Reviewed Fergus Whelan’s book, May Tyrants Tremble: The Life of William Drennan, 1754-1820, for the Irish Times. An ode to late 18th century Belfast and a slightly awkward but trail blazing United Irishman.
The full review is available in the Irish Times.
I spent last night watching the election with my da. As is customary, we allowed ourselves to hope for a decent Labour result, and were then crushed by the 10pm exit poll. We’ve been doing this on and off since Kinnock. We know how it goes. But the scale of defeat this time was breathtaking.
Rather than going to bed in despair, we decided to wait up for North Down – Northern Ireland’s first result. Stephen Farry was close they said. It turned out he was more than close. He won a majority of nearly 3,000 over the DUP, exceeding that of Sylvia Hermon.
That was the first spike of adrenaline. It was soon followed by reports of stonking majorities for Claire Hanna in South Belfast, Colum Eastwood in Foyle and the chance that John Finucane would flip North Belfast. All came to pass.
Alliance were making breakthroughs left, right and centre. Pun intended. Not quite enough for Naomi Long in East Belfast, who narrowly missed out, probably because the DUP’s Gavin Robinson is a pretty nice guy.
This election sent a very clear message to the DUP. Their Brexit strategy, such as it was, has spectacularly misfired. While they only lost two seats, huge majorities across Northern Ireland plummeted. The red white and blue wall is now seriously under pressure.
Despite retaining seven seats, Sinn Féin will not be feeling comfortable either. Abstentionism, while ideologically understandable, has become awkward to sell in practice.
For both parties, the lack of Stormont has become untenable. The public’s apathy at our stasis has now turned into desperation, anger and a genuine willingness to think and vote differently.
This is where the crack of light comes in. This election campaign was down and dirty in parts. It got personal. Some tried to harness fear to get the vote out. It was, on occasion, tinged with the vague threat of future violence. Directed against whom, god only knows.
But amidst this dirge, something was rising above. Candidates were genuinely thinking about how to appeal beyond their tribe. Unlikely relationships emerged. Parties stood aside. Different issues were prioritised. Primarily Brexit, but also the NHS. Around kitchen tables, conversations started to change. A lot of people questioned boundaries within themselves, and many were surprised by the answers.
The penny was beginning to drop that if we do the same thing, we get the same thing. And there’s barely a soul left in the north who wants to go on like this.
These new dynamics were reflected back to us by the new MPs. Claire Hanna mused on Talkback today that while some might see her win as simply a gain for nationalism, she sees it as an authentically cross-community effort. Stephen Farry noted the impact of the Green Party and others standing aside in North Down. Similarly John Finucane explicitly recognised the diverse nature of his support, and pledged to live up to the challenge.
The DUP have cast this cooperation as a pan-nationalist front. But this is not what it is. Remain, left, liberal and green people were actively casting around for a unionist candidate to root for. Sylvia Hermon could have been that unionist. If David Ervine was still with us, or if Dawn Purvis was still in politics, waves of support would have come their way. But the UUP called Brexit too late. Their liberal left hand didn’t know what the conservative right hand was doing. And in the end, they failed to convince. Nonetheless, liberal, left and Remain type unionists are a vital part of this new progressive turn, albeit forced to seek representation through different parties this time around.
And so, this election may be a turning point for us. I don’t remember a time where people in Northern Ireland have voted so flexibly. There was genuine movement across traditional communal lines, a genuine focus on bigger issues. The construct of orange and green is making less sense by the day.
But we also awakened to some starker realities.
The regions of the UK have fractured. England wants to get Brexit done. It has veered to the right, again. In a time of climate emergency and the breakdown of the welfare state, the English chose Johnson. A fridge-hiding strongman. A representation of everything careless and elitist.
Scotland wants something different. The SNP’s strong performance brings Indy2 right back to the table. Scotland may now choose to reorient its politics to European and Nordic axes rather than Anglo-American.
While discussion about a new Ireland is already happening here, Scottish independence would be an existential crisis for northern unionists and indeed the non-aligned. In Matthew O’Toole‘s words ‘ it is hard to see how Northern Ireland’s union with Britain can survive the end of Scotland’s’.
Of course Johnson may not want to concede another independence referendum. But it seems certain that, one way or another, Scotland will not be able to tolerate indefinite Tories.
And neither can we.
Another crack of light is that there have been many things that unite us lately, across the whole of Northern Ireland.
