Category: Politics

International Migrants Day

International Migrants Day is marked each year on 18 December, inviting us to pause and really see the people behind the word “migrant”. It was established by the United Nations to recognise the millions who live, work, study, and raise families away from the place they first called home, often carrying both hope and grief in the same suitcase. Some move by choice, others by necessity, many by a mixture of both, yet all share the experience of crossing boundaries, visible and invisible.

The day shines a light on the contributions migrants make to societies, economies, cultures, and communities, contributions that are too easily overlooked or reduced to statistics. It also draws attention to the realities many face, exploitation, dangerous journeys, separation from loved ones, and the quiet strain of never fully belonging. At its heart is a call to dignity, fairness, and compassion, reminding us that human rights don’t stop at borders.

International Migrants Day asks more than polite sympathy. It challenges us to listen carefully, to resist fear-driven narratives, and to remember that migration is as old as humanity itself. It’s a moment to recognise shared vulnerability and shared strength, and to choose hospitality over suspicion, solidarity over indifference.

Deluded and Deranged

The deluded and deranged occupant of the White House seems to be sinking to ever deeper lows with a wearying, monotonous regularity. Each day brings a new outrage, a fresh embarrassment, another moment that would once have been unthinkable from anyone entrusted with such power. Anyone with half a brain in America can see this, surely? This isn’t subtle or hidden behaviour, it’s played out in full view of the world, amplified by screens, platforms, and headlines that no longer shock because the bar has been dragged so low.

He’s debasing himself, the office of President, and America’s reputation in the world, well, what’s left of it. The dignity, restraint, and moral seriousness that the role demands have been replaced by bluster, grievance, and a constant hunger for attention. His infantile and narcissistic behaviour isn’t just distasteful, it’s dangerous. It corrodes trust, fuels division, and normalises cruelty. It emboldens the worst instincts in public life while silencing reasoned debate and thoughtful leadership.

The consequences aren’t abstract. This behaviour affects the whole world negatively, destabilising alliances, undermining democracy, and creating real harm. Lives are being damaged and destroyed at home and abroad, not by accident, but by recklessness and indifference.

And yet the most baffling question remains unanswered. Why is no one doing anything to remove him from office? The evidence isn’t hidden in dusty files or whispered corridors. It’s in plain sight, mounting every day, spoken, posted, recorded, and repeated. History will judge not only the man, but those who saw clearly and chose to look away.

Bent Bananas and Broken Truths

For decades before the Brexit referendum, much of the right-wing UK tabloid press presented the EU as a hostile, meddling force, not by accident but because it suited their politics, profits, and power. The EU represented shared rules, social protections, and limits on deregulation, all of which clashed with a free-market, low-regulation worldview. Brussels was distant, complex, and unfamiliar, making it an ideal target for caricature and distortion.

Sensational stories about “bent bananas”, bans on British traditions, or faceless bureaucrats dictating daily life were easy to understand and emotionally charged. They sold newspapers, drove outrage, and encouraged loyalty by framing readers as victims of an external enemy. The truth, that EU regulations were often co-designed by UK ministers and benefited consumers and workers, was far less clickable.

There were also clear political incentives. Successive governments found it convenient to blame the EU for unpopular decisions while quietly supporting those same policies in Brussels. Tabloid owners, some with global business interests, often favoured weakening EU rules and cultivated close relationships with politicians who shared that goal. Over time, myth became narrative, and narrative became identity.

Crucially, accountability was weak. Inaccurate stories were rarely corrected with equal prominence, and the EU itself was poor at explaining its role in plain, human terms. Journalists who challenged the myths were dismissed as elitist or unpatriotic. By the time of the referendum, decades of repetition had embedded a sense of grievance and mistrust so deeply that facts alone struggled to compete with emotion, nostalgia, and a carefully nurtured story of lost sovereignty.

Rejoining the EU Erasmus Scheme

It’s been announced today (Wednesday 17 December 2025) that the UK will be rejoining the EU Erasmus Scheme. This fantastic opportunity was stolen from our young people following a foolish Brexit decision and a disastrous deal.

