Yesterday I woke up and embarked on the morning routine. Rouse the teenagers from their slumbers, make tea, feed the cat, herd everyone out of the door on the school run. Easy.
At no point (and I think this is key) did I say to myself, “Now, how can I get the British government’s attention so that my spouse can be released from nearly five years’ wrongful imprisonment?”
Lucky me.
I know all about the Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe case. Of course I do. I read the papers, I watch the news and it’s a regular feature, along with climate change and political sleaze. Thing is, though, it shouldn’t be. Nazanin should have been released back to her home and her family a couple of days after the original misunderstanding. If misunderstanding it was. Richard Ratcliffe really shouldn’t be sitting in the cold and the rain in his little tent outside the Foreign Office getting weaker and hungrier by the second.
Just before we left for school, I sat down to check my emails and saw a Facebook post from a dear friend, a fellow Amnesty member and a woman who believes as passionately in freedom and truth as I do. I took a minute to read her comments on the case and something stirred in my mind. Did I really understand what was going on? Apparently not. I did a lightning assessment of the case, skim reading a couple of articles and a feeling of deep shame came over me.
I’ll tell you why.
Back in the 80s, I was the most politically engaged person you could hope to meet. I signed petitions (the sort printed out on paper – we didn’t have the internet back then), went on marches, voted with my heart, boycotted the produce of repressive regimes and political systems. Going to the supermarket with me was lots of fun. Produce from South Africa and Israel was ignored. Only fruit and veg grown fairly locally and by democratic countries made it into my basket. I refused to have anything to do with various banks because of their political affiliations. Nothing from McDonald’s has passed my lips since the age of eighteen for obvious reasons. I cared so much.
Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe and Richard Ratcliffe in happier times
These days, a middle-aged, middle-class woman living in the country and working from home, I still care, but those flames have damped down into glowing embers. I still shop carefully, I still veto the Golden Arches of shame, but I’m ashamed to say that apathy has taken over in many areas of my life.
A lifelong Guardian reader, I followed the links my friend sent me. The embers blazed up into those old familiar flames as I read about the shameful part the then Foreign Secretary (our current PM, bless his fluffy little blond noggin) had played in Nazanin’s incarceration. Anger grew in my heart as I did the background research I should have done when this story made headline news the first time around.
“But we live in a democracy, don’t we?”
On the way to school, I warned the 13-year-old and 15-year-old to expect a rant. It’s a ten-minute drive and by the time we got there, they were a whole heap more politically engaged than they had been over the toast and tea in the kitchen.
“But we live in a democracy, don’t we?” my daughter said.
“Yes. Technically speaking we do,” I replied, indicating on to the A12 and choosing my words carefully. “But when it comes down to it, it’s all about money, trade and power. It was when I was your age and it still is now.”
Honesty is the best policy. I told them that I felt deeply ashamed of myself for letting this shocking and shameful situation go over my head for so long. I recounted tales of my political passion when I was a young adult. I didn’t quote that famous line from John Stuart Mill: “Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing.”
I’ll save that one for another day.
Back home, I signed petitions, tweeted, retweeted and shared. I am writing to my MP. It’s not enough, not nearly enough, but it’s a start.
I feel ashamed to be a citizen of a country run by people who routinely lie, twist words and make it blatantly obvious that they don’t care. Most of all, though, I’m ashamed that an ordinary, decent man has to starve himself just to get the attention of the people who are responsible for his wife’s incarceration.
Plenty of people with far more clout than me have pinned their colours to the mast. They’re all public figures I like and admire. Claudia Winkleman, Victoria Coren Mitchell, Bill Bailey, David Mitchell amongst others. They’re acting with decency and compassion, unlike the highly-paid politicians we, the people, elected.
I say we. I mean you. But that’s your right as a democratic citizen.
If you’ve got this far and you’re wondering what you can do, I’ll tell you. Write to your MP and keep at it. Put a reminder in your calendar to write every week until something happens. Follow all of the public figures who are trying to help with this disgusting situation on social media, like, share, tweet and retweet. Maybe take a trip up to the Big Smoke to have a chat with those democratically elected representatives of ours. Do whatever it takes. Please. Read these articles.
At least one head should be rolling. It really should. And Nazanin should be coming home to her family.
***
Further reading:
Boris Johnson ‘mistake’ could harm case for Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe, say family
It’s Liz Truss’s moment to do the right thing by David Mitchell
After 17 days of hunger strike, I’m still trying to save Nazanin by Richard Ratcliffe
***