Making our politics romantic again is the only escape from declinism

It is like we are on a never-ending journey through a wilderness of negativity, with each new event or development reinforcing that nagging feeling of decline.

We find ourselves yearning for the days when life was more affordable, public services ran smoothly, and bills didn’t feel like a form of punishment.

A trip down nostalgia lane.

I’ll be the first to admit that the data and headlines we see every day don’t offer much comfort. The trends seem to be pointing in the wrong direction. But here’s the thing: should this grim narrative be our ongoing reality?

It is worth pondering whether our shared belief that everything is perpetually on the decline is, in reality, doing us more harm than good. This mindset has a way of sapping our motivation to envision a future where we conquer these challenges, leaving us dispirited and disengaged.

What’s more, we often overlook the positive developments and progress happening amidst the chaos. Now, don’t get me wrong; I’m not advocating for immersing ourselves solely in feel-good stories and shying away from voicing our concerns.

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After all, a bit of constructive complaining can be an effective way to grab the attention of those in power.

But there comes a tipping point where this constant pessimism starts working against us. When this happens, disengagement becomes the new norm.

We lose interest in politics and global affairs. We stop educating ourselves about the issues at hand, and worst of all, we commit the ultimate act of surrender: we stop voting. It is a pattern we’re seeing not just here but worldwide, and I don’t think we are making anywhere near enough fuss about voters’ disengagement.

Some might think that antiquated voting systems, like the first past the post, are an effective shield against the extremes of politics. But I beg to differ – extremes will find a way in with widespread declinism, because declinism is what they fester on. The consequences are nothing short of dire, and we can see this in France.

We have earned a reputation for our unhappiness, consistently topping the charts as some of the most dissatisfied folks in Europe; only last week, a poll showed that 70% of us were pessimistic about France’s future. The reasons stated by respondents were incivilities and crime, social inequalities that are seen as numerous and ever-growing, the cost of living crisis, and the climate crisis.

This persistent sense of decline has been looming over our society for quite some time now.

The result? Regrettably, this political dissatisfaction has materialised in the form of diminishing voter participation and an alarming surge in support for the far-right.

The success of these far-right ideologies has been so remarkable that they’re no longer viewed as a threat to democracy; instead, they are seen as viable alternatives.

Twenty years ago, when the far-right shockingly reached the run-off of the presidential election, only just knocking down the socialist candidate who was the then-prime minister, more than a million people took to the streets – young old, rich, poor, White, Black, left, right – to say no to the far right.

Today, nobody is batting an eyelid: we are so blasé, accepting that this is how things are now. It is a paradox – while our society seems more open and accepting, it is simultaneously veering towards far-right extremism.

Even the traditional right feels compelled to adopt more extreme rhetoric to appeal to these voters, tragically creating a breeding ground for a new, even more radical far-right to thrive.

We are now at a point where many view the radical left as a more significant threat to democracy than the far right. In fact, some believe that Marine Le Pen (above)  is the politician who best understands their concerns and has what it takes to make France great again.

I find it difficult to remember the last time there was a real civic movement that rallied people and ignited their enthusiasm. But my most recent memory of such a time, of course, would likely be the Scottish independence referendum in 2014.

It was a period when Scotland was buzzing with interest, passion, and genuine engagement regarding its future.

Of course, it had its fair share of unpleasant moments, with trolling and heated dinner table debates. I can’t deny the existence of these incidents – I witnessed some myself. For instance, there was a debate where a Labour politician on the panel was virtually prevented from speaking as she faced a chorus of boos from vocal Yes supporters in the room.

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I left the event thinking: This isn’t how we should be conducting politics and activism. Disagreement can coexist with civility, and it’s crucial to avoid descending into unbridled hostility.

But should these isolated incidents overshadow the greater significance of this moment, which brought people from diverse backgrounds and walks of life into politics?

I’d argue it’s unjust to let the behaviour of a minority, who were a bit too full of themselves and offensive, cast a shadow on the substantial engagement and interest that the campaign stirred among people on both sides of the argument, but particularly on the Yes side. It was truly wonderful to see. I am not normally a nostalgic person, but in this instance, I am.

Unfortunately, even in Scotland, the clutches of declinism have taken hold. It is disheartening to hear politically active individuals, who are usually brimming with motivation, express sentiments like, “Oh, we’re officially f***ed now, aren’t we?”

It is as if we have collectively resigned ourselves to passively waiting for the next crisis to smack us in the face, as if it is an unalterable law of nature. But it’s not surprising: liberals are notoriously unhappier than conservatives.

But there is a way to change that: Make Politics Romantic Again.

French socialists used to excel at it. In 2012, they unveiled a video that was so moving it brought tears to people’s eyes. It narrated the journey of the left, from the hard-won workers’ rights of the 20th century to the abolition of the death penalty and the introduction of civil partnerships for same-sex couples. It was truly grandiose, and is below.

And Scotland, you too made politics romantic again in 2014!

I recall listening to an interview on the radio some years ago with Raphaël Glucksmann, a French MEP and essayist, founder of Place Publique, a centre-left, pro-European party. He eloquently pointed out that we’re currently experiencing a shortage of meaning and romanticism in politics.

Regrettably, it is the far-right movements that have adeptly harnessed the essence of political romanticism, successfully attracting more voters.

Their message is crystal clear: “Elect us, and we’ll take action. We’ll disrupt the status quo, shake things up, and genuinely effect change.” People are buying into it, and we need to understand why.

The populists have effectively cornered the market on public enthusiasm because they still view politics as a collective adventure, a means of building a unified “us”.

This sentiment is profoundly romantic and captures the imagination, as Glucksman aptly notes.

In his words: “The call to take back control, as heard during the Brexit campaign, shouldn’t be ignored. We need a project that empowers citizens with real influence and control over their destinies.”

It is a harsh reality check, but one we can’t afford to ignore. It shows us that we’re capable of so much more.

So, what’s holding us back?

It’s not about embracing a politics of fantasy and magic money trees (by the way, we don’t need those, as I wrote about last week – there’s plenty of money to find if we are serious about fighting tax avoidance).

Instead, it is about believing that we are not just a collection of isolated individuals, each battling systemic challenges solo. It is a politics rooted in the belief that citizens are a collective force with the capacity to weather the world’s storms and shape our own future.