At Political Liturgy
People often try to separate the left from the idea of it being like a religion.
Yet deep down.
Not a religion with God or dogma, but a strong belief, an intense faith without clear practical certainties. A force that urges, that calls, without a clear guide. Something inside you tells you that you have to move towards it, that you must aspire to the world changing, even without any guarantee or security. There is no comfort in this commitment, just a deep insistence. This faith is not lived alone but in connection with others who share the same conviction : it builds communities, a collective energy that sustains the belief even when reality resists. It lives in the tension between the ideal of what could be and the harsh reality of what is, constantly navigating between hope and struggle.
It’s not a faith aimed at an easy reward. It is a faith oriented towards a reward whose path does not protect. It exposes, puts you in peril, and guarantees nothing. It means standing in the camp that tries to halt institutional violence or takes it head-on. It’s living in the paradox of refusal without immediate victory. And yet, carrying on. Not out of heroism, but because it is impossible to do otherwise. There is in this stance a form of inverted spirituality, a relationship to the sacred without heaven, without Church, but with an absolute: the intolerable.
No, it’s not a comfortable belief. It offers neither inner peace nor easy resolution. It has no authority figure, no canonical text, no simple final reward. But it is a genuine endeavour, a quest that gives meaning and purpose. A belief that, despite its doubts and defeats, persists and creates connection, forges a community, and traces a history. That is what it means to be on the left: a true faith, a quest for emancipation carried by the power of conviction, sustained amongst those who share it.