We do not like land or sea borders. We do not trust the Tories. Most English people are disinterested in us. Many English nationalists would actively like to get rid of Northern Ireland. Brexit is happening. We have been kicked out of bed, and nobody should gloat because this affects us all. But it is what it is, and the fragility of the union can no longer be ignored.
What also emerged in this election is how highly we value our public services. The NHS was one of the most talked about issues in Northern Ireland. We care about our nurses. Everyone now loves someone on a spiralling waiting list. We may not want to follow the path that England is now set to take. We may also want a better system than the Republic of Ireland. Whatever our constitutional preferences, we cannot gloss over this truth.
This election has also confirmed that we are weary with violence. Genuine unionist concerns about Brexit manifested themselves in some unsettling ways throughout the election. Whilst rightly wanting to include loyalists in the conversation, the narrative of a small minority was not challenged rigorously enough. This backfired for the DUP, who seemed uncomfortable at times, but who did not provide a strong counter-narrative. Threatening banners and aggressive literature galvanised people to vote the other way.
Zooming out, our attitude to climate emergency has also shifted. Parties tripped over themselves to prove their green credentials. As Clare Bailey says, ‘a new Ireland is coming – her name is climate change.’ While the Green Party may have stood aside tactically in some seats for this election, their message was not far from people’s thoughts. And ironically, as we try to cope with the challenges of environmental breakdown over coming years, it may help focus minds on the future. You cannot mop up a flood with a flag.
This is not a Pollyanna hot take on why it’ll all be ok. Nothing is ok, and there will probably be chaos. But it is a statement of fact that the politics of the past here cannot hold. Those who rely on it cannot ultimately succeed. Those who tried new things in this election were rewarded. We need to come to a deep and profound realisation that – because of England’s Brexit – nothing in Northern Ireland can ever be the same again.
Originally published on Slugger O’Toole on Friday 13th December 2019
There has never been so much consensus in Northern Ireland. There has never been so much discord.
The guy who cuts our trees thinks we’re Catholic, as we send our kids to the local Catholic school. We’re not (we’re Lundies). We think he’s Protestant, because of his name and the fact that we live in majority Protestant area. Last week, I was surprised to hear my husband drop a ‘Londonderry’ into the conversation – I assume to make the tree guy comfortable. And the tree guy comes back with a sentence containing five ‘Derrys’ – quite an achievement – to signal back that all is well.
This is Northern Ireland to me. The gentle, intricate and generous negotiation of difference. Using language, humour, silence – or whatever we need – to navigate the situation. Most of us do this on a daily basis. We’re pretty good at it.
But yet it’s been a long, damp summer of foul-temper in the north. To be expected perhaps, with the chaotic unknown of Brexit circling, and a local political vacuum.
It often feels like we’re on the verge of something leery. Settled parades are becoming contentious. Flags are tripling in size (where do you even get those?). Dissidents are stirring. The PSNI are struggling to police. Politicians are lobbing around loose lipped barbs and audibly sighing in frustration at each other’s points of pain.
On Facebook, Twitter and the Nolan show, there’s been little kindness or mutual respect. Being the school holidays, I’ve been making a lot of slime and lego models, and have found it impossible to keep up with the outrage du jour. But there’s a feeling of high anxiety in the air.
There are many reasons to hope that a return to violence is not the case. But it’s also not something to be dismissed when some of our most astute security correspondents are sounding concerned.
Allison Morris tweeted on 13th August 2019, “I despair at what is to become of this place, we had peace and squandered it, took it for granted and are now ripping it and each other apart - if something drastic isn't done to stop the slide we are heading in a very dark direction.”
Allison is usually right. She’s typically a calm player-down of tension, able to put things in context. It’s deeply worrying that this is what she’s picking up on the ground.
Ben Kelly captures the mood well in his article “Northern Ireland is already spiralling out of control but no one is paying attention.” He points out the string of security incidents over recent weeks and the complete lack of wider British interest. He is also spot on about the sicky feeling in many of our stomachs.
Meanwhile, however, there’s another story happening in Northern Ireland. A quiet stacking up of things that there’s a lot of agreement about.
In no particular order:
Identities are becoming more flexible. 50% people now see themselves as “neither” unionist or nationalist (NILTS 2018). Although people may ultimately have a constitutional preference, people are conveying an unprecedented political openness. This already being reflected in voting patterns, as demonstrated in the 2019 local and European elections with the rise of non-traditional parties.
