Why Law is Like Magic (and Why it’s Not)

The news of a new Master’s degree in Magic at the University of Exeter—due east of the Witch Museum in Boscastle, Cornwall—inspired this post; that and pondering the effect of Latin legal phrases such as the presumption of causation res ipsa loquitur (the thing speaks for itself).

As well as privileging dead languages, law is like magic because it’s ceremonial. Its agents dress up, often donning black robes, they employ titles and a strict hierarchy, there are arcane rules which operate with or without the knowledge and understanding of the participants, there are propitious and inauspicious times and seasons, it has a certain glamour, being one of the few disciplines still centred on the intellectual ability of categorical thinking, and it has far-reaching material consequences.

Law is not like magic because it’s not an irrational, unsystematic, culture-specific sprawling set of assertions based on childish and egotistical wish-fulfilment widely considered demonic. (Although modern-day lawyers might consider that an apt description of Chancery and certain Men’s Rights organisations have exactly that view of Family Law.)

But is the above a fair description of magic? There’s a distinct lack of an agreed definition for this widely disparate set of phenomena—or even any agreement over what they have in common. In The Two Towers, the second book of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Galadriel, Queen of the High Elves, makes that plain to Sam the Hobbit, companion of Frodo:

‘And you?’ [Galadriel] said, turning to Sam. ‘For this is what your folk would call magic. I believe; though I do not understand clearly what they mean; and they seem also to use the same word of the deceits of the Enemy. But this, if you will, is the magic of Galadriel. Did you not say that you wished to see Elf-magic?’

^{Fellowship of the Ring Book II Chapter 7: “The Mirror of Galadriel”}

So if even hobbits and elves can’t agree on the nature of magic, what hope is there for us humans? The link above leads to a fansite that quotes the author, JKK Tolkien, explaining this scene with “the distinction between magia and goeteia”, in an unsent letter to the Scottish author Naomi Mitchison—whom I once had occasion to witness in person declaring to Kirk ministers that “the witches are coming back!”. Her point being that it was the alliance of Kirk and State that had burnt them.

Tolkien’s point is that magic as functional technology is permissible and distinct from supernatural deception which, other than in harmless displays of wonders, is not. This could be read as a Neo-Platonic stance, open to useful and practical magic but opposed to malevolence and mimicry. Keith Ward, author of Religion and the Decline of Magic, details the continuance of all sorts of folk magics—some adopted as scapulars and sacramentals—under Catholicism and their repression under Protestantism.

Mitchison’s declaration may have been less theological than sociological: the witchcraze of Western Europe tended to target women of property (being widows) and was highly convenient to envious neighbours who could lay claim to their land. This perspective is shared by many Scots today as the repressive Hate Crime legislation finds its first victims, with the suspicion (supported by many social media posts of intent) that it is being leveraged for ideological intimidation and revenge.

The programme director of the new MA in Magic and Occult Sciences, Dr Emily Selove, is an Associate Professor in Medieval Arabic Literature and is especially interested in “the overlap between poetic and magical language” and, glancing at the curriculum, it’s certainly interdisciplinary. Billed as offering the opportunity to specialise in “the diverse history of esotericism, witchcraft, ritual magic, occult science, and related topics”, it’s housed in the Institute of Arab and Islamic Studies and promises: “Decolonisation, the exploration of alternative epistemologies, feminism, and anti-racism are at the core of this programme.”

Well that’s all very well, but notable in its absence is the exploration of diverse ontologies (AKA metaphysics). These good people clearly envisage a good few experiential classroom sessions, carrying over to the nearest artisan vegan bakery, hammering out just exactly how the liminal discourses of queer People of Colour were even more marginalised by White male clergy. I’d be extremely disappointed if that didn’t come up at some point. However my question, in the light of Arthur C. Clark’s take on magic being indistinguishable from “any sufficiently advanced technology”, is always going to be: how does it work? Even if the answer is only ever theoretical or expressed as our best guess as to how the practitioners understand it to work.

There’s an overlap between magic and law in Agatha Christie’s The Pale Horse. One circle is cast rather dramatically by a trio of women in a spooky hotel while a debarred lawyer, encouraging persons with inconvenient relatives to place a bet with him, is circumspect about law. Somehow these spheres of influence meet in the middle. The indomitable Miss Marple finds out how (but you won’t hear the dénouement from me) mostly because she refuses to believe in magic. In this case, it’s diversion.

