The war is becoming all about me and I hate it
A mea culpa from a narcissistic person with Opinions
I am writing to bear witness
Too melodramatic.
I am writing to cope with the pain
Warmer, but not quite right.
I am writing to work out what I think
As if I don't already know what I think!
I am writing so that when these dark times are remembered, people will know that a middle aged Jewish man from north London collapsed into narcissistic anxiety about the fate of his writing career.
Yes, that's about right
***
I'm not a sociopath, at least not most of the time. I do actually care about the nightmare that is unfolding in Israel-Palestine. The videos of hostages are unbearable to watch. The anguish of Israelis seeking information on their missing children is horrific. And yes, while I have deep connections to Israel and Israelis (including family) I also find the images of the slaughter in Gaza, and the incipient pogroms in the West Bank, very very hard to cope with.
Yet despite all my empathy and sorrow, I am also fighting something darker and indefensible: A narcissism that is triggering a constant anxiety and the only consolation for which is the knowledge that I am not the only one. Because at some level, this conflict is all about me, and however hard that is for me to publicly admit to, we are experiencing an epidemic of all-about-meism right now.
***
There was a certain sort of Britain who, post-1945, was described as 'having had a good war'. World War Two, like most other wars, was a crucible in which reputations were forged, just as it was a wheel on which reputations are broken. 'Normal' people did extraordinary things; previously unrecognised individuals rise to giddy heights of power and influence. The feckless of the privileged was exposed and the potential of the underprivileged was recognised (and vice versa of course).
The Gaza war (or whatever you want to call it - there is no consensus as to its name yet) will doubtless see some Israelis and Palestinians having good wars and we can certainly identify those like Netanyahu whose reputations have already been destroyed by it. But what is remarkable about this war is the jostling of those outside the region, including those with absolutely no prior connection to it, as they position themselves towards having a good war. This is a moment of score-settling, of scrubbing the decks and girding loins. In the UK, this war is, according to taste, an opportunity to destroy Keir Starmer, to vanquish the corpse of Corbynism, to smash the BBC, to conduct internecine insurgencies against sclerotic Jewish, Muslim and (for all I know) Seventh Day Adventist communal organisations.
And all around there is Opinion, Opinion, Opinion: Good takes and bad takes; deep analysis and trivial speculation; partisan agit-prop and nuanced fair-mindedness; angry invective and conciliatory dialogue.
Social media has allowed everyone to join the opinion party. Inevitably though, some platforms are bigger than others. The legacy media is rolling out the big guns; this is a time for well-known opinionators to be invited to speak to the nation, on TV, radio and in the newspapers. Amongst them, top-tier Jews are telling us who is doing what in their name and why they should or shouldn't speak for them.
So when is it my turn? When do I get my platform?
***
I'm not having a good war.
If this was the Second World War, I would be in the catering corps, far behind the front, desperately appealing to the brass for a chance have a go at the Jerries.
It's not hubris that makes me want to offer myself up for glory in battle. After all, I do have extensive expertise in researching and writing about the ways in which the Israel-Palestine conflict plays out in the UK and elsewhere around the world. I do know the British Jewish community - and its internal, Israel-related conflicts - exceptionally well. I am not seeking to commentate on the military situation in Gaza; I am prepared to stay in my lane. And in fairness, my tweeting/x-ing is going okay I guess. On that platform I am a nuance-machine; careful in what I write but rarely dull. I'm getting more traction than I usually do and have had one or two tweets liked several hundred of times.
A few days after the war started I got a call from a producer on Newsnight, who asked if in principle I'd be happy to come on to talk about how British Jews are dealing with the conflict. I said yes of course, in the full knowledge that it would have been a very difficult gig to pull off successfully. A few hours later, they got back to me saying they'd gone with someone else. That someone turned out to be a very well known Jewish journalist - much better known than me.
