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“Never be afraid of stridency”: Richard Dawkins’ interview with Christopher Hitchens

Is America heading for theocracy? How worrying is the rise of the Tea Party? Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins discuss God and US politics.

The 2011 Christmas issue of the New Statesman was guest edited by Richard Dawkins. This is his interview with Christopher Hitchens from that issue. It was to be Hitchens' final interview; he died as it was published. A sensation at the time, it is now available to read online for the first time.

Richard Dawkins (left) and Christopher Hitchens in conversation

Richard Dawkins Do you have any memories of life at the New Statesman?

Christopher Hitchens Not that I want to impart. It seems like a different world and a different magazine and it happened to a different person. I’d love them to interview me one day about it, for an edition about the role of the Statesman, but I’d really rather you and I focus on the pulse of the issue, which is obviously our common cause.

RD I’ve been reading some of your recent collections of essays – I’m astounded by your sheer erudition. You seem to have read absolutely everything. I can’t think of anybody since Aldous Huxley who’s so well read.

CH It may strike some people as being broad but it’s possibly at the cost of being a bit shallow. I became a journalist because one didn’t have to specialise. I remember once going to an evening with Umberto Eco talking to Susan Sontag and the definition of the word “polymath” came up. Eco said it was his ambition to be a polymath; Sontag challenged him and said the definition of a polymath is someone who’s interested in everything and nothing else. I was encouraged in my training to read widely – to flit and sip, as Bertie [Wooster] puts it – and I think I’ve got good memory retention. I retain what’s interesting to me, but I don’t have a lot of strategic depth. A lot of reviewers have said, to the point of embarrassing me, that I’m in the class of Edmund Wilson or even George Orwell. It really does remind me that I’m not. But it’s something to at least have had the comparison made – it’s better than I expected when I started.

RD As an Orwell scholar, you must have a particular view of North Korea, Stalin, the Soviet Union, and you must get irritated – perhaps even more than I do – by the constant refrain we hear: “Stalin was an atheist.”

CH We don’t know for sure that he was. Hitler definitely wasn’t. There is a possibility that Himmler was. It’s very unlikely but it wouldn’t make any difference, either way. There’s no mandate in atheism for any particular kind of politics, anyway.

RD The people who did Hitler’s dirty work were almost all religious.

CH I’m afraid the SS’s relationship with the Catholic Church is something the Church still has to deal with and does not deny.

RD Can you talk a bit about that – the relationship of Nazism with the Catholic Church?

CH The way I put it is this: if you’re writing about the history of the 1930s and the rise of totalitarianism, you can take out the word “fascist”, if you want, for Italy, Portugal, Spain, Czechoslovakia and Austria and replace it with “extremeright Catholic party”. Almost all of those regimes were in place with the help of the Vatican and with understandings from the Holy See. It’s not denied. These understandings quite often persisted after the Second World War was over and extended to comparable regimes in Argentina and elsewhere.

RD But there were individual priests who did good things.

CH Not very many. You would know their names if there were more of them. When it comes to National Socialism, there’s no question there’s a mutation, a big one – the Nazis wanted their own form of worship. Just as they thought they were a separate race, they wanted their own religion. They dug out the Norse gods, all kinds of extraordinary myths and legends from the old sagas. They wanted to control the churches. They were willing to make a deal with them. The first deal Hitler made with the Catholic Church was the Konkordat. The Church agreed to dissolve its political party and he got control over German education, which was a pretty good deal. Celebrations of his birthday were actually by order from the pulpit. When Hitler survived an assassination attempt, prayers were said, and so forth. But there’s no doubt about it, [the Nazis] wanted control – and they were willing to clash with the churches to get it. There’s another example. You swore on Almighty God that you would never break your oath to the Führer. This is not even secular, let alone atheist.

RD There was also grace before meals, personally thanking Adolf Hitler.

CH I believe there was. Certainly, you can hear the oath being taken – there are recordings of it – but this, Richard, is a red herring. It’s not even secular. They’re changing the subject.

RD But it comes up over and over again.

CH You mentioned North Korea. It is, in every sense, a theocratic state. It’s almost supernatural, in that the births of the [ruling] Kim family are considered to be mysterious and accompanied by happenings. It’s a necrocracy or mausolocracy, but there’s no possible way you could say it’s a secular state, let alone an atheist one. Attempts to found new religions should attract our scorn just as much as the alliances with the old ones do. All they’re saying is that you can’t claim Hitler was distinctively or specifically Christian: “Maybe if he had gone on much longer, he would have de-Christianised a bit more.” This is all a complete fog of nonsense. It’s bad history and it’s bad propaganda.

RD And bad logic, because there’s no connection between atheism and doing horrible things, whereas there easily can be a connection in the case of religion, as we see with modern Islam.

CH To the extent that they are new religions – Stalin worship and Kim Il-sungism – we, like all atheists, regard them with horror.

RD You debated with Tony Blair. I’m not sure I watched that. I love listening to you [but] I can’t bear listening to . . . Well, I mustn’t say that. I think he did come over as rather nice on that evening.

CH He was charming, that evening. And during the day, as well.

RD What was your impression of him?

CH You can only have one aim per debate. I had two in debating with Tony Blair. The first one was to get him to admit that it was not done – the stuff we complain of – in only the name of religion. That’s a cop-out. The authority is in the text. Second, I wanted to get him to admit, if possible, that giving money to a charity or organising a charity does not vindicate a cause. I got him to the first one and I admired his honesty. He was asked by the interlocutor at about half-time: “Which of Christopher’s points strikes you as the best?” He said: “I have to admit, he’s made his case, he’s right. This stuff, there is authority for it in the canonical texts, in Islam, Judaism.” At that point, I’m ready to fold – I’ve done what I want for the evening. We did debate whether Catholic charities and so on were a good thing and I said: “They are but they don’t prove any point and some of them are only making up for damage done.” For example, the Church had better spend a lot of money doing repair work on its Aids policy in Africa, [to make up for preaching] that condoms don’t prevent disease or, in some cases, that they spread it. It is iniquitous. It has led to a lot of people dying, horribly. Also, I’ve never looked at some of the ground operations of these charities – apart from Mother Teresa – but they do involve a lot of proselytising, a lot of propaganda. They’re not just giving out free stuff. They’re doing work to recruit.