So what definitions of magic are there? How can someone affect something without apparent use of any natural means? Let me count the ways:

1. Alchemy
2. Contagion
3. Likeness
4. Personification
5. Similarity
6. Sleight of hand
7. Superstition
8. Supplication

The first is the attempt at holistic amelioration on diverse levels of reality notable for its spectacular lack of success—a spectacle attributed by its devotees to the prudent desire to hide its real success. (If you found those words amazingly well-written and want to read 92,000 more on the subject, see Alchemy at the Chalkface: Pirsig, Pedagogy and the Metaphysics of Quality.)

The next four are varieties of sympathetic magic theorised by Sir James Frazer in The Golden Bough and subsequently elaborated by others. The sixth is the deceptive art of diversion practiced by politicians and stage magicians alike. The seventh is the umbrella term for all the others used by people with an unshakable belief in atomistic determinism not shared by physicists. At least not after Einstein.

The eighth is the theological problem: supplication of who exactly—or what? Which brings me back to my question: how does it work?

The non-academics tweeting about the new MA are very concerned about the answer—and I don’t blame them. Western magical novels and (especially) TV series tend to be a bit vague about this. The Good Witch started off slightly witchy but the scriptwriter, no doubt due to Hallmark middle American audience comments, swiftly toned it down to a very vague Law of Attraction and the Power of Positivity. At the other end of the spectrum is The Craft, where some kind of supernatural entity, introduced as morally ambivalent but assumed at the end to be evil, is pulling the strings. The Order blends this with some attempt at magical metaphysics but by the time the demonism becomes explicit (mopping up the blood after the constant goat sacrifices is a bit of a clue) we’re already invested in the lives and loves of the characters. Bewitched just completely ignored the mechanics of magic by diverting attention to Samantha’s cute nose and Charmed, after at least one mention of “the old gods and the new” took the cookery book (and cleavage) approach.

Perhaps because of the erudite Giles (“of a British library, or The British Library”) Buffy, while merrily stealing entire episodes from Charmed, and vice-versa, at least attempted to ground its uncanny reality in some kind of coherent scheme by referencing its own version of the multiple dimensions of Buddhism. Apart from some Christmas carolling, there are no spiritual references in the Harry Potter series and JK Rowling, despite glimpses of her clear familiarity with the Western esoteric tradition, writes in the British absurd tradition of Lewis Carroll.

Still, getting back to Latin and other prestigious dead languages, all these contemporary tales have three elements in common.

• Strong emotion
• Will
• Words

With no agreement on the form, content or scope of magic, it may be distinguished from ex opere operato (automatic) sacramental operations, as the first element is replaced by the power of the Holy Spirit imminent in the Church; and from the law, as that same element is replaced by reason.

Law, religion and magic have something else in common: whether or not they are the opium of the people, as Marx put it, they are certainly the cry of the oppressed. All three may be used with malevolence, certainly, but people turn to them when nothing else works.

I am not opposed to this new MA. I wish the staff and students well, and—if they are not already on the recommended reading list—I strongly advise them to consult the oeuvre of Dame Frances Yates and of Prof. Ioan Petru Culianu. Clarity about the theories and practises of manipulation of reality may be very helpful in this age of deceit. Finally, despite the widespread opinion that they customarily do the contrary, I believe that it behooves practitioners of all three disciplines to act according to the motto of Angel Investigations: We Help The Helpless.

Magical multicoloured tree with spirals

Thanks to Victoria Borodinova for releasing her image Tree, Plant, Crown, Trunk, Fantasy into the Public Domain.

…and you came to visit me

The first time I visited a prison, it was with the Cub Scouts. We all got locked behind bars (for a few seconds) and loved it. I still remember, after the satisfying clang of the lock turned by the big jangly keys, looking around and seeing…a hard bed, a metal toilet (no lid) and a barred window. When I asked the policeman (it was the local nick so just holding cells, not really a prison) “What do they do in here?” genuinely puzzled, he said, with a shrug, “Count the bricks?”

Was I about ten then? I’m hazy on the date. The second time was around a decade later and not in Scotland. The Jerusalem Praetorium, so my aunt (a Franciscan sister stationed in Jordan) had informed me, is one of the most reliably identified sites in the Holy Land. Famously known—all with reasons but confusingly—as the Palace of Herod, the House of Pilate, the Antonia Fortress, Gabbatha, and the Pavement, it is the location of the prison cell of Jesus.

