PLEASE be aware that I am about to use the terms “Conservative” and “love”. If either of those words makes you feel awkward – and I’m uncomfortable with at least one of them – then I’ll try to minimise the pain. But bear with me if you can, because I think something in politics may be shifting, the present may be throwing up clues about the future, and in small, hopeful ways, there could be signs of a route out of the hateful groove that politics is stuck in. I’m thinking of the elections in Turkey. And a surprising, and touching, moment in the fight for the Conservative leadership.

Let’s start with that moment from the Tory leaders campaign: Rory Stewart was doing one of his Q&As in a tent and was asked how he would rectify the rise in negativity towards trans people. He would start, he said, by embracing and welcoming the transgender person who asked the question, but he also said it was important to emphasise how much we should cherish each other and how much we should respect each other’s identity. “This is about listening,” he said, “and I’m afraid it’s about love.”

READ MORE: Mark Smith: For pity’s sake, stop it – the appeasement of transphobes and conservative feminists is putting Scotland’s progress at risk

There are two ways of looking at that moment in the tent. Either, what Mr Stewart said was a bit cheesy and cringey, or it was a rare example of something that’s been missing from politics: compassionate language and open talk of love. It’s significant, isn’t it, that Mr Stewart said he was afraid it was about love because a politician talking about love can feel a little bit like a politician talking about religion. In the United States, they are perfectly relaxed about it, but this is Britain, where we’re generally comfortable with four-letter words other than love, especially in public and often in private.

However, I’m very glad Mr Stewart said what he did because it points to what could develop into an interesting trend, even though he was voted out of the race in the end. A different style of talking in politics could also suggest a way in which we might be able to take on popular movements that rely on national identity, such as Scottish nationalism. In fact, politics that emphasises love has already shown what it can do against politics based on nationality or ethnicity: in Canada, for example, and most recently in Turkey.

The Turkish example is particularly interesting. A few months ago, Ekrem Imamoglu, of the opposition party CHP, narrowly won the election to be mayor of Istanbul, only for the result to be annulled after outrageous claims by President Erdogan that it was rigged. A re-run was ordered, but instead of Erdogan’s chosen candidate romping home the second time, Imamoglu increased his margin of victory from just 13,000 to 800,000. It was an extraordinary win.

But it’s how Imamoglu won that’s really interesting. Obviously, Turkey’s economic woes and high inflation will have had something to do with it, but Imamoglu was also determined to run a different kind of campaign. “Polarisation is a universal problem,” he said. “All around the world, populism is used to divide and rule. But we can turn the trend upside down.” The emphasis in campaigning, he said, should be on language that’s loving, polite, inclusionary and calm. You cannot fight polarising populists by being polarising, he said.

Read more: Turkish strongman weakened as opposition wins Istanbul mayor race

The strategy is explained further in a publication called Book of Radical Love. This short manifesto, this pamphlet of love, might sound naïve in places, and it would probably raise a mocking laugh from Lynton Crosby, and a fair few Scottish nationalists, but it’s worth going over the main points. The constant use of social media, it says, stimulates anger that polarising politicians feed off. Radical Love, on the other hand, focuses less on identity and tries to build an overarching philosophy that transcends it. The book also advises politicians to resist hitting back and to be loving and polite instead. In other words, do not rise to the bait of the populist or the nationalist.

Could Radical Love be applied to Scotland? Clearly, there are limits – for a start, we’re way less comfortable with the word “love”. But the main points could work here just as much as they did in Turkey. In fact, we’ve already seen the effects that positive language can have in taking on nationalists in Scotland and elsewhere. Many veterans of the fight to keep Quebec in Canada, for example, are convinced the No camp won 60-40 in the 1980 referendum because it talked positively about the advantages of Canada; conversely, it won the 1995 vote by a tiny margin because the campaign was much more negative. As one campaigner put it, if the No side abdicates the heart, it will be harder to win.

I think anti-nationalists in Scotland could learn from this. It’s not about saying Scotland couldn’t be independent – of course it could – and it’s not about catastrophising a post-independence scenario – that risks a backlash. It’s about, as the Book of Radical Love suggests, being polite: saying – as Better Together did in 2014 – “no thanks” rather than “no”. And it’s about using the word that Rory Stewart isn’t afraid of – love – and emphasising the benefits of loving co-operation rather than division.

It’s also about staying positive in the face of negativity. You may remember that before the 2014 referendum, David Bowie issued an obviously heart-felt appeal to Scotland to “stay with us” ; you may also remember that some 200 well-known people signed an open letter urging Scots not to break away, only to be greeted by the most gruesome hatred from some Yes supporters. Obviously, there was, and is, hatred on both sides, but the lovebomb ended up covered in bile.

The point of Radical Love is that you stay positive even in the face of that kind of negativity – in fact, that’s the ultimate test of the strategy: stay positive, stay patient, and do not get provoked. According to Ekrem Imamoglu, the aim is also to gather round unpolitical common denominators rather than on either side of artificial lines like national borders. I do not know if such a loving message would work in Scottish politics. I also do not know if there is anyone capable of delivering it. But the evidence says it is worth a try.