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I’m a believer

In our increasingly secular society, many religious people feel their voices are not heard. So here,

After four centuries of breathtaking scientific progress, many wonder why intelligent people would still feel the need to believe in God. Andrew Zak Williams decided to find out. Over the course of several months, he corresponded with dozens of scientists and other public figures, quizzing them on the reasons for their faith. Here is a selection of the responses.

Cherie Blair, barrister
It's been a journey from my upbringing to an understanding of something that my head cannot explain but my heart knows to be true.

Jeremy Vine, broadcaster
There is a subjective reason and an objective reason. The subjective reason is that I find consolation in my faith. The objective reason is that the story of the gospels has stood the test of time and Christ comes across as a totally captivating figure.

In moments of weariness or cynicism, I tell myself I only believe because my parents did; and the Christian faith poses more questions than it answers.

But I still return to believing, as if that is more natural than not doing so.

Richard Swinburne, emeritus professor of philosophy, University of Oxford
To suppose that there is a God explains why there is a physical universe at all; why there are the scientific laws there are; why animals and then human beings have evolved; why human beings have the opportunity to mould their character and those of their fellow humans for good or ill and to change the environment in which we live; why we have the well-authenticated account of Christ's life, death and resurrection; why throughout the centuries millions of people (other than ourselves) have had the apparent experience of being in touch with and guided by God; and so much else.
In fact, the hypothesis of the existence of God makes sense of the whole of our experience and it does so better than any other explanation that can be put forward, and that is the grounds for believing it to be true.

Peter Hitchens, journalist
I believe in God because I choose to do so. I believe in the Christian faith because I prefer to do so. The existence of God offers an explanation of many of the mysteries of the universe - es­pecially "Why is there something rather than nothing?" and the questions which follow from that. It requires our lives to have a purpose, and our actions to be measurable against a higher standard than their immediate, observable effect. Having chosen belief in a God over unbelief, I find the Christian gospels more per­suasive and the Christian moral system more powerful than any other religious belief.

I was, it is true, brought up as a Christian, but ceased to be one for many years. When I returned to belief I could have chosen any, but did not.

Jonathan Aitken, former politician
I believe in God because I have searched for Him and found Him in the crucible of brokenness. Some years ago I went through an all-too-well-publicised drama of defeat, disgrace, divorce, bankruptcy and jail. In the course of that saga I discovered a loving God who answers prayers, forgives and redeems.

James Jones, Bishop of Liverpool
One word: Jesus. All that you imagine God would be, He is. His life and His love are compelling, His wisdom convincing.

Richard Chartres, Bishop of London
I believe in God because He has both revealed and hidden Himself in so many different ways: in the created world, the Holy Bible, the man Jesus Christ; in the Church and men and women of God through the ages; in human relationships, in culture and beauty, life and death, pain and suffering; in immortal longings, in my faltering prayers and relationship with Him. There is nothing conclusive to force me into believing, but everything sug­gestive, and constantly drawing me on into the love of Christ and to "cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt".

David Alton, Lib Dem peer
The notion that humanity and the cosmos are an accident has always seemed implausible. A world littered with examples of complex genius - from developments in quantum theory to regenerative medicine - points us towards genius more perfect and more unfathomable than ourselves. The powerful combination of faith and reason led me as a child to believe in God.

Unsurprisingly, as I matured into manhood, that belief has not been immune against the usual catalogue of failure, sadness and grief; and belief has certainly not camouflaged the horrors of situations I have seen first hand in places such as Congo and Sudan. Paradoxically, it has been where suffering has been most acute that I have also seen the greatest faith.

By contrast, the more we own or have, the more difficulty we seem to have in seeing and encountering the Divine.

Professor Stephen R L Clark, philosopher
I believe in God because the alternatives are worse. Not believing in God would mean that we have no good reason to think that creatures such as us human beings (accidentally generated in a world without any overall purpose) have any capacity - still less any duty - to discover what the world is like.

Denying that "God exists" while still maintaining a belief in the power of reason is, in my view, ridiculous.My belief is that we need to add both that God is at least possibly incarnate among us, and that the better description of God (with all possible caveats about the difficulty of speaking about the infinite source of all being and value) is as something like a society. In other words, the Christian doctrine of the incarnation, and of the trinity, have the philosophical edge. And once those doctrines are included, it is possible to see that other parts of that tradition are important.