RD And Mother Teresa was one of the worst offenders?

CH She preached that poverty was a gift from God. And she believed that women should not be given control over the reproductive cycle. Mother Teresa spent her whole life making sure that the one cure for poverty we know is sound was not implemented. So Tony Blair knows this but he doesn’t have an answer. If I say, “Your Church preaches against the one cure for poverty,” he doesn’t deny it, but he doesn’t affirm it either. But remember, I did start with a text and I asked him to comment on it first, but he never did. Cardinal Newman said he would rather the whole world and everyone in it be painfully destroyed and condemned for ever to eternal torture than one sinner go unrebuked for the stealing of a sixpence. It’s right there in the centre of the Apologia. The man whose canonisation Tony had been campaigning for. You put these discrepancies in front of him and he’s like all the others. He keeps two sets of books. And this is also, even in an honest person, shady.

RD It’s like two minds, really. One notices this with some scientists.

CH I think we all do it a bit.

RD Do we?

CH We’re all great self-persuaders.

RD But do we hold such extreme contradictions in our heads?

CH We like to think our colleagues would point them out, in our group, anyway. No one’s pointed out to me in reviewing my God book God Is Not Great that there’s a flat discrepancy between the affirmation he makes on page X and the affirmation he makes on page Y.

RD But they do accuse you of being a contrarian, which you’ve called yourself . . .

CH Well, no, I haven’t. I’ve disowned it. I was asked to address the idea of it and I began by saying it’s got grave shortcomings as an idea, but I am a bit saddled with it.

RD I’ve always been very suspicious of the leftright dimension in politics.

CH Yes; it’s broken down with me.

RD It’s astonishing how much traction the left-right continuum [has] . . . If you know what someone thinks about the death penalty or abortion, then you generally know what they think about everything else. But you clearly break that rule.

CH I have one consistency, which is [being] against the totalitarian – on the left and on the right. The totalitarian, to me, is the enemy – the one that’s absolute, the one that wants control over the inside of your head, not just your actions and your taxes. And the origins of that are theocratic, obviously. The beginning of that is the idea that there is a supreme leader, or infallible pope, or a chief rabbi, or whatever, who can ventriloquise the divine and tell us what to do. That has secular forms with gurus and dictators, of course, but it’s essentially the same. There have been some thinkers – Orwell is pre-eminent – who understood that, unfortunately, there is innate in humans a strong tendency to worship, to become abject. So we’re not just fighting the dictators. We’re criticising our fellow humans for trying to short-cut, to make their lives simpler, by surrendering and saying, “[If] you offer me bliss, of course I’m going to give up some of my mental freedom for that.” We say it’s a false bargain: you’ll get nothing. You’re a fool.

RD That part of you that was, or is, of the radical left is always against the totalitarian dictators.

CH Yes. I was a member of the Trotskyist group – for us, the socialist movement could only be revived if it was purged of Stalinism . . . It’s very much a point for our view that Stalinism was a theocracy.

RD One of my main beefs with religion is the way they label children as a “Catholic child” or a “Muslim child”. I’ve become a bit of a bore about it.

CH You must never be afraid of that charge, any more than stridency.

RD I will remember that.

CH If I was strident, it doesn’t matter – I was a jobbing hack, I bang my drum. You have a discipline in which you are very distinguished. You’ve educated a lot of people; nobody denies that, not even your worst enemies. You see your discipline being attacked and defamed and attempts made to drive it out.

Stridency is the least you should muster . . . It’s the shame of your colleagues that they don’t form ranks and say, “Listen, we’re going to defend our colleagues from these appalling and obfuscating elements.” If you go on about something, the worst thing the English will say about you, as we both know – as we can say of them, by the way – is that they’re boring.

RD Indeed. Only this morning, I was sent a copy of [advice from] a British government website, called something like “The Responsibilities of Parents”. One of these responsibilities was “determine the child’s religion”. Literally, determine. It means establish, cause . . . I couldn’t ask for a clearer illustration, because, sometimes, when I make my complaint about this, I’m told nobody actually does label children Catholic children or Muslim children.

CH Well, the government does. It’s borrowed, as far as I can see, in part from British imperial policy, in turn borrowed from Ottoman and previous empires – you classify your new subjects according to their faith. You can be an Ottoman citizen but you’re a Jewish one or an Armenian Christian one. And some of these faiths tell their children that the children of other faiths are going to hell. I think we can’t ban that, nor can we call it “hate speech”, which I’m dubious about anyway, but there should be a wrinkle of disapproval.

RD I would call it mental child abuse.

CH I can’t find a way, as a libertarian, of saying that people can’t raise their children, as they say, according to their rights. But the child has rights and society does, too. We don’t allow female – and I don’t think we should countenance male – genital mutilation.

Now, it would be very hard to say that you can’t tell your child that they are lucky and they have joined the one true faith. I don’t see how you stop it. I only think the rest of society should look at it with a bit of disapproval, which it doesn’t. If you’re a Mormon and you run for office and say, “Do you believe in the golden plates that were dug up by Joseph Smith?” – which [Mitt] Romney hasn’t been asked yet – sorry, you’re going to get mocked. You’re going to get laughed at.

RD There is a tendency among liberals to feel that religion should be off the table.

CH Or even that there’s anti-religious racism, which I think is a terrible limitation.

RD Romney has questions to answer.

CH Certainly, he does. The question of Mormon racism did come up, to be fair, and the Church did very belatedly make amends for saying what, in effect, it had been saying: that black people’s souls weren’t human, quite. They timed it suspiciously for the passage of legislation. Well, OK, then they grant the right of society to amend [the legislation]. To that extent, they’re opportunists.

RD But what about the daftness of Mormonism? The fact that Joseph Smith was clearly a charlatan –

CH I know, it’s extraordinary.

RD I think there is a convention in America that you don’t tackle somebody about their religion.

