Christmas and New Year sees goodwill officially declared across Britain; it’s a bit like a great political policy being installed, but never fully funded. It appears in shop windows, school newsletters, and cards hastily written on the hall table. Goodwill to all, we proclaim, warmly and sincerely, before quietly attaching the small print.
Goodwill applies, subject to the following: you don’t ram your trolley into mine at Waitrose; you don’t support Trump or Putin; you don’t discuss whether Die Hard or The Sound of Music is a Christmas film, and you definitely don’t arrive three hours early “to help” and then sit down with a few glasses of wine while someone else peels the sprouts.
In theory, goodwill is universal. In practice, it is conditional, weather-dependent, and liable to evaporate somewhere between the car park and the self-service checkout.
Us Brits are actually very good at public goodwill, you know, the polite nod, the apologetic smile, the passive-aggressive “no, no, after you sir.” We are less good at private goodwill, especially when confined indoors with misfunctioning radiators, and a family loudly arguing about what we should be watching on the television. There is no goodwill at all for train services running “on a revised timetable”, or for the football authorities who make Newcastle play at Brighton (a 1,100km round-trip) at 8pm on Boxing Night.
And yet, despite ourselves, something shifts. Old grievances are quietly shelved. Sharp opinions are consumed along with dry turkey. We tolerate, we endure, and we make an effort, which, in Britain, is really a form of love.
Goodwill here is rarely grand or demonstrative. It shows up as putting the kettle on instead of starting an argument. Or not correcting someone, even when they are clearly wrong. Maybe just being a little less difficult than usual.
Terms and conditions still apply, of course, but for a few days, at least, the small print can wait.
Goodwill to All – (Terms and conditions apply)
When Roger suggested this title, it made me smile. I thought it would be fun to quote the US President’s holiday wishes with goodwill to all (terms and conditions apply).
“Merry Christmas to all, including the Radical Left Scum that is doing everything possible to destroy our country.”
“Merry Christmas to all, including the many Sleazebags who loved Jeffrey Epstein.”
“Stephen Colbert is a pathetic trainwreck, with no talent or anything else necessary for show business success, … MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!”
“But sadly, that’s the way it is in the world of corrupt Democrat politics!!! Enjoy what may be your last Merry Christmas!”
“May God Bless our military, and MERRY CHRISTMAS to all, including the dead terrorists.”
I’m going to step out on a stout limb and say that few Muslims celebrate Christmas. I’ll take that one step further and say even fewer dead “ISIS Terrorist Scum in Northwest Nigeria,” are in a goodwill to Donald mood; mostly because they’re dead. However, it does seem that the radical left scum has been on something of a holiday roll. So, goodwill to all, including…
Goodwill to All – (Terms and conditions apply)
The first thing I recall is Metallica’s famous album, ‘…and justice for all.’ I really don’t know why is it so. Probably, simply because of the phonetical similarity. I am not a Metallica fan and never have been. Some of my schoolmates back in the 1980s were.
How realistic is goodwill to all? I am definitely no Jesus so I am not as generous to share my goodwill for all. Sometimes I feel I have lack of goodwill not even for all, but for my family or friends. Yes, this is not a sign of being a good man but I am what I am.
Let’s zoom out and look at the problem of goodwill in the digital age.
Social media creates fast, shallow goodwill; likes, reposts, and hashtags replace real action. It is very easy to show your goodwill by just liking someone’s post. In the moment, it looks like a real support, at least psychologically.
However, such empathy has borders. As a result, goodwill turns into a social signal rather than a moral commitment.
More importantly, digital goodwill is conditional. Empathy remains only as long as individuals conform to the expectations of the online community. A single unpopular opinion, poorly phrased statement, or misunderstood joke can instantly revoke public support. The same crowd that offered praise and solidarity may vanish, often without discussion or forgiveness.
This volatility reveals the true “terms and conditions” of online kindness. Goodwill is granted temporarily and can be canceled at any moment. Instead of encouraging genuine compassion, social media often rewards conformity and punishes complexity. As a result, goodwill in the digital age is not only shallow but unstable.
Ultimately, while digital realms promise connection and empathy for all, it delivers a version of goodwill that is easily performed and easily withdrawn. In a space governed by speed and judgment, true goodwill struggles to survive because its value may disappear any second.