Out of the mouths of babes
My son, David, came to dinner last night. It’s a real treat as he lives abroad and, although he comes to London pretty frequently, he’s usually here for multiple work things and I end up hopping over towards him to catch him for a quick drink. Last night was one of our ‘deep’ evenings. We used to talk late into the night over way too much wine, but last night lasted only till about 11 pm, and wine was consumed but not too ridiculous excess. We’re both older and a wiser now. I’m pushing 70 and he’s 43. Much older and a little wiser, as I say.
We talked, as does everyone just now, about this bloody virus that’s sweeping the world, but also about the toxicity of social media, the destruction of the planet that is our home, the economic and political upheavals around us, the deaths of children in Yemen and Syria and elsewhere, global leaders with neither intelligence nor conscience, the dumbing down of media commentary, the uncertainty that seems to be all-pervasive.. We both recognised the emotional toll of feeling helpless in the face of enormous and seemingly endless problems over which we have no control, but which can and will impact our lives and those we love.
And I got angry. Angry that of all the things going on now, the most damaging of all seems to me to be the attack on free speech. I believe wholeheartedly in young people growing up now. I think they will fight and push for a better world; I think they are as brave as any who ever have fought for women’s rights, gay rights, equality, diversity, acceptance, the opportunity for all. They have more conscience and more awareness than we had in my youth. But they are living in a world where people are shouted down for disagreeing; bullied - literally - to death on social media for expressing an opinion; threatened and abused for trying to keep the world safe for all; abandoned by politicians who are chasing vote share. not taking a stand that might cost them office.
I think - I know - that I still have something to offer. Decades of work and life have given me some wisdom and I am still sought out for it, in business and in life. But the best thing I can do now is a fight for that freedom of speech and opinion. So when David said, ‘Start writing again, Mum.’, I thought, fuck it. I have nothing to lose except my self-respect for staying silent. And so I am joining the manning of the barricades against censure, silencing and no-platforming with those braver than me who have never stopped.
