The Quiet Light: Spirituality as a Political Agenda
Modern Politics, much like modern life, is in need of some soul.
Last year, I came across a truly life-changing piece of work: the writings of John O’Donohue. In particular, his book To Bless the Space Between Us is something I return to often. One of its most striking themes is the idea that we are tethered to something greater than ourselves - that there exists within us an innate human tendency toward spirituality.
Being raised Muslim and now on my own journey of faith, this feels almost self-evident. The “something” greater than ourselves is, to me, God. Our spirituality is the bridge that connects us to this divinity.
And yet, one thing that has increasingly rattled around in my mind is the near-complete silence around the soul and spirituality more broadly in political discourse. By this, I don’t mean a push to advance religious agendas, but rather a deeper question: to what extent are our political and societal failings rooted in a spiritual void? In the political arena, spirituality is our ability to connect with the divine in order to tame our base desires which inhibit peaceful co-existence with our fellow human.
Perhaps the starkest expression of this void is found in the agenda of Donald Trump. His administration is in many ways a performance - a reclaiming of some imagined past glory1, stolen (supposedly) by immigrants, Muslims, China - essentially anyone who didn’t fit the MAGA worldview. It was also, quite plainly, an attempt by the Trump family to enrich themselves through public office2. In this worldview, might makes right, and the weak suffer what they must.
A life measured only by material output and the satisfaction of base desires is one that leaves us engorged and miserable.
This spiritual decline isn’t just visible in headline politics, it manifests in our communities, in our civic culture. Timothy Snyder ends his book Black Earth with a powerful reflection drawn from Wanda J., a Polish Jew escaping Nazi occupation. She spoke of “the decisive importance of a sense of humanity.” That sense of humanity seems to be eroding at an alarming rate. Snyder’s sobering conclusion is that under conditions of state collapse, few of us would behave well.
Today, as oligarchic interests gut state capacity and fiscal pressures mount, we are left with more than just a lack of practical support: we are left with a spiritual void. The state is meant to help humans thrive. But when it fails, not only are our material needs unmet, we are also spiritually unmoored. In such a world:
Climate change isn’t real because we refuse to temper our consumption.
Palestinians are denied even basic humanity because it’s politically expedient to ignore their suffering.
The poor and middle class are squeezed because we allow billionaires to plunder without consequence.
Truth is a ‘nice to have’ rather than a fundamental building block of society because it is more important what ‘our’ side think.
I know this may all sound abstract. How does a more spiritual society actually solve our many crises? My thinking is twofold. First, some of the problems we face only exist because of this spiritual emptiness. A society more rooted in its connection to the divine simply wouldn’t produce them. Second, a spiritually conscious society would be better equipped to confront the complex challenges that remain. It would have the courage, compassion, and clarity to seek meaningful, equitable solutions - not cheap ideas that come at the expense of our fellow humans and do nothing to actually address the problem at hand.
Let’s ground this in a concrete example: the backlash against Net Zero policies in the UK.
Premise 1: Net Zero initiatives are essential to mitigating climate change. As the UK government itself states, we’re already experiencing extreme weather - heatwaves, floods, and wildfires - around the globe.3
Premise 2: The transition to Net Zero does come at a cost. It requires public investment, policy shifts, and an economic reorientation away from carbon-intensive industries.4
At the time of writing, the most vocal opponents of Net Zero are found in Reform UK, a relatively new party led by Nigel Farage. They’ve surged in popularity during a period of national malaise - rising costs, stagnant growth, and a widespread sense of decline. In 2024, voters turned to the Labour Party in hope of change. Yet one year in and Labour seem incapable of meeting the challenges at hand, amid a difficult mix of inherited problems and self-inflicted errors.
Reform UK’s response to this dissatisfaction is a case study in how politics looks in a non-spiritual world. Rather than acknowledge the complexity of the UK’s challenges, they offer scapegoats: migrants, asylum seekers, environmental regulations5. Rather than call on our shared humanity, they inflame our fears. Are the savings from their proposals really worth the long-term damage? Is £500 per household worth torching the planet? And have we truly become so spiritually bankrupt that we see refugees fleeing atrocities as little more than an inconvenience to be managed?
The rise of Reform UK is terrifying not only because of their policies, but because of what they reveal about us. A society that eagerly blames “those people” instead of examining its own failures is one that has lost its moral compass. These are dark tendencies that lurk within all of us. Spirituality doesn’t eliminate them, but it helps us tame them. It invites us to respond with compassion instead of contempt, curiosity instead of judgment.
That’s why I’m drawn to John O’Donohue’s image of spirituality as a “quiet light.” It illuminates from within. When cultivated, it becomes the internal catalyst that inspires us to change the world - not out of rage or pride, but love and conviction.
This is also why the death of Pope Francis felt so significant. He was one of the rare public figures whose presence embodied spiritual authority - a quiet moral clarity in a noisy, transactional world. His loss leaves a void. Who now stands on the global stage as a spiritual counterweight to political cynicism? As Maria Popova reminds us: Cynicism is a poverty of curiosity and Imagination and ambition. The best defence our souls have for that is vigorous, intelligent, sincere hope. I believe this tonic is something we achieve when we have clarity of mind.
I know the tone of this piece has been one of lament. But it’s because I sincerely believe that one of the great challenges of our time is to bring spirituality back into public life not as dogma, but as depth. A life measured only by material output and the satisfaction of base desires is one that leaves us engorged and miserable.
What we need, what I need, above all is a renewed commitment to the inward journey.
The Quran gives us this advice in the clearest manner: “One who purifies [the soul] has prospered” (91:9). In the end, the path forward must begin within.
See their 2024 Manifesto to get a sense