Monday 4th June 2007
Watching Tony Blair's farewell speech, I couldn't help but feel overcome by a strong sense of ennui. Think back to 1997, when the new prime minister and his entourage arrived fresh-faced and smiling on the doorstep of Number 10. Admittedly the cheering crowds that greeted Tony and Cherie in Downing Street that morning were predominantly Labour Party activists and workers. But there is no doubt that the rekindled hope and aspirations of a majority of Britons were solidly behind Blair at that moment. As the utopian strains of D:Ream's Things Can Only Get Better segued into the dawn chorus, a groundswell of public optimism urged Blair to launch out on a bold, brave and socially just programme of governance.
How different it all looks today. Despite an impressive legacy on some issues, the failures of the Blair years seem even more pronounced in proportion to the hopes that were initially invested in him. The Iraq catastrophe has severely undermined public trust, as indeed has Blair's highly questionable subordination of Britain's interests to a Neoconservative political revolution in Washington. At home, the country seems ill at ease with itself. The gulf between rich and poor persists. Communities are mutually suspicious and divided. British Muslims feel under intense pressure and growing scrutiny. Interest rates are rising. Housing is scarce or unaffordable - or both.
Ten years may feel like a long time in politics, but it's worth remembering that however secure or entrenched a political regime may seem, all things have their day. When I was a student in the mid-80s, it seemed inconceivable that the Conservatives could ever be ousted. But Margaret Thatcher's fall, when it came, was as rapid as it was decisive. And the certainty of change in politics, as in life itself, leads us to reflect on the difference between divine and human perspectives.
150 million years ago, the Thames Valley was bathed in balmy sunshine and immersed beneath a tropical Triassic sea. Under Oxford's tarmac and asphalt lie the fossilized bones of prehistoric creatures. Yet in cosmic time - or what the writer John McPhee has called 'deep time' - the interval between their extinction and our own short lives on this planet is barely the equivalent of the blink of an eye. It's worth reminding ourselves, when we reflect on the nature of temporal power, that all such authority is at best provisional. As Psalm 24 puts it: 'The earth belongs to the Lord, and everything on it is his. For he founded it in empty space and breathed his own life into it, filling it with manifold creatures, each one precious in his sight.' The power that our leaders exercise should be assessed, in the end, with this vital proviso in mind.
Alison Webster is the Social Responsibility Adviser for Oxford Diocese