CH Yes, and in a way it’s attributed to pluralism. And so, to that extent, one wants to respect it, but I think it can be exploited. By many people, including splinter-group Mormons who still do things like plural marriage and, very repulsively, compulsory dowries – they basically give away their daughters, often to blood relatives. And also kinship marriages that are too close. This actually won’t quite do. When it is important, they tend to take refuge in: “You’re attacking my fundamental right.” I don’t think they really should be allowed that.

RD Do you think America is in danger of becoming a theocracy?

CH No, I don’t. The people who we mean when we talk about that – maybe the extreme Protestant evangelicals, who do want a God-run America and believe it was founded on essentially fundamentalist Protestant principles – I think they may be the most overrated threat in the country.

RD Oh, good.

CH They’ve been defeated everywhere. Why is this? In the 1920s, they had a string of victories. They banned the sale, manufacture and distribution and consumption of alcohol. They made it the constitution. They more or less managed to ban immigration from countries that had non-Protestant, non-white majorities. From these victories, they have never recovered. They’ll never recover from [the failure of] Prohibition. It was their biggest defeat. They’ll never recover from the Scopes trial. Every time they’ve tried [to introduce the teaching of creationism], the local school board or the parents or the courts have thrown it out and it’s usually because of the work of people like you, who have shown that it’s nonsense. They try to make a free speech question out of it but they will fail with that, also. People don’t want to come from the town or the state or the county that gets laughed at.

RD Yes.

CH In all my tours around the South, it’s amazing how many people – Christians as well – want to disprove the idea that they’re all in thrall to people like [the fundamentalist preacher Jerry] Falwell. They don’t want to be a laughing stock.

RD Yes.

CH And if they passed an ordinance saying there will be prayer in school every morning from now on, one of two things would happen: it would be overthrown in no time by all the courts, with barrels of laughter heaped over it, or people would say: “Very well, we’re starting with Hindu prayer on Monday.” They would regret it so bitterly that there are days when I wish they would have their own way for a short time.

RD Oh, that’s very cheering.

CH I’m a bit more worried about the extreme, reactionary nature of the papacy now. But that again doesn’t seem to command very big allegiance among the American congregation. They are disobedient on contraception, flagrantly; on divorce; on gay marriage, to an extraordinary degree that I wouldn’t have predicted; and they’re only holding firm on abortion, which, in my opinion, is actually a very strong moral question and shouldn’t be decided lightly. I feel very squeamish about it. I believe that the unborn child is a real concept, in other words. We needn’t go there, but I’m not a complete abortion-on-demand fanatic. I think it requires a bit of reflection. But anyway, even on that, the Catholic Communion is very agonised. And also, [when] you go and debate with them, very few of them could tell you very much about what the catechism really is. It’s increasingly cultural Catholicism.

RD That is true, of course.

CH So, really, the only threat from religious force in America is the same as it is, I’m afraid, in many other countries – from outside. And it’s jihadism, some of it home-grown, but some of that is so weak and so self-discrediting.

RD It’s more of a problem in Britain.

CH And many other European countries, where its alleged root causes are being allowed slightly too friendly an interrogation, I think. Make that much too friendly.

RD Some of our friends are so worried about Islam that they’re prepared to lend support to Christianity as a kind of bulwark against it.

CH I know many Muslims who, in leaving the faith, have opted to go . . . to Christianity or via it to non-belief. Some of them say it’s the personality of Jesus of Nazareth. The mild and meek one, as compared to the rather farouche, physical, martial, rather greedy . . .

RD Warlord.

CH . . . Muhammad. I can see that that might have an effect.

RD Do you ever worry that if we win and, so to speak, destroy Christianity, that vacuum would be filled by Islam?

CH No, in a funny way, I don’t worry that we’ll win. All that we can do is make absolutely sure that people know there’s a much more wonderful and interesting and beautiful alternative. No, I don’t think that Europe would fill up with Muslims as it emptied of Christians. Christianity has defeated itself in that it has become a cultural thing. There really aren’t believing Christians in the way there were generations ago.

RD Certainly in Europe that’s true – but in America?

CH There are revivals, of course, and among Jews as well. But I think there’s a very longrunning tendency in the developed world and in large areas elsewhere for people to see the virtue of secularism, the separation of church and state, because they’ve tried the alternatives . . . Every time something like a jihad or a sharia movement has taken over any country – admittedly they’ve only been able to do it in very primitive cases – it’s a smouldering wreck with no productivity.

RD Total failure. If you look at religiosity across countries of the world and, indeed, across the states of the US, you find that religiosity tends to correlate with poverty and with various other indices of social deprivation.

CH Yes. That’s also what it feeds on. But I don’t want to condescend about that. I know a lot of very educated, very prosperous, very thoughtful people who believe.

RD Do you think [Thomas] Jefferson and [James] Madison were deists, as is often said?

CH I think they fluctuated, one by one. Jefferson is the one I’m more happy to pronounce on. The furthest he would go in public was to incline to a theistic enlightened view but, in his private correspondence, he goes much further. He says he wishes we could return to the wisdom of more than 2,000 years ago. That’s in his discussion of his own Jefferson Bible, where he cuts out everything supernatural relating to Jesus. But also, very importantly, he says to his nephew Peter Carr in a private letter [on the subject of belief]: “Do not be frightened from this inquiry by any fear of its consequences. If it ends in a belief that there is no God, you will find incitements to virtue in the comfort and pleasantness you feel in its exercise and the love of others which it will procure you.” Now, that can only be written by someone who’s had that experience.

RD It’s very good, isn’t it?

CH In my judgement, it’s an internal reading, but I think it’s a close one. There was certainly no priest at his bedside. But he did violate a rule of C S Lewis’s and here I’m on Lewis’s side. Lewis says it is a cop-out to say Jesus was a great moralist. He said it’s the one thing we must not say; it is a wicked thing to say. If he wasn’t the Son of God, he was a very evil impostor and his teachings were vain and fraudulent. You may not take the easy route here and say: “He may not have been the Son of God and he may not have been the Redeemer, but he was a wonderful moralist.” Lewis is more honest than Jefferson in this point. I admire Lewis for saying that. Rick Perry said it the other day.

