The politics this summer has been dominated by the campaign for the Tory leadership and, hence, our new Prime Minister. Whoever wins faces an in tray, that I guess, none of us would envy. Yet, into this sea of troubles, the candidates drop certainties, like stones; many destined, we may guess, to sink without trace. I wonder why politicians assume, that in order to be elected, they need to peddle certainties. Even, such a short while after the world shut down, to manage a virus that was never on anyone’s list of certainties for this term of government.
Into this craziness, the words of an interview at Edinburgh’s international book festival, were the light of reason. Richard Holloway, theologian, priest, bishop, one-time Primate of The Scottish Episcopal Church, now in his 80s, was responding to questions about his life and work. Author of over 30 books, he said that he liked to think he had given the ‘gift of tentativeness.’ He talks of ‘negative capability,’ the ability to live in doubts and uncertainties. Religion and politics, he said, want certainty. He acknowledged that Religion has brought beauty and morality but, he argued, it hasn’t been very good at saying this is up for debate.
It is easy to see the comfort we gain from certainty, even whilst we joke that the only two certainties are death and taxes. I wonder what can be gained from tentativeness? The answer for me comes from Yehuda Amichai, quoted by Richard Holloway in his book, Doubts and Loves.
From the place where we are right
Flowers will never grow in the Spring.
The place where we are right
Is hard and trampled,
Like a yard.
But doubts and loves,
Dig up the world,
Like a mole or plough,
And a whisper will be heard in the place,
Where the ruined house once stood.
Wendy Quill
