A few days ago I found myself in an ongoing discussion with a friend, a discussion about what is and isn’t possible, what is politically realistic and what is ridiculously naive. It started over afternoon coffee, there was a pause while we got on with our work for a few hours, and then it resumed over a pint or three the next evening.
It was always respectful. There was no shouting, no jabbing of fingers, no storming off in a huff, no unfriending on Facebook. We are both old enough and gnarly enough to understand that wasn’t necessary, or in any way wise. But as the afternoon’s to-and-fro drew to a close, and we returned to the demands of the day job, they said something that stuck with me.
You’re against a lot of things, aren’t you?
Am I? I wondered. I mulled it over as I prepped the stage, adjusted drapes, and held meetings with venue staff about what we needed from house lights during that night’s show. And when we settled down in a city centre pub on a day off a day later, pints in hand, I knew it was something I had to clear up, for myself if no-one else. Writing it down here is me making a note to myself, a note I can return to and remind myself of next time this happens – because happen again it undoubtedly will.
See, I may not know much, but I know enough to recognise that – by pure blind luck – I was born into a world where I started out with a fistful of advantages. Male. White. Able-bodied. Healthy. In one of the most prosperous countries in the world. The list goes on. People like me get a head start we’ve done nothing to deserve. In the grand sweep of human history, we are immensely privileged. And we’re encouraged to believe that whatever success flows from that privilege is purely the result of our own efforts, our own talents, our ability to seize the day, the fact we are way, way better than average.
It’s hapless guff, in my opinion, but you probably guessed that already.
My friend would, I think it’s fair to say, absolutely recognise that those privileges exist. Where we disagree is that they see my belief – that it is both possible and necessary to re-structure our world so that everyone has the opportunity to live their best lives – as naive, as pie-in-the-sky nonsense, as wildly unrealistic. The line has been drawn, we are the right side of it, and I am railing against it for the sake of railing, I am locked into an adolescent scream that it’s just not fair! and revelling in the sense of moral righteousness that comes with being against, purely against.
Maybe they’re right. And maybe they’re not. My belief is that it’s unrealistic to believe this arbitrary line we found ourselves the right side of won’t ever move. Or that our position relative to it won’t shift. Things change. Our health worsens. Our secure job disappears. We need more support as we grow older. Maybe friends or family end up on the wrong side of the line and we watch others – who aren’t themselves affected – shrug and say it’s naive to believe things can be any other way.
I believe that we rise or fall together. Taking the existence of the line as a law of nature – while we scrabble to be on the right side of it – will only ever come back to bite us on the arse, but that’s not my only reason for opposing it. I am for people – all people – being able to flourish. I think a world where everyone is given the opportunity to do so is a world every one of us benefits, a world which is happier, more generous, more creative, and where mutual support is as natural as breathing.
That’s what I’m for. I’m against whatever gets in the way. And I daresay I’ll be explaining it over a pint or three again, before too long.
first published on Substack, 31st October 2026