The idea of two ‘tribes’ or ‘communities’ in Northern Ireland has always been pretty contrived, due to mixing and, you know, nuance. But if we are to persist in using these terms, surely the Others and neithers are now a third tribe. All of which overlap, and all of which contain newcomers who wouldn’t know Carson from Collins.
Young people are quite relaxed about traditional identifications and constitutional issues. In Naomi O’Leary’s words, the “swingiest swingy voters on Brexit and the constitutional status of Northern Ireland are the young… These are the real ‘you can’t eat a flag’ pragmatists.”
Naomi was referring to LucidTalk’s December 2018 tracker poll which asked people what their constitutional preference would be if there was a ‘no deal’ Brexit. Amongst 18-24 year olds, 37% said they were certain that they would prefer to stay in the UK if there was no deal, while 55% were certain they would prefer to join a united Ireland in this scenario. But if Brexit weren’t to happen, 72% of 18-24s said they were certain they’d prefer to stay in the union, and only 20% were certain about unity. These are massive swings, telling us just how politically flexible young people are.
In short, the future is bright. But it’s not necessarily orange, or green. Presuming we can find some jobs for these people to stick around, and don’t drive them away with our bitterness.
The last few years have also seen a significant debate on constitutional options for Northern Ireland open up. It’s not been easy, but conversations about how we imagine the future are now taking place. These are often practical discussions, with a focus on the economy, health, the accommodation of difference. And they are light-years away from the orange and green trenches of old.
We also mostly agree that London is making a dog’s dinner out of Brexit – 82.6% of us according to LucidTalk’s poll of August 2019. Even 60% of DUP supporters and 82% of UUP supporters think so. There is a long held view, amongst nationalists, others and many unionists that England does not understand the people or politics of Northern Ireland. And we certainly all agree that Karen Bradley could not organise a piss up at a garden party. We nearly all still want a peaceful open border on the island of Ireland, although clearly differ in our analyses of what this means in practice.
Importantly, there is a huge consensus that active paramilitary gangs are not wanted. 2019 has seen ordinary people stand up to dissident republicans in Derry, and the UVF in East Belfast, at considerable personal risk. While paramilitaries are certainly agitating at the moment, Sinn Féin are attempting to keep the dissidents in check, while community workers, the PUP and ex-combatant groups are attempting to do the same for loyalists. Albeit, in both cases, with mixed success.
According to PSNI data, in the year up until 31st March 2019 (just after the first Brexit deadline) security related incidents – bombs, shootings, killings, punishment attacks – were actually at the same level or down on previous years. There is no data yet released for the last 5 months. But it’s interesting to note that – so far – the tension on the ground here is not resulting in a spike in violence.
Yet.
Meanwhile in workplaces throughout the north, people of all tribes work pretty unproblematically side by side. Social housing is still deeply segregated. And schools are not really becoming more integrated. But Shared Education, for all its flaws, is making an impact. My kids’ Catholic school was a giant poppy fest this year, as they studied the world wars. The PSNI visited when the topic was “people who help us.” People of different backgrounds are more likely to meet each other, be friends, fall in love, than ever before.
One thing the vast majority of people seem to agree on is that it is not healthy to have no government. All political parties are calling for the restoration for Stormont, albeit on different terms. While we wait, we’re missing out on vital changes of legislation, funding and salary increases that are taking place in the rest of the UK. We are also falling far behind the pace of economic and social change in the Republic of Ireland.
A lesser talked about fact, is that most people in Northern Ireland agree that it is long past time to liberalise our laws on equal marriage, abortion and a range of other social issues. 89% of the population of Northern Ireland now agree that abortion should be decriminalised, and 71% support a women’s right to choose more generally, while only 16% do not support it (NILTS 2018). 68% agree there should be equal marriage, while only 24% disagree (NILTS 2018).
Equal marriage and abortion provision will be implemented in January 2020 and March 2020 respectively, if the Assembly is not functioning by 21st October 2019. These issues have essentially been taken out of the DUP’s hands by Westminster, thanks to Stella Creasy and Conor McGinn. Should an Irish Language Act find a similar sponsor in Westminster, all the better.
