A few decades ago a strange message used to appear in British newspapers. Though now it might look like interference in our national affairs, in the 1970s the Democratic People's Republic of North Korea used to buy half- page advertisements in the broadsheets. They carried a statement from its then leader, Kim II-sung.
At great length, in dense print, he explained the superiorities of the communist system. These were not only material. In our private lives too, Kim said, deprived of socialist solidarity, we in the capitalist West were afflicted by "the tragedy of isolation". It was an oddly effective form of appeal. He seemed to know our hearts. It was not only the hungry for whom communism held an answer, but the lonely too.
What's more, Kim's message had surprise value. Never mind Korea and communism: we in the West simply don't expect to find existential concerns aired in a political context. The tragedy of isolation? In a poem, a song, a film, a book of philosophy, maybe – but not in a party manifesto, a leading article, an editorial cartoon, a parliamentary speech, a propaganda poster. We make a firm distinction between public and private issues.