Nick Spencer, director of Theos, the public theology think tank
I would say I find Christianity (rather than just belief in God) the most intellectually and emotionally satisfying explanation for being.

Stephen Green, director of the fundamentalist pressure group Christian Voice
I came to faith in God through seeing the ducks on a pond in People's Park, Grimsby. It struck me that they were all doing a similar job, but had different plumage. Why was that? Why did the coot have a white beak and the moorhen a red one? Being a hard-nosed engineer, I needed an explanation that worked and the evolutionary model seemed too far-fetched and needful of too much faith!

I mean, what could possibly be the evolutionary purpose of the bars on the hen mallard's wings, which can only be seen when she flies? Or the tuft on the head of the tufted duck?

So I was drawn logically to see them as designed like that. I suppose I believed in an intelligent designer long before the idea became fashionable. So, that left me as a sort of a deist. But God gradually became more personal to me and I was drawn against all my adolescent atheist beliefs deeper and deeper into faith in Jesus Christ.

Douglas Hedley, reader in metaphysics, Clare College, Cambridge
Do values such as truth, beauty and goodness emerge out of a contingent and meaningless substrate? Or do these values reflect a transcendent domain from which this world has emerged? I incline to the latter, and this is a major reason for my belief in God.

Paul Davies, quantum physicist
I am not comfortable answering the question "Why do you believe in God?" because you haven't defined "God". In any case, as a scientist,
I prefer not to deal in "belief" but rather in the usefulness of concepts. I am sure I don't believe in any sort of god with which most readers of your article would identify.

I do, however, assume (along with all scientists) that there is a rational and intelligible scheme of things that we uncover through scientific investigation. I am uncomfortable even being linked with "a god" because of the vast baggage that this term implies (a being with a mind, able to act on matter within time, making decisions, etc).

Professor Derek Burke, biochemist and former president of Christians in Science
There are several reasons why I believe in God. First of all, as a scientist who has been privileged to live in a time of amazing scientific discoveries (I received my PhD in 1953, the year Watson and Crick discovered the structure of DNA), I have been overwhelmed by wonder at the order and intricacy of the world around us. It is like peeling skins off an onion: every time you peel off a layer, there is another one underneath, equally marvellously intricate. Surely this could not have arisen by chance? Then my belief is strengthened by reading the New Testament especially, with the accounts of that amazing person, Jesus, His teaching, His compassion, His analysis of the human condition, but above all by His resurrection. Third, I'm deeply impressed by the many Christians whom I have met who have lived often difficult lives with compassion and love. They are an inspiration to me.

Peter J Bussey, particle physicist
God is the ultimate explanation, and this includes the explanation for the existence of physical reality, for laws of nature and everything. Let me at this point deal with a commonly encountered "problem" with the existence of God, one that Richard Dawkins and others have employed.
It goes that if God is the ultimate cause or the ultimate explanation, what then is the cause of God, or the explanation for God? My reply
is that, even in our own world, it is improper to repeat the same investigatory question an indefinite number of times. For example, we ask, "Who designed St Paul's Cathedral?" and receive the reply: "Sir Christopher Wren." But, "No help whatever," objects the sceptic, "because, in that case, who then designed Sir Christopher Wren?" To this, our response will now be that it is an inappropriate question and anyone except a Martian would know that. Different questions will be relevant now.

So, likewise, it is very unlikely that we know the appropriate questions, if any, to ask about God, who is presumably outside time, and is the source of the selfsame rationality that we presume to employ to understand the universe and to frame questions about God.
What should perhaps be underlined is that, in the absence of total proof, belief in God will be to some extent a matter of choice.

Reverend Professor Michael Reiss, bioethicist and Anglican priest
At the age of 18 or 19, a religious way of understanding the world began increasingly to make sense. It did not involve in any way abandoning the scientific way. If you like, it's a larger way of understanding our relationship with the rest of the world, our position in nature and all those standard questions to do with why we are here, if there is life after death, and so on. That was reinforced by good teaching, prayer and regular reading of scripture.

