Testing times call for harsh words to channel our anger

Is our politics too vicious? Here are some recent quotes: “There is a level of viciousness that I was not expecting” (Ivanka Trump); “It felt terrible, it felt awful” (Diane Abbott); “Theresa May is a dead woman walking. It’s just how long she’s going to remain on death row” (George Osborne); “You realise that the people who are hurt most by the criticism are your loved ones” (Nick Timothy).

So do we need softer words and nicer metaphors? Do we need to stop singling out individuals? That conclusion seems inevitable, especially when actual violence is being perpetrated against politicians. It’s a year since the Labour MP Jo Cox was murdered. This week Steve Scalise, a Republican congressman, was shot while fielding at second base during baseball practice; he is in a critical condition. A French politician, Nathalie Kosciusko-Morizet, was left unconscious after an altercation with a member of the public.

Even where physical violence is not involved, what about the mental toll? How can it feel for Theresa May — exhausted, dejected — to hear her fate described in such gruesome terms? Shouldn’t we also spare a thought for friends and family, as highlighted by her former chief of staff, Mr Timothy?

Normally I would agree. Yet something tells me that vicious language is needed right now. First, we should remember that it is just language. We can talk about wars, battles, beheadings, and stabbings in the back, just metaphorically.

Second, if ever there was a time for politicians to denigrate each other, to question motivations, to focus relentlessly on failings, it is now. Disagreements are visceral, and our language should reflect that.

Tim Farron, the outgoing Liberal Democrat leader, said this week that his party would “seek to disagree well and with grace” with adversaries. But the Lib Dems simply don’t agree with the Conservatives and Labour on the biggest issue of the day, Brexit. You cannot channel the anger on all sides without some fairly coarse language. Ditto the Grenfell Tower disaster. Singling out individuals is an essential way for politicians to be held responsible.

It doesn’t help that those complaining about the personal toll often do so on spurious grounds. Ivanka Trump is one of them. She was upset about the attacks on her father, but not apparently about those on the character of Hillary Clinton. I don’t remember her objecting to Donald retweeting rape allegations against Bill Clinton. That wasn’t just vicious: it was libellous.

Diane Abbott also inspires little sympathy. She said this week that her poor performance in a radio interview — where she got hopelessly muddled about police funding — was attributable to Type II diabetes. She would have persuaded more critics had she simply admitted her failure to prepare. The problem with viciousness is that it’s not equally distributed. A woman’s failings are highlighted more than a man’s, and a black woman such as Ms Abbott suffers a higher level of viciousness than a white woman. Plenty of white men stuttered over policies, and these misdemeanours have largely been forgotten. This is a serious imbalance that needs to be called out.

The saving grace is that, when viciousness veers into bullying, it often fails. Labour’s Ms Abbott says that she was singled out by the Tories during the election campaign, and the excessive number of Facebook adverts support her assertion. The Tory tactic doesn’t seem to have been very effective. Viciousness needs to be proportionate.

My favourite example is Stewart Jackson, a Brexit-supporting Conservative. Writing to a journalist who complained about the Leave campaign’s tactics, Mr Jackson, then MP for Peterborough, replied “Suck it up whiner.” That wasn’t powerful, it was puerile. It has no place in politics and now neither does Mr Jackson: this year, he lost his seat.

henry.mance@ft.com