Mark Ballard

I unexpectedly became a Green Member of the Scottish Parliament in May 2003. Having promised my wife that standing for the Green Party meant I was unlikely to be troubled by political office, a combination of other green candidates withdrawing and Scotland’s complicated proportional representation system led to my unanticipated election.

I was not really prepared for this new position of responsibility, but I endeavoured to do the best job I could. I thought that, as an MSP, the thing that would help me the most in Quaker traditions and in meeting was the inspirational witness of other Friends and the support and strength of purpose I would draw from this to keep fighting for what I believe in.

However, I found I quickly became addicted to the adrenaline rush of ‘the struggle’. Keeping up the fight was the easy part. In fact, those around me found that I became much more aggressive and much more likely to treat a chat with friends as an opportunity to replay a parliamentary debate.

So what I needed from meeting was the quiet. It was the chance to reflect and take a break from the struggle, and in particular the oppositional mindset that goes with politics. Political debate is designed around one side rubbishing everything the other side says. But while certainty may appear to be a good place to argue from, it is not a good place from which to convince others. If you do not respect the person you are arguing with, then there is no real possibility of communication.

So it was important to be reminded that, when I disagreed with someone, however passionately, this was not (usually) because they were stupid, corrupt or ill-informed, but because of a genuine difference of opinion. Only by appreciating their point of view, concerns and issues could I hope to construct an argument that would make any connection let alone convince them.

This principle, of seeking out what there is that you can connect with in others, is of course central to Quaker tradition. Just as the ministry that I understand the least often turns out to be the most rewarding after consideration, learning to value the opinions of those I was disagreeing with made me reflect on how I operated as a politician.

Given the urgency of issues like climate change, while clever rhetoric might give me an adrenaline buzz and, on a good day, the satisfaction of having ‘beaten’ my opponent, it was unlikely to convince anyone – opposition politician, government minister or voter – unless it was based on respect for them.

Then, at the Scottish Parliament election three months ago, I wasn’t re-elected. The Greens lost ground due to a number of factors, including a surge of support for the SNP on a ‘time for a change from Labour’ ticket. After the initial disappointment and frustration at losing my seat just when I felt I was learning how to make the most effective use of my position, I am now beginning to value the opportunity I currently have for far deeper reflection than there was ever time or space for when I was an MSP.

One of the things I have been reflecting on is the Scots translation of 1 Corinthians 13 inscribed into the stone paving at the Royal Mile entrance to the Scottish Parliament:
“Gin I speak wi the tungs o men an angels, but hae nae luve I my hairt, I am no nane better nor dunnerin bress or ringing cymbal.”

There is no use being right, as I still believe we are on issues like climate change, nuclear weapons and trade justice, if you come across as self-righteous and lack respect for those whose views and lifestyles you seek to change.

If we are to turn faith into action, we must remember that our action must be based on love and respect. All too often in movements for peace, social justice and environmental protection we are so certain in our convictions and the power of our arguments that we fail to consider the effects our words will have on those who do not share our convictions.