The angels weren't very impressed by Mr Phelps. Photo: Getty
Show Hide image

What happened when the Westboro Baptist Church’s Fred Phelps arrived at the gates of heaven

It didn’t go quite as he’d imagined. . .

“Next!” says Saint Peter, beckoning an old man with cold blue eyes and a cowboy hat towards the Pearly Gates.

“Ah, Mr Phelps,” says the gatekeeper as the old man approaches. “What time do you call this? Twitter has had you down as practically dead since Monday.”

“Tweeter. . .” says Phelps, gazing furrow-browed into the clouds.

“Never mind. Right, let’s get started, shall we? I’m afraid we’ve had to up security here a little, since the Thatcher Incident last year. I’m going to start by asking you a few questions about your time on earth.”

“By all means, sir. I know darn well I’ve led a righteous life. Ask away.”

“Great! Right then, Mr Phelps,” says Saint Peter, picking up a clipboard, “I’m going to present you with some statements. In response to each one, I need you to tell me if you strongly agree, agree, somewhat agree, disagree or strongly disagree. All clear?”

Phelps slowly nods his Stetson-topped head.

“Number one: ‘To the best of my ability, I did unto others as I would have them do unto me.’”

“Strongly agree,” shoots the unblinking Phelps.

“Right,” says Saint Peter, chewing on the end of his pen. “I’m afraid that answer presents us with a slight administrative problem. I’m not actually cleared to deal with this sort of thing yet – these security measures really are very new. I’m going to have to get Maureen from the Department of Heavenly Prerogatives and Standards to come and lend a hand. Please bear with me.”

“But sir,” says Phelps, eyes widening into vicious blue marbles, “I’m a true Christian. I lived my entire life according to the Lord’s word. Surely there’s no need for this?”

Ignoring Phelps, Saint Peter picks up a crackling walkie talkie, “Maureen,” he says into it, “We have a possible A1327 violation here.”

The walkie talkie squawks something indecipherable to Phelps, but a winged woman in a pencil skirt, with a Heaven Border Security tag on a lanyard, soon appears.

“Hello Mr Phelps, my name’s Maureen. I’m going to be helping you through security today.”

“This is a downright outrage!” bellows Phelps, “I did not dedicate my life to preaching the word of our Lord Jesus Christ to be held here, outside of Heaven’s Gate, like a godforsaken sodomite.”

“I understand that you’re upset, Mr Phelps” says Maureen in a tone that suggests that she has no experience dealing with the upset whatsoever, “But I’m afraid you’ve violated section A1327 of the Heavenly Security Code – that’s the Love Thy Neighbour clause.”

“This is BS!” says Phelps, raising his arms.

“Please, Mr Phelps,” says a decidedly bored Maureen. “If you’ll just bear with us. . .”

“I want to speak to God,” says Phelps, “He knows I’m a good Christian.”

“Mr Phelps, I’m afraid it’s that church of yours,” says Maureen, emphasising the word “church” with a pair of elaborate air quotation marks. “Your whole ‘God hates fags’ thing. See, what you’ve actually done is libel God. And to put it mildly, Mr Phelps, he’s not a happy bunny.”

“Libel?!” shrieks Phelps, his red face twitching like an electrocuted rump steak, “Leviticus 18:22: ‘Do not have sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman; that is detestable’. Those are His own words.”

“I’m sorry Mr Phelps, but all of that. . . wrathful stuff was overwritten in the Gospel of Matthew. You know, ‘love thy neighbour as thyself’. God decided to do a bit of a rebrand at that point, you see. And to be quite honest, you can’t just hate your way into Heaven like in the olden days. In fact, all of these security measures are part of Operation Cuddly Pants. Jesus has personally demanded a crackdown on all the ‘haters’ (his word, not mine) getting through the Pearly Gates.”

Phelp’s jaw creeks into its full extension.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to fill out these forms,” says Maureen.

Phelps is nudged out of his catatonic state by the thud of a War and Peace-thick stack of paper hitting Saint Peter’s desk.

“It’ll take six to eight months to process,” adds Maureen, “In the meantime, you’re in luck – a room has just become available at the YMCA in Purgatory.

Two muscle-bound angels appear.

“Adam and Steve,” Maureen addresses them, “Please will you escort Mr Phelps downstairs.”

 

Eleanor Margolis is a freelance journalist, whose "Lez Miserable" column appears weekly on the New Statesman website.

Photo: Getty
Show Hide image

As crime moves online, the police need the investment in technology to follow

Technology offers solutions, not just threats.

It’s perhaps inevitable that as the world becomes more digital, so does crime. This week Alison Saunders, director of public prosecutions, recognised that online crime is as serious as face-to-face crime. “Hate is hate,” Saunders wrote referring to internet abuse, and the police should protect people from it wherever they are. This will add demand to under-pressure police forces. And it is only the tip of the iceberg. 

Forty-seven per cent of crime involves an online element. Police recorded 30,000 instances of online stalking and harassment last year. People are 20 times more likely to be a victim of fraud than robbery, costing businesses an estimated £144bn a year. On a conservative estimate, 2,500 UK citizens use the anonymous dark web browser, Tor, for illegal purposes such as drug dealing, revenge porn and child sexual exploitation.

The police need new technology to meet demand, a Reform report published today finds. Some progress has been made in recent years. West Midlands Police uses an online portal for people to report incidents. Durham uses evidence-gathering software to collect social media information on suspects, and then instantly compile a report that can be shared with courts. Police have benefited from smartphones to share information, and body-worn cameras, which have reduced complaints against police by 93 per cent.

Yet, Theresa May’s 2016 remarks that police use “technology that lags woefully behind what they use as consumers” still stand. Officers interviewed for Reform’s research implored: “Give us the tools to do our job”.

Online evidence portals should be upgraded to accept CCTV footage. Apps should be developed to allow officers to learn about new digital threats, following the US army’s library of knowledge-sharing apps. Augmented-reality glasses are being used in the Netherlands to help officers identify evidence at digital crime scenes. Officers would save a trip back to the station if they could collect fingerprints on smartphones and statements on body-worn cameras.

New technology requires investment, but forces are reducing the resources put into IT as reserves have dried up. Durham plans to cut spend by 60 per cent between 2015-16 and 2019-20. The government should help fund equipment which can meet demand and return future productivity savings. If the Home Office invested the same as the Department of Health, another department pushing “transformative” technology, it would invest an extra £450m a year. This funding should come from administrative savings delivered through accelerating the Government’s automation agenda, which the think tank Reform has previously calculated would save Whitehall £2.6bn a year.

As crime moves online, police must follow. Saunders is right to point to the importance of meeting it. But technology offers solutions, not just threats. Installing the next generation of equipment will give police the tools to do their jobs, addressing online hate and more. 

Alexander Hitchcock is a senior researcher at reform