Take responsibility for the face of the world

I wrote this blog piece at the request of the Black Leadership Group and it was published in their series entitled "Affirming Humanity, Decency & Belonging During Polarised Times" in February 2026.

Another silly image pings into a WhatsApp group with the prefix, “forwarded many times”, which usually accompanies the worst AI generated meme bait. This one is timed to coincide with the climax of the Winter Olympics, and depicts four grinning, bearded men, who appear to have fallen out of a large yellow inflatable dinghy on the bobsleigh run at Milano Cortino. It comes with the caption, “Heartbreak for the Afghan bobsleigh team”.

To function, the ‘joke’ requires knowledge of the famous Jamaican bobsleigh team immortalised in the film Cool Runnings and the knowledge that Afghans make up a significant proportion of the asylum-seeking migrants, who cross the channel in dangerously unseaworthy inflatable dinghies.

There is no question that this was a racist meme pointed at both Afghan asylum-seekers and Jamaicans. Had I not just read Frederick Joseph’s, “The Black Friend”, I might have let this one slide. But Joseph made a point which resonated; that if friends and family are still being racist in your presence, you are not trying hard enough.

I chose to speak. But how to say what I had to say…?

First, I chose not to say, “That’s racist. Please delete this post.” Not because I feared the confrontation or the awkwardness, I am reasonably comfortable being disliked. Rather, I felt that using the label ‘racist’ would decrease the likelihood of getting my point across. One of my colleagues, Charlene, who is black, and with whom I occasionally discuss racism and inequality, had taken our conversation home and continued it with her husband. She reported back to me that he had said, “The trouble is, no-one wakes up and thinks - I may have been a little bit racist, yesterday.”

This idea stuck with me. I think the stigma of the label “racist” is part of the problem in trying to make the world kinder and more inclusive. No one wants to be called racist. There is such shame attached that when we are called racist, we shut down intellectually and respond emotionally. We will perform mental gymnastics to avoid conceding that anything we might have said or done was in any way racist. 

If it is difficult for us as individuals to admit our failings, it is no wonder our institutions are currently experiencing a leadership vacuum. We see failures marked by silence and performative inclusion, because leaders fear the cost of being humanly flawed. They fear that one mistake, one admission of past ignorance will result in permanent exile.

Another book I read recently, which I recommend wholeheartedly to all who would defend the enlightenment, Timothy Snyder’s “On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century” called for action. In chapter 4 Snyder calls on readers to “take responsibility for the face of the world” and not look away from signs of hate. In chapter 8 he urges us to “stand out” and break the spell of the status quo. In chapter 9 asks us to “be kind to our language” and avoid clichés.

So, back to my WhatsApp group. After probably too much consideration, I eventually responded,

“Mocking refugees, who risk their lives to cross the channel because there are no legal routes to asylum in this county isn’t funny. Punching down isn’t funny.”

I deliberately avoided calling the person, who shared the image, racist or labelling the post as racist. Because I hope that I created a moment in which those in the group who may have initially laughed at the post were able to consider that they could have done better. 

Does my writing this blog for the Black Leadership Group mean that I think I am no longer racist? Far from it. There will be many ways in which I remain culturally ignorant and privileged at the same time. But I would like to be better. I don’t think that this is an on/off thing from social pariah to saint. I think it is a journey, where we get better by practising every day, a bit like playing the piano.

And I think that journey starts with being prepared to admit that you might have been wrong about any number of things and being curious about how that happened.