It’s been difficult to watch the destruction of the riots as they tsunami through our streets in the past week. Watching the news and listening to the fears from those targeted, seeing the destruction in communities and neighbourhoods, feeling terrified to go into the world and be free from harrassment can feel overwhelming, devastating, infuriating and leave you feeling helpless.
Being confronted with that level of fury and destruction is intimidating. It’s meant to inspire fear. It can make us feel small and powerless. How do we confront that and feel safe? How do we get our voices heard and push back against the tide? How do we hold space and support our neighbours, friends and colleagues who are drawing the curtains when they pray in their home or taking off clothing that may make them a target?
Underneath that anger and hate are the heavy, soul-destroying emotions that can wear you down and erase a person’s humanity – fear, isolation, frustration, inadequacy, shame, guilt, a feeling of being unheard and unseen. These feelings don’t allow much space to see those around you as human beings like you.
Instead an ‘enemy image’ is created, and the ability to communicate, listen and practice empathy starts to erode. We no longer see a human being worthy of humane treatment but someone morally inferior and dangerous. And then we dig in, hold on tight and refuse to let humanity back in.
Successful dehumanisation creates moral exclusion and targets groups based on their identity. It’s something we’ve had to listen to for years from various people who hold the power to be heard the loudest, amplified by the enticing and seductive power of social media.
We’re all vulnerable to the slow and insidious temptation of dehumanisation. It’s happened to many groups in our society, it exists on both sides of this current division. There’s a perverse pleasure in indignation, reading something online that makes you feel important, validated, furious. And this is where we end up when we revel in that indignation and contempt, with cold, hard, misdirected fury.
So how do we get back our power to stand up for what is humane, what is right, what is loving, joyful and hopeful? We rehumanise. We reach out to others and hear their story and fears, we peacefully join protests to make our voices heard, we allow ourselves to feel our own anger and sadness without reproachment, we leave a wake of acts of kindness behind us – no matter how small. We reach out because, as Brene Brown says, ‘People are hard to hate close up. Move in’.
And we embrace critical thinking and question misinformation. Embrace the fact that the European Social Survey in 2022 found that most people felt that immigration had been good for the economy and cultural life in the UK and a clear majority felt that it had made Britain a better place to live. Separate research by the World Values Survey found just 5% of Brits said they’d be unhappy to have an immigrant as a neighbour. The UK is safer than it has ever been with one offence committed today for every five committed in 1995 (Office for National Statistics).
Amongst the constant bad news, designed to provoke anxiety or a dark thrill, we search out the stories of hope like the GoFundMe for the destroyed Spellow Lane Library in Liverpool which aimed for £500 to replace books and repair the building and is now over £185,000 or the inspiring call for community from Darren the bouncer in Reading on LBC who was a balm to the tired soul (Google and listen if you haven’t heard it!) We regain faith from the images of thousands of people from all walks of life in peaceful crowds across the country on Wednesday that showed that most of us know that trying to find a group to blame for all our woes is misguided and unhelpful.
Reach out, reach in, close the gaps between us rather than allowing them to grow, search out the joy and the hope and see the humanity around you.
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