A few days before the British government pushed
through "the most repressive legislation since 1945", a look at the very strange coalition of opposition
Written 14 October, 1994
In Britain, only the fringes favour freedom
Ermine-clad members of Britain's House of Lords would seem to
have little in common with the rainbow-clad peacocks of its rave-
music youth culture -- apart from their very Britishness and
exotic appearance. They form, though, a de facto alliance in
defence of the British Constitution, famous mostly for not being
worth the paper it's not written on.
While the mainstream of society and politics have looked on in
bemusement, its outer fringes in all directions -- from landed
Lords to homeless squatters -- have, in their various dialects of
protest, spoken out for liberty.
If you follow British affairs you might have caught a routine
snippet about clashes after a peaceful demonstration by around
30,000 in London Sunday October 9. You probably will not have
heard about sections of the police opposing parts of the
government plans. Neither will Members of Parliament, with
Conservatives following their leader and most of Labour
abstaining for fear of seeming "soft on crime".
The problem is much easier to explain to readers of this
newspaper than it is, for example, to those of the London Times.
The government plans, simply, to take away Britons' Fifth
Amendment right not to incriminate themselves.
To explain at the length required for a British audience, lacking
the language of liberty which is Americans' heritage: The
Criminal Justice and Public Order Bill (CJB) will, it is
expected, be pushed through Parliament on October 19. One of its
dozens of provisions allows the courts to "draw inferences" from
an accused's silence when arrested.
This will not be much of a problem for sophisticated criminals.
It will be a problem for future Birmingham Sixes and Guildford
Fours, wrongly convicted of terrorist offences and released only
years later when the Appeal Court found that their "confessions"
were falsified. It will be a very serious problem indeed for the
highly suggestible and educationally subnormal who are the
victims of less-publicized miscarriages of justice.
As you might expect from bizarre Britain, which needs its odd
sense of humor, there's an irony here. Several of the police
officers who were alleged to have falsified those confessions
were acquitted after -- you guessed? -- exercising their right to
silence on the charges against them.
Andrew Puddephat, director of Britain's National Council for
Civil Liberties, describes the CJB as "a rag-bag of prejudices"
-- as if the Conservatives had gone to their suburban supporters
and asked "who do you hate?" When the coal-miners were striking
in 1985, Margaret Thatcher referred to an "enemy within". This
government is defining scads of them, playing to the gallery of
its supporters' prejudices. Pastor Niemoller's famous warning is
unavoidable.
In a cramped country where a Site of Outstanding Natural Beauty
may be scarcely larger than a city block, a vigorous and colorful
protest movement opposes highway schemes which obliterate
thousands of years of landscape history with one stroke of an
engineer's pen. Having been through the formal processes of
opposition and been ignored, the archetypal Conservative Party
voters "Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells" often now find themselves
in alliance with second-generation hippies, physically
obstructing the earth-moving machines by dancing all over them.
So the CJB creates new offences of "aggravated trespass",
specifically to outlaw such acts of non-violent civil
disobedience. These were drafted, it is said, with the help of
the fox-hunting lobby, well-represented in the Conservative
Party. And so the anti-roads protestors and the hunt saboteurs
become a colorful part of the opposition to the CJB.
Over past summers some of the most vibrant cultural events in the
Sceptred Isle have been "raves" -- outdoor gatherings with techno
music. (Novelist Will Self suggests that Britain's only
worthwhile export is underground youth culture: this, now, is
it.) Having danced their feet off for a weekend, participants
believe that, contrary to Margaret Thatcher's dictum that "there
is no such thing as society", they are re-inventing a genuine
sense of community. Occasionally they thoughtlessly annoy the
neighbors: always they produce a knee-jerk reaction to young
people coming together in large numbers to do everything which is
un-Conservative.
So the CJB creates specific offences to outlaw raves. The law
being the ass it is, it must now include a definition of music,
which "includes sounds wholly or predominantly characterised by
the emission of a succession of repetitive beats." Police will be
able to order anyone to turn back on suspicion that they might be
heading for a party or a protest. How this can be squared with
international law guaranteeing freedom of movement and assembly
is unclear.
For at least half a century large numbers of British people,
unable to find housing, have squatted. Despite the odd scary
story of a nice middle-class home being occupied while the
occupants ski, the majority of squatted houses has always been --
the squatters insist -- those left empty by inefficient and/or
cash-strapped local government. But, converging with rave
culture, squatters have recently become more visible and more
disturbing to the sensibilities of Tory activists.
So the CJB will allow court orders to remove certain squatters
without them being represented or forewarned. Anyone failing to
comply with such an order within 24 hours may be arrested. As far
as defense attorneys can tell, if an order is issued in error --
say, at the behest of an unscrupulous private landlord -- the
victims must leave their home and stay out until an appeal is
heard months hence. Mick Bennett of the Metropolitan Police
Federation, the nearest London's police constables are allowed to
a trade union, "would have a problem with getting involved with
someone who has taken over an empty building."
There's much more. Privatized quasi-jails for 12-to-14-year-old
offenders: legislative resistance to making these mandatory was
improbably spearheaded by the Conservative Baroness Firth. Yet
more law against being a Gypsy: the House of Lords toned that
down too. The government has vowed to reverse these small defeats.
There are unexceptionable sections. The lowering of the age of
consent for homosexual men to 18, and controls on embryo
research, are rolled up in this Bill.
No-one can argue with measures against child pornography. The CJB
introduces probably the world's first "virtual reality offence"
concerning "pseudo-photographs" which, if real, would be child
pornography. No-one can argue with measures against terrorists,
can they? The new offences of possessing information "likely to
be useful to terrorists," will, though, surely tempt the
authorities when journalist investigate, say, alleged collusion
between the security forces and Loyalist terrorists in Northern
Ireland. And in both these cases the defence has to prove
innocence of intent.
The Labour Party has, in its enthusiasm to be "tough on crime",
placed itself squarely in the great excluded middle of this
argument. At last week's Party Conference, just one mention of
the CJB made it onto the carefully-managed agenda, committing the
party to reverse only the anti-gypsy section.
Even at the Conservative Party conference last week the CJB was
barely debated, beyond delegates alternately blaming the Lords and
the anarchists for delays.
We have to look the fringes for any response. Alasdair Palmer,
home affairs editor of the often Right-of-sensible weekly the
Spectator, concludes that "it is bizarre that the CJB has
literally dozens of paragraphs dedicated to helping the police
arrest people who like dancing and going to outdoor parties, but
not one single sentence which will enable them to close the
loophole which [by revealing informants' identities] leads to the
release of violent and dangerous criminals..."
Lord Justice Hoffman, in a trial of anti-roads protestors,
commented that "Civil disobedience on the grounds of conscience
is an honourable tradition in this country and those who take
part in it may in he end be vindicated by history." Indeed they
may be, as a mere passing acquaintance with the history of the
United States will tell you.