Its return matters deeply because Erasmus is about far more than study placements or exchange terms. It opens doors to language learning, cultural understanding, friendship across borders, and the quiet confidence that comes from discovering you can belong in more than one place.

I saw this first-hand through my grown up daughter, Sarah, who benefited immensely from her time in Bologna. The experience shaped her academically, stretched her personally, and left her with friendships, memories, and a sense of Europe that no classroom alone could ever provide.

For countless students, particularly those from less privileged backgrounds, Erasmus was a first passport stamp, a first step beyond the familiar, and a powerful reminder that Europe isn’t an abstract idea but a shared human space. Rejoining sends a signal that we’re serious about investing in the next generation, trusting them to learn, travel, collaborate, and imagine bigger futures.

It won’t undo all the damage of Brexit, but it’s a meaningful act of repair, restoring opportunity, dignity, and hope where they were unnecessarily taken away.

Critique Power, Not People

Jews around the world are not responsible for the actions of the Israeli Government, just as people of any faith or ethnicity aren’t accountable for the decisions of a state that claims to act in their name. Judaism is a diverse global religion and culture, not a single political position, and Jewish communities hold a wide range of views about Israel, its leadership, and its policies.

To conflate Jewish identity with the actions of one government is both inaccurate and unjust, and it risks fuelling antisemitism by treating a whole people as a monolith. Political criticism, however strong or necessary, should be directed at those in power and at specific policies, not at ordinary people who share neither responsibility nor control. Upholding this distinction matters, because justice depends on fairness, clarity, and the refusal to blame the many for the choices of the few.

It isn’t antisemitic to criticise the Israeli government or its policies, just as it isn’t prejudiced to challenge any other state’s actions, provided the focus remains on decisions, laws, and leaders rather than on a people or a faith. Antisemitism targets Jews because they are Jews, while legitimate political criticism questions power and policy, and confusing the two silences necessary debate while doing nothing to protect Jewish communities from real hatred.

Holding this line clearly and carefully allows moral scrutiny without collective blame, solidarity without erasure, and disagreement without dehumanisation, so that our arguments aim towards dignity, safety, and peace for all. May that be our hope and our practice. Shalom.

Truth Twisting, Science Silenced

There’s a quiet but deeply troubling shift when official US government websites remove or rewrite scientific information about global warming. When the causes of climate change are presented as though they arise only from natural cycles, and when references to fossil fuels, rising emissions, or well-established impacts are deleted, something essential is lost. Science depends on clarity, transparency, and the willingness to face evidence even when it’s uncomfortable. When public institutions obscure that evidence, they weaken the trust people place in them and leave citizens less equipped to understand the world they live in.

These changes don’t alter the reality of global warming, but they make it harder for people to see the full picture. Without honest information, communities struggle to prepare for floods, heatwaves, and rising seas. Farmers, planners, schools, and local councils rely on accurate data to make decisions that shape people’s lives. Removing or downplaying that information doesn’t protect anyone; it simply masks the scale of the challenge.

There’s also a deeper danger here. When governments deny or distort science, they encourage a culture where facts become optional and evidence is treated as an inconvenience. That’s how societies drift downhill into ignorance. Once we start believing that inconvenient truths can be edited away, we create space for misinformation, mistrust, and division. Scientific understanding is one of humanity’s greatest achievements, a hard-won gift passed down through generations of curiosity and courage. To tamper with it for political comfort is to erode that gift.

We all deserve better, and the planet certainly does.

Keeping Christmas Truly Open

A carol service is an unconditional celebration of the love of God at Christmas; it’s a moment when music, scripture, and the soft glow of hope gather us into something far bigger than ourselves. I should know, because I’ve been organising them for years, although not in retirement. Those occasions always felt like an embrace. People arrived carrying the weight of the year, and somehow the familiar melodies, the gentle readings, and the story of a child born into vulnerability softened us all. There was no agenda except love, no priority except welcome, and no message except the astonishing truth that light still breaks into the world.