Peter Richmond, theoretical physicist
Today most people reject the supernatural but there can be no doubt that the teachings of Jesus are still relevant. And here I would differentiate these from some of the preaching of authoritarian churches, which has no doubt been the source of much that could be considered to be evil over the years. Even today, we see conflict in places such as Africa or the Middle East - killings made in the name of religion, for example. As Christians, we recognise these for what they are - evil acts perpetrated by the misguided. At a more domestic level, the marginalisation of women in the Church is another example that should be exposed for what it is: sheer prejudice by the present incumbents of the Church hierarchy. But as Christians, we can choose to make our case to change things as we try to follow the social teachings of Jesus. Compared to pagan idols, Jesus offered hope, comfort and inspiration, values that are as relevant today as they were 2,000 years ago.

David Myers, professor of psychology, Hope College, Michigan
[Our] spirituality, rooted in the developing biblical wisdom and in a faith tradition that crosses the centuries, helps make sense of the universe, gives meaning to life, opens us to the transcendent, connects us in supportive communities, provides a mandate for morality and selflessness and offers hope in the face of adversity and death.

Kenneth Miller, professor of biology, Brown University
I regard scientific rationality as the key to understanding the material basis of our existence as well as our history as a species. That's the reason why I have fought so hard against the "creationists" and those who advocate "intelligent design". They deny science and oppose scientific rationality, and I regard their ideas as a threat to a society such as ours that has been so hospitable to the scientific enterprise.

There are, however, certain questions that science cannot answer - not because we haven't figured them out yet (there are lots of those), but because they are not scientific questions at all. As the Greek philosophers used to ask, what is the good life? What is the nature of good and evil? What is the purpose to existence? My friend Richard Dawkins would ask, in response, why we should think that such questions are even important. But to most of us, I would respond, these are the most important questions of all.

What I can tell you is that the world I see, including the world I know about from science, makes more sense to me in the light of a spiritual understanding of existence and the hypo­thesis of God. Specifically, I see a moral polarity to life, a sense that "good" and "evil" are actual qualities, not social constructions, and that choosing the good life (as the Greeks meant it) is the central question of existence. Given that, the hypothesis of God conforms to what I know about the material world from science and gives that world a depth of meaning that I would find impossible without it.

Now, I certainly do not "know" that the spirit is real in the sense that you and I can agree on the evidence that DNA is real and that it is the chemical basis of genetic information. There is, after all, a reason religious belief is called "faith", and not "certainty". But it is a faith that fits, a faith that is congruent with science, and even provides a reason why science works and is of such value - because science explores that rationality of existence, a rationality that itself derives from the source of that existence.

In any case, I am happy to confess that I am a believer, and that for me, the Christian faith is the one that resonates. What I do not claim is that my religious belief, or anyone's, can meet a scientific test.

Nick Brewin, molecular biologist
A crucial component of the question depends on the definition of "God". As a scientist, the "God" that I believe in is not the same God(s) that I used to believe in. It is not the same God that my wife believes in; nor is it the same God that my six-year-old granddaughter believes in; nor is it the God that my brain-damaged and physically disabled brother believes in. Each person has their own concept of what gives value and purpose to their life. This concept of "God" is based on a combination of direct and indirect experience.

Humankind has become Godlike, in the sense that it has acquired the power to store and manipulate information. Language, books, computers and DNA genomics provide just a few illustrations of the amazing range of technologies at our fingertips. Was this all merely chance? Or should we try to make sense of the signs and wonders that are embedded in a "revealed religion"?

Perhaps by returning to the "faith" position of children or disabled adults, scientists can extend their own appreciation of the value and purpose of individual human existence. Science and religion are mutually complementary.

Hugh Ross, astrophysicist and astronomer
Astronomy fascinates me. I started serious study of the universe when I was seven. By the age of 16, I could see that Big Bang cosmology offered the best explanation for the history of the universe, and because the Big Bang implies a cosmic beginning, it would require a cosmic beginner. It seemed reasonable that a creator of such awesome capacities would speak clearly and consistently if He spoke at all. So I spent two years perusing the holy books of the world's religions to test for these characteristics. I found only one such book. The Bible stood apart: not only did it provide hundreds of "fact" statements that could be tested for accuracy, it also anticipated - thousands of years in advance - what scientists would later discover, such as the fundamental features of Big Bang cosmology.

