Liberalism is far from in vogue at the moment. Conservatism is not having a great time either — the Party which takes its name from that philosophy is currently polling between third and fourth in the UK. This is a bizarre state of affairs if only because, of everybody in the UK with even a passing interest in politics, the overwhelming majority would identify as either a liberal or a conservative, if not both. Yet the battle of ideas has been so vicious, and the terms have become so loaded, that few are brave enough to call themselves either. Conservative, at least for now, is probably more popular, but interpretations of just what conservatism means vary wildly: from the interpretation offered by Tommy Robinson and his entourage to that which was offered by Rory Stewart back in 2019. Liberalism, on the other hand, is increasingly coming to be defined by the interpretations of its opponents; particularly those who see it as a relic of a bygone era.

A large part of the reason for this, I suspect, is that writers rarely attempt to iron out genuine philosophical disagreements; and when they do, it would not be on the pages of the same newspaper. Alice Roberts’ Domination is often seen as an implicit response to Tom Holland’s Dominion, but the books are obviously written for different audiences: readers of the Guardian and of UnHerd respectively. Consequently, somebody who already agrees with Holland is unlikely to be convinced by Roberts’ book, and vice versa. Guardian’s ‘dining across the divide’ series is perhaps the paradigmatic example of this problem — the ideological differences between the different strata of Guardian readers are so minute that the ‘divide’ often amounts to merely being in different factions of the Labour Party.

The hope behind Centre Write, conversely, is that it can be a place where both readers of Holland and of Roberts can go; of David Goodhart and of Simon Jenkins; of Lawrence Newport and of Tony Juniper; of John Milbank and of Alastair Campbell. That it can be a place where writers can hash out genuine differences, and where discussions can take place across genuine party and political divides; where, also through our exchanges, readers and writers can reach some consensus, or at least better understand the true source of their disagreement. We will try to limit pre-existing assumptions or prejudices only to those that favour good writing and argument. Inevitably, this means that some people may not like every article we publish, but the hope is that the great majority — those who are interested in either liberalism or conservatism in at least some respect — will like at least some.

The name serves to reflect this philosophical neutrality, but it also serves to preclude a certain writing style — designed to provoke, not to convince; to get those who agree with you to agree with you even more, and to rile up those who do not. Writing that is analogous to populism — saying the things that people want to hear, not the things they should hear.

This would be a terrible formula for a publication that seeks to be read were it not for the fact that often the things we should hear are also the things we want to hear – often we just do not know it before we read it. One of my most cherished experiences as an adolescent was having my mind completely changed on the problem of free will in the scope of a sixty-minute tutorial with my at-the-time philosophy professor; I spent two hours in the shower the subsequent evening, wrestling with what makes me different from an automaton.

Part of the reason this incident was so impactful was precisely because I was an adolescent — my mind more prone to turning and my ideals not yet quite so unmoving. This is also why we will seek out not just those already with illustrious writing careers, but also seek to give a platform to burgeoning writers, still in the process of working out their philosophy and politics; dialecticians from Plato’s Republic. And, in our upcoming culture section, perhaps the poets, too.