Photo by David Knox on Unsplash
I’ve pretty much always been interested in politics. Yet even saying that out loud feels a little weird.
The last few years, I’ve actively gone out of my way to avoid political conversation. I got to the point that I believed that I’m better served being away from it. And yet, I’ve also come to realise that is a false narrative.
I may be spending less time at the coal face of political events, but the changes I’m making are relative. I am still far more connected to the world of politics than 99% of the population. I’m perhaps just not living and breathing it like I once did when I was younger.
My whole professional career has been in the space of politics and policy. I have a Master in EU politics. My University hobby was debating international affairs in Model UN conferences. I then worked in the UK government for nearly five years, then several years in Brussels on EU sustainability policy.
One of life’s great lessons is realising that a single subject is not meant to be all consuming. Our love and joy for a certain subject starts to fade, perhaps turning to fatigue and even disillusionment. But like the fabled hero’s journey, we can eventually return home, and remember why we cared about it in the first place.
No one could reasonably blame me for feeling burnt out with it all. On top of trying to understand what the hell is going on right now, my past lives were working as a UK civil servant during Brexit. The work was kafka-esque: the grand motivation was essentially to make a big messy thing slightly less bad.
Even before that, I was actually a trainee at the European Commission when the Brexit referendum vote happened. In one fell swoop any thoughts of a career in the European Institutions was cut short (not to mention other practical and emotional issues). I’m not sure a political vote will ever have as life changing effect on my as that one ever again.
But there are also practical reasons for political fatigue. The system is big and unwieldy. It can be hard to really shift big clunky things like government administrative systems. And in the last few years of my job in Brussels, I often questioned what difference I was really making. Whilst there were some good things we did, it often also felt like the goal became to justify my job role to our funders
But most fundamentally, I’ve realised how much my voice has been marginalised.
It’s hard to speak honestly when we are under an employment contract. It often prevents us from talking about genuine problems in our own sector. In some senses, I was blessed that my roles gave me more freedom than many others. Yet there comes a point where parroting company lines so uninspired, cliché and often hypocritical that it starts to grate against the soul.
One of my great career triumphs has been rising the ranks in a field which is very hard to break into. I got very good at playing the game – pushing where I can, but ultimately knowing that I’m not meant to really upset the system. My role was to uphold the status quo of complaining about the status quo. Talking about changing things is more important than actually changing them.
A key facet of navigating my career was dumbing myself down. One of my greatest gifts is my ability to reflect meaningful and understandable remarks on complex comments. Yet I learnt that this is not what I was meant to do. Certainly not in this system.
My role was instead to nod to the more senior, older white man (and increasingly white woman – yay for diversity!). My intellect could quickly be seen as a threat. It was too quick, too unconventional. Too radical. Diversity of thought sounds nice, until it means suggesting an idea different to those who get paid the most. I had to learn that what diversity really meant is pretending to not be too diverse.
I went to an event this week – Women Against Fascism at the Full Circle. I was purplexed when people actually appreciated me for giving my genuine thoughts. I was described as having a ‘brilliant’ mind. Imagine my confusion that they had considered me smart – did they not see the colour of my skin? The title of intellectual brilliance is usually only reserved for the tall white guy (with, in reality, quite mediocre comments. But did you see how good he looked in that sharp suit?).
I can certainly see the need for more freethinking commentary, and I’m happy to provide it too. Politics has become so organised, intellectualised and reactive that it’s become difficult just to participate from a place of simply wanting to do good in the world.
Yet I also realise that such an endeavour is also arguably a fool’s errand. By wanting to give more open and honest opinions, I am also potentially dooming myself to ostracisation and poverty. Indeed, I jokingly introduced myself at this event as a philosopher – which I then caveated as a polite way of saying I am unemployed. I’m certainly scared of running out of money. Whilst I don’t dream of a lavish lifestyle, I quite like having a bed and a roof over my head.
But I feel like I need to let life guide me in the direction its meant to. I’ve had an incredible amount of change over the last 12 months (and to be honest, the last few years), including some real low points.
Perhaps it’s just about having faith that this is what I’m meant to be doing. With time, and more people believing in me, it will get easier.