The contempt for democracy

Think about this while you read press coverage of the student protests.

This is a cross-post from Enemies of Reason

We'll read a lot about these student protests today. Much of the rage will focus on the fact that an elderly chutney maker had his car kicked in by some people on his way to see Michael McIntyre and Cheryl Cole perform in his honour. Some will deplore the breaking and burning of things by those whom Kay Burley would label as "insurgents". Some others, maybe a smaller number, will wonder if it's a tremendously excellent thing to charge at children with police horses or drag other people out of wheelchairs, or bash them over the head with batons, and all of that – but probably conclude that, yes, sadly, it's actually OK.

One thing that might come up a few times is the idea that a protest of this nature shows "contempt for democracy". If it is, you have to ask: who showed contempt for democracy first?

Is it contemptuous of democracy, for example, to tell people that you have certain policies, become elected because of their votes on the basis of what you've said, and then once you're safely in power for five years, turn around and say, "Look, I'm awfully sorry but things have changed – that manifesto which we said was our manifesto is more of a 'holding manifesto', to be broken open in the unlikely event that we ever get elected with an overall majority; and it is to be entirely ignored if we become part of a coalition, when we can cheerfully reject some or all of our promises?"

Is it contemptuous of democracy, for example, to not tell people that you're going to introduce something like tuition fees in the first place, but then, once you're safely elected, and having given no indication that you're going to introduce tuition fees, introduce tuition fees?

Does it say something about politicians' contempt for democracy, perhaps, that the country can go to war with a foreign power that poses no threat to it, based on no legitimate evidence whatsoever, and that no citizen of that country should have a say in the matter; that entirely peaceful protests should be completely and utterly ignored because it is history, not citizens, who are the real judge of a prime minister, and besides, God told him it would all be all right?

No, of course not. Have a patronising pat on the head and a biscuit to make you feel better. None of that is contempt for democracy at all; that's just part of the rich ebb and flow of parliamentary life, which is so very vital and important to everything getting done. Well, if people told you what they were going to do, or did the things they told you they were going to do, how on earth could things function then? It would almost be as if you were voting for parties based on certain principles, or values, and that they would stick to them, or something. And that would never do.

Patrolling the murkier waters of the mainstream media
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Leader: Mourning in Manchester

Yet another attack shows we are going to have to get to used to the idea that our liberalism and our freedoms can only be preserved by a strong state.

Children are murdered and maimed by a suicide bomber as they are leaving a pop concert in Manchester. As a consequence, the government raises the terror threat to “critical”, which implies that another attack is imminent, and the army is sent out on to the streets of our cities in an attempt to reassure and encourage all good citizens to carry on as normal. The general election campaign is suspended. Islamic State gleefully denounces the murdered and wounded as “crusaders” and “polytheists”.

Meanwhile, the usual questions are asked, as they are after each new Islamist terrorist atrocity. Why do they hate us so much? Have they no conscience or pity or sense of fellow feeling? We hear, too, the same platitudes: there is more that unites us than divides us, and so on. And so we wait for the next attack on innocent civilians, the next assault on the free and open society, the next demonstration that Islamism is the world’s most malignant and dangerous ideology.

The truth of the matter is that the Manchester suicide bomber, Salman Ramadan Abedi, was born and educated in Britain. He was 22 when he chose to end his own life. He had grown up among us: indeed, like the London bombers of 7 July 2005, you could call him, however reluctantly, one of us. The son of Libyan refugees, he supported Manchester United, studied business management at Salford University and worshipped at Didsbury Mosque. Yet he hated this country and its people so viscerally that he was prepared to blow himself up in an attempt to murder and wound as many of his fellow citizens as possible.

The Manchester massacre was an act of nihilism by a wicked man. It was also sadly inevitable. “The bomb was,” writes the Mancunian cultural commentator Stuart Maconie on page 26, “as far as we can guess, an attack on the fans of a young American woman and entertainer, on the frivolousness and foolishness and fun of young girlhood, on lipstick and dressing up and dancing, on ‘boyfs’ and ‘bezzies’ and all the other freedoms that so enrage the fanatics and contradict their idiot dogmas. Hatred of women is a smouldering core of their wider, deeper loathing for us. But to single out children feels like a new low of wickedness.”

We understand the geopolitical context for the atrocity. IS is under assault and in retreat in its former strongholds of Mosul and Raqqa. Instead of urging recruits to migrate to the “caliphate”, IS has been urging its sympathisers and operatives in Europe to carry out attacks in their countries of residence. As our contributing writer and terrorism expert, Shiraz Maher, explains on page 22, these attacks are considered to be acts of revenge by the foot soldiers and fellow-travellers of the caliphate. There have been Western interventions in Muslim lands and so, in their view, all civilians in Western countries are legitimate targets for retaliatory violence.

An ever-present threat of terrorism is the new reality of our lives in Europe. If these zealots can murder children at an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester, there is no action that they would not consider unconscionable. And in this country there are many thousands – perhaps even tens of thousands – who are in thrall to Islamist ideology. “Terror makes the new future possible,” the American Don DeLillo wrote in his novel Mao II, long before the al-Qaeda attacks of 11 September 2001. The main work of terrorists “involves mid-air explosions and crumbled buildings. This is the new tragic narrative.”

Immediately after the Paris attacks in November 2015, John Gray reminded us in these pages of how “peaceful coexistence is not the default condition of modern humankind”. We are going to have to get used to the idea that our liberalism and our freedoms can only be preserved by a strong state. “The progressive narrative in which freedom is advancing throughout the world has left liberal societies unaware of their fragility,” John Gray wrote. Liberals may not like it, but a strong state is the precondition of any civilised social order. Certain cherished freedoms may have to be compromised. This is the new tragic narrative.

This article first appeared in the 25 May 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Why Islamic State targets Britain

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