My observation that the Bible's multiple creation narratives accurately describe hundreds of details discovered much later, and that it consistently places them in the scientifically correct sequence, convinced me all the more that the Bible must be the supernaturally inspired word of God. Discoveries in astronomy first alerted me to the existence of God, and to this day the Bible's power to anticipate scientific discoveries and predict sociopolitical events ranks as a major reason for my belief in the God of the Bible. Despite my secular upbringing, I cannot ignore the compelling evidence emerging from research into the origin of the universe, the anthropic principle, the origin of life and the origin of humanity. Theaccumulating evidence continues to point compellingly towards the God of the Bible.

Steve Fuller, philosopher/professor of sociology, University of Warwick
I am a product of a Jesuit education (before university), and my formal academic training is in history and philosophy of science, which is the field credited with showing the tight links between science and religion. While I have never been an avid churchgoer, I am strongly moved by the liberatory vision of Jesus promoted by left-wing Christians.

I take seriously the idea that we are created in the image and likeness of God, and that we may come to exercise the sorts of powers that are associated with divinity. In this regard, I am sympathetic to the dissenting, anticlerical schools of Christianity - especially Unitarianism, deism and transcendentalism, idealism and humanism. I believe that it is this general position that has informed the progressive scientific spirit.

People such as Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens like to think of themselves as promoting a progressive view of humanity, but I really do not see how Darwinism allows that at all, given its species-egalitarian view of nature (that is, humans are just one more species - no more privileged than the rest of them). As I see it, the New Atheists live a schizoid existence, where they clearly want to privilege humanity but have no metaphysical basis for doing so.

Michael J Behe, scientific advocate of intelligent design
Two primary reasons: 1) that anything exists; and 2) that we human beings can comprehend and reason. I think both of those point to God.

Denis Alexander, director, Faraday Institute for Science and Religion, Cambridge
I believe in the existence of a personal God. Viewing the universe as a creation renders it more coherent than viewing its existence as without cause. It is the intelligibility of the world that requires explanation.

Second, I am intellectually persuaded by the historical life, teaching, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, that He is indeed the
Son of God. Jesus is most readily explicable by understanding Him as the Son of God. Third, having been a Christian for more than five decades, I have experienced God through Christ over this period in worship, answered prayer and through His love. These experiences are more coherent based on the assumption that God does exist.

Mike Hulme, professor of climate change, University of East Anglia
There are many reasons - lines of evidence, if you will - all of which weave together to point me in a certain direction (much as a scientist or a jury might do before reaching a considered judgement), which we call a belief.

[I believe] because there is non-trivial historical evidence that a person called Jesus of Naza­reth rose from the dead 2,000 years ago, and
it just so happens that He predicted that He would . . . I believe because of the testimony of billions of believers, just a few of whom are known to me and in whom I trust (and hence trust their testimony).

I believe because of my ineradicable sense that certain things I see and hear about in the world warrant the non-arbitrary categories of "good" or "evil". I believe because I have not discovered a better explanation of beauty, truth and love than that they emerge in a world created - willed into being - by a God who personifies beauty, truth and love.

Andrew Zak Williams has written for the Humanist and Skeptic. His email address is: andrewbelief@gmail.com

This article first appeared in the 18 April 2011 issue of the New Statesman, GOD Special

MILES COLE FOR NEW STATESMAN
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The anti-Trump: How Sadiq Khan shows the politics of fear can be beaten

The new mayor of London's landslide victory defied the prejudice of the right and the pessimism of the left.

It was on his second day as Mayor of London that Sadiq Khan made Donald Trump look more absurd than any US politician or reporter has managed. Challenged over whether his proposed ban on Muslims entering the United States would apply to Khan, the blustering tycoon replied: “There will always be exceptions . . . Frankly, if he does a great job, that would be a terrific thing.”

In his response, the new mayor showed no mercy. “Donald Trump’s ignorant view of Islam could make both our countries less safe,” he said. “It risks alienating mainstream Muslims around the world and plays into the hands of the extremists. This isn’t just about me – it’s about my friends, my family and everyone who comes from a background similar to mine, anywhere in the world. Donald Trump and those around him think that Western liberal values are incompatible with mainstream Islam. London has proved him wrong.”

