Someone recently called me out on my personal Facebook page for being negative. For “moaning” but offering no solutions. For being “everything that is wrong with the world today”.

Harsh? Certainly. True? Possibly.

I am certainly struggling with a lack of what I suppose could be called ‘macro’ positivity at the moment: I can find endless joy in the little things, but the larger global picture fills me with anything but.

The real attack on my positivity levels probably started on the 23rd of June 2016. Without going into the detail of the damage I think Brexit will do to the country financially and politically, the damage inflicted on our social fabric is already incalculable. Brexit has been a shameless pioneer of the new political normal: blatant yet unpunished lies from those in power, divisive populist rhetoric setting “us” against “them”, the nourishing of insularity, dangerous nationalistic rhetoric making scapegoats of incomers, and the fanning of that uniquely British obsession with what many perceive as their country’s glorious past.

Of course this is not the first time that these tools have been wielded, but seeing them taken out of mothballs by the very country that enjoys employing the narrative of almost single-handedly saving Europe from the fallout of another populist-led regime, is… ironic.

Brexit may have started this latest resurgence of populism in the West, but Trump then lumbered off with it – ripping his own country apart in the process, while inflicting deep wounds on democracy, decency, truth, trust and unity the world over. He happily passed the rule-book of hatefulness to Bolsonaro and simultaneously breathed new life into right-wing populists the world over – to the detriment of us all.

Watching this play out has been immensely troubling to me, and not only me. Over and over again I have kept faith that the populist message would be seen through and rejected. Over and over again I have been saddened and increasingly fearful, to see us being towed further backwards into territory that seems to thrive on hate and tribalism.

(That these populist regimes also tend to eschew environmental protections in favour of wealth expansion, is just one more of their many corrosive tendencies with which I take issue.)

Of course, there is always the option of switching off the news to concentrate on other things, but I feel very strongly that we have a collective responsibility not to bury our heads in the sand, however dark and peaceful. For when we then crawl back out to find that we no longer live in the sort of society we want to leave to our children, we will have nobody to blame but ourselves: our moral duty is to push back in any way available to us, even if it is simply being angry on social media.

Populist movements come bearing weaponised buzzwords and phrases. Insults to put dissenters in their place, identify their supposed ideology or play into the idea that this is a battle between decent level-headed adults, and idealistic ungrateful out-of-control children intent on stripping the silent majority of their rights: Snowflake! Woke! Politically Correct! Fake News! Marxist! Communist! Bleeding-heart Liberal! Anti-fa!

The modern-day requirement for civilised people to think before they speak, appears to deeply offend some of these decent level-headed adults, even as they insist that it is the opposition who are over-sensitive and humourless. But the issue is not a desire to censure humour. The issue is that senselessly/thoughtlessly/unnecessarily wounding or marginalising certain sections of our society was never funny to any but those unlikely to ever find themselves in the same position. That ethnic minorities, women, the disabled, those of a different sexual orientation or of a different gender identification can now rely (it is hoped) on accepted common decency to preserve their dignity, is surely a good thing for all of us?

People who declare that nobody can take a joke anymore, sound very much like those men who claim to be too afraid to speak to women in the wake of the Me Too movement, in case they are accused of “something”.

Naturally, as with all things, we need balance. I have no wish to censure anybody (although the desire for everyone to agree with me is always strong!) but I do believe that empty rhetoric needs to be challenged no matter how confrontational that might be. And please believe me when I say that my natural instinct when faced with unavoidable confrontation, is to curl up like a salted slug and admit defeat. But if we don’t challenge each others’ confirmation bias, we have no hope at all of learning and teaching our way to some common ground.

Personally I have never read anything Marx wrote. I don’t belong to a political group, and I don’t subscribe to any particular movement (other than a humanist one). I would just love to live in a kinder, more tolerant, more inclusive and more collaborative society. One that prioritises the health and well-being of its communities and its natural world, over money and power.

