Crowning Lights

A small moment of festive joy shows us what multiculturalism looks like

This post sat in draft while I joined the not at all exclusive club of people who caught Covid or flu this festive season. But its about a moment that moved me and still does today. And its about this picture, showing the crowning lights of a public Christmas tree, of the sort that go up across Britain at this time of year. On a mid-morning last month, I walked past a team of three (at least) council workers, layered up against a bitterly cold day, setting the tree in its place. Then I saw them again, late at night, just as they turned the lights on. And of course it looked so pretty, I let out a “Yay!” and smiled at these workers and they grinned right back, one of them raising his winter-padded arm in a cheery little wave.

I have no idea what countries or continents formed a part of the passage in this world of those tree-raising men. But they mostly had the skin tones and features that I imagine might get them ‘Where are you really from-ed’ — especially outside of Britain’s big cities. And when politicians, pundits and front pages regularly scream about a non-existent problem with supposedly high numbers of migrants and refugees coming to the country, those workers could well get caught in the vicious crossfires, no matter their roots, residence or relevant papers.

But what struck me about that night when the lights clicked on is that it’s entirely possible that none of us exchanging cheers and smiles over the Yuletide pine even come from traditions that celebrate this holy festival. But we rejoiced in the tree anyway, the outcome of a hard day’s work, the twinkling lights, the warm splendour of it all on a freezing cold night. And each day since, that tree has doubtless made passersby of all backgrounds smile, spreading its light, connecting us to its cheer, all thanks to the people who carefully planted its glow in a public patch of London.

To me, that brief encounter captured what multicultural communities are like. It’s the quiet, unremarkable hum of everyday life, graced with sparks of cross-cultural connection and joy, puncturing the routine. It is unaffected, uncomplicated and fundamentally human.

I’m not trying to be rosy-eyed about it, or downplay the horrible realities of spiralling racism and anti-migrant sentiment in Britain. In a country where racism is structurally built in and regularly drafted into bigoted political obsessions that stigmatise migrants, there has been a terrible cost for communities across the country who are now living in fear, on the streets and in the workplace. We are not going to get rid of that one Christmas tree at a time.

But it is also true that, as a spinelessness, failing government continually scapegoats migrants, in a political landscape full of fire-starters spreading hostility and division, amid a surge of racism that people now feel comfortable to say out loud, there are also communities across the country that know about the benefits and the joys that unfold when people come to Britain and choose to call this country home. We know that we are fortunate to have that, in every sense. We know that we are all better for it. And it is a source of light for us all to hold onto amid the gloom.

I should be back next week but in the meantime: Merry Christmas everyone!