One of the more subtle tensions I’ve noticed in modern public life is the growing discomfort with faith being visible in civic spaces. Not necessarily hostility—though that does exist—but a quiet unease, as though belief should be kept private, like one’s PIN number or Netflix password.

And yet, throughout British history, it was not only acceptable for faith to inform public service—it was expected. From Wilberforce’s abolitionism to Shaftesbury’s reforms, from church-led schools and hospitals to the traditions of Remembrance and civic services, religion helped to shape our public conscience.

So why the shift?

Partly, I think, it’s the result of a misunderstanding—that faith always means division. That religion, when spoken aloud, must come at someone else’s expense. But this isn’t my experience at all. My faith as a Roman Catholic has never made me want to exclude others. It’s what makes me want to serve them.

Public life today would benefit not from less faith, but from faith that’s better understood—faith that roots us in humility, moral responsibility, and the idea that there is something higher than self-interest. That we are stewards, not owners. Servants, not sovereigns.

I don’t expect everyone in public office to share my beliefs. But I do think we need more space for faith to be spoken with confidence—because when we forget what we stand for, we forget how to stand at all.