Signs of class unity are also sprouting shoots. The Harland & Wolff workersshouting ‘Save our Shipyard’ in Irish, with Acht Anois campaigners by their side, sent a powerful signal. Because we are not just dealing with the narcissism of our own minor differences in Northern Ireland. We’re in the throes of late stage capitalism. With welfare mitigations coming to an end here, and Brexit set to shake the economy, relationships between workers and unions have never been so important.
So what’s the answer then? Is Northern Ireland spiralling out of control or not?
No and yes, of course. To rob a phrase from Tyler McNally, we’re in between worlds, and monsters co-exist with advancements.
Sometimes it definitely feels like a spiral. Community relationships are under serious strain. Violence feels close to the surface. Eamon Phoenix on Talkback recently described Northern Ireland after partition as having a “sullen peace.” Today the north feels both sullen and quick to anger. Especially for those with anonymous Twitter accounts.
All the data tells us that we are a very different society to 1969 though, with huge changes in social attitudes, identities and mixing. And it doesn’t feel like there is residual support for violence amongst any section of the population.
But nor does it feel right to have a peppy conclusion. A careless, self-interested Westminster, deep structural inequalities and a small number of people snapping have set the place ablaze before. Of course it can happen again. A no deal Brexit would be sure to set off some kind of chain reaction. How bad, we don’t know.
While the PSNI data shows that security related crimes are not – yet – increasing, it shows that other crimes are. Drug offences, for example. Also sexual offences. Cruelty to children has increased. As has online harassment.
How many people do you know that are struggling with their mental health? How many can’t get access to the healthcare they need? On 21st August the Andersonstown News tweeted that there had been 15 suicides in the previous 10 days in Belfast. And where is the outrage?
This makes me wonder if Northern Ireland is spiralling. But not in the way we might think.
Maybe the malaise we are diagnosing as tribal may be more universal to life in late stage capitalism. Maybe the only names we know for it are orange and green. Maybe continual media framing of our ‘opposing views’ amplifies one problem and ignores the others. Maybe the cuts run much deeper.
We are certainly not alone in our falling apart. Look at the world. But our old wounds open up so easily. We know just how to hurt each other when we feel angry or afraid. The words come so readily. On this day. Never forget.
But the increasing inequalities of late capitalism and coming environmental collapse will be difficult enough to cope with without a sectarian conflict layered on top. Whatever the outcome of Brexit and our constitutional future, it would be unwise to drag our green and orange chains along with us. They are slowing us down badly in a context of accelerated global change.
It’s hard to engage with the future in a political vacuum. We need to stay focussed. Continue to navigate our differences with generosity and humour. To ramp up pressure on our politicians to locate their leadership skills (although they are welcome to wait until October 22nd). We need the local media to stop amplifying sectarian tensions. We need to get our shit together before – to misquote my favourite Sunday School song – the rains come down and the floods come up, and the walls come tumbling down.
Originally published on Slugger O’Toole on 25th August 2019.
‘You have to have hope,’ my friend always tells me.
Usually this is after I’ve been outlining the likely facts of my children’s future, on account of our great leaders trashing the planet and laughing all the way to the bank.
‘You can’t live like that though, you have to have hope,’ she says.
I like Frankie Boyle‘s take on hope. If you see a leopard, hope is not a good evolutionary strategy.
There’s no point in saying, ‘Is that a leopard over there? Maybe it’s not a leopard. Let’s all just really hope that it isn’t, eh? Those people were eaten by leopards.’
Instead, you yell, ‘Leopard!’ And run for your life.
Hope is not a feeling, it is an action.
And so it follows that hope is a choice.
These are the four words used by William Crawley to finish Talkback on 24th April 2019, the day that Lyra McKee was buried. The programme focused on whether Lyra’s murder would be a turning point in this chapter of our story, or if Northern Ireland is unable to change.
Brian Feeney and Alex Kane started off. Based on their experiences living through and reporting the Troubles, they felt that they’d seen it all before. Nothing would change. A view which is not to be dismissed lightly.
I thought of Alex Kane’s beautiful baby, whose photos he often posts on twitter, which always unite the mob in a moment of joy. And my heart felt sore.
Then a vanguard of women entered the fray. Fionola Meredith more or less agreed with the men. Bronagh Hinds, Goretti Horgan and Clare Rice disagreed. They reminded us how much Northern Ireland has already changed. Often catalysed by people who find themselves at the margins. Tina Calder and Susan McKay spoke about Lyra’s life, about how she was the embodiment of freedom in a new Northern Ireland. You can’t say it’s impossible, they held, because she – and we – exist. Existed. Exist. (The past tense still hasn’t sunk in – does it ever?).