RD Jesus could just have been mistaken.

CH He could. It’s not unknown for people to have the illusion that they’re God or the Son. It’s a common delusion but, again, I don’t think we need to condescend. Rick Perry once said: “Not only do I believe that Jesus is my personal saviour but I believe that those who don’t are going to eternal punishment.” He was challenged at least on the last bit and he said, “I don’t have the right to alter the doctrine. I can’t say it’s fine for me and not for others.”

RD So we ought to be on the side of these fundamentalists?

CH Not “on the side”, but I think we should say that there’s something about their honesty that we wish we could find.

RD Which we don’t get in bishops . . .

CH Our soft-centred bishops at Oxford and other people, yes.

RD I’m often asked why it is that this republic [of America], founded in secularism, is so much more religious than those western European countries that have an official state religion, like Scandinavia and Britain.

CH [Alexis] de Tocqueville has it exactly right. If you want a church in America, you have to build it by the sweat of your own brow and many have. That’s why they’re attached to them.

RD Yes.

CH [Look at] the Greek Orthodox community in Brooklyn. What’s the first thing it will do? It will build itself a little shrine. The Jews – not all of them – remarkably abandoned their religion very soon after arriving from the shtetl.

RD Are you saying that most Jews have abandoned their religion?

CH Increasingly in America. When you came to escape religious persecution and you didn’t want to replicate it, that’s a strong memory. The Jews very quickly secularised when they came. American Jews must be the most secular force on the planet now, as a collective. If they are a collective –which they’re not, really.

RD While not being religious, they often still observe the Sabbath and that kind of thing.

CH There’s got to be something cultural. I go to Passover every year. Sometimes, even I have a seder, because I want my child to know that she does come very distantly from another tradition. It would explain if she met her greatgrandfather why he spoke Yiddish. It’s cultural, but the Passover seder is also the Socratic forum. It’s dialectical. It’s accompanied by wine. It’s got the bones of quite a good discussion in it. And then there is manifest destiny. People feel America is just so lucky. It’s between two oceans, filled with minerals, wealth, beauty. It does seem providential to many people.

RD Promised land, city on a hill.

CH All that and the desire for another Eden. Some secular utopians came here with the same idea. Thomas Paine and others all thought of America as a great new start for the species.

RD But that was all secular.

CH A lot of it was, but you can’t get away from the liturgy: it’s too powerful. You will end up saying things like “promised land” and it can be mobilised for sinister purposes. But in a lot of cases, it’s a mild belief. It’s just: “We should share our good luck.”

RD I’ve heard another theory that, America being a country of immigrants, people coming from Europe, where they left their extended family and left their support system, were alone and they needed something.

CH Surely that was contained in what I just . . .

RD Maybe it was.

CH The reason why most of my friends are non-believers is not particularly that they were engaged in the arguments you and I have been having, but they were made indifferent by compulsory religion at school.

RD They got bored by it.

CH They’d had enough of it. They took from it occasionally whatever they needed – if you needed to get married, you knew where to go. Some of them, of course, are religious and some of them like the music but, generally speaking, the British people are benignly indifferent to religion.

RD And the fact that there is an established church increases that effect. Churches should not be tax-free the way that they are. Not automatically, anyway.

CH No, certainly not. If the Church has demanded that equal time be given to creationist or pseudo-creationist speculations . . . any Church that teaches that in its school and is in receipt of federal money from the faith-based initiative must, by law, also teach Darwinism and alternative teachings, in order that the debate is being taught. I don’t think they want this.

RD No.

CH Tell them if they want equal time, we’ll jolly well have it. That’s why they’ve always been against comparative religion.

RD Comparative religion would be one of the best weapons, I suspect.

CH It’s got so insipid in parts of America now that a lot of children are brought up – as their parents aren’t doing it and leave it to the schools and the schools are afraid of it – with no knowledge of any religion of any kind. I would like children to know what religion is about because [otherwise] some guru or cult or revivalists will sweep them up.

RD They’re vulnerable. I also would like them to know the Bible for literary reasons.

CH Precisely. We both, I was pleased to see, have written pieces about the King James Bible. The AV [Authorised Version], as it was called in my boyhood. A huge amount of English literature would be opaque if people didn’t know it.

RD Absolutely, yes. Have you read some of the modern translations? “Futile, said the preacher. Utterly futile.”

CH He doesn’t!

RD He does, honestly. “Futile, futile said the priest. It’s all futile.”

CH That’s Lamentations.

RD No, it’s Ecclesiastes. “Vanity, vanity.”

CH “Vanity, vanity.” Good God. That’s the least religious book in the Bible. That’s the one that Orwell wanted at his funeral.

RD I bet he did. I sometimes think the poetry comes from the intriguing obscurity of mistranslation. “When the sound of the grinding is low, the grasshopper is heard in the land . . . The grasshopper shall be a burden.” What the hell?

CH The Book of Job is the other great non-religious one, I always feel. “Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.” Try to do without that. No, I’m glad we’re on the same page there. People tell me that the recitation of the Quran can have the same effect if you understand the original language. I wish I did. Some of the Catholic liturgy is attractive.

RD I don’t know enough Latin to judge that.

CH Sometimes one has just enough to be irritated.

RD Yes [laughs]. Can you say anything about Christmas?

CH Yes. There was going to be a winter solstice holiday for sure. The dominant religion was going to take it over and that would have happened without Dickens and without others.

RD The Christmas tree comes from Prince Albert; the shepherds and the wise men are all made up.

CH Cyrenius wasn’t governor of Syria, all of that. Increasingly, it’s secularised itself. This “Happy Holidays” – I don’t particularly like that, either.

RD Horrible, isn’t it? “Happy holiday season.”

CH I prefer our stuff about the cosmos.

***

The day after this interview, I was honoured to present an award to Christopher Hitchens in the presence of a large audience in Texas that gave him a standing ovation, first as he entered the hall and again at the end of his deeply moving speech. My own presentation speech ended with a tribute, in which I said that every day he demonstrates the falsehood of the lie that there are no atheists in foxholes: “Hitch is in a foxhole, and he is dealing with it with a courage, an honesty and a dignity that any of us would be, and should be, proud to muster.”

