Courtesy of @billiejdporter.
The United Kingdom is just two weeks away from making a decision that will determine the course of the nation, not only for the next five years, but for generations to come. I, like so many people, am filled with anxiety when I consider just how much is at stake in this election: Brexit, the National Health Service (NHS), the environment, immigration, austerity, education—the list goes on. The outcome will affect all of us, and for many, the consequences of a continued Conservative government spell very real, very immediate concerns. I grew up in social housing. Under the Tories, my parents were hit hard by the Bedroom Tax after I left home (an act introduced in 2012, which saw tenants who receive housing benefits having their payments cut, if they were deemed to have a spare bedroom) and today, my mother, who suffers from a degenerative lung disease, relies on a disability allowance.
When I read stories about people losing their lives prematurely as the NHS buckles under the pressure of budget cuts and short-staffing, it’s impossible for me not to imagine my own mum becoming part of a statistic that’s shoved into one of the utterly bleak headlines we’re bombarded with every single day.
The result of this election is of grave importance to me. But, as much as this is true, it honestly feels like there is so much weight to the news we’re absorbing during this period—real and fake—that I’m starting to feel drained to the point of wanting to look away.
I don’t know about you, but these days I flit from feeling as though I’m about to burst with energy, hope and optimism, when I see people waking up to the simplicity of the decision they have to make this 12 December, to being totally overwhelmed by the sensation of rage bubbling up through my chest, as I scan through the ill-informed nonsense garbled across social media, arguing with strangers on the internet, and then having to come up for air.
When news broke this week of the uncensored documents detailing the UK’s talks with America over a post-Brexit trade deal, exposing the undeniable truth about the potential privatisation of the NHS, it seemed as though we were so worn out we could barely muster the appropriate level of shock and disgust for such enormous information to have just come to light.
In this tumultuous media climate, it feels as though our brains have implemented their own defence mechanisms, teaching us to be cautious and suspicious of every piece of news to the point where stories often fail to connect with us immediately as human beings. It’s no wonder—we’ve a completely justified distrust in most mainstream outlets, on all scales of the political spectrum, and sometimes it seems like the players are switching teams, just as we’re lulled into a false sense of security over what’s what.
I had to ask myself what planet I woke up on the other day, when I watched a video in which Piers Morgan came off as the less stubborn and petulant participant in a TV debate, and then later saw The Daily Mail (yes, the famously Conservative-supporting The Daily Mail) exposing a Tory MP candidate for enlisting his own friends to pose as his unbiased supporters, and doubters of the Labour Party. For a moment, I wondered if I’d entered a new chapter, where in the infinite sludge of maddening and divisive voices, some of the figures I trusted the least were maybe now approaching a stance of borderline-sanity. (Of course, this was nothing more than wishful thinking.)
The truth though, is that this campaign period has done a lot to hammer home the sad reality of the blatant right-leaning nature of the platforms we’re supposed to be able to rely on as impartial’. The more shocking of the trends should be the BBC’s censoring of Boris Johnson und incessant smearing of Jeremy Corbyn, nicht the idea that The Daily Mail would dare to bring down a Tory.
The desperation of both parties is palpable at this stage, and the fight is getting uglier by the second. Unsurprisingly, the Conservatives have gone with a strategy based on deception, ranging from brazen, bare-faced lies to downright sneaky, cartoon-villainous behaviour .The lawlessness of it all makes it tempting to abandon hope. But I’m writing this piece, accepting and embracing the doom, gloom and chaos, to say: Yes. This next fortnight is going to be f*cked. The headlines will become even more reductive and frustrating. The Tories will stoop lower than you thought it was possible for them to. The mainstream media will continue to spin a narrative to feed its own interests. I anticipate that many of us will be losing friends, burning professional bridges and screaming at laptops.
But this is the final hurdle.
If you’re nervous about the election—like so many of us are—channel it. If you’re furious about the relentless campaign of lies that the Conservative party are riding on, divert that fury into fighting against it. Canvass. Ring your nan who lives in a marginal seat. Donate to Momentum. CALL PEOPLE OUT on their bullsh*t if they’re spreading misinformation at such a crucial time. The political disillusionment and Brexit fatigue we’re all feeling is real. Very real. But we cannot lose sight of what’s at stake now.