The centre of gravity of English politics, Westminster in London, that is, shapes itself as a welcoming and transparent place.
It looks endearing, almost teddy bear-like, and stands erect if lonely in a sea of other buildings and meanings.
It’s a friend of the city, but pretty well damn friendless, as well. This isn’t a situation that can last, surely?
It’s meant in a way that marks out some significant differences between “now, and then” so to speak, which is a dangerous game in a place that marks itself out now as being so much more than what it was – in its heyday.
It’s the same with many of the buildings and monuments that make up a nation’s “public library”, in that it has something very specific to say, but not a lot hear it.
If you take for example the recent Gaza protests that beset that part of the city, it becomes clear.
It’s a ‘thing’ nowadays to see ‘taking your cause’ or representation as being a constant, gradual process that doesn’t involve the usual democratic process, but one of your own making (and that is own).
It’s not a point for MP’s to make for us – salaried as they are – but rather it’s seen as a cause to get on with by ourselves, or by themselves, as the case may be.
This isn’t an acceptable or safe way of doing things in a business-like state, especially when those active in protests are unvetted, and therefore present a risk (as they have done) because of their slogans, but also because of their often antisemitic beliefs.
The Palace of Westminster therefore has a difficult place in our modern history, as it stacks up its rebukes from the people sky-high and struggles to overcome its difficulties and differences with all hues of people. It seems as if it can’t win, whatever it does.
How does such a venerated institution reach a state like this? What is its answer to its own problem of not only aiding it, but abetting such activity, as well?
