For once, my sense of gloom is as a Brit, not a Jew

As a typical Remoaner, I am politically homeless, and my religion has very little to do with it

WE WENT to the pub early, having been up all night. Moods low, expressions confused, we tried to make sense of what had just happened. It was 24 June 2016, the morning after the night before. The term hadn’t yet been coined, but my peers and I were archetypal London Remoaners, sipping craft beers and Sancerre, aghast at the 52% who didn’t think as we did.

I jest, but only a little. Five years on, my metropolitan elite spirit is undiminished. I’m still unclear why our European divorce was necessary or what we’ve really won from the custody battle. Shipments of non-kosher beef from Down Under? Certainly not that NHS money promised on buses.

I was on the losing side; I accept that. That doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. As a Jew, I valued being part of Europe, not least because a united continent served minority interests better than a fractured one. And in the five years since, including the low of the 2019 election, little about British politics has imbued me with much joy.

I remain politically homeless, or at least untethered. Yes, Labour is shifting in a better direction, but to where? Its recent roadmap called for “Better work … Public services that work from the start.” I don’t disagree – who could? – but nor do I have confidence that Sir Keir Starmer has any new ideas about how to meet these aspirations.

Meanwhile, the Government is managing what over-promoted men have been achieving for years; getting plenty wrong after failing to do the adequate prep, bluffing and blustering through, yet still piping up with one gem that makes everyone applaud their genius.

The vaccine aside, there are so many gaping wounds on Covid and beyond, from the failure to take the long view on education funding to pushing social care reform down the tracks again. And coming from a community that sees value in bridging divides, I’m thoroughly disheartened by the culture war that ministers are enthusiastically stoking.

Whether it’s taking the knee (“gesture politics,” said Priti Patel), foot-stamping over a removed royal portrait or legislation to “strengthen freedom of speech” in higher education (merited, maybe, but hardly the most pressing issue in education), the tone feels increasingly mean-spirited, with decisions like the international aid cut seemingly made to score points rather than out of principle. History shows that any climate of ‘us’ versus ‘them’ — indeed any demonising of ‘intellectuals’ — doesn’t bode well for a minority group dogged by centuries of resentment.

From my lofty perch as a member of the metropolitan elite (I’m sure I’ll get the secret handshake soon), I feel dejected when I hear ex-leaders on the airwaves reminding us what visionary leadership looks like. Our prime minister is many things (father, writer, cold-water swimmer). Conviction politician he is not.

So I’m not all that buoyant. Except I am — because in feeling downbeat, I’m like every other whining centrist who pinned hope on Keir, wondered whether Boris might shift moderate, and

In feeling downbeat, I’m like every other whining centrist who pinned their hopes on Keir ’

complains about it over an Ottolenghi dish. I’m no longer politically homeless because I’m a Jew. My religion is largely irrelevant. What a relief.

I spotted someone posting on Facebook about what a terrible a time it is to be Jewish in Britain. I don’t buy it. Antisemitism has flared up, on and offline. But a few flag-waving idiots and an amplification of the social media bile that is regularly spewed at anyone doing anything should be taken for what it is: something that needs stamping out, but not emblematic of most of this country.

And the thing that offered the most hope amid the bleakness of the recent Gaza war was that for all the coverage, it wasn’t treated as the most important UK issue of the day by our politicians on either side. Maybe by the digital rabble-rousers still dreaming of a Corbyn Christmas, and maybe in specific areas like Batley, but, broadly, not by the government, and not by Labour, who as they welcomed the ceasefire, sandwiched this between statements about the pupil premium and the railways. Israel is no longer the overriding preoccupation of the Opposition, meaning that those who dislike the left can no longer seize on being pro-Israel to demonstrate their own merits.

I don’t think we’re a better country post-Brexit, and I continue to be frustrated by the demonising of liberal urban concerns as somehow less “real”. I want a principled government willing to make hard decisions, and a viable opposition. But I live in hope, spurred on by the fact that if Bibi can fall, so can others. And by the fact that being Jewish, at least, has very little to do with any of it.

I may be gloomy, but I’m gloomy as a Briton, rather than a British Jew. That’s something to be cheerful about.