“The blight of activism is on all our shoulders,” so said a veteran to me who’d seen it all since his term of service during the Second World War. Once it ended he wanted to return to the England he knew – “warts, and all,” he quipped. It was a brief appreciation that while all is not well, it could be better if we just tried it together.
The stunning surge of anti-State activism that is now alleged to be replete in all legal realms as well as in political quarters is a noisome and forlorn attempt at something that hasn’t caught on. The ever spiralling, closing circles of marches and demonstrations that have polluted London’s streets have not reminded us of anything.

Though we still think about justice, it’s mostly in our own terms – as defenders of it. It’s a reflection of our obligation, of our duty, and not a temporary look in a mirror driven by dire media narrative. The basis of our law continues to be everyday decency, and yet this is not it. The aloof politician and the absent Peer is just the start of it. The monstrous claims of disaffected anonymous crowds is the end of it.
The diatribe of pro-Gaza people is now our punishment for not ‘liking’ their version of events. The lousy professional class is all too willing to stand by as their carefully built country is torn to pieces internally by strife, and animosity. They too are sad characters, mind-sick by punk politics and rock-pelting accusations by the lost and pissy. This isn’t what he fought for, but it’s what the veteran knew as a worthy fight.


