The Paradox of Tolerance – A Reflection on Who We Are
by David Palethorpe
I used to tell my children — now adults themselves — that one of if not the greatest qualities of the British people have always been our tolerance.
We’ve been a nation that, even when we disagreed, respected difference.
We had an unspoken understanding that other people’s rights and freedoms were as precious as our own, even to the point that unlike so many other nations we didn’t feel the need of a written constitution to justify the understanding.
But I’m not sure I can say that with the same conviction to my grandchildren today.
Something has shifted — not only in the wider world, but closer to home.
Across the UK, and yes, even here in Teignbridge, the tone of public debate has hardened.
The patience and quiet decency that used to define British life feel increasingly drowned out by anger, suspicion, and division.
And if doesn’t deeply trouble you it should – and it does me, because-
It raises a serious question — one that might sound philosophical, but it’s also profoundly practical:
Is it right to be intolerant of those who are intolerant?
Because I will feely admit, I’ve found my own tolerance being tested.
I can accept differences of opinion, different faiths, lifestyles, or beliefs — in fact, that diversity is what makes our communities vibrant, exciting, interesting and human.
But what happens when people use their freedom not to enrich debate, but to silence others?
What happens when tolerance is twisted into a weapon of intimidation by those who refuse to show it in return?
The philosopher Karl Popper once warned that “unlimited tolerance must lead to the disappearance of tolerance.”
If we tolerate everything — even hatred and bigotry — we risk losing the very values and freedoms we claim to protect.
And that’s where I find myself today.
I am, I suppose, intolerant of intolerance.
Not because I’ve lost faith or confidence in the principles of freedom and respect, but because I believe they must be defended.
Look around — across the Atlantic, across Europe, and even here in our own towns — people are being scapegoated.
Whether it’s asylum seekers, minority groups, or simply those who hold a different political view, the easiest targets still remain all far too often the ones without a platform or a voice.
And when and if we allow that to happen, it’s not just them who lose — it’s all of us.
In Teignbridge, we see every day what happens when communities come together — volunteers running food banks, local people and businesses supporting those most in need, people looking out for their neighbours.
That is the Britain I believe in.
That is the Ipplepen and Teignbridge I’m proud to currently represent.
But to preserve that spirit, we cannot be passive.
We cannot simply shrug and say, “that’s just the way things are.”
Because history tells us what happens when good people stay silent while intolerance grows.
It always ends the same way — in conflict, in cruelty, and in regret.
So perhaps the lesson is this: tolerance isn’t weakness.
It’s strength — the strength to listen, to empathise, and to stand up when it matters most.
But it also means drawing a line when others seek to diminish and destroy those same values.
I’m perhaps overly optimistic because I still believe that the vast majority of British people — and certainly the people of Teignbridge — are fundamentally decent.
(Though I would be happier if more of them voted)
But decency needs defending.
And if being intolerant of intolerance is the price of preserving that decency, then so be it.
Because true tolerance isn’t about turning a blind eye to hate — it’s about keeping our eyes open and refusing to let it define who we are.
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