The Longing Core of Conservatism
There is a school of thought in politics that emphasises a society of individuals – the famous claim that “there is no such thing as society.”
That couldn’t be further from the truth. Everyone is far more interconnected than we realise, and the effect we have on one another reaches far beyond our own knowledge.
Some ideology would have us believing that humans are “blank slates”, ready to be written upon by the state, but identity is far more organic and historical than that. We are, quite simply, the sum of everyone we have ever known.
This is why I believe there is a hidden beauty in the “unknown” of our relationships. People twist and turn in and out of our lives, sometimes leaving forever, yet we never truly move on. There is a level of intimacy in those final endings – those friends or partners we never speak to again – because they remain part of us. We carry them with us.
The effect of another person can be as large as a revolution or as small as a single letter. Since the age of thirteen, I have written my E’s differently, imitating the way my history teacher did. On the face of it, this is an inconsequential, minute detail. He likely never thinks of me; he probably never even noticed the imitation.
I have never told anyone why I write them that way, yet every time, I think of him. Some might call this a mimetic desire to be unique, but I would argue it is a form of pure admiration. Any form of copying is, at its core, an act of love for a legacy.
In some sense, this forms the heart of what conservatism is for me. Conservative philosophy speaks of “little platoons” – the small, local connections like teachers, neighbours, and friends that shape us more than a distant state ever could. Unknowingly, my Year 8 history teacher formed part of my little platoon. He didn’t sit me down to lecture me on the aesthetics of a letter; I simply wanted to imitate his excellence because he was a wise, funny, and likeable man.
Long past his death, my handwriting will continue that living tradition and I am sure neither he nor I will be the last links in this chain. If we are an archaeology of every encounter we have ever had, then we cannot be the “blank slates” that ideologues imagine.
We do not move on, not out of nostalgic despair, but because to move on would be to leave parts of our own selves behind. We are the curators of the people who made us and to me that is quite a freeing thought.
Your life is not unique, your troubles are not unique. There is always someone who can relate to you.
As James Baldwin said in his Life interview almost 61 years ago
“You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was Dostoevsky and Dickens who taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, or who ever had been alive.”