So when we opened our papers a few weeks ago and read of the seats won by minority party candidates who reject a multi-ethnic, multicultural Britain, we probably didn't feel it was our fault. No, we thought, the problem is those others – the ones who can't be bothered to vote. The issue of voter apathy is well-rehearsed; our hands are clean.
But it's not that simple. Low voter turnout is just the most visible sign of a wider disengagement with the political process. Alongside people who might once have voted, but nowadays don't, there are others who have left the scene too. Political organisations have smaller and ageing memberships. Fewer canvassers go from door to door. Fewer people attend party meetings. There is little week-by-week campaigning at local level on local issues. And the pool of active, informed members from which the parties draw their candidates for election gets smaller, with the consequence that some of the names appearing on ballot papers offer very little to coax the reluctant voter out of their armchair.
And that's where you and I come in. For I would also bet that those of us who work in housing associations are less involved in all those aspects of political life than our predecessors; and the irony is that this is the case at precisely the time when we are championing the idea of engaging with neighbourhoods.
To our tenants and residents, we advocate involvement. Wearing our work hats we preach participation. And then we go home, slam the front door behind us and heave a sigh of relief that no one expects us to do the same.
One day 20 years ago, I was in a church service when the vicar asked the congregation what we admired about Jesus Christ. One of the first answers came from a man who was a schoolteacher and a local councillor. What he admired about Christ was that Jesus taught by example. When we expect others to engage in ways that we are not prepared to do ourselves – except in work time, when we're paid for it – then, no matter how much we may try to hide it, the hypocrisy shines through.
In housing, this means we can't proclaim "neighbourhood" to others when we don't do it ourselves. Nor can we do it when we are not prepared to enter the lives of the neighbourhoods in which we work and live on the terms they need.
Political parties win votes when they are there to listen to local people and reflect what they are hearing in the light of their political creed. You can't "do neighbourhood" on a five-days-a-week, 9.30-to-4.30 (make that 3.30 on Fridays, because the weekend is sacrosanct) basis. And if the only political organisations that are putting in time and energy at evenings and weekends are the ones at the extremes of the spectrum we shouldn't be surprised at the results.
Perhaps I should be more cynical. After all, I will have passed my 46th birthday between my writing this and you reading it. I should have learned the lesson of the 1980s and expect people simply do what is in their own narrow self-interest.
But I don't. For my final bet is that when we drop some of the personal barriers and make a commitment to neighbourhoods both in work and out, our lives become richer and more fulfilled … and racists don't get elected to councils.
Source
Housing Today
Postscript
Rt Rev David Walker is the bishop of Dudley and a member of the government policy action team on housing management
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