Actually there are two, so I don’t know if I was in the right one. What I do remember is that it was too small to stand up in, and to lie down in. I remember hunching inside (I must have been lucky avoiding crowds that day) and thinking: He was here. The Holy Land felt like a movie lot sometimes (there are two separate locations for the tomb of Christ, the Garden Tomb and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, both with a venerable heritage and claim to authenticity) but this prison cell, this felt real.

The third time I visited a prison I’m not going to give you either the date or the location but I will say it was in the UK, it was the first of several prisons I visited, voluntarily, and I visited each one several times.

Why?

Again I’m going to be vague. It could be to visit a family member, a friend, a neighbour, an acquaintance—or maybe someone you didn’t know at all. A fellow human being who, for some reason, and for some period of time, is behind bars.

Why?

Why would anyone want to do that? Someone has (presumably) broken the law. Why not leave them to it?

Maybe for the reason that the policeman’s flippant (and truthful) answer stayed with me after all these years. Maybe because of that cramped stone cave. Maybe because my father was also innocent and was a prisoner. Not, mostly, behind bars. The Nazis didn’t have all their P.O.W.s in solitary all the time. But certainly deprived of his liberty.

Yet the guilt or innocence of prisoners, while of great importance to them, isn’t the main reason why people like me (and maybe you) find ourselves visiting them. I know that sounds strange, and not very just. After all, should we really be making life easier for people being punished for a crime? What about their victims?

I don’t know their (presumed) victims. I do know that there’s someone in prison and that I believe that visiting them may do both of us some good.

So do the authorities. At least for the prisoner’s sake. And this is the first thing to say about prison visiting. You are, willingly, putting yourself into the hands (quite literally) of the authorities. You won’t get in until they say so—and you won’t get out either.

Think about that. It can be a bit nerve-wracking. There are forms and phone calls and doors and locks and fingerprints and lockers for belongings and a sniffer dog (don’t pat the dog, no really, they know he’s cute) and lots and lots and lots of waiting, for the next stage.

For the mythically-minded, the Descent of Inanna comes to mind. You shed your outer layers: jacket, gloves, hat, car keys, credit cards, mobile phone. Any gift has to be notified in advance (and is not given directly to the prisoner) and you walk into the visiting area (eventually, because the whole process of entry can take an hour, so do go to the loo at Reception!) with some change in your pocket, maybe a tissue, and that’s it.

The staff are, at least, civil. In my experience, that’s the baseline but usually they’re amicable, even friendly (I know one’s a translation of the other but the second feels warmer).

We (the free) walk in first. We’re assigned a table number, each prisoner has one, and—when they all come in—they have to sit on a different coloured chair. You have to open your mouth and stick your tongue out at the guard and if you hug or kiss the prisoner they’ll get frisked at the end. Because people try to smuggle things in. Seriously.

Then someone (not the prisoner) will go up to the hatch for sealed cups (no, don’t take the lid off) of tea or coffee or cartons of juice, and biscuits. Don’t be arsey about the selection. It’s a treat for the prisoner. This is another county. The rules are different here.

The guards stand around the room, watching. Well you’d complain if they didn’t, wouldn’t you? You’re in a room with a large group of (presumed) lawbreakers. They’re unlikely to start anything. But it’s a risk. Think about that.

About being arsey. Don’t. Just don’t. It’s not about you getting in your Guardian reader civil liberties points. You may be escorted from the building, early; the person you’re visiting won’t—and he may suffer for your outburst. So be positive about the experience but not presumptuous. The guards are playing out possible scenarios in their heads and in some of them you end up imprisoned or dead. Think about that.

All the prisoners are the same sex (in theory). That changes things. So whoever in your group (because you might be two or three) isn’t, may be aware of that. There’s a children’s corner. They’re (hopefully) not really aware of the underlying tension in the room. Everything is voluntarily circumscribed. There are things you don’t say and things you don’t do.

Okay, enough gloom. What’s good about this situation? Chat. Talk about family and friends. World and national news probably isn’t a good idea. It’s too remote, especially for longer sentences. Football. How’s the team doing? What about that penalty? That’s good if you can do it. Remember he has TV. So he’ll know.

Share your life. Keep it light. Remember he can’t solve problems in here so don’t give him any. Don’t boast, but share joys. There’s a world out there, let him keep in touch.

Listen. There will be a detail. The food has changed. Different job. That guy is a good mate. Bit dodgy. (Said in a whisper. No don’t look. No it’s not smart and yes you’ll be noticed.)