I am not of the conviction that all inequality can or should be erased: it is an unobtainable goal, as we well know having seen the communist ideology blown apart time and again by simple human nature. There will always be people with talent, and people without. People with good looks, and people without. People who give, people who take. People who delight, and people who repulse. And undoubtedly the key issue: people with too much money, and far more with not enough. That in itself is not the problem, as long as a fair proportion of those riches are spent providing support for our most vulnerable, and as long as we are always working together towards attainable equality.

Starting by ensuring that ALL our children have access to an equally high level of academic and social instruction. All of them. Not just those whose parents can afford private schools, or those who happen to live in the “right” area, or those who have parents who understand the value of education. ALL OF THEM. Education is by far the most powerful tool against inequality, prejudice, division and ignorance, and yet in this country we are still light years away from doing right by our youth. As a nation we actively prioritise easing the path of the wealthy towards greater wealth (protecting them from reasonable taxation and from prosecution for tax evasion, out of fear they will leave) – offering up the twin fallacies of trickle-down economics and meritocracy as an appeasement to the plebs – while allowing our state schools and some of our most vital public services to struggle on with their heads barely above water. Because there is no money.

But what of the millions already tossed into Brexit’s permanently gaping maw? Not enough money to properly educate all the nation’s children or even to fill the nation’s bloody potholes. Yet the government is prepared to throw billions into the wounds left by ripping the nation out of the most profitable trade agreement it will ever have, in the middle of a recession. These are our priorities?

I don’t think I am alone in taking this as another way of telling us that inequality not only does not matter, but that it is quite possibly desirable. Everything where it should be. Everyone in their rightful place.

Because we are certainly not living in a meritocracy, where people rise or fall depending on their ability or on their work ethic – that would require actually addressing the root causes of inequality. We are living in a society where a child’s card is, more often than not, marked from birth. The current political movement seems disinclined to challenge the status quo, and their supporters, many of whom benefit directly from it,  or at least hope to, would no longer vote for them if they did.

So yes, at this point in time I am feeling quite negative. I do not trust or support our current government. I can neither forgive nor forget their duplicity and their willingness to allow the British public to tear itself apart to appease a few wealthy men. I have no stomach for displays of patriotism. Clapping for the NHS feels condescending to those risking their lives for mediocre salaries. It feels particularly condescending to the non-British medical staff risking their lives in the face of cruel and degrading prejudice from a government that only temporarily suspended hostilities in order to make use of them during a crisis.

I can’t get worked up about statues, especially not when they are being used as a nationalistic tool or as an excuse to withhold support from social discourse. In this country we do not learn our history from statues; judging from what I read on social media, we don’t learn our history at all. We just whip out the nice bits, whether they are truths, half-truths or oft-repeated bollocks, and use them to fan the nationalistic ego and misplaced sense of exceptionalism.

But one of the benefits of having lived in a number of different countries, is that I am deeply aware that no one place has got everything right. All countries and all communities have their good bits, their awful bits, and many degrees in between. There is so much I love about the United Kingdom: I love the countryside and its wildlife. I love the childhood home that is now my child’s home. I love that most people are polite and considerate. I love that as a nation we are not overly bothered by appearance. I love that we have been pioneers in so many areas of science and natural history. I love English villages and country lanes. I love that British women can drink too much, hold strong opinions, be independent and be themselves without being told they have compromised their womanhood. I love the seasons. I love the national adoration of our pets. I love Springwatch, Countryfile, Attenborough, period dramas, TV detectives and comedy quiz shows. I love that most people are tolerant. I love how much more multi-cultural the country has become since I left in 1995, and most of all I love that the country HAS been capable of making real progress in so many areas.

I am not proud to be British, because nationality is a mere accident of birth, but neither am I ashamed. At the moment I am just sad and disappointed that we seem to have temporarily lost our way.

But we are not alone in that.