Picture: DAVID LEVENE/THE GUARDIAN
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Nigel Farage: the arsonist in exile

The former Ukip leader is often described as the most successful politician of his generation – even by those who despise him. As Brexiteers speak of betrayal, will he settle for life as an alt-right shock jock, or return as the head of a new English nationalist movement?

What does Nigel Farage know? What does any successful politician know? What did Tony Blair know that Ed Miliband did not? What does Jeremy Corbyn know that his detractors in the Parliamentary Labour Party do not?

In 2009, Michael Ignatieff, a cosmopolitan intellectual and former Harvard professor, became the unlikely leader of the Liberal Party of Canada. As he began the slog towards the Canadian federal election, from which he was initially expected to emerge as prime minister, Ignatieff was tormented by his inadequacies. High intelligence, deep, immersive reading and considerable literary and philosophical sophistication – he was the authorised biographer of Isaiah Berlin and a former Booker Prize-shortlisted novelist – were, he discovered, no guarantees for a career in politics or for winning a national election.

“I’ve spent my life as a writer, but you have no idea of the effect of words until you become a politician,” Ignatieff told his old friend, the New Yorker writer Adam Gopnik. “One word or participle in the wrong place and you can spend weeks apologising and explaining.”

It was as if he was already exhausted by the demands of high politics: “This is by a very long shot harder than being a professor at Harvard, harder than being a freelance writer, harder than anything I’ve ever done – in terms of its mental demands, its spiritual demands and its emotional demands.”

Ignatieff envied successful politicians, serial winners such as Blair and Bill Clinton. He knew they knew something he did not. But what did they know? What is it that a great politician knows, he kept asking himself. “The great ones have a skill that is just jaw-dropping, and I’m trying to learn that.”

Ignatieff never discovered the answer to his question or learned the required skills. Unlike Barack Obama, who was also professorial in demeanour, he had no gift for popular communication. Nor was he adept at the game of politics – or perhaps ruthless and fearless enough, though he was more than ambitious enough. He was routed in the 2011 election by the conservative Stephen Harper, even losing his own seat. Soon afterwards he retired from politics and retreated from Canada, humiliated and humbled by defeat, but wiser.

I was reminded of Ignatieff and his pertinent question – what does a successful politician know? – when I met Nigel Farage one recent morning at the offices of Leave.EU in Westminster. The previous evening, when I texted a friend to postpone our meeting because I was seeing Farage, he replied: “Why are you seeing him? I despise him.” This is not an isolated view, of course.

Farage, who now has his own talk radio show on LBC, is widely despised – not least because of his antics during the referendum campaign and his post-Brexit embrace of alt-right movements in America and Europe. He is despised not only by liberals and Remainers: mainstream Conservatives and many prominent Brexiteers, such as the MEP Daniel Hannan, are appalled by him and his closest associates at Leave.EU.

***

The Leave.EU offices are subdued and tatty – they have the atmosphere of a poorly resourced magazine or newspaper office the morning after press day – but at least there is an outside terrace, which allowed Farage to slip out for a cigarette on a cold, bright morning. The television was on in his office and it burbled away as we talked. A packet of Benson & Hedges cigarettes was on the desk and on the bookshelf nearby was a paperback copy of the Cambridge historian Robert Tombs’s great book The English and Their History. One of his aides brought him a coffee from Pret A Manger – “I can’t drink that instant stuff” – then Farage settled down, preferring initially to discuss the Ashes cricket series in Australia: a few overs of gentle conversational looseners before the pace quickened.

Farage was in a reflective mood. A former City broker in the metals market who was educated privately at Dulwich College in London (a school today popular with Russian oligarchs), he still sees himself as an anti-system radical, who occupies a space beyond left and right: he told me once that his hero was John Wilkes, the 18th-century parliamentary agitator and pamphleteer.

Unlike my friend, I do not despise Farage, even though I deplore much of what he says. What does he know? That’s what interests me. It’s not enough to condemn one’s opponents: it’s harder, yet more fruitful, to attempt to understand and explain the forces and individuals shaping the history of our era.

Speaking on 14 November in the Commons, Ken Clarke, perhaps the last true Tory parliamentary Europhile, called Farage the “most successful politician of my generation”. It’s hard to disagree, though he tried and failed seven times to become an MP.

More than any other politician – more than the cranks and headbangers on the Tory fringes – he created the conditions for Brexit, and we are living with the consequences. Through sheer force of will, charisma and a kind of relentless monomania, Farage transformed what was once a fringe cause into a national movement (the “people’s army” is what he calls his followers). He galvanised the Eurosceptics in the Conservative Party and harried David Cameron, who in 2006 dismissed Ukip supporters as “fruitcakes, loonies and closet racists, mostly”.

For all of Farage’s success at ventriloquising the sentiment of a large section of the population, his behaviour has often been contemptible: never more so than when, in the final week of the referendum campaign, he launched the anti-immigrant “breaking point” poster depicting a column of Muslim Syrian refugees in the Balkans, the wretched of the Earth. Farage deliberately conflated legitimate economic migration with the refugee crisis and illegal immigration: even the former Ukip MP Douglas Carswell called the poster “morally indefensible”.

Farage remains unapologetic. “Jacob [Rees-Mogg] says he thinks that poster won the referendum, because it dominated the debate for the last few days. The establishment hated it, the posh boys at Vote Leave hated it, but it was the right thing to do. Now, I don’t think we’d have won the referendum without Mrs Merkel. But that poster reminded people what Mrs Merkel had done.”

Farage was referring to the German chancellor’s decision in 2015, at the height of the worst refugee crisis in Europe since the end of the Second World War, to open the borders to more than a million dispossessed people from the Middle East and Africa.

“After the election in 2015, [Farage’s close associate] Chris Bruni-Lowe said to me, ‘If on the Sunday before the referendum we’re discussing three million jobs, we’ve lost.’ I launched the poster, there was a bit of commentary, I had double-page spreads in five national newspapers. There was the usual criticism of it. It was only when Jo Cox got murdered that they chose to focus on [the poster] as the big issue.”