Something about the lawyer. Guilt and innocence it’s just not your concern. Not today. It’s all theoretical. He’s in here. They think he did it. You keep an open mind and nod along to whatever he thinks. This is NOT the place to play judge and jury. No matter how many cop shows you’ve watched.

Remember the power differential. Always. You’re free. He’s not. Underneath his amiable exterior (because he’s pleased to see you) there’s probably seething resentment against the screws/ the system/ her that dobbed him in/ the mate that dared him/ got him drunk. Don’t go there.

Time’s up. Maybe a hug. Take your cue from him. Back they all go through the gate. It’s not just a door.

Clang.

A tangible feeling of relief runs round the room, mingled with sadness. Some family members (usually female in men’s prisons, for some reason) start being arsey with the guards. Get that door open! I need to pee! Because they can. Understandable. Not advisable. The ascent is quicker than the descent.

Outside. Fresh air. Walking to the car. Liberty.

We don’t think about it till it’s temporarily abdicated. It’s a previous gift.

Why do I visit prisoners?

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.

Matthew 25:35-36

I don’t think the point of that passage is the heavenly reward. I visit a prisoner because as well as keeping a link to civil society and his hopes up that he’ll be able to rejoin it, safely, even if he has (perhaps and perhaps only to some extent and temporarily—or perhaps not) forgotten his humanity, visiting him may help me remember mine.

Padlock on heavy chain on iron gate

Thanks to Alex Borland for releasing his image Rusty Padlock and Chain into the Public Domain

Crochet your own Hate Monster

Several thanks: firstly to whoever Police Scotland commissioned to come up with the daft idea of a Hate Monster (rapidly overtaking the muppets, Nessie and even red pandas as Scotland’s favourite online beastie); secondly to Bex who tweets as @sewingwithsteel for her life-sized Hate Monster and to her fan @Swift_skies for the pocket-sized version. This is my attempt to reverse engineer the latter (which may have been knitted rather than crocheted but in any case is very neat); last but not least to Di who tweets as @FreeRangeScots (and is a very neat and creative craftswoman) for the gift of a beautiful set of crochet needles.

I started with a 50g skein, 21 metres of hairy yarn (75% acrylic 20% mohair 5% wool) bought from a charity shop (I think it was the Sally Army) and a 4mm crochet hook. 3.5mm is recommended for this yarn but this slightly larger hook is silver-coloured so easier to see on this red colour. Putting the wool (yarn) vertically in a bag lets it unwind and means you can store and carry around your project easily to work on in odd minutes. I found the bag I’m using in a box of old wrapping paper as it had some gift inside it. It’s also useful because it’s light coloured which makes it easier to see the loops, if it’s sitting on your lap or a table as you work.

I wound the yarn twice around two fingers of my left hand, leaving a tail the length of my hand, inserted the hook under and over, caught the second strand, brought it under the first, twisted and pulled to form the first loop. Ignoring the tail and catching the yarn by turning it once round my left pinkie finger, while holding the bottom of that first loop with my left forefinger and thumb, gave it sufficient tension to make a chain of 6 more loops.

A slip stitch (just pull the yarn through once) joined the ends of the chain, creating a “magic circle”. I pulled the yarn to tighten the circle and flatten it. Now I crocheted twice in each loop. How? In the UK and USA terms are different but I’m only using 2 stitches in this project: the slip stitch and a crochet stitch that you may call single or double as it’s done by inserting the hook into a loop on the circle then drawing a loop of free yarn through that fixed loop, drawing another loop of free yarn through the new loop, and finally drawing yet another loop of free yarn through both loops that are now on your hook.

That sounds complicated but it’s not. The rhythm is 1-2-3, 1-2-3; same again in next fixed loop, and is quite soothing. If you forget if you’ve already put 2 crochet stitches in the same loop, just look. Each stitch has two strands of yarn coming out of the fixed loop so a completed loop will have four.

I put crochet stitches only in the outside loops (a single strand) but you can put them into a double strand if you like. That probably would have been a good idea for me as it makes the head more robust—but some Hate Monsters are dainty: get over it!

It gets easier to distinguish the loops as you go along. The reason for the two stitches in one loop is to increase the circumference of the base evenly. I carried on until I’d gone round the magic circle three times and the head was around twice the size of a 50p piece.

You can do a slip stitch at the end of each round, then carry on with the crochet stitches in the next fixed loop, that probably makes the work neater but you can simply spiral as I’m doing and just keep an eye on the tail as a marker for the end of the round (you can also get stitch markers to insert and a paperclip will do).