The election of the first Muslim mayor of a major Western city was always destined to be a momentous event. But its coincidence with the rise of demagogues such as Trump and France’s Marine Le Pen has given it even greater potency. By electing Khan, one of the world’s pre-eminent cities has repudiated the “clash of civilisations” thesis. His victory is a retort both to conservative nationalists who insist that Muslims cannot integrate and to Islamist extremists who insist that they should not.

Its significance was globally recognised. “London elects Muslim mayor in tense race”, read the front page of the New York Times. “Son of a Pakistani bus driver, champion of workers’ rights and human rights, and now Mayor of London. Congrats,” tweeted Hillary Clinton. “The mayoral election shows that London is more liberal, clever and tolerant than the conservative mudslingers would like to think,” declared the German news magazine Der Spiegel. “Khan’s story should help set the record straight on immigration, integration and European Muslims,” concluded Pakistan’s Dawn newspaper.

For progressives, the London mayor is the anti-Trump: a liberal, pluralist counterweight to conservative xenophobia. Adherents of the latter have also been animated by Khan’s victory: the right-wing US website the Drudge Report bemoaned the success of the “first Muslim Mayor of Londonistan”.

Khan’s team had long anticipated the international resonance that his victory would have. A source told me that it was “highly likely” that his first foreign trip would be to the United States. One possibility is an appearance at the Democratic National Convention in July.

The new mayor has long enjoyed close links with his left-leaning New York counterpart, Bill de Blasio, who attended the 2014 Labour conference. Since his election in late 2013, de Blasio has ended police surveillance of Muslim residents, expanded universal childcare and increased the supply of affordable housing. Khan’s promised Skills for Londoners task force is modelled on de Blasio’s Jobs for New Yorkers.

On 9 May, responding to Khan’s election, the White House hailed a “historic development for a historic city”. The following day, Trump performed his volte-face. “He [Khan] will be a key figure in showing that liberal western democracies can unite against Trump and Trump-style policies that just seek to divide communities,” a source told me. “That’s what Sadiq’s all about. He’s all about unifying and not dividing.”

***

Khan did not merely win the London mayoral election. With 1,310,143 votes, he achieved the largest personal mandate of any politician in UK history. His Conservative opponent, Zac Goldsmith, was beaten in the final round by 57-43, the second-widest margin since the mayoralty was established in 2000.

Khan’s strategists cited four insights as central to his success. The first was that personality matters more than policy. Having seen Ed Miliband defined by his opponents (“weak”, “weird”, “treacherous”), Khan’s team “set out hard and fast to paint a picture of who he was”. His election leaflets rooted his policies in his personal story: “the bus driver’s son who’ll make commuting more affordable”, “the council estate boy who’ll fix the Tory housing crisis” and “the British Muslim who’ll take on the extremists”. By the end of the campaign, journalists groaned at the mention of his bus driver father – a sure sign of success.

The second insight was that policy should be announced early and then endlessly re-announced. All of Khan’s signature pledges – the fares freeze, “first dibs” on new homes, the “London Living Rent” – were made by January.

The third insight was that winning campaigns do not adopt a “35 per cent strategy” – shorthand for Miliband’s narrow focus on Labour’s core vote and former Liberal Democrats. In contrast to Ken Livingstone, who sought victory through a rainbow coalition of left-wingers, Khan spent more time in Tory-leaning parts of outer London than in the city’s inner half. He engaged positively with all media titles, including the Sun, the Daily Mail and City AM. The fourth insight was to anticipate opponents’ attacks. Khan was talking about his Muslim background and emphasising the duty of British Muslims to help combat extremism from the beginning of his campaign.

Though history may record Khan’s victory as inevitable – London is a Labour city, as commentators often observe – few initially believed it was so. Throughout the contest, MPs worried that low turnout or the “Bradley effect” could deny him success. The latter refers to the 1982 California gubernatorial election in which an African-American Democratic candidate called Tom Bradley lost even though he was leading his Republican rival in public surveys. White voters didn’t want to vote for a black man but didn’t want to admit that to pollsters. The fear of this phenomenon was heightened by Goldsmith’s campaign, which smeared Khan as a fellow-traveller of Islamist extremists, a suggestion that David Cameron and Boris Johnson echoed.

