It can be quite remarkable how different perceptions of political events are. The majority of commentary has judged Rishi Sunak’s election announcement, standing outside Number 10 in what became a drenching rainstorm, as humiliating. At best, a symbol of his poor judgment. At worst, an omen of disaster to come.
But the real people I talk to talk about the one thing they found most striking about that scene: the angry, excessive blasting of amplified music from what was described on the broadcast media as a ‘protest’ outside the gates of Downing Street.
This ‘protest’, as it happened, was not a mass demonstration of organized dissatisfaction with the government. It was just a childish appearance of that bellowing buffoon Steve Bray, whose relentless shouting memorably disrupted much of College Green’s news coverage of the Brexit debate. He was joined at Downing Street by a handful of friends and a boombox playing the New Labor anthem ‘Things Can Only Get Better’ on repeat at full volume.
Ultimately, the words of the song were lost on those watching on television: all they heard was a senseless rhythmic roar, which didn’t quite manage to drown out the Prime Minister’s speech. What it did do was create a sense of belligerent disrespect, not just for Mr Sunak and his party, but for the government institutions and for the population being addressed.
What appalled most ordinary viewers was that any Prime Minister announcing elections – the most important democratic moment in the life of a free society – could be subjected to this absurd, belittling charade without any apparent hindrance from the police or security services. In what other country, many of my interlocutors asked, could this happen?
In fact, the police intervened after the speech and associated ‘protest’ ended, and Bray is now said to have been banned from the Westminster district. But it remains a mystery why this did not happen immediately, as there are now laws in place to prevent demonstrations that involve noisy disruptions.
As it was, an impression of lawlessness and anarchic chaos remained, which could well reflect on the government. Had the Tories, with their record-breaking unpopularity, lost control of the apparatus of authority to such an extent that even their most important official statements to the people could be treated with open contempt?
But no, that analysis doesn’t actually apply. Even Boris Johnson, having just won an election with a huge popular mandate, was subjected to a screeching cacophony from the pavement outside Number 10 as he tried to speak to the country from the steps. What is happening here should be offensive to anyone of any political persuasion who believes in the democratic process.
It’s important to see it for what it is: not just a few annoying clowns harassing themselves, but part of a much larger pattern in which very small groups of people can take over public spaces and bully much larger groups of people. Silence. It is imperative to remember that the vocal left-wing activists who manage to capture the BBC’s Question Time audience, or who organize attacks on social media against public figures (including elected parliamentarians) who dare to express biological facts, are a minority – by definition – because political activism of any kind is a minority activity.
The confusion they exploit is the idea that disrupting the efforts of elected governments to communicate with their people is itself a sacred freedom. The false logic here should be obvious. Of course, the right to protest is essential in a free society, but it cannot take the form of preventing those you disagree with from being heard. If those whose views you don’t like don’t have the right to free speech, then neither do you.
Elected governments have traditionally had a perceived right to ban certain forms of expression. Until recently, this was limited to fairly extreme examples: death or blackmail threats, incitement to violence, defamation. More recently it has expanded dramatically to include statements that insult small specialized groups in arcane ways. But we have now reached a further stage where even differences of opinion about what can be said cannot be discussed.
The activist minorities effectively make it impossible to debate not only their positions, but also the idea that such positions might be debatable. There should be no debate about what is acceptable to discuss. So what until recently would have been considered an outrageous claim – that, for example, men who call themselves women are actually women – should not be considered moot. If you defy this edict and insist that this is a controversial issue open to question, you may be silenced by intimidating mobs who, with apparent impunity (as they exercise their right to protest), deprive you of your right to express your views. .
It is not just respect for politicians of a particular party or generation that is vilified: it is the entire enterprise of responsible government. How much legitimate authority can a Prime Minister have if an announcement of this importance can be drowned out by a handful of exhibitionists with a sound machine? And why should infinitesimal cliques of lobbyists determine the boundaries of public discourse?
The secret of their disproportionate influence is a formula known to the left for more than a century: organization, dedication, discipline. As in the case of Downing Street, small numbers can create completely disproportionate amounts of oppressive noise. Ordinary people – even those who consider themselves politically active and astute – cannot compete with this tireless interventionism, which can emerge at any point, in any context that offers the opportunity to exert influence.
For some reason, which future historians will explain, the official authority made a conscious decision to grant this license to minority lobbies to dominate the public scene.