I then went round again but this time (and for the whole length of the body) I’m just putting one crochet stitch in each fixed loop. So, instead of spreading out, the work should gradually rise up from the base.

So when it’s about the size of a can of beans, that’s the time to fill it.

Because my stitches aren’t terribly tight (I really should have used the 3.5mm hook and kept better tension) I chose red rags, appropriate for a Hate Monster, so I wouldn’t get another colour showing through.

Now it really needs a base. This little round coaster will do. Slightly battered over the years, since someone brought it back from France, it’s a suitable angelic antidote to all that hate!

Another round or two and I was ready to start decreasing.

To do this, you have to alter the 1-2-3 stitch we’ve been doing since the end of the head. Now it’s 1, 1-2: pull a free loop of yarn through a fixed loop as usual but then immediately pull another free loop through the next fixed loop, then bring the loop nearest the hooked end of the hook through the middle loop that’s on the hook, then through the loop farthest from the hooked end. So you end up with only one loop on the hook. Keep doing that, round and round.

That gets tighter and tighter until you run out of loops as your hook has arrived in the centre. At that stage, I pulled about 1 metre of yarn through the loop and cut it off, so I could use that to reinforce the base.

That you can do by inserting the hook under the nearest radial strand you can find and this time a double strand is best. You don’t need to separate them. Try to work in a spiral outwards but at some point you can pull the remainder of the yarn through the loop again and then just use the hook to take the yarn over and under alternate strands, wherever needs reinforcing.

At the end, when you squash the stuffing about a bit so the base is central and the tail of the yarn you started with is right in the middle of the head, you have your basic Hate Monster. Now he needs eyes and, of course, that hateful mouth!

For the eyes I thought of embroidering them on with white and red yarn but decided to go with these bright buttons. I cut a metre of yarn, inserted the needle from the top of the head, leaving a tail the length of the initial one, then tied them together once. The eyes could have been lower but I like the lopsided effect and I stitched in and out of all 4 holes before going back up to the top, back again them winding the yarn round the back of the button 7 times to strengthen the hold (and just for fun) then I stitched across, under the red yarn and catching the fabric, to do the same for the other eye.

I stitched the slanted eyelids by weaving through the threads crossing from the holes and in and out of surrounding stitches. Just have fun with it and make it up as you go along. The threads at the end went back up to the centre and I stitched in and out leaving long loops I them cut and knotted alternately to make a kind of tufty topknot.

The mouth was a bit of a process. Again, I was going to embroider white teeth on. I even thought of crocheting houndstooth stitch, as I saw an elegant video on YouTube about that. But then I decided to pull white fabric strips behind the red stitches, so first I pulled a long loop of yarn through then hooked the strips through that and incorporated them. Extra ends you just hook inside and you can stabilise them by hooking the yarn through the free loop, locked around a fixed loop.

When I’d done that for both strips the result didn’t convince me so then I dug around in my yarn bag and found some yellow—good for monstrous teeth! I basically did the same thing as I had with the strips in order to incorporate it.

The strips made it easier to slide the hook along and pull the yellow yarn in, but this stage took a lot of messing about. I cut another metre yarn and went round the mouth to define it, then separated the yellow vertically where the teeth were too broad. I covered some patches at the ends and looped around each vertical division to give a tighter line.

At the end I’d kind of buried the yellow too much so I used the hook to dig it back up again. The ends result is a quirky Hate Monster who looks a bit sheepish and down on his luck. He’s quite cute, in his hateful way. I hope you have fun crocheting your own Hate Monsters and, who knows, maybe we’ll have a monstrous convention (MonsterCon?) outside Holyrood on April Fool’s Day! I believe a mock funeral for Freedom of Speech is scheduled to commence at 1:30pm.

Maybe my wee monster and I will see you there!

How to repeal Hate Crime law

When you’ve been in politics for as long as me (and that’s a good 5 minutes) you’ll know that politicians of major parties are generally selfish creatures. Whereas their constituents have multiple issues, members of the UK and devolved parliaments typically only have 4:

• Getting elected
• Benefiting from getting elected
• Avoiding responsibility
• Staying elected

All of their copious bullshit (sorry, but that’s what it amounts to) is dedicated to pursuing at least one of these aims. So only something that negatively impacts on any of these aims will cause them any concern. Any other strategy is bound to fail.

So I suggest we hit them where it hurts and fight fire with fire.

