Category: Politics

The Royal Family as Role Models?

Are we wrong to expect the Royal Family to be good role models? It’s a question that seems to surface every time a scandal or misstep finds its way into the headlines. The truth is, the Royal Family live in a strange tension between privilege and duty. They’re not elected, yet they represent the nation. They’re not ordinary citizens, yet they live under a scrutiny that few of us could bear.

It’s natural, then, that we expect them to embody qualities like dignity, integrity, service, and compassion. They’re woven into the fabric of our national identity, and many people look to them as symbols of continuity and moral steadiness in uncertain times. We want them to be a source of pride, an example of grace under pressure.

But perhaps the question isn’t whether we should expect them to be role models, but whether it’s realistic to expect them to always be so. After all, they’re human, flawed, complicated, sometimes wounded by the very system they were born into. When they fall short, their failings aren’t just personal; they’re public, dissected and amplified for the world to see.

Jesus once said, From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded (Luke 12:48). The Royals have indeed been given much (wealth, privilege, and a platform) but also responsibility, scrutiny, and the burden of expectation. So no, we’re not wrong to hope for goodness and humility in those who represent us. But maybe the true test of character isn’t perfection, it’s how they respond when they stumble.

Role models, after all, aren’t those who never fall. They’re the ones who get up again, a little wiser, a little kinder, and perhaps a little more human. Maybe, we all need to strive to be role models.

The Remembrance Poppy

Remembrance Sunday, observed on the second Sunday of November, remains a deeply significant day in the UK. A time to honour those who gave their lives in war, and to reflect on the cost of peace.

Its roots lie in the aftermath of the First World War, when Armistice Day on 11 November marked the end of the fighting in 1918.

Over time, as more conflicts followed, the nation’s focus broadened beyond that single war to remember all who have served, suffered, or died in the defence of freedom.

Today, Remembrance Sunday carries both solemnity and relevance. While the generation who fought in the world wars has largely passed, their legacy lives on in the freedoms and democracy we enjoy. The poppy, inspired by the resilient flowers that grew on the battlefields of Flanders, has become a living symbol of remembrance, its vivid red reminding us of sacrifice, courage, and hope renewed.

The two-minute silence and the Cenotaph ceremony remain powerful acts of collective memory and gratitude. Yet remembrance has also evolved, it now embraces not just soldiers of past wars, but those who’ve served in more recent conflicts, from the Falklands to Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as civilians caught up in the violence of war.

In our own time, when conflict still scars the world and peace often feels fragile, Remembrance Sunday invites reflection on humanity’s shared responsibility. It’s not about glorifying war, but about acknowledging sacrifice, seeking understanding, and recommitting ourselves to reconciliation.

Many find meaning in the words of Jesus, Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God (Matthew 5:9). In that spirit, Remembrance Sunday becomes not just an act of looking back, but a call to live differently – to value compassion, to work for peace, and to remember that remembrance itself is a moral choice: to never forget, and never cease striving for a world made whole.

Is the Monarchy in danger?

The British monarchy isn’t in immediate danger of collapse, but its stability feels shakier after the recent fall from grace of Andrew Mountbatten Windsor. Once Prince Andrew, Duke of York, he’s now been formally stripped of all royal titles, honours, and privileges by King Charles III.

The decision follows renewed scrutiny of his links to Jeffrey Epstein and fresh attention from Virginia Giuffre’s memoir, in which she repeats her allegations of sexual abuse, claims Andrew continues to deny. He’s also been told to vacate his longtime residence at Royal Lodge, Windsor Great Park, and will move to a smaller home on the Sandringham estate, supported by a private allowance from the King.

Such decisive action against a senior royal is almost unprecedented in modern times and shows how determined the King is to protect the monarchy’s credibility. Yet it also exposes the institution’s vulnerability. Public trust, especially among younger generations, is fragile, and every scandal chips away at the mystique that once shielded the Crown. For many, Andrew’s case reinforces the perception of an outdated system struggling to live by the standards the public expects.

Still, the monarchy endures through continuity, service, and symbolism. Charles’s measured reforms and the steadfast popularity of the Prince and Princess of Wales give the institution breathing room. But it must keep evolving, showing that no one is above accountability. If the Crown can embody integrity and relevance rather than privilege alone, it may yet sustain its place in a changing Britain.

Problems Facing the UK

Looking at the problems faced by the UK, they go back decades. Successive governments have failed to build enough affordable and social housing, leaving millions struggling with high rents, unstable tenancies, and the near-impossibility of buying a home. This housing shortage has rippled through society, deepening inequality and fuelling resentment, while local communities have borne the strain of overstretched services and eroded trust.

Short-termism in politics and policy has compounded these challenges. Decisions are too often driven by electoral cycles rather than long-term national interest, leading to underinvestment in infrastructure, public services, and skills. The austerity years that followed the 2008 financial crisis weakened essential institutions (local councils, the NHS, and social care) leaving them fragile and underfunded. Brexit added further disruption, introducing new trade barriers and labour shortages that continue to weigh on productivity and growth. Then came Covid, which exposed the fault lines of inequality and deepened the divide between those who could work from home and those who could not.

The result is a country at a crossroads, still rich in creativity, compassion, and potential, but held back by political timidity and a reluctance to face hard truths. We need leaders who will speak honestly about the scale of the challenge, who’ll resist the temptation to offer comforting illusions or populist slogans. Real recovery will demand patience, sacrifice, and a shared sense of purpose. As a nation, we must find the courage to swallow the hard medicine: investing in people and places that have been left behind, reforming systems that no longer serve us, and building for the future rather than merely managing decline. Easy answers are the language of denial; only truth, courage, and collective effort can begin to heal what’s broken.

Accountability Behind Palace Gates

In the twenty-first century, the monarchy can no longer exist behind a veil of mystery. The public deserves full transparency in every aspect of royal life that involves finance, property, business, and influence. This isn’t about hostility towards the institution, but about accountability in an age that demands openness from every other public body.

When taxpayers contribute to royal finances, when estates and properties are maintained with public funds, or when royal connections quietly shape political or economic outcomes, the public has a right to know.

True transparency doesn’t weaken the monarchy, it strengthens trust. In a democracy, secrecy breeds suspicion, while honesty builds legitimacy. The monarchy has long been a symbol of continuity and stability, but for it to remain relevant, it must also embody the values of fairness and integrity that define modern Britain. If the royal family’s wealth and dealings are beyond scrutiny, then they risk alienating a generation raised on equality, accountability, and truth.

Complete openness would also clarify where public responsibility ends and private privilege begins. Citizens should know what the Crown Estate contributes to the nation, what revenues are personal, and how influence is exercised – whether through patronage, lobbying, or quiet conversations with government. Transparency would not strip the monarchy of its dignity, but rather reveal whether that dignity is deserved.

The twenty-first century is no place for shadows and secrets. Every institution that serves the people must be answerable to them; and the monarchy, if it wishes to endure, must lead by example.

To remain a unifying force rather than a relic of entitlement, it should open its books, show its workings, and earn respect not through inherited status, but through integrity and honesty before the people it represents.

Arendt’s Warning for Today

This constant lying is not aimed at making the people believe a lie, but at ensuring that no one believes anything anymore. These words, often attributed to Hannah Arendt, are not a direct quotation but a paraphrase of her ideas on truth, lying, and totalitarian control. In her writings, particularly The Origins of Totalitarianism and Truth and Politics, Arendt explored how systematic falsehood corrodes a society’s moral and intellectual foundations, not by persuading people to believe lies, but by making them lose faith in the very concept of truth.

The quote sits beautifully within Arendt’s moral clarity about truth and human responsibility. She warned that when lies become routine and truth becomes relative, people lose their ability to distinguish between what’s real and what’s false, between what’s right and what’s wrong. Once that distinction collapses, judgement itself becomes impossible. In one of her interviews, she explained that when everyone is lied to constantly, the danger isn’t gullibility but cynicism; the sense that nothing can be trusted, that everything is manipulation. And in that condition, people become pliable, unable or unwilling to resist power, for they no longer believe anything can be truly known or changed.

Arendt understood that truth and freedom are intimately bound together. Truth-telling, even when inconvenient, is an act of resistance against domination, because it asserts that reality exists beyond propaganda or ideology. In contrast, lies, especially those repeated by authority, are tools for erasing that shared reality. When truth dissolves, conscience follows, when conscience fades, tyranny thrives.

Her insight feels startlingly relevant today, in an age where misinformation spreads faster than facts, and where many retreat into apathy rather than discernment. Arendt reminds us that truth isn’t a luxury of democracy but its foundation. To care about what’s true, and to keep judging rightly in a world that encourages confusion, is both a moral and political act of courage.

Aesthetic & Architectural Vandalism

By destroying the Rose Garden and demolishing the East Wing of the White House, Donald Trump has committed acts of aesthetic and architectural vandalism that go far beyond mere changes in landscaping or design.

The Rose Garden, once a serene space shaped by the elegance and restraint of Jackie Kennedy and the careful stewardship of generations that followed, symbolised continuity, grace, and democracy’s softer face. Its balance of tradition and simplicity reflected an understanding that beauty and symbolism matter in a place where history is made daily. To strip it bare, to erase its living memory for the sake of personal vanity or ideological imprint, is to disregard the cultural inheritance it represents.

The East Wing, too, has long stood as a vital part of the White House’s identity, both functional and symbolic: a space that housed the offices of the First Lady and staff who helped humanise the institution. To demolish it is to deny that softer, civic side of leadership, the one that serves the people rather than the ego.

Architecture carries meaning; it tells the story of a nation’s values through form, proportion, and grace. When that story is rewritten in the name of self-aggrandisement, something precious is lost; not only bricks and roses, but the quiet dignity that connects past to present. Trump’s interventions, rather than renewing an icon, have scarred it, revealing a profound disregard for the history, harmony, and humanity that such a space should embody.

The Cost of Political Apathy

Believing all politicians are as bad as each other empowers the worst, diminishes the best, and damages democracy. When cynicism takes hold, it creates a fog of apathy in which corruption thrives. Those who care least about truth or service often benefit most when people give up on believing that integrity in politics is even possible. It’s an abdication of responsibility disguised as realism. Of course, politics attracts flawed people, it always has, but so does every sphere of life. The difference is that in a democracy, citizens have the power to choose, to discern, and to hold their representatives accountable.

To say “they’re all the same” is to silence that responsibility. It’s a convenient shrug that excuses disengagement and hands power to those who’ll exploit it. Meanwhile, good, honest politicians, those who genuinely want to serve, are undermined by blanket distrust. They become targets of the same contempt that should be reserved for those who lie, cheat, or misuse authority.

Democracy depends on participation, on people who still care enough to ask questions, read manifestos, and vote with conscience rather than despair. It’s imperfect, slow, and sometimes infuriating, but it’s also one of the few systems that allows correction, renewal, and moral progress. The temptation to give up on politics altogether might feel cleansing, but it’s actually corrosive. To protect democracy, we must resist cynicism, reward integrity where we see it, and remember that hope itself is a political act.

Climate Change and Pollution

When it comes to climate change and pollution, we’re all hypocrites. There’s no inconsistency here, and that’s the point of the protests as I understand them. This is so bound up to our whole way of life that radical change is needed. As individuals we can only do so much, corporations and governments have to make the changes for the wellbeing of the planet.

Every one of us depends on systems that damage the environment, transport, food, technology, energy, even healthcare. It’s impossible to live in the modern world without leaving a carbon footprint, and yet we’re rightly alarmed by the damage being done. The hypocrisy isn’t moral failure; it’s a symptom of being trapped within a system that’s built on unsustainable foundations. Protesters aren’t pretending to be pure; they’re acknowledging the truth that we’re all implicated, but still calling for something better. They remind us that caring about the planet doesn’t require perfection; it requires persistence, honesty, and courage.

Recycling, eating less meat, or driving electric cars are valuable acts, but they’re not enough to counteract industries that pour billions of tonnes of carbon into the atmosphere each year. Systemic change demands bold political leadership and corporate accountability. Governments must legislate for cleaner energy, fairer trade, and sustainable agriculture. Corporations must stop externalising costs to the environment and start treating the planet as a partner, not a resource to exploit.

Humanity is capable of extraordinary cooperation when the stakes are high, and they couldn’t be higher than this. If we can face our shared hypocrisy with humility and hope, perhaps that’s where true change begins.

When Flags Eclipse the Cross

Christian nationalism is a dangerous distortion of both faith and politics. It arises when the message of Jesus is bound too tightly to national identity, power, and cultural dominance. The gospel ceases to be good news for all people and becomes instead a tool for exclusion, control, and fear. History offers painful reminders of what happens when Christianity is co-opted by nationalism: it becomes a flag to wave, a weapon to wield, and a mask to justify prejudice.

At its heart, Christian nationalism places the nation above the kingdom of God. Jesus taught that his kingdom is not of this world, yet Christian nationalism insists otherwise, often presenting one country or culture as uniquely chosen and blessed. This not only fosters pride and superiority, but it also blinds believers to the global and inclusive nature of God’s love. It narrows the expansive message of Christ into a political ideology, one that often resists humility, repentance, and compassion for outsiders.

The danger isn’t simply theoretical. Christian nationalism has been linked with hostility towards immigrants, resistance to racial justice, and the suppression of religious freedom for others. When Christianity is equated with patriotism, dissenting voices are silenced, and those who don’t conform are seen as enemies. The cross becomes overshadowed by the flag, and worship of God risks becoming entangled with loyalty to the state. In such an environment, the church loses its prophetic voice and instead baptises the status quo.

True Christianity should never seek dominance but should model service, reconciliation, and peace. As Paul reminds us in Philippians, “our citizenship is in heaven,” and it’s from there that we find our identity, not in earthly power structures. To resist Christian nationalism isn’t to reject one’s love of country, but to insist that no nation may claim divine supremacy. The kingdom of God is wider, deeper, and more just than any political project.

Christians are called to bear witness to a love that crosses borders, heals divisions, and refuses to be hijacked by ideology. To confuse God with nation is to risk idolatry, to follow Christ faithfully is to place love above power.