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Wonderful to be here, in this astounding time: which is also, for us, a time of mourning, as we recall old friends lost; and of some joy, as we celebrate their lives and legacies, remembering Bob Young today. So many to mourn, so much to fear, nowadays. Of course, this is also just one of the many perils of ageing, alongside its possible pleasures, as we cleave to the friends and mentors who survive, even as we recall and respect those who've left us but, hopefully, not abandoned us. So we can, with luck, mourn together, fighting off melancholy: and the enduring pessimism and self-defeat characterising it.
I have a challenging task today, trying to keep hope alive. I think we can only do this partly through dwelling upon, rather than repudiating, all that is wrong with our times. Fortunately, we have mentors, many mentors. For me, it means recalling some of those New Left voices, such as Raymond Williams, writing in his very last book Resources for Hope: ‘To be truly radical is to make hope possible, rather than despair convincing’.2 My feminist mentors said much the same: ‘It takes some strength of soul - not just individual strength, but collective understanding - to resist this void … into which you are thrust, and to stand up, demanding to be heard’.3 Or it certainly takes courage for those others, whose voices are rarely respected, even when heard, Black and ethnic minority in particular. I get invited to talk about hope nowadays because that tight interweaving of joy and woe was the Blakean refrain repeated throughout my last book: Radical Happiness: Moments of Collective Joy, and many of my arguments here are developed further in that book.4
For, as we surely know so well, woe so easily turns to fear, hatred, repudiation of those we can most easily target as the source of our miseries, tragically, most usually those less powerful than ourselves, with every reason to be more miserable than we are. Joy, is different, as I see it, since it is about celebration: wh