The Labour MP was shot and stabbed on 16 June 2016 in Birstall, West Yorkshire, by Thomas Mair, who shouted “Britain first!” as he attacked her. Farage told me: “I remember thinking, ‘Can I live with this?’ Not because of what I’ve done – just the hatred, not my conscience… Basically, it’s your fault she’s dead. I came in here, a bit down. It was rough, and Chris said, ‘Remember what we said last year: what’s the conversation? It’s immigration.’

“But it was obviously very unfortunate that a young woman got murdered, and all the rest of it… I don’t think her death ultimately changed the way people voted, but what it did do was kill the momentum. It did kill the momentum. Sorry, that’s the wrong word to use. It stopped the momentum. Because we had the ‘big M’ going. Momentum’s an odd thing, because when it’s going with you, you just feel it. You know it’s happening. So, yeah, that was quite a thing.”

That phrase, “quite a thing”: you could call it a euphemism.

***

Simon Heffer, a commentator, historian and authorised biographer of Enoch Powell, believes that Farage is one of the most important politicians of the entire postwar period. “Enoch was the first British Euro­sceptic,” he told me. “He kept the argument going throughout the 1970s and 1980s when most others had given up. As he faded, Farage took over, at the crucial moment when the Maastricht and subsequent treaties started to raid British sovereignty and democratic accountability. Nigel built up huge momentum over the 20 years before the referendum and, unlike the fantasists of Vote Leave with their £350m a week for the NHS, concentrated on the key intellectual argument for Brexit: the reclamation of sovereignty and the reinstitution of democratic accountability.

“And he galvanised the working class, whose criticisms of the EU and failed aspirations had been ignored by generations of Labour politicians, to support Brexit. He, not Boris Johnson or any of his crew of poseurs, was the key to the Brexiteers’ victory.”

Farage winced when I mentioned Heffer’s comment and Powell’s name. “Enoch was, er, a brilliant man,” he said, with unusual hesitancy, “but somehow the words he used, the analogy he chose, destroyed the debate [on immigration] for a quarter of a century. It made it impossible to even talk about it.”

He sensed an opportunity to reopen the debate with the enlargement of the EU in 2004, when ten new countries joined, eight of which had been part of the former communist eastern bloc. Of the existing member states in 2004, only the United Kingdom, Sweden and Ireland did not impose “transitional controls” restricting the freedom of movement of migrants from the new accession states, a fateful decision as it turned out. The New Labour government forecast that only 13,000 migrants would arrive from Poland and other eastern European countries; in the event, more than a million came to live and work in Britain as annual net migration, year after year, rose inexorably.

If – as Isaiah Berlin wrote in a celebrated essay in 1953 – the fox knows many things but the hedgehog knows one big thing, Farage is a hedgehog. The single defining thing that he knows is how to exploit people’s unease about immigration. That was his great wager: the revivifying of the immigration debate.

“The European Union and immigration wasn’t an issue before 2004,” he told me. “It was the mistake of letting in the former communist countries. Many in Ukip said, ‘No, no, don’t do that, you mustn’t do that. They’ll call us all the names under the sun.’ I knew that touching the immigration issue was going to be very difficult. But I think the impact that had on me, the family, I think all of that was bad, yeah. And frankly… the only thing that upsets me about it is that, had it been wilfully and overtly a racist message, I might have deserved some of it. But it wasn’t. It never was. It never, ever was. It was a logical argument about numbers, society.”

The emergence of Ukip destroyed the British National Party. Farage made a direct appeal to its voters. “The problem was that with the demise of the BNP, the haters on the left had to have someone to hate, and that all transferred to me.”

He doesn’t like the term “working class” but agrees with Simon Heffer that his rhetoric and plain speaking appealed to those he calls “good, ordinary, decent” people.

“The one thing I had going for me is that I’m able to cross classes. You know I do what I do, I am what I am – people like it or they don’t like it, but I’m not confined to the Shires or the inner cities. I can do a bit of both. You know how our class system is… The sort of middle, upper-middle class never say what they think to anybody, you know, just in case. But the lower down the social scale you go, the more people are very blunt in what they say and how they approach things. So, I use direct language, never trying to come across as being too clever.”

Farage respects Jeremy Corbyn because he is not a conventional career politician. “Corbyn’s a bit different, and maybe that’s why he’s working with a certain segment… Corbyn’s popularity among the young is astonishing. But he comes across as very genuine. His technique is so similar to mine in an odd way, and Trump’s. He’s very similar to Trump, the way he does it!”

What does he do?

“One, the embrace of social media. He understands it; I understand it. If you look at the social media following of UK politicians, it’s just him and me. The rest are so
far behind us, it’s almost incredible.”

Both Farage and Corbyn have more than a million Twitter followers. I suggested that Ruth Davidson, the Scottish Conservative leader, is excellent on Twitter and understands how to use social media.

“Yes, she is. Her numbers at the moment are very small, but that may change. But she understands it. The rest of them haven’t got a clue. I mean Boris Johnson! Boris should be huge on social media and he’s not. Corbyn also gets that the big public meeting works. It energises people in the most incredible way.

“And some of the stuff he said in this general election was not entirely dissimilar to some of the stuff that I said in the previous general election. On the fact that you’re living in a society where the rich and powerful are richer and more powerful than they’ve probably ever been…

“And he comes across as genuinely caring about those that are having a tough time. And that’s his big card. I’ve got a certain admiration for that. What I don’t have an admiration for is the thought of [John] McDonnell running the British economy.”

***

Before this interview, the last time I had seen Farage in person was in November 2016 at the Spectator parliamentary awards dinner in London. There, he was presented with a Lifetime Achievement Award by George Osborne. Farage had been drinking and gave a raucous, triumphalist speech during which he mocked the “pasty-faced” Osborne, whom he loathes, and then told the guests, who included the Prime Minister, Theresa May, that Donald Trump would be “the next leader of the Western world”. Farage’s comments were received with derision. “Oh, come on,” he said that night. “What’s the matter with you? That’s… the attitude you all took to Brexit. [You said] it could never happen… [But] my achievement was to take an issue that was considered to be completely wrong, perhaps even immoral, and help to turn it into a mainstream view in British politics.”

