In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk

In Despite of White Horses


Who is Mr Corbyn ? Mr Corbyn is a mist, a mild man standing on a platform made of our storm, carrying our projections. How to disentangle the yearnings of the young audience and the nightmares of the old one, from this slight, ageing man on the platform ?

He has a life time behind him of stubborn, non-compliant conviction and there is warmth in him.

But it is a lifetime of mainly solid and detailed work in committee, coming up with awkward little points  of order with which to fluster the Chair.

Surely here is a man of small print and stubborn fixities, leaning on an old and clanky set of commandments as an extension of himself, just another fundamentalist among so many others.  And he is dreaming his way to a version of Brexit that belongs, perhaps, in the minutes somewhere and accords, perhaps, with one or another of his own points of order somewhere.

But in the real and present world of flesh and devil and huge forces and rushing shapes, there is a gaping hole in this nation where a leader should be.