Many in Labour believe that this approach harmed the Conservatives. They speak of how hitherto indifferent voters were moved to participate by their repugnance at the Tories’ tactics. A series of sectarian leaflets targeted at British Indians, falsely alleging that Labour supported a “wealth tax on family jewellery”, backfired particularly badly. Rather than reaching a new low (after the end of the Ken v Boris show), turnout rose to a record high of 45.6 per cent, up from 38.1 per cent in 2012.

Khan’s victory did not just counter the prejudice of the right. It also undercut the pessimism of the left, which sometimes overestimates or exaggerates the electorate’s conservatism. “The Bradley effect – that’s a US election from 34 years ago. That attitude has been a barrier to the selection of minority candidates,” Sunder Katwala, the director of British Future, told me. “People who are perfectly progressive say, ‘Well, of course we’d do it – but will the voters buy it?’ It’s actually important to make it clear you can get over that.”

Goldsmith’s campaign drew on the “dog-whistle” tactics that the Conservatives deployed in the 2005 general election – the use of coded language to influence subgroups (Khan was tellingly labelled a “radical”). Yet, as the former Tory mayoral candidate Steven Norris observed: “Dog-whistle politics is fine but not in a city where everybody else can hear it. This is the most cosmopolitan, the most relaxed, the most genuinely integrated major city in the world.”

Khan’s election was followed by that of the Labour candidate Marvin Rees in Bristol – the first directly elected city mayor in Europe of African or Caribbean heritage. Their victories reflected and reinforced the diverse character of the UK. In London, black and minority ethnic voters account for 44 per cent of the total; in Bristol, they represent 22 per cent. “Diversity is the new normal in UK politics,” Katwala said.

When the Britain First candidate Paul Golding sullenly turned his back as Khan delivered his acceptance speech, it felt like the last gasp of a dying order. In the US, where black and Hispanic voters account for more than 30 per cent of the total, Trump may similarly suffer death by demography.

At his swearing-in ceremony on 7 May at Southwark Cathedral (a venue specifically chosen by his team), Khan was introduced by Doreen Lawrence, the mother of the murdered black teenager Stephen. She told the crowd: “I never imagined in my lifetime I could have a mayor of London from an ethnic-minority background.”

Before leaders of several faiths and with many audience members in tears, Khan pledged to be “a mayor for all Londoners”. His words were a repudiation of both Goldsmith’s divide-and-rule tactics and the communalism of the former mayor Ken Livingstone. In 2012, Livingstone was reported to have told a group of Jewish Labour activists that because their community was “rich”, it “simply wouldn’t vote” for him.

From the outset of his mayoral campaign, Khan sought to repair the relations strained by his Labour predecessor. He attended a Passover celebration (wearing a kippa), met shoppers at a kosher market and condemned his party’s “anti-Jewish” image. His first official engagement as mayor was a Holocaust memorial event in Barnet, where he appeared alongside Chief Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis. “That is a great message to send to British Muslims,” Mohammed Amin, the chairman of the Conservative Muslim Forum, told me. “Our relationship with the Jewish community should be one of friendship, support and solidarity, rather than allowing ourselves to be divided because of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.” In the hours before Khan’s victory, a sharp contrast was provided by Livingstone, who resurfaced on TV and continued to defend his claim that Hitler supported Zionism. Once again, it felt like the last gasp of an ancien régime.

Khan’s strategists say that one of his long-term priorities as mayor will be to improve social cohesion. Though lauded for its melting pot status, London is proportionally less ethnically integrated than the rest of the the UK. In his speech to the Parliamentary Press Gallery on 19 November last year, he lamented: “Too many British Muslims grow up without really knowing anyone from a different background.” He warned that the political establishment had for too long “tolerated segregation” at the expense of “creating a common life”. He will use his mayoralty to promote the compulsory learning of English, which he views as “the only way to communicate with neighbours, apply for a job, speak to instructors at your children’s school and to fit in the British community”.

