bankers, it’s the Muslims, it’s the Christian fundamentalists, it’s the pro-Palestine lot, it’s the Israelis, it’s the experts, it’s the hippies. It’s always the other side and if only our side were in charge, the waves would miraculously part for our progress.

So in a sense beyond the jargon, the reasoned arguments and marshalled evidence presented by any and all sides, the answers share the same fundamental essence: they’re tribal. And just as every tribe’s conviction of their own rightness is unshakeable, so is their certainty in their enemy’s idiocy, inhumanity or even straight evil.

In truth, this can only lead to one thing: to war.

We may pray that war is only ever be fought with words and memes; but it is still war nonetheless: uncompromising, violent, merciless. Wars are rarely limited to words. The longer that conflict remains the way of life for our culture and society, the more we slide towards a point where our debates will be settled on the streets. Look at the riots last year, or the confrontations in America, or the rumours of the establishment’s fears of social breakdown. Our divisions will only become more dangerous as the storms blow harder and ever more is at stake.

Of course there is an alternative to all this: peace.

But peace would make demands on us that seem genuinely impossible in our times: to admit that our side might not have a monopoly on the truth; that everyone might have a need and a right to be heard; that instead of two armies locked in battle, we might be a choir in which every voice has an essential part.

I know how difficult that would be for me personally to admit. But in my heart, I know this is what we need if the horrors of war are to be avoided. We have to rediscover our capacity for empathy, understanding, openness. To see another’s point of view, no matter how abhorrent it may appear at first glance. We must find a way to talk and listen to each other again despite the depth of our differences, to tap into the vast common sense of our people as a whole and hammer out a course that we all can accept. That is real democracy and I still believe in it.

Believe me, as hard and unpalatable as this may appear, the alternative is far far worse.

Thankfully, a mechanism already exists through which we might actually be able to achieve all of that: Citizens’ Assemblies[1].

Power to the People

I’ll only offer the briefest outline of the mechanism[2], as you could write a whole book about it and plenty of people have. A Citizens’ Assembly applies the spirit of jury service to politics. A representative group of the people is selected. A significant divisive issue is chosen – the issue of legalising abortion in Ireland is a key example. As in a jury trial, expert witnesses are called to present different sides of the argument and possible policy approaches. All sides are given a fair hearing. The assembly then debates and agrees on the way forward.

Now of course, beyond this simplified portrait, there’s great complexity. Just as with any nascent idea, the form is in flux: a new planet being born from primordial elements.

Almost more important than the mechanics are the principles that these Assemblies embody: that we trust people; that everyone deserves respect, dignity and a right to be heard; that we can overcome our divisions through dialogue; that we can insulate our democracy from the corruption of money and media; that we can agree on a way forward together.

Those qualities mean that Citizens Assemblies have the power to craft decisions on the most divisive issues we face, from immigration to taxation to nature and climate change. When those decisions are made, because people trust the Assembly process, they enjoy a legitimacy of which most politicians can only dream. In this way, they become our way through the unbearable choices we have to make.

Don’t believe me? Read the Economist here, or the Guardian here, or listen to Mark Rylance here or Rory Stewart here - even William Hague here.

But if they are such an answer to our problems, why are they not everywhere already?

Again, it is quite simple: our crew, the politicians, don’t want them, because they mean the end of the system that gives them their power and and all the perks that go with it. So while they might occasionally whisper about them when they’re in their election-hour seduction, by the morning after, those promises are forgotten or denied (along with everything else). It’s no real surprise; turkeys don’t vote for Christmas.

There has been a lot of debate within the deliberative democracy movement (jargon for those pushing for Citizens Assemblies and similar systems change) about what to do about this. And, over-simplifying the discussions a little, many agree the best way forward is to develop Citizens Assemblies at grassroots and local level, slowly raising public awareness and support by demonstrating them in action.

Obviously there are lots of merits to this approach. But personally, I am not sure we have time for it to work. I think we should offer a different, faster pathway to the systems change we need, as the edge of the next storm may be closer than we think.

What is that faster pathway? The same one that there has always been for people confronted by a system that will not listen and will not change. We need to take power and make it happen ourselves.

We need a revolution.

The Constitution of Hope

Not like the revolution you may be thinking of. No bombs, no riots, no lists for retribution. This will be a democratic revolution, peaceful and bloodless.

For that, we need a new political party. One made up of ordinary people, that stands for all the people of this country. And yes, I really do mean all – white, Asian, black, the rich, the poor, the middle, old, young, Reform voters, Labour voters, Christians, Muslims, Jews, ravers, accountants, squaddies, brickies, traders, scientists, North, South, East, West. I can’t list them all but everyone, everyone, every single one of us.

That is what we - at present just a small group of committed people - intend to build. Our founding principle will be radical inclusivity. It goes with our name: We The People.