There were 82 MSPs reported as voting for the Hate Crime and Public Order (Scotland) Bill. HERE they are. The 2021 Act was laid before the Scottish Parliament and is scheduled to come into force on April Fool’s Day.

What if we all start reporting our offence at each and every one of these 82 rogues for any word or graphic that they publish and any action they commit?

The Summary is interesting…

An Act of the Scottish Parliament to make provision about the aggravation of offences by prejudice; to make provision about an offence of racially aggravated harassment; to make provision about offences relating to stirring up hatred against a group of persons; to abolish the common law offence of blasphemy; and for connected purposes.

Hate Crime and Public Order (Scotland) Act 2021 asp 14

…because it is clear that, far from abolishing the offence of religious blasphemy, this Act replaces it with a secular version.

The offence of “racially aggravated harassment” needs only 2 occasions of what could be speech or action intended (or interpreted by “a reasonable person” to intend) to cause alarm and distress to someone: https://www.legislation.gov.uk/asp/2021/14/section/3

The section 4 offences of “stirring up hatred” seem to be identical (behaving in a manner/communicating to another person material that a reasonable person would consider to be threatening, abusive or insulting) but for some reason s.4(1) only concerns race whereas s.4(2) concerns 6 out of the 9 protected characteristics in the Equality Act 2010:

• a) age,
• (b) disability,
• (c) religion or, in the case of a social or cultural group, perceived religious affiliation,
• (d) sexual orientation,
• (e) transgender identity,
• (f) variations in sex characteristics.

What’s missing? Sex and pregnancy. So if I harass a woman or a girl using offensive language about the female sex, or a pregnant woman with offensive language about pregnancy, I would not be guilty of an offence under this Act. In contrast, if I do that to anyone listed under subsections 4(2)(a-f), even once, I’m nicked.

There is no definition of membership of one of these 6 groups in s.4 (about “stirring up hatred”) but there is, in the previous section, about “racially aggravated harassment”:

“membership”, in relation to a group, includes association with members of that group

s.3

This membership identity may be simply presumed by the alleged offender. So if I see you coming out of a gay pub and shout a homophobic word at you, is it immaterial whether you “identify” as gay or not? That’s not clear and the presence of race in both offences might tend to cause police officers and jury members, and inattentive judges, to conflate the two sections. It gets even more confusing when we consider “association”—by whom? That’s a different concept from presumption but, again, will any of the above personages make that distinction?

One of the claims in my upcoming Employment Tribunal Final Hearing is that I was discriminated against due to my association with people of Russian and Byelorussian nationality. I have never claimed that identity or association but I was so associated, in the press, by others (notably, a war-mongering spy still employed as a lecturer in political communication by a Russell Group university).

Does that leave the door open for some miscreant to “identify” with a particular group in either s.4(1) or (2) and then presume a presumption of that group membership being the motivation of the alleged offender to commit aggravated harassment or stirring up hatred? This could get complicated.

So…from April Fool’s Day on, should you—perusing any public words published or deeds done by any of the 82 fools who voted for this tyrannical legislation—feel harassed (twice) about your ethnicity (real, associated or presumed) or threatened, abused or insulted (once) about anything in the s.4(2)(a-f) lucky bag, without further corroboration, fear or favour, you may at once make your way to the local cop shop, sex shop or mushroom farm…and get the bastards back!

In defence of Rachel Elnaugh-Love

If you know me as the Chairman of Freedom Alliance, you may be surprised at the title of this blogpost; if you know me well, you won’t be. Yes, as I said last night on her Telegram channel, Rachel Speaks Out, we have had our differences in the past but—especially as someone actively involved in small party politics and the wider freedom movement, as well as a student of law—I can’t support or stay silent about a malicious attack on democracy.

Lynn Irving, another co-founder of the LOVE party (which has decided for the time being not to register with the Electoral Commission as a political party) yesterday shared a letter to Rachel from the police inviting her for an interview regarding two accusations:

• using the words “presented by” rather than “promoted by” in her campaign imprint.
• using the name Rachel Elnaugh-Love on her nomination forms (and this on the ballot paper) when it is not the name by which she is commonly known.