As he seeks a legacy, David Cameron is similarly focused on combating extremism. The election of a Muslim as Mayor of London is a powerful asset in doing so. But Cameron’s campaign attacks on Khan meant he could not welcome his victory in the manner liberal Tories had hoped. The mayor, however, was unruffled. “I’ll work with anybody when it’s in London’s interests,” he told me after the ceremony in Southwark. “I’m looking forward to working with the Prime Minister when it comes to us remaining in the EU, when it comes to infrastructure investment . . . What’s important is to put aside the past, put aside party political differences and put London first.”

When Cameron eventually congratulated Khan by phone on 8 May, he made it clear that he “really needed his help” over the EU. Yet there was no remorse expressed for the Tory tactics deployed against him. The Defence Secretary, Michael Fallon, has refused to say whether he believes that London is safe under Khan. At the Parliamentary Labour Party (PLP) meeting on 9 May, Khan declared: “We can’t let the Tories off the hook just because they lost. The Tory party owes London an apology.” There is speculation among Tories that Goldsmith, whose campaign was condemned by his sister, Jemima Khan, may soon publicly repent.

In recent days, the new mayor Khan has also spoken by phone to his predecessor Boris Johnson, who advised him to learn from his errors and not to rush executive appointments (five senior figures either resigned or were fired during Johnson’s first year in City Hall). Khan is expected to make Andrew Adonis, the cerebral former transport secretary (and his old boss), his deputy mayor for transport, even though Adonis was a prominent supporter of Khan’s main rival for the Labour mayoral nomination, Tessa Jowell. He has also retained the team that won him his landslide victory, including Patrick Hennessy (communications), David Bellamy (chief of staff), Jack Stenner (political strategy), Nick Bowes (policy) and Leah Kreitzman (external affairs and international relations). The transition is being overseen by Neale Coleman, a former Livingstone and Johnson aide, who resigned recently as Jeremy Corbyn’s director of policy.

Khan’s team says that he will make a “fast start” on implementing his manifesto pledges. In his first 100 days, he will establish Homes for Londoners, a new authority to oversee housebuilding, launch a review of the capital’s security and play a pivotal role in the EU referendum campaign. His new one-hour “Hopper” fare, allowing bus passengers to make additional journeys for free, will be introduced in September.

As well as the anti-Trump, many in Labour hope that Khan will be the anti-Corbyn. His personal mandate (five times greater than the party leader’s) makes him a rival figure of authority. Corbyn’s opponents have hailed the mayor’s inclusive and pro-business campaign as a masterclass in winning. “We’re all Khanites now!” declared former deputy leader Harriet Harman outside the PLP meeting on 9 May.

When the mayor addressed the gathering, he received a minute-long standing ovation. In his remarks, he delivered a series of implicit rebukes to the party leadership (he had met Jeremy Corbyn for a face-to-face meeting just an hour earlier). “When we win, we can change lives for the better. There is no such thing as glorious defeat,” he declared, advocating a “big tent” approach that “appeals to everyone in our country, regardless of their background”. “We lose when we take an ‘us and them’ approach.”

Khan’s landslide victory and the unseasonably warm weather in London that accompanied it have stirred memories of the party’s 1997 general election triumph among some Labour insiders. “A lot of the party HQ staff [whom Khan addressed before the PLP] are very young and they’ve never experienced a victory before,” one told me. “It’s important for them to realise that you can win and this is how you do it.”

***

In a stunt conceived too late for the campaign, Khan’s team considered running two adverts on the side of vans: one in red, bearing the message “Sadiq Khan: hope”; and the other in blue, stating “Zac Goldsmith: fear”. It is the triumph of the former over the latter that makes the London mayor’s victory so potent. At a time when many weave a dystopian narrative of decline, the anti-Trump has proved that optimism can be vindicated.

For nearly a decade, commentators have debated when, or if, the United Kingdom would enjoy its “Obama moment”. The election of Khan, the son of working-class Pakistani immigrants who grew up as one of eight children in a council house, is by some distance the closest it has come. There are few political figures with a story as emotionally resonant as his.

As Barack Obama prepares to depart from the White House, to be replaced by the demagogic Donald Trump or the technocratic Hillary Clinton, it feels fitting that, here in Britain, another progressive politician should take on the mantle of hope. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 12 June 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The anti-Trump