It was a fair self-assessment and he was correct about Trump winning. Farage, who understands that in the age of social media outrage cuts through, has had an astounding effect on our politics. He is blamed for coarsening and poisoning the public discourse and inflaming racism and xenophobia, charges that he rejects. Instead, he told me that angry Remainers, such as Alastair Campbell, had created what has become a foul and feculent national conversation.

“I think some of what’s happened has been appalling. Alastair Campbell, he’s almost lost reason! I mean, the classic example of what’s happened since the referendum is the death of the Polish man in Harlow [in August 2016]. So, the story is: ‘Polish man gets beaten up because of race hate caused by Brexit.’ That’s the story. It’s everywhere: BBC Two’s Newsnight even ran a report saying, ‘Nigel Farage has blood on his hands.’

“Talk about fake news… The collective shock of the liberal establishment, they still can’t get to grips with it, and they’re trying to find a reason why this illogical thing, as they see it, happened. In this country, they put it down to lies, and in America, it’s the Russians!”

Ah, the Russians – let’s hope they love their children, too, as Sting sang.

Carole Cadwalladr, an Observer feature writer who has been investigating what she considers to have been malign outside influences on the EU referendum result, is convinced that Farage is at the centre of a network of alt-right white nationalists and libertarian billionaires who are intent not only on destabilising the West but engendering hate and overturning the liberal order. “Farage has been making speeches in the US for Roy Moore, for example. Is he being paid to do that? And if so by who?” she said when we spoke.

Cadwalladr has been abused on social media by Farageists and by Arron Banks and Andy Wigmore of Leave.EU, which posted an abusive video of her on Twitter. The video has since been removed and Wigmore told me that it was meant to be a joke and he regretted the upset it had caused.

“It seems to me that Wigmore and Banks are using Trumpian rhetoric for effect,” Cadwalladr said. “It doesn’t ring true. But Farage is ideological. That’s the difference. And he’s been given a free pass in Britain for too long. It’s disturbing. It’s made me question our institutions – including the press and media. There’s no covert conspiracy with Farage. He’s part of this overt, right-wing, pro-Putin bloc. He loves Putin. He supports Hungarian demagogues.”

Farage believes that Vladimir Putin is “a strong leader”, but he would never wish to live in Russia. “You know, 120 journalists have gone missing in the last nine years… I wouldn’t want Putin as my leader, no, no, no. This is not some unqualified fan club, far from it. But, you know, he’s a strong national leader who, when it comes to playing strategic global politics, is a bloomin’ sight smarter than No 10.”

Farage spoke with enormous gusto and energy, his voice animated. “There was a piece the other day,” he continued, “that said I was the only person that connected all the dots. That I was the centre of the web. I mean, it’s just baloney… A person of interest to the FBI, etc, etc. I can tell you hand on heart, it is total and utter baloney. I have virtually no Russian links at all.”

What about Donald Trump (we met before the American president disgracefully retweeted anti-Islamic propaganda from the account of the deputy leader of the neo-fascist Britain First movement)? Farage described himself as a “supporter” and said that Trump had restored America’s reputation as a powerful nation overseas. Farage was encouraged by the administration’s programme of deregulation and tax cuts for the wealthiest and corporations, but there had been no contact between them for many months.

Farage is, however, still in touch with Steve Bannon, the executive chairman of Breitbart News and a former Trump strategist at the White House. I suggested that, with the departure of Bannon, Trumpism had lost its ideological fervour and drive – after all, Bannon has a theory of history, however demented. Farage disagreed. “Trump had that belief system anyway,” he said. “Steve may have reinforced it.”

***

Before Ukip’s post-referendum collapse into irrelevance and Jeremy Corbyn’s rise, Farage reached out to and captured a certain demographic of Labour voters, several million of whom ended up voting for Brexit. One of the most serious mistakes made by Ed Miliband as Labour leader was to underestimate Ukip, which he believed would hurt the Conservative Party more than Labour. By the time of the 2015 general election, increasing numbers of voters were abandoning Labour for the so-called people’s army.

The Labour-to-Ukip defectors were, on the whole, not city-dwelling liberals. They mostly lived in towns and did not have degrees. They were anxious about immigration, fearful of change, pessimistic about the future and weary of austerity. Caricatured as those “left behind” by globalisation, they made themselves heard at the referendum in 2016, an act of rebellion that the Blue Labour thinker Jonathan Rutherford likens to an Orwellian “tug from below”.

“Cameron would not have won the election in 2015 had it not been for the Ukip vote,” Farage told me. And if Cameron had not won the election, there would have been no referendum. “We hurt Labour far more than we hurt the Conservatives. And I remember thinking, ‘These cretins.’ The Daily Mail didn’t understand it! The Sun didn’t understand! They didn’t understand it! We were digging deep into that Labour vote. And that was the gap Miliband created. It was the gap that, Jason, you saw earlier than almost anybody, to be frank, and we did well with them. We did very well with them. So, 2015 was an odd moment, because… we had four million votes and we’d got nothing for it [Ukip ended up with one MP in 2015]. But we had a referendum!”

Call it the revenge of the fruitcakes.

On 14 November, Farage made a speech in the European Parliament during which he denounced George Soros, the 87-year-old billionaire financier who funds the Open Society Foundations, which supports civil society and liberal democracy. Soros has been traduced in his home country of Hungary and is the victim of conspiracy theories and anti-Semitism. I put it to Farage that his speech had been interpreted as an anti-Semitic “dog whistle”. For the first time, he became angry.

“Fuck off, for God’s sake. Excuse my language – but honestly, isn’t that incredible? Is this what we’ve sunk to? If you attack Soros, you’re anti-Semitic? They’re desperate aren’t they, these people? You know why? They’re losing. Because even if Brexit’s delayed, even if it’s not done properly, public opinion is hardening around the kind of things that I campaigned for, for all those years. They’re losing.”

