What Is To Be Done?

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UPDATE 8 MAY 2021

Since I wrote this a week or so back, the Tories have had remarkable electoral success. If that bothers you, the time to pick yourself up and do something about it is now – although I will allow a weekend of wound-licking. Because, win or lose, history teaches us that the battle is never won. The suggestions below are for you, and me, and a brighter future.

Sometimes when I complain online about this awful government, responses come back with, “Yes, but what can we do? They have an eighty-seat majority. There’s no general election for years, and even if there were, they are ahead in the polls.”

I get it. I feel that pain. I share it.

Worse, complaining on Twitter, even if one can reach beyond one’s echo chamber, is highly likely to be ineffective; vast swathes of the British voting public don’t go near it, and are far more likely to hear their news on, and have their opinions influenced by, Facebook, and the print media, which are overwhelmingly right wing. If you want to change the world, Twitter is probably not the place. Worse, it may even be a substitute for action – a place to vent, and then carry on as before. While we are complaining about the current government on Twitter, we are not doing other things which might be more effective. Twitter may in fact be a useful home for political irritants; a useful asylum perhaps.

Personally I think Twitter is better than nothing – it probably brought you here – but I accept that it may not be much better than nothing. After all, we don’t appear to be winning. We appear to be going backwards, in fact – hard, and dizzyingly fast.

But a great Tony Benn line stays with me and gives me reason not to despair. These problems, he pointed out, are cyclical: “Every generation must fight the same battles again and again. There’s no final victory and there’s no final defeat.”

Enjoy these thirty-three seconds of inspiration.


So, with the twin flames of anger and hope burning in our hearts, what can we do?

1) Ask yourself what you personally have to offer. Act according to your strengths.

2) Join a political party. It’s still a good way to engage.

3) Attend. Be vocal.

4) If your passions are not adequately reflected in a party, join a single-interest campaign. Create one if you have to.

5) Support individual influencers and politicians. Write to them with encouragement. Offer what assistance you can.

6) If you have money, chip in.

7) If you have talents or expertise, but not money, offer them to the politicians, parties and groups you support.

8) If you have a platform, use it. Develop it. Express your opinion. If you don’t get traction, try a different method. See what works.

8) (a) Special note to artists and celebrities: please, be brave. Yes, you may lose fans. Yes, you may harm your career. Yes, you may become a target for abuse. The cost/benefit calculation has to be a personal one, according to your circumstances. But remember, too, that folk without a “megaphone” depend on those who do. And if, in the short run, there are always valid pragmatic reasons not to put your head above the parapet, remember, also, that an honourable trail never goes away, and in the long run will be to your credit.

For inspiration, I give you:

Hugh Grant and the Hacked Off campaign.

Hugh showed courage. Hugh continued to work. Hugh starred in Paddington 2. Paddington 2 has today been feted as the Best Film Ever on Rotten Tomatoes. Hugh is a hero.

9) Enlist support. Others will likely want to help you. Find your people. On your own, you are more vulnerable and less effective.

9) (a) Don’t be afraid to be a leader. Somebody has to. Chances are, if you’re nervous, you’re the kind of leader we need! Remember: if you don’t feel like an imposter, you probably shouldn’t be in the room.

10) Stop being polite. Be political when it is not “the done thing”. Speak up when you hear lazy opinions, or worse. Do it charmingly if you have to. But do it. It gets easier.

11) Be informed. Do your own, first-hand research if you have time. It strengthens your arguments if you can evidence them, and you will learn a lot. (Unfortunately, you will probably discover that things are a lot worse than you feared. Sorry about that.)

12) Stand for office. If you’re daunted, see 9) (a) above!

13) Protest. Online, on the streets, on the media. Phone up, write in. Sure, do Twitter. Create a meme. Use all the tools, use all your skills. Street protests are likely to become a lot harder and therefore a lot more dangerous; proceed with caution, but do proceed. Street protests are hated because they are visible the world over, and they work. I do not recommend breaking any laws, but if you fear you might end up in a police van, learn what to do, and have the number of good civil rights lawyers on the back of your hand.

14) Play to win. Decide what a win is for you. Since nobody gets all of what they want, don’t let perfection be the enemy of the good.

15) So don’t despair. There are many ways to take action. You are not alone, and we’ve been here before. Anger and hope, my friends. Anger and hope.

