Targeting Clegg's family home was plain wrong

Defenders of the UK uncut protest call it a "party". Would they be so relaxed if the far-right copie

As a Liberal, I actively encourage people to demonstrate when they see things they don’t like or approve of. And I love creative demonstrations that make their point in an imaginative way, that get people talking and debating the merits of an argument, whether I happen to agree with that view or not. So it takes quite a lot for me to write that a protest is just plain wrong.

But targeting someone’s children does cross that line. Which is why I think yesterday's UK Uncut demonstration outside Nick Clegg’s home was unjustifiable.

First, interest to declare (beyond the party politics). Someone attacked my home in a very minor way last year. I’m a bit sensitive therefore about this sort of thing.

So when I’m told that this wasn’t a protest, that it wasn’t intimidating, it was a party, I beg to differ. If 400 people turned up for a "party" outside my house, blocking off the roads to prevent anyone getting out, specifically targeting the road because I lived there, I wouldn’t feel especially safe.

And this time it was UK Uncut. Suppose the BNP or EDL decide to do the same? Only in Ed Miliband’s road. Would Sunny Hundal and Laurie Penny still be cheerleading them from the sidelines? Or is this sort of action only OK if you agree with their politics?

And supposing they hadn’t targeted a party leader? Where is the line to be drawn? Mark Serwotka said of the protestors in Clegg’s road yesterday that "we applaud their innovative and inspirational action that takes the campaign right to the doorsteps of those responsible”. Well Mr Serwotka, by your own logic, that makes you fair game for the same treatment does it not? Would you be happy if 400 people turn up at your doorstep for a bit of a fiesta, closing your road and stopping your family leaving the house, because they profoundly disagree with your political views?

Indeed what of the 400 party goers themselves? Each took part in a political act yesterday. Should they be held to the same standards? Are their homes and their kids' schools now fair game. I don’t think so. But by their own logic, they presumably do.

One Tory MP actively encouraged people to donate to the Lib Dems yesterday. But then Louise Mensch knows something about having your kids targeted. Those on the protest in Putney yesterday should think long and hard about the line they crossed. And whether they would really want the same treatment themselves.

Richard Morris blogs at A View From Ham Common, which was named Best New Blog at the 2011 Lib Dem Conference

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Rarely has it mattered so little if Manchester United won; rarely has it been so special they did

Team's Europa League victory offers chance for sorely needed celebration of a city's spirit.

Carlo Ancelotti, the Bayern Munich manager, memorably once said that football is “the most important of the least important things”, but he was only partly right. While it is absolutely the case that a bunch of people chasing around a field is insignificant, a bunch of people chasing around a field is not really what football is about.

At a football match can you set aside the strictures that govern real life and freely scream, shout and cuddle strangers. Football tracks life with such unfailing omnipresence, garnishing the mundane with regular doses of drama and suspense; football is amazing, and even when it isn’t there’s always the possibility that it’s about to be.

Football bestows primal paroxysms of intense, transcendent ecstasy, shared both with people who mean everything and people who mean nothing. Football carves out time for people it's important to see and delivers people it becomes important to see. Football is a structure with folklore, mythology, language and symbols; being part of football is being part of something big, special, and eternal. Football is the best thing in the world when things go well, and still the best thing in the world when they don’t. There is nothing remotely like it. Nothing.

Football is about community and identity, friends and family; football is about expression and abandon, laughter and song; football is about love and pride. Football is about all the beauty in the world.

And the world is a beautiful place, even though it doesn’t always seem that way – now especially. But in the horror of terror we’ve seen amazing kindness, uplifting unity and awesome dignity which is the absolute point of everything.

In Stockholm last night, 50,000 or so people gathered for a football match, trying to find a way of celebrating all of these things. Around town before the game the atmosphere was not as boisterous as usual, but in the ground the old conviction gradually returned. The PA played Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds, an Ajax staple with lyrics not entirely appropriate: there is plenty about which to worry, and for some every little thing is never going to be alright.

But somehow the sentiment felt right and the Mancunian contingent joined in with gusto, following it up with “We’ll never die,” – a song of defiance born from the ashes of the Munich air disaster and generally aired at the end of games, often when defeat is imminent. Last night it was needed from the outset, though this time its final line – “we’ll keep the red flag flying high, coz Man United will never die" – was not about a football team but a city, a spirit, and a way of life. 

Over the course of the night, every burst of song and even the minute's silence chorused with that theme: “Manchester, Manchester, Manchester”; “Manchester la la la”; “Oh Manchester is wonderful”. Sparse and simple words, layered and complex meanings.

The match itself was a curious affair. Rarely has it mattered so little whether or not United won; rarely has it been so special that they did. Manchester United do not represent or appeal to everyone in Manchester but they epitomise a similar brilliance to Manchester, brilliance which they take to the world. Brilliance like youthfulness, toughness, swagger and zest; brilliance which has been to the fore these last three days, despite it all.

Last night they drew upon their most prosaic aspects, outfighting and outrunning a willing but callow opponent to win the only trophy to have eluded them. They did not make things better, but they did bring happiness and positivity at a time when happiness and positivity needed to be brought; football is not “the most important of the least important things,” it is the least important of the most important things.

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