In May, elections took place across the UK – local in England and for the devolved parliaments in Scotland and Wales. In Scotland, 129 seats were up for elections, and while the SNP were able to retain power, what has dominated the news, not only in Scotland, but across the UK are the gains made by Reform UK, the right-wing political party.
I am not a political commentator, with in-depth of knowledge to analyse political sways and decision-making. However over the past few years, I have reflected quite frequently on how as the United Kingdom, we have gotten to the point where a right-wing political party is making gains.
What has led us to the point? How did we get here? How have we made each other the problem, and not the systems and issues impacting our everyday life, cost of living, NHS waiting hours, the job market, the rise of AI etc. How did we get so comfortable with this level of animosity towards one another? At what point did we lose sight of the humanity in each other and become so comfortable with scapegoating others?
My assessment is that our inability to sit with discomfort may play a part in this. Bear with me.
The Oxford English Dictionary defines discomfort as ‘slight pain or slight anxiety or embarrassment’. I believe there is a beauty which can emerge when we allow discomfort in.
Choosing comfort over curiosity
There is much beauty in discomfort, discomfort pushes us, it challenges us, it forces us to question our norms and notions and allows us to face newness and difference. Our reluctance to be uncomfortable does more damage than good.
What we do not know – or what we avoid unpacking – often fuels our fear. And, rather than take it as a vulnerable moment to push through, as humans, we choose the path of less resistance – the easier route – we go back to comfort. Comfort makes us stagnant. It justifies why we remain in our echo-chambers.
Embracing discomfort is a process of transformation and the image that comes to mind is that of a cocoon, in which the caterpillar goes through the restrictions and suffocations of being encapsulated, liquified, but is rebuilt to emerge as a butterfly.
With that illustration in mind, how beautiful would this world be if we allowed discomfort to envelop us – to dissolve what we once believed to be true, to challenge our misconceptions, and to willingly undergo the process of dismantling those beliefs so that we may rebuild them anew?
And this knowledge that, we will not push through is what the far-right bank on, they know human behaviour, they know that rather than walk towards the discomfort, we will choose to run from it and take the safer route of pointing the finger at ‘them over there’.
In Reform’s case, it’s immigrants. For the Conservatives, it was often those receiving benefits. More recently, Labour has faced criticism for policies that many pensioners felt unfairly targeted them. Most political parties rely on scapegoats, secure in the knowledge that many of us would rather accept a simple explanation than endure the discomfort of questioning it – and leaning into our discomfort.
How many of us, other than what the media feeds us, have really interacted with any marginalised person? How many have pushed past their discomfort with the aim of wanting to genuinely know what happens on the other side of the fence? How many of us are open to being educated, not by our politicians but by those they blame for the ills of society? Those who society has othered.
Instead of sitting with that discomfort, instead of interrogating it, we flee from it, quick to make it a case of I-am-not-the-problem, it’s them over there – usually people who you share a lot in common with, if only you dare to push through your discomfort.
I’ll use an example. As a Black woman, I have had many conversations about my hair, I doubt there is any Black woman who has not. Yet, in each interaction, I know when the questions are from a place of genuine interest and not. And there is nothing I enjoy more than making genuine interest a teachable moment. I approach such conversations as an opportunity of learning. I am aware of the effort it must have taken for that person to push through their discomfort, and I aim to help them through that discomfort – so that when they face another point of discomfort, they get to push through knowing that it will not always end in embarrassment.
How do we solve this? Attempt that conversation, make a conscious effort to engage with a broader range of media sources, explore more than those familiar to you, read a wide range of newspapers from all sides of the spectrum. Move, ever so boldly, out of your comfort zone, embrace your discomfort. Critically consider why you are more comfortable with some channels and not others and make an effort to learn from them.
Everyone has a story
My journey as an immigrant demonstrates how the rhetoric from politicians does not serve anyone. I came to the UK in September 2006 (it’ll be 20 years this year). I came as a student to study for my MSc. Since then I have formed a strong community, I am active in my church, married, had kids and recently earned my PhD.
For the past 20 years, apart from when I was on maternity leave, I have worked, paid my tax and contributed to the economy, and on occasion been in the advanced tax rate. I share all this to say every immigrant has a story – some which look like mine and some which do not. Irrespective of how anyone arrived in this country, everyone is deserving of compassion and humanisation.
Yet, politicians will have you believe that every person who does not fit into their version of what it means to be British, i.e. white (even typing that has created some discomfort) has come to scrounge off the system. Over the past few years, many like me have watched in dismay and despair at how politicians have resorted to either scapegoating immigrants or have refused to push back on such rhetoric.
The issue of health and care workers visas reinforces this point. Let’s take Scotland as an example, Scotland has a significantly aging population. This not only had an impact on the health system, as a result of increased need for health interventions, but also an increased dependency on one-to-one care, which by the introduction of the care visa category indicates an acknowledgement by the UK Government of a shortage in skills for these types of roles. As far as I am aware, politicians have not been brave enough to use this need to counter the rhetoric. Just as no one talks about how international students help prop up universities, due to the international fees they pay, some as high as £70,000 per year.
Politicians do not appear to be comfortable talking about the fact that having immigrants is necessary for the UK’s economy. And I will be the first to say, I do not enjoy this argument, where my status is tied to my economic contributions. My humanity should not be based on that, I should be valued just for being human. That I am a human being should be enough.
Why vulnerability matters
The beauty of discomfort does not only show up in getting to know each other better. If politicians can embrace it, it can show up in how they behave, in their narratives.
Are they prepared to be vulnerable and uncomfortable enough to admit when they have been wrong, to be open to liquidating their political views and rebuilding their stances? Not many! And why? Because discomfort requires admitting weaknesses, and that is not something most politicians want to do. This is compounded by the fact that politics remains a male-dominated field, where performances of toughness and certainty are frequently rewarded, and vulnerability is too often mistaken for weakness. In such an environment, admitting fault can feel less like growth and more like a political risk.
And this bit is what I find strange. This does not serve anyone. Vulnerability does not mean weakness. Vulnerability makes us human; having feelings is what makes us human. And seeing the beauty in discomfort and embracing it despite the unknown outcome is strength not weakness. It makes us human and humans connect better with those who they can relate with.
So, let’s work on embracing the discomfort, lean into it and each interaction, each person. Society will be better for it, emerging after the rebirth, more knowledgeable, kinder and stronger.
This article has been written for The Scottish Beacon through a collaboration with Pass The Mic – an organisation which aims to tackle the under-representation and misrepresentation of women of colour in Scotland’s public life and media.