PS I need support and encouragement too, same as you. Help me by following me on @dminghella on twitter, and dropping me a line. And do, please, let me know if I’ve missed anything in this list. Thank you!

PPS I forgot a big one, it’s so obvious. Quick story: a medical student friend of mine in the 1980s told me how he had failed to vote in local elections in Oxford. He was busy, and what were the chances of his one vote making any difference? His candidate lost by one vote, and he resolved never to fail to use his vote again. And so did I. It’s unlikely that anyone reading this post will need reminding, but for heaven’s sake do vote. And take a friend or neighbour with you; a little nudge from you might make a difference, and a lot of little differences become a wave, a sea-change, progress.

PPPS I have to salute another hero, Andy Serkis, who also acts with courage. We made this one together, alongside my colleague Mark Lucas of Silverfish Films and Lucas/Minghella:

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One Small Thing, Doctor

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Small thing, but a big thing.

The extraction of only five letters, to be exact, but a very dishonest extraction.

Here goes.

February, 2019.

International Trade Secretary, Dr Liam Fox, gives a speech at Policy Exchange, London to set out the UK’s role in global trade.

He cites the 2015 Strategic Defence and Security Review. It “sums up our position perfectly”.

He quotes the report as follows:  (note the blue highlight, it’s important)

And, he says gleefully, “It’s hard to put it better than that!”

But the 2015 Strategic Defence and Security Review DID put it better than that.

Here’s what the Review said – without Fox’s mischievous omissions:

See what the good doctor did there?

In 2.14, “the EU” is omitted! Quite an omission in its own right. But also our EU membership is included in – and substantially affects the meaning of – what follows in the next paragraph, 2.15.

Note also how, in 2.15, the final sentence, which Fox neglects to include from the “perfect” description of the UK’s position, specifically refers to our membership of the EU when it talks about our role in maintaining and championing free trade and strengthening the global economy.

So. Five letters extracted. Meaning dishonestly altered.

It sums up our Brexit manipulators perfectly.

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Misunderstanding Reality

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“The single biggest false assumption that we made was about the potential for asymptomatic transmission, and that did govern a lot of policy in the early days.

That misunderstanding about the reality of asymptomatic transmission certainly led to real problems.”

Boris Johnson, 23 March 2021

This is me exactly one year ago, on the way to King’s College Hospital with Covid. It’s an anniversary I’d sooner forget, to be honest.

But I’m sharing it for a reason.

Yesterday, Boris Johnson excused himself for presiding over our crushing first wave with suggestions to the effect that “We didn’t know what we were dealing with back then”, that it was a “novel disease”, and there was a “misunderstanding of the reality of asymptomatic transmission”…. 

(You can watch him for yourself in the video below.)

With these excuses, Johnson clearly still wants us to buy his overall line, “We did everything we could”.

But let me tell you about King’s College Hospital. Exactly 15 days before this grim day, on 9 March, I attended King’s for an ultrasound. One of London’s biggest teaching hospitals, it was humming, busy as usual.

When I returned in the ambulance on 24 March, the place was deathly silent, a sealed Covid centre, with now-familiar one-way systems, doors locked, routine work abandoned. Wards had been taken-over and isolated for Covid, and a steady stream of patients was arriving by ambulance.

It was dramatic: in those 15 days, the hospital had metamorphosed. It was ready. Not just ready, but up and running. In those 15 days, the hospital, and presumably the whole NHS, had seen what was coming, rolled up its sleeves and got organised.

The hospital knew. NHS managers – now denigrated as “smoking ruins” by Johnson’s henchman – knew. They took action. Meanwhile, in those same 15 days, with Italy and the whole world screaming “It’s coming – do something!”, Johnson did next to nothing.

Massive sporting events continued. Older folk were advised to avoid cruises – remember that? There was hand washing. There was hand-wringing. But by the time he called the lockdown, I and others were already gasping for breath.

Hundreds of thousands of people like me were infected – had been infected for a fortnight already – and many thousands were in, or on their way, to hospital.

Here’s the thing: if the hospital and the NHS knew, the government knew. If the hospitals could act, why couldn’t the government? Because it was a “novel” virus? Because we “didn’t know then what we know now” about transmissibility and asymptomatic infection?

No. Because Johnson – the worst leader at the worst time – was frozen in the headlights. The hospitals knew, and they acted. The government knew too, but, far from doing “everything they could”, they did as little as they could. And we suffered, and we died.