Everyone agreed that we have huge potential in Northern Ireland. But, as Alex pointed out, it will only be realised if we do something different. And keep doing it, over and over. Hope has to be deliberately chosen.
A few weeks ago, I went for a drink with an old unionist friend. She had seen the Future Ireland series on here, and wanted to tell me why Irish unity would not work. I disagreed, hopefully amicably. She described how working with republicans makes her feel. I listened. I told her about my B Special relatives, who told stories of their violence in the other direction, and asked her how working with some unionists might make nationalists and republicans feel. And so we ploughed these sad little ruts. Getting stuck in the past and on the present.
But every time we got stuck we circled back to our children. Our kids cannot grow up with the same shit as we did, we agreed a hundred thousand times over.
Because this is the perspective that unlocks everything. That softens point and counter-point. That makes our hard politics yield.
It’s something that we heard throughout this week of mourning. Members of an older Troubles generation reflecting on how they did not want to pass this toxic politics on to future humans. Members of the younger generation reacting in horror to Lyra’s murder. This was never supposed to happen to the ceasefire babies.
So should we have hope? Can anything change?
Well, yes, we should, and of course it can.
But only if we look the leopard straight in the eye. And choose to go in the other direction.
Keep certain things to the front of our minds. Politicians, people, whoever cares about this place.
Appreciate the searing truth of the cliché – there is more than unites us than divides us. Take a deep breath and give thanks for Lyra’s brave friends, who showed us how to stand up to the hard-men with grit and heart. Give thanks for Ian Ogle’s family and community, who are showing us the same thing. For the people who have been dissenting from norms for all of these years. Whose furrows we walk in. The shoulders of giants and giantesses. Try to be brave.
Listen to the children of the ceasefire. Note their flexibility on the constitutional question. Read their words. They’re asking will they have homes, will there be jobs, what of the planet, our mental health? This generation will change politics anyway. Why make the rest of us wait?
Please go and vote, and think about your own children, your nieces and nephews, your neighbours and your friends’ kids, while you’re making your choice. I don’t care if you vote for the big parties or small. There are good people in most. Some more than others. Vote in a way that you can look these kids in the eye – whether they are Irish or British or both or gay or straight or brown or white – and know that you have voted for someone with a vision of a better future than this.
Do not spend precious time on this earth othering people. Remove unconscious phrases such as: all nationalists, all unionists, Shinnerbots, neanderthals, all Muslims, all Christians, they do this, they’re always like that. There is no ‘they’; no ‘all the same’. There are only complex humans. We need to erase these from our discourse in real life, and particularly online, and start treating people like we mean it.
Wake up. For God’s sake wake up. To the economic devastation all around us, even if you feel personally comfortable. Wake up to the fact that half of Belfast will be under the sea in our lifetime, and what will we do? That Derry is sinking now, just not under water. Realise that unless we’re trying to get a head start on the future, even on our puny shaky legs, there is indeed no hope.
Give way. Yield. Soften. Not on equality or human dignity. People are not bargaining chips. Grasp the nettle of the outstanding issues. Face the leopard. But surrender preconceptions of who is the enemy. There is no ‘enemy’. Only complex humans who have a different story than you.
I do not want us to just letsgetalong. I want our political leaders to dig down into their marrow and find more courage. To make painful changes to old patterns. Refuse to take no for an answer from anyone with a gun or a sash or any kind of extra-political hierarchy.
We are all tired. Our hearts are all heavy. I am 41. Lyra was 29. My daughter is 8. My friend’s next child is not yet born. There’s hard work to do.
We must not expect to wake up in a different world right away. These are daily lamentations and affirmations.
We do not need any wringing of hands. Hope is a future-facing series of actions. Hope is a choice. Please choose it.
Originally published on Slugger O’Toole on 27th April 2019.
Brexit staggers forward like a whiskey laced fever, and nobody at the school gate says its name.
The mums are stockpiling cans of beans. Not because of apocalypse. But because they expect the price of food to increase. They’re a practical lot.
One friend had no money this week. Off to the food-bank. Straining to make polite conversation while trying, and failing, to hold back tears after pick-up.