Rachel is accused of violating the Representation of the People Act 1983 s.110 and s.65(a)1. (The letter gives the title of that Act twice, both times inexactly.) Let’s look at those provisions:

Firstly, there are 14 subsections (with numerous sub-subsections, and some sub-sub-subsections) in section 110, which has been amended twice and modified nine times. Nowhere in this incredibly convoluted text is a stipulation that the words “promoted by” must appear on campaign literature. It does not even state that the promoter must be identified. The relevant provision is s.110(7)a:

(7) The Secretary of State may, after consulting the Electoral Commission, by regulations make provision for and in connection with the imposition of requirements as to the inclusion in material falling within subsection (2)(b) above of the following details, namely—

(a) the name and address of the promoter of the material; and

So it’s up to the accuser, and the police, to verify that the Secretary of State has done so—and for them to check such regulations to see if any of those regulations have been violated. Because the Act itself has not. In other words, this is not only a malicious accusation, it’s also lazy. The accuser has not done his or her homework!

Looking at the relevant Electoral Commission regulations, it’s straightforward:

What an imprint must include

Throughout the UK, printed election campaign material must include the name and address of:

• the printer
• the promoter
• who it’s being promoted for (for example, the candidate or party)

However, again, nowhere does it state that the words “promoted by” must appear on campaign literature. The legal requirement is for the name and address of the printer and promoter. So, if it’s clear who and what those are, with any form of wording, the imprint is legal.

The second accusation appears to regard s.65(a)1a of the above Act:

65A False statements in nomination papers etc.

(1) A person is guilty of a corrupt practice if, in the case of any relevant election, he causes or permits to be included in a document delivered or otherwise furnished to a returning officer for use in connection with the election—

(a) a statement of the name or home address of a candidate at the election which he knows to be false in any particular; or

The key word here is “false”. The accusation is that Rachel is not commonly known as “Rachel Elnaugh-Love”—but the relevant provision does not contain or define the term “commonly known” and “false…in any particular” is very broad and ambiguous.

Let’s stop and think about naming. Imagine that a certain human being is known by one or more of the following appellations, to different people in different circumstances:

• Stan
• Stanley
• Stan the Man
• Stanski
• Old Stan
• Stanley-boy
• Bunter
• Billy Bunter
• Boris
• BJ
• Bojo
• Boris Johnson
• Stanley Johnson
• Stan Johnson
• S. Johnson
• B. Johnson
• Mr S. Johnson
• Stanley Johnson Esq.
• Prime Minister
• Former Prime Minister
• The Right Hon. Boris Johnson
• The Right Honourable Boris Johnson
• That Bastard
• Daddy
• Darling
• Honey pops
• Mr Bear

(I could go on, ad nauseam, but you’re probably already nauseated.) Insofar as each appellation clearly refers to the same human being, none of them could be held to be false. Rachel, Rach, Ms Elnaugh, Mrs R. Elnaugh, Rachel Elnaugh, that woman off Dragon’s Den, the Claimant, the Respondent, the Accused, Mummy, Sis, that nice lady over there, Rachel Elnaugh-Love, etc.—all these appellations may clearly identify the same human being, depending on the circumstances.

In the circumstances of a local election, Rachel, who has a very high profile, not only provided her full name and party name but her face appeared on leaflets, she was on various talk shows and was already a TV celebrity. So there was no doubt about the identity of the candidate.

It happens from time to time that a literal interpretation of a statutory provision is difficult as it is vague in application or yields an absurdity and this may be remedied by Judicial interpretation in 3 common ways: the Golden Rule (the narrow application determines the meaning of an ambiguous word or phrase, while the broad application rejects the wording as absurd—this rule does not remedy unfairness only absurdity); the Mischief Rule (“what mischief is this provision designed to prevent?”); and the Purposive Approach (“what is the purpose of this provision?”).

Taking these in turn: it is absurd to claim that “Rachel Elnaugh-Love” is a false name whereas “Count Binface” (who typically appears at the count with his whole head covered by a small steel dustbin) is not.

The mischief prevented by this provision is that of falsely impersonating someone (else). So, if I claimed to be “Rachel Elnaugh” on my nomination papers, I would be guilty of that charge (one wonders where this leaves trans-identified persons who have not changed their name by deed poll and are just starting their social transition) but Rachel was not claiming to be someone else.

The purpose of the provision is to identify someone clearly. Rachel has done that and, in the interests of democratic transparency, has indicated her affiliation to a group while standing as an independent candidate. She should not be punished for being candid with voters.

This is a malicious and lazy accusation by someone with limited knowledge of electoral law, and judicial interpretation, and no understanding or respect for democracy. The police would do well to ignore it, unless they enjoy being laughed out of court.

As for Rachel, my advice is that at the end of Richard Bach’s Jonathan Livingston Seagull:

“Keep working on love.”