I pitched Guardian Opinion and the New Statesman my shtick on how British Jews are dealing with the war. The former turned me down politely. The latter didn't respond. I've written for both on multiple occasions but, this time, much better known Jewish writers got the gigs.
I have a pretty substantial record of publication in newspapers and magazines and I have occasionally done TV and radio too. But, ultimately, I'm like the football team I follow, Watford: A solid championship side who occasionally gets their chance to shine in the premiership. And now is definitely a time for premier league opinionators to take the field. Maybe, if the war continues indefinitely, they will need a breather and it will be my turn. Of course, by then, the whole thing will have gotten boring. Reputations are not made in Wednesday night fixtures against Stoke.
And in the meantime, I am overloaded with Opinions, things I want to say; things that no one else is saying, analyses that no one else can provide, and naturally also Opinions that are nowhere near as original as I think they are and that other people can deliver far far better than I ever could.
I am filling up notebooks with My Thoughts; stockpiling article ideas. People are talking talking talking and I am desperate to join in (and, if I am honest, to talk over those I disagree with). I am brim full of frustration as everyone piles on to shape the discourse, to describe this moment. I am being spoken for and spoken to and I hate it.
***
How did this happen? How did I fall into such a tawdry morass of narcissism?
I wasn't always like this. When I was younger, stuff happened and I would read about it or see it on TV. Sure I would sometimes want to talk through what I thought and, yes, convince others that my take was the right take. But I never felt this sense that I was being excluded from something. And I never felt this sordid.
Two things brought me to this point. First, social media gave me - and everyone else - a taste of being heard beyond the dinner table and the pub. For me at least, the cacophony of opinions only became bearable once I joined in. Second - and fatally - from the late 2000s I managed to pick up writing gigs, online and offline, with publications that had significant reach and (sometimes) prestige. Once you have a platform, even an irregular one, it's easy to forget that it is far from normal to be able to expose your thoughts to the world. And to occupy the sort of no man's land that I occupy - in which I sometimes have the opportunity to opine but are never guaranteed it - seems to be the worst of all worlds; again, for me at least.
But what makes me most ashamed right now is that, actually, I am having a good war in my regular jobs. I am proud to work for two Jewish organisations that do great work and to whom I am passionately committed. Just by helping to ensure that the regular work of maintaining Jewish communal life continues in difficult circumstances I am doing something of value; perhaps of greater value than anything I could write and publish right now. My narcissism goads me to be less than I actually am, certainly to be more superficial than I am.
Those jobs constrain me too. While everyone is merrily piling in on the war, I have to watch myself, to walk a knife edge, constantly in fear that I will be a pariah or that I will damage my employers with an ill-considered tweet. Yet that need for care also compels me to write with nuance and subtlety and that's hardly a bad thing right now.
***
How are we going to get through this?
To even ask this question risks trivialising the people who are actually at the bleeding edge of this war. Thousands have died, many more will die, hostages and their families are living through an unimaginable hell. And things may well get worse if Hezbollah joins in, if the fascists in the Israeli cabinet gain control of the war, or the uptick in antisemitism turns bloodier.
That I am hurting and that many others like me - who are relatively safe, at least for now - are also in pain, shouldn't mean that we put ourselves on the same level as those who are dying and held hostage. I have to acknowledge that the conflict is also about me without it being all about me. To do that I have to recognise my narcissism and, if possible, to keep it in check. Ironically, given my lust to publish, the best way to keep my self-obsession in check is to share this mea culpa, and invite those who read it to join me in the self-laceration.
I find myself obsessing in comparable ways to this and I think you're doing an important service by describing it. I believe it's something to do with living in a time of wars and catastrophes while the defining experience for me personally is staring at a screen and feeling anxious.
Keith, I have really been enjoying your writing, particularly this last one, and have been meaning to contact you to tell you this. Just remember that titans like Chomsky never got the recognition or respect (or invitations to comment) that they deserved either. Keep up the good work and don't despair.