Over 30,000 food parcels were given in Northern Ireland last year. Is it a nationalist food bank or a unionist food bank? Asks nobody, ever.
The place where I live, which I love, is angry. I scroll through local Facebook group pages. Videos attacking migrants pop up in my timeline. Thousands of likes. People I don’t expect to, share them. A Muslim friend spends the day weeping.
My youngest’s best friend, who is Polish, is intimidated out of his house. Again. He is five.
We don’t talk about Brexit much at the school gate. But we all exist in its venus flytrap.
***
I know lots of people who voted to Leave. They were fed up with the hamster wheel. Slipping down the ladder instead of climbing up. They are not racist. Although others were. They voted Leave out of despair, but also hope. To save the NHS, to feel some control.
I voted Remain. But inhabited that space in-between. Where the EU is not beloved, but a damn sight better than Britannia alone. Where being from Northern Ireland, and the fragility of our peace, trumped all other concerns. I cringed at the smugness of some Remainers.
But the distance between us all didn’t feel so wide in 2016. I watched my friends disagree well, on the same Facebook pages which now seem so bleak.
We could’ve had a proper debate about Europe, if the Tories hadn’t spaffed their internal feud up against the wall. We could have talked about sovereignty, about jobs, rights and standards, about state-aid and capital, about borders and peace.
But public discourse was threadbare. It was guided by a weird web and dodgy cash. Breath-taking complacency on the the other side. There was never a plan. Only the brief promised pleasure of kicking something over.
***
And in Northern Ireland, we’ll pay the hardest. We already are.
There’s the money of course. The fact that we’re already struggling. But also the politics. Our unresolved conflict. Our borderless border.
We’re using trade as a proxy for emotion. Raging over tariffs to mask our fears of the future. Most of us wondering how we’ll pay the bills.
And in this vacuum, services are receding, politics is circling, bitterness encroaching.
God knows how, but this chapter of Brexit will of course pass. But its consequences are now embedded in our conflict. It has changed the future of this island.
And at the school gate, we carry on. But we’re not keeping calm. We’re just carrying on. Because there’s never been a time when we’ve had less control.
***
So what do we do?
We zoom out. We expand the frame. We realise, as C. Wright Mills says in The Sociological Imagination, that our private troubles are public issues.
We zoom out and see that we’re are living through seismic historical change. That Brexit is a symptom not a cause.
The tectonic plates of late capitalism are shifting. The climate is breaking down. Income inequality is rising. Information is dematerialising. People are revolting. These are connected.
Northern Ireland is a tiny speck on an endangered planet. Our traditional politics are barely relevant.
The tectonic plates of the Union are shifting. We must recalibrate. Be flexible and practical.
Our neighbours are not the enemy. Not in the houses beside us, nor the borders across.
Migrants are not the enemy. Their taxes pay our pensions.
We realise that our pain, although differently expressed, comes from a common wound.
We focus our ire on unaccountable global capital. Which relentlessly pursues profit over people. We follow the money and ask who stands to gain.
We focus our ire on the British government. Not for their Britishness. But for prioritising party politics over our lives. English nationalism over the regions. For prioritising Ulster nationalism… oh wait, that was last week. For years of brutal economic policies which created the anger that led us to here.
There is an horizon beyond Brexit. But no time for a perfect solution. We must suck up a compromise. Pull off Brexit’s strangling ivy and focus on our people, our climate, our resilience to change.
And – if anyone can bear it – we can do more politics.
We can study up. Engage. We can try eating a flag with a knife and fork, and quickly move on to the other options. We can vote till we boke. Lobby our public representatives, because still, amazingly, this makes a difference. They are not ‘all as bad as each other’. We can act locally, understanding the global. We can look up to those in power to identify the source of our problems, not punch down to those who are struggling. This is where our power as citizens lies.
We can stand at the school gate and keep being human. Share recipes for canned beans and hope that Deflatine is not rationed. Help each other navigate universal credit, talk to the new people, teach our kids not to hate. On difficult days, we can watch Derry Girls and drink the stockpiled Lidl wine.
We can try to hold this anger lightly – for our mental health. But also deeply – for our political health. And we can channel this anger for all that it’s worth. Not towards each other. But towards the disaster capitalists and the internecine careerists who have walked us merrily up to the brink.
Originally published on Slugger O’Toole on 30th March 2019.