3 female co-founders of the LOVE party smiling with hands up holding a sign with their lotus logo in front of a high hedge.

Image from rachelelnaugh.com.

Of States and Secrets

Studying Law when weighty questions are being asked in Scotland on (mostly misunderstood) matters of equality, human rights and the uncodified UK constitution is fascinating enough. Recently, I’ve also been preparing for legal action, quoting the Vento bands, setting damages for Injury to Feelings, down the phone to the ACAS mediator as my former employer seems to be running scared of the public humiliation of yet another Employment Tribunal case, preferring to settle out of court.

Fascinating though the 15th edition of Smith & Wood’s Employment Law is (I’d read about half of its 829 pages a few days after it was posted to me) it’s Stanton & Prescott’s 3rd edition of Public Law that’s more pertinent to the recent failed attempt by Holyrood to modify legislation passed by Westminster. I’ve observed previously the difference between the gracious restraint of legal discourse and uninformed party political rants on the (il)legality of the GRR Bill.

Brain whirling, I took time off my studies to watch J. Edgar, the Warner Bros biopic of the Hoover who headed the FBI for around half of the last century (not the previous and unrelated US president associated with the New Deal). Subtly directed by Clint Eastwood, its understated masculine gaze, verging at times on film noir, was enough to have critics calling it ‘controversial’ on release in 2011.

11 years on, One Nation Under Blackmail, Whitney Webb’s damning dossier of US politics, detailing and evidencing the ‘sordid union between Intelligence and Organised Crime that gave rise to Jeffrey Epstein’, is far less coy about Hoover’s rumoured homosexuality and transvestism.

Where Eastwood hints, with scenes of the devoted son so distraught by his mother’s death that he dons her clothes in front of the mirror, and of a touching and tragically frustrated bromance between Hoover and his second in command and longtime companion, Webb (ch. 2 & 4) quotes eyewitnesses to the scandal of this infamous inquisitor and blackmailer frequenting the blue suite of New York’s Plaza Hotel, known as ‘Mary’, in wig and dress, pleasuring Tolson and having sex with ‘blond boys’ and with Senator Joe McCarthy’s righthand man in his persecution of suspected communists and homosexuals.

J. Edgar is a difficult film to watch, its portrayal of the public derring do of his ‘G Men’ busting mobsters and his private stoic restraint in matters of the heart undermined by the evidence of Hoover’s hypocrisy hiding in plain sight: that he was soft on crime and unconcerned about being seen in flagrante as he was simultaneously being blackmailed to go easy on organised crime and blackmailing anyone who could publicise his sexual predilections.

Two decades before It’s Time, the Scottish Government-sponsored Equality Network’s moving 2013 video campaign for equal marriage (featuring several of my old friends) there was a scandal involving senior members of the justiciary being blackmailed by the pimps of rent boys. With associated concern over the autonomy of their judicial deliberations.

It seems to me that a secret of a public figure, however well-known, does not help a nation. It festers and starts a canker at the heart of public life. Catalyst for either compensatory action or reaction, it can lead to extreme decision-making in a state of schizophrenic politics where the truth is shouted in silence.

At the height of the US ‘Red Scare’, reticence about disclosure of sexuality would be understandable. Now, certainly in any liberal democracy, being so candid might be uncomfortable or even embarrassing if the game of Let’s Pretend has been played for some time (Hoover never married but the convenient strategy of the homosexual ‘beard’ is well-known) however the health of the body politic may depend on it. For the sake of the people, and government policy, a responsible state official may decide that it’s time.

Rusty padlock covered in cobwebs on a wooden gate

Thanks to George Hodan for releasing his image Padlock into the Public Domain.

5 Ways to Kill the Bill – GRR in Scotland

This is a short, reader-friendly summary of legal possibilities available to the women of Scotland and their allies in the UK following the passage of the Gender Recognition Reform Bill in Holyrood, the Scottish Parliament, on Thursday 22nd December 2022. For more legal details, please follow acknowledged experts such as the rebel leader Joanna Cherry KC (SNP MP for Edinburgh South West, King’s Counsel and Feminist), the Edinburgh-based policy analysis collective Murray, Blackburn & Mackenzie, and Michael Foran (Lecturer in Public Law at the University of Glasgow). In the Wimbledon of recent legal arguments, these are top umpires. I’m not even qualified to be the ball boy.

Firstly, to assume no legal knowledge at all, the GRR is a Bill that, although passed by Holyrood, has not yet received Royal Assent. No, that’s not a technicality, not in this case – more on