I’m Soooo Exhausted!

I’m exhausted.

Not tired in the casual sense, but bone-deep weary of listening to loud, confident idiots trying to repackage far-right revisionism as “a conversation we should all be open to.”

Last night I switched off Radio 4.

Not because I disagreed with a point, but because I’d had enough of hearing someone calmly suggest that Hitler was somehow misunderstood. As if history simply needs a softer edit. As if six million deaths were a branding issue.

I’ve spent decades behind a camera, watching what ideology does when it’s no longer theoretical.

I’ve photographed conflict zones, displaced families, and fractured nations. I’ve stood in places where language like this did not begin as violence, but ended there. Words first. Policies next. Consequences always.

And I keep asking myself: where is this coming from?

Why are we being relentlessly fed this language of grievance, this idea that the right has been silenced, marginalised, bullied by a so-called woke world? That society would somehow be cleaner, stronger, better if empathy were muted and difference erased.

Let’s be honest about the subtext.

That imagined “better world” only really works if you are white, male, and comfortably educated. For everyone else, it’s survival mode. Elbows out. Heads down. No safety net. No seat at the table. I’ve photographed those margins. They’re not abstract to me.

We’ve seen that world before.

Portrait by John Ferguson…Bangkok

And if we’re brutally truthful, maybe parts of it worked for a very small group of people. But the world we live in now, complex, diverse, imperfect, loud, was shaped precisely because that old model failed so many. I’ve watched societies try to rewind history. It never ends well. This is not cultural decay. It’s a consequence.

So when far-right voices sneer at diversity as if it’s a disease, when figures like Trump or Farage insist they’re not racist while parroting ideas that plainly are, when Tommy Robinson and his followers gather for a so-called Christian Christmas carol service soaked in exclusion, what are we supposed to think?

Yes, free speech matters. It always has.

But free speech was never meant to be a free pass for hatred, nor a megaphone for division dressed up as debate. I’ve seen how repetition normalises the unacceptable. I’ve watched rhetoric harden into policy through a lens. When speech dehumanises, when it poisons trust and fractures communities, we’re allowed, even obliged, to question who benefits from amplifying it.

This isn’t theoretical for me.

I was born in London to immigrant parents. I’ve seen racism close up. Felt it. Carried it. I’ve also watched it play out globally, different accents, same intent. Belonging is always conditional on those who fear difference.

Image taken for Searchlight Magazine

And yet, hope keeps intruding.

When I see Black athletes wearing this country’s colours, footballers, cricketers, runners, standing tall, I feel genuine pride. Not symbolic pride, but something earned. It feels like acceptance made visible. Like progress you can point to and photograph.

Then, sometimes within hours, it evaporates.

A headline. A chant. A comment section. And the old despair comes rushing back, loud and familiar. I’ve seen this rhythm before, too.

So what is this, really?

A message of hope, or one of hopelessness? 

Call me naive if you like.

I’ve been called worse.

But positivity, stubborn, informed, clear-eyed positivity, is not weakness. It’s resistance. It’s choosing to stay engaged when retreat would be easier. It’s believing that bearing witness still matters, even when the noise is relentless.

After decades of photographing the consequences of fear, division, and exclusion, I’ve learned this much: history doesn’t collapse overnight. It erodes slowly, aided by indifference and exhaustion. And the only thing that ever slows that erosion is people who refuse to look away.

I choose hope not because I’m sure of the outcome, but because I know the cost of giving up. I’ve seen that world through my viewfinder.

And it isn’t one I’m prepared to accept.

John Ferguson is an Ipswich-based editorial and portrait photographer working across Suffolk and East Anglia. With over four decades of experience photographing people, craft, and community projects, his work focuses on documenting stories that carry cultural and human value.

FAQ

Why write this now?
Because silence is never neutral. I’ve seen what happens when harmful ideas go unchallenged.

Is this political?
It’s human first. This comes from lived experience, not party lines.

Are you against free speech?
No. But free speech isn’t a free pass for hatred or division.

Why mention your photography?
Because I’ve photographed the consequences of these ideas. This isn’t theory, it’s witness.

Do you still believe in hope?
Yes. Hope is a choice. Giving up only serves the loudest voices.