What is it they are losing?

“Their very nice, comfortable, narrow vision of what the world is and what it should be: that’s what they’re losing. But honestly, for goodness sake. Soros? If we talk about Russian influence, let’s talk about Soros’s influence. It’s massive. David Miliband’s paid by him… And I’m being told I can’t talk about it. I mean, please. Anti-Semitic – bloody hell. Think of all the prominent Jewish people that have stood up and supported me over the course of the last few years. Sorry, that makes me angry.”

***

In his book The Shipwrecked Mind, the American academic Mark Lilla draws a distinction between the conservative and the reactionary mind. Reactionaries are, in their way, “just as radical as revolutionaries and just as destructive”. Farage is a radical and a reactionary: his instincts are destructive. He wanted to blow up the British establishment. He wanted to smash an elite consensus. He is relaxed about the idea that Britain might exit the EU without a free trade deal. He delights in describing Brexit as an “earthquake”, the aftershocks of which continue to move the ground beneath our feet.

“I’ve thought for a long time,” he told me, “that this question about Europe and our relationship with it was one that had the potential to realign British politics. In the last few months, I’ve been thinking that Brexit might not be the last earthquake. There might just be another one. There may be something seismic still to come. And it could be the Conservative Party that’s the most vulnerable to it.”

This year, far-right parties have suffered notable electoral reversals in France, Austria and the Netherlands but they have not been decisively defeated. We are not witnessing the return of a more liberal, optimistic Europe. Marine Le Pen won 34 per cent of the vote in the second round of the presidential election against Emmanuel Macron, after reverting in the final weeks of the campaign to the politics of her father, an old-style Vichy fascist. To defeat Geert Wilders’s anti-Muslim Freedom Party in the Netherlands, the centre-right Dutch prime minister, Mark Rutte, had to adopt some of his rival’s positions and borrow much of his xenophobic rhetoric. In the illiberal democracies of eastern Europe – Poland, Hungary – an ugly form of the old right has re-emerged. The Czech Republic has embraced anti-establishment populism after the ruling Social Democrats were crushed by ANO (“Yes”), an insurgent party led by a billionaire oligarch, Andrej Babiš.

Meanwhile, Angela Merkel’s centre-right government has been severely weakened in Germany and her standing diminished after the far-right Alternative für Deutschland, energised by the migrant crisis, won nearly 13 per cent of vote in the federal election in September: it now has representation for the first time and is the third-largest party in the Bundestag.

“All that has happened, especially in France, is that the rise of the far right has been paused,” said the philosopher John Gray. “What’s driving all this, I think, is that the emerging European state, or super-state, cannot discharge some of the primary functions of a state. It claims many of the prerogatives and authorities of a state, but it hasn’t got the means to deliver on the functions of a state – which do include control of borders.”

But the liberal order, although threatened, is not crumbling. The EU27 end 2017 in a stronger, more unified position than they began it, in spite of the turmoil in Spain and the intensifying Euroscepticism in Italy. In the US, the worst excesses of Donald Trump are being constrained by the courts, by Congress and the free press. And Brexit, as Farage knows, has not yet happened.

According to John Gray, “Farage is taking an Oswald Mosley-like gamble. I’m not saying he’s a fascist, but he’s reinventing himself as an alt-right politician in a culture that, despite everything, has no room for the alt-right. He has made a fundamental strategic error. Let’s say he’s arrived at a point of non-arrival. There is no alt-right position for him to connect to, because the great achievement of British politics has always been to marginalise the far right. The dark European stain that has re-emerged – and now the American stain – is altogether different. As for Farage, I think he’ll be beached in five years and probably end up in America as a shock jock.”

The man himself thinks differently. “America is very tempting. But I’m just a bit too English really! I like going to Lord’s.”

At the end of our conversation, Farage accepted that the Brexit negotiations were in trouble. He was alarmed by the economic forecasts but accepted no responsibility or blame. “It’s not Brexit that’s caused the uncertainty,” he said. “It’s Theresa May. Let’s be honest about it: the prospect of a hard-left government with McDonnell as chancellor and Corbyn as leader is scarring business.”

He believes that the Prime Minister has no conviction. “Brexit is an instruction from the electorate to turn around the ship of state by 180 degrees,” Farage said. “You cannot do that unless you believe in what you’re doing. You have to actually, passionately believe in what you’re doing. Ignore all criticism, you just have to do it. It’s like an act of going to war… And she’s managing the different wings of the party as if this is politics as normal.”

Boris Johnson – whom Farage thinks should leave politics to become an academic and television celebrity – has disappointed him. The next prime minister, he said, will come from outside the cabinet, and it could be Jacob Rees-Mogg, his choice. “Whether it’s on the question of a transition deal, whether it’s on the question of ‘go whistle’ – Boris has been very weak. The likelihood is that we will leave the European Union legally but finish wrapped up in a whole series of transition deals that mean we’re not able to take advantage of the positive sides of Brexit.”

***

The ultimate irony of Brexit is that the UK is now more at the mercy of the EU than ever. And though Farage can afford to run this ideological experiment, many of those who voted Leave cannot. He expects Labour to offer a second referendum on the unresolved Europe question in its next manifesto. “I have a feeling that Labour will fight the 2022 general election, if we go that long – we will not be fully out, we will still be in a transition of some kind – on a ticket of either, ‘We’ll have a referendum to rebalance our relationship’ (which would not be fully rejoining, but it could be a single market compromise), or an EEA compromise, or something. That’s a very realistic possibility.”

At which point, Farage may return to front-line politics, perhaps at the head of a new party or movement. “My position is this: if they really make a mess of Brexit, and if there’s a job that has to be done…”

He lowered his voice almost to a whisper and looked straight at me. “I’ve got no choice! Actually, I honestly don’t really want to. I’ve done it. I don’t want to do it again. You know climbing mountains without crampons is quite tough – you take on the establishment. But, no, if the gap is there, if it needs to be done, if the job needs to be finished, I’ll do it.” 

Jason Cowley is editor of the New Statesman. He has been the editor of Granta, a senior editor at the Observer and a staff writer at the Times.