That’s why carol services must never be used for political purposes. They aren’t a platform to stir culture wars, promote nationalism, or draw battle lines between “us” and “them”. The moment you do that, the music stops being a gift and becomes a tool, and something holy is lost. Christmas speaks of peace on earth, goodwill to all, and that means everyone: neighbour, stranger, sceptic, seeker, and the person who disagrees with us completely.

A carol service is at its best when it gathers people without judgement, reminding us that divine love isn’t territorial, possessive, or partisan. It’s generous, surprising, and endlessly welcoming – and we honour it most when we let it stay that way.

Human Rights Day

Human rights aren’t abstract principles tucked away in treaties, they’re the everyday promise that every person is worthy of dignity, safety, and the chance to flourish. When we talk about rights, we’re really talking about people: children who deserve to learn without fear, women who deserve to walk home without being threatened, migrants who deserve compassion rather than suspicion, and communities who deserve to live without violence, exclusion, or silence. At its heart, human rights declare that no one is less than anyone else, and that simple truth still has the power to shake the world.

Yet we know how fragile that truth can be. In a world that often feels loud with anger and shrill with division, it’s easy to slip into cynicism, to shrug and say this is just how things are. But Human Rights Day nudges us to lift our heads, to notice the places where injustice still stalks the edges of our lives, and to realise that change begins not only with parliaments or courts, but with the way we choose to see one another. Every act of kindness, every moment of listening, every time we insist that someone’s story matters, we honour the promise made in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

It isn’t naïve to believe in this promise. It’s brave. It’s necessary. And it’s deeply hopeful. Because whenever we stand up for someone else’s dignity, we strengthen our own. Whenever we refuse to look away, we help build a world that’s gentler, fairer, and more human. On this day, and every day, we can choose that world, and it starts with how we treat the person right in front of us.

When Alliances Start Shifting

There’s a growing uneasiness across Europe right now, and it’s hard to shake the feeling that we’re being pulled into a darker, colder season. Putin’s behaviour makes it painfully clear that he has no real interest in peace with Ukraine; his actions speak of expansion, intimidation, and a calculated willingness to let suffering drag on. That alone casts an unsettling shadow over the whole region, reminding us that the peace we often take for granted is far more fragile than we’d like to believe.

Adding to that tension is Trump’s strange admiration for Putin, which seems to outshine his regard for Zelensky. It’s bewildering to watch a democratic figure praise an autocrat more readily than a leader defending his people from invasion. It deepens the instability, almost as if the moral compass of global leadership is spinning in odd and unpredictable ways.

What troubles me even more is the sense that the United States is drifting from its long-held partnership with Europe. For decades, that bond has been a pillar of democratic security, a reassuring constant in turbulent times. To see cracks widening now, when unity matters more than ever, feels like watching a bridge we depend on start to sway in the wind.

Altogether it paints a bleak, uneasy outlook, one filled with shifting loyalties and fading certainties. Yet even in this confusion, there’s still a stubborn hope that democracies can hold firm if we choose solidarity over cynicism, and courage over complacency.

Christmas Love not Nationalism

Christmas should be one of the gentlest moments in our shared cultural life, a season of light breaking into darkness, of compassion stretching itself wide enough to hold everyone. Yet in recent years, it’s been unsettling to watch Christian nationalists try to hijack it. They frame Christmas as a symbol of cultural supremacy, a line in the sand, a test of loyalty to a particular version of identity. It turns something soft into something sharp, something generous into something guarded, and it jars with the spirit of the season.

Because at its heart, Christmas has never been about drawing boundaries. It’s about hospitality, humility, and a love that refuses to stay small or confined. It tells a story of welcome that begins on the margins, in obscurity, in vulnerability. When people attempt to pull Christmas into a narrative of exclusion or cultural fear, they aren’t defending it, they’re distorting it. They miss the quiet courage of the story, the way it invites us to see strangers as neighbours and neighbours as cherished parts of a shared human family.

The good news is that Christmas still holds its shape. It keeps nudging us toward kindness, solidarity, and the courage to imagine a broader, softer way of being together. And no matter how loudly others try to claim it as a weapon in a culture war, it keeps slipping through their fingers, returning again to warmth, generosity, and the beautifully simple call to make room for one another.