Our single aim will be for a democratic revolution in this country. So our platform is focused on one single policy: to use the power of the state to install Citizens’ Assemblies alongside every level of government from national on down. These Assemblies will tackle the issues that divide our communities at every scale, feeding through the people’s decisions to the politicians to execute.

So yes, politicians will still exist, except in a revised role as managers and technocrats (which most of them already are in all but name). Their role will be limited to keeping the ship ticking over and delivering on the course determined by the Citizens Assemblies. That leads to two other pillars of our platform.

First: that we will write a constitution for this country, the first written constitution that we have ever had. It will enshrine this new system so that it cannot be undone.

Second, that every politician on taking office must swear an oath that they will strive to their utmost ability to fulfil the will of the people expressed through the Citizens Assembly process – just as a witness swears to tell the whole truth in a jury trial, with legal consequences if they fail to do so.

Now in an essay largely about the impossible, this might be the point where you crack. Set up a new party? Allow everyone in? Try to win an election in four years? Time to lay off that mushroom tea, Ed.

But is it really so outlandish? People are already trying to bring Citizens Assemblies to life in their local communities or even on a national scale. New political parties are springing up on right and left to fill the void left by the inadequacies of the old party system. The difference is that I’m proposing we do not put our energy into creating just another new tribal faction; instead transcend tribalism itself.

Easily said, I know. Sometimes I’ll be sitting on the floor, and I haven’t slept more than three hours, and my youngest daughter is refusing to change her nappy, and my older daughter is in a huff because she can’t have chocolate for breakfast, and I was supposed to be in the office an hour ago and just getting these girls to nursery seems like mission impossible, let alone democratic revolution.

But there are other times. When I’ve finished reading their bedtime story – probably Cinderella, for the thousandth time. And they’ve fallen asleep and they lie there like little angels in the dark. At those times, I feel tears sting my eyes. As they’re stinging them now as I write this. Tears that say no. I will not accept that the lives of my girls will just be one long journey into night. I’m going to make sure they too have a chance to live happily ever after.

I truly believe that is the deep call to us, the grown-ups of these times, whether we have children of our own or not. The call to do the impossible. To do it together.

Light the Beacon

So far, this movement is no more than a handful of people with a hundred other commitments, though infinitely serious about the undertaking. The odds are stacked against us. So join us.

Here’s our first principle: since We The People is for everyone, everyone in the country will already be considered a member. The only choice is whether you’re an active or passive participant.

Anyone who wishes to work with the movement, will have to sign a declaration: that whatever their tribe, political affiliation, personal viewpoint or the policies they wish to see adopted, they will hold all of that secondary to securing this democratic revolution for us all.

It’s simple really: you sign up to put the needs of humanity first.

Here’s our second principle: come as you are. You don’t need to be anyone other than who you are, with your life, your views, your experience, your mistakes, your passions, your grief and your joy. Even politicians can sign up, as long as they sign the declaration. Bottom line: if you are committed to our principles, you are welcome.

Beyond that? Well, that’s why we need you. We need your help with dreaming, designing, organising, messaging, fundraising – even just spreading the word in your community that something new is coming. A beacon has been lit. Will you light your own?

Obviously, this movement may get nowhere. The pressures of life, the conditioning that we are powerless, there’s so many pitfalls in the path. But as I said at the start, I saw Iran coming, I saw Ukraine. And I’m telling you: war will come to us too unless we do something. That’s your motivation.

And won’t there be something beautiful in the fact that you tried? When your children ask what you did in the 2020s when the world was on fire and our fate hung in the balance, you fought for the future even though change seemed impossible.

As the mythologist Martin Shaw writes:

As individuals we may feel vulnerable and doubtful of our ability to change anything. The seemingly overwhelming images of disaster we are confronted with can freeze us like rabbits in the headlights… [but] I am reminded of someone at a conference asking the poet Gary Snyder why bother to save the planet. He replied with a grin. “Because it’s a matter of character and a matter of style!” Boudica would stand up. Arthur would stand up. Crazy Horse would stand up. Bridgit would stand up. Robin Hood would stand up.

You never know. If a few of us, or all of us stood up, perhaps extraordinary things would happen. For I believe people across the country are desperate for a new story. A positive one. Of peace. Of hope. Of unity.

Not so long ago, I stood having coffee and biscuits at my mother’s church, an ancient stone building lodged in a little clifftop village in Dorset. One of the octogenarian ladies from the choir struck up a conversation with me about the state of everything. After sadly shaking our heads, I asked what she thought came next. She firmly set her cup on her saucer and fixed me with a determined stare.

“Well there’ll just have to be a revolution dear.”

If she can see it, if she could believe in it, well maybe every one of us can.

Even you.

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[1] I’m using this term as that’s how they’re described in most of the public discourse. Overall, I am not fond of this description. The word “Citizen” seems exclusionary and “Assembly” reminds me of school. “Council of the People” sounds much more inclusive and dynamic to me.

[2] For those wanting a deeper dive try this or this or this.