I was invited to speak at the Battle of Ideas on the subject of "courage in politics". The general theme was: how do we define courage and does the West still have it? Or are we a bunch of lily-livered wokesters? My talk seemed to go down well, so have published the text below...
Good afternoon. I'll open with the words of a great philosopher: "Courage isn't just a matter of not being frightened. It's being afraid and doing what you have to do anyway.”
Do you know who said that? Doctor Who. And not the modern, rubbish Doctor Who, which is basically Grange Hill in space, but Jon Pertwee, a Doctor Who watched, in the 1970s, by a generation of adults who had been through a war and, by and large, preferred not to talk about it.
I always admired my grandparents' education and erudition, but also their preference not to show it off. They had interiority. Their diaries were worth reading. By contrast, our generation talks ceaselessly - online and about ourselves, claiming that everything we do is some great act of courage, particularly the incredibly brave act of being ourselves.
In Iran, that is a dangerous thing to do. In Wimbledon, it is not.
All this vain chatter is a product of new technology, yes, but also a perversion of psychoanalysis, which was developed to help us cope with difficult feelings, like fear or anxiety, but nowadays tells us to wallow in them or even to act on them.
And this cult of weakness marinates in a perversion of Christianity - as documented by Friedrich Nietzshe. Christians worship Jesus, who is not a macho God, like Zeus, but a sacrificial victim. As time has gone by, the theological subtleties of this radical message have been lost, but Western culture has retained an instinct that to be weak is automatically to be right - hence to be offended, triggered, marginalised or, that holy of holies, oppressed is to attain visible sainthood.
Human beings are competitive creatures. If we are told that the best way to win is to lose, we'll all throw the towel in at the first opportunity.
But - but - this is not the natural order of mankind. History proves it. There was nothing special about the men and women who fought for Britain in the forties; on the contrary, some of them famously declared that they'd never do it only a few years before.
Everyday life proves it: I am quietly astonished at the bravery of women who give birth or people who take on the task of caring for a relative with dementia.
And what is happening abroad proves it. A few months ago, I went to Ukraine to write about the war. Lots of British people said to me "you must be awfully brave", and it made me feel like a fraud. I was reporting from a part of the country that was perfectly safe, in fact the most dangerous thing was the way Ukrainians drive - and I didn't like the idea that I would be admired for doing something that posed minimal risk.
The Telegraph wanted to send me in a bulletproof vest, but I was told I'd have to check it as extra luggage and I said, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to give EasyJet the extra cash.
No, the brave people are not English tourists who tweet about what they've seen and how they feel about, it's the Ukrainians who fight, or take their family to safety, or stay behind out of obligation or bloody-mindedness. One of the striking things about war is how life goes on around it. There I was, staying in a university, in the middle of a conflict - bombs and all - and kids were going to class, cooks were serving lunch.
There was trauma; like the obvious trauma my grandmother was left with following the Blitz. Such pain, such fear is not to be denied or suppressed, but acknowledged and respected. There is also, however, in Ukraine a quiet resilience.
What I'm saying is: despite a Western culture of self-obsession, there is an abundance of courage out there, if we only expand our definition and thus spot it. The courage of admitting that you have a problem and seeking help to change. The genuine Christian courage of surrendering your own comfort and ambitions to help others. Or the courage to defy society's definition of courage. After all, in the midst of a war, some of the bravest people are those who, on grounds of principle, refuse to fight and kill.
Thank you.
Battle of Ideas, London, October 16, 2022.
Good afternoon. I'll open with the words of a great philosopher: "Courage isn't just a matter of not being frightened. It's being afraid and doing what you have to do anyway.”
Do you know who said that? Doctor Who. And not the modern, rubbish Doctor Who, which is basically Grange Hill in space, but Jon Pertwee, a Doctor Who watched, in the 1970s, by a generation of adults who had been through a war and, by and large, preferred not to talk about it.
I always admired my grandparents' education and erudition, but also their preference not to show it off. They had interiority. Their diaries were worth reading. By contrast, our generation talks ceaselessly - online and about ourselves, claiming that everything we do is some great act of courage, particularly the incredibly brave act of being ourselves.
In Iran, that is a dangerous thing to do. In Wimbledon, it is not.
All this vain chatter is a product of new technology, yes, but also a perversion of psychoanalysis, which was developed to help us cope with difficult feelings, like fear or anxiety, but nowadays tells us to wallow in them or even to act on them.
And this cult of weakness marinates in a perversion of Christianity - as documented by Friedrich Nietzshe. Christians worship Jesus, who is not a macho God, like Zeus, but a sacrificial victim. As time has gone by, the theological subtleties of this radical message have been lost, but Western culture has retained an instinct that to be weak is automatically to be right - hence to be offended, triggered, marginalised or, that holy of holies, oppressed is to attain visible sainthood.
Human beings are competitive creatures. If we are told that the best way to win is to lose, we'll all throw the towel in at the first opportunity.
But - but - this is not the natural order of mankind. History proves it. There was nothing special about the men and women who fought for Britain in the forties; on the contrary, some of them famously declared that they'd never do it only a few years before.
Everyday life proves it: I am quietly astonished at the bravery of women who give birth or people who take on the task of caring for a relative with dementia.
And what is happening abroad proves it. A few months ago, I went to Ukraine to write about the war. Lots of British people said to me "you must be awfully brave", and it made me feel like a fraud. I was reporting from a part of the country that was perfectly safe, in fact the most dangerous thing was the way Ukrainians drive - and I didn't like the idea that I would be admired for doing something that posed minimal risk.
The Telegraph wanted to send me in a bulletproof vest, but I was told I'd have to check it as extra luggage and I said, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to give EasyJet the extra cash.
No, the brave people are not English tourists who tweet about what they've seen and how they feel about, it's the Ukrainians who fight, or take their family to safety, or stay behind out of obligation or bloody-mindedness. One of the striking things about war is how life goes on around it. There I was, staying in a university, in the middle of a conflict - bombs and all - and kids were going to class, cooks were serving lunch.
There was trauma; like the obvious trauma my grandmother was left with following the Blitz. Such pain, such fear is not to be denied or suppressed, but acknowledged and respected. There is also, however, in Ukraine a quiet resilience.
What I'm saying is: despite a Western culture of self-obsession, there is an abundance of courage out there, if we only expand our definition and thus spot it. The courage of admitting that you have a problem and seeking help to change. The genuine Christian courage of surrendering your own comfort and ambitions to help others. Or the courage to defy society's definition of courage. After all, in the midst of a war, some of the bravest people are those who, on grounds of principle, refuse to fight and kill.
Thank you.
Battle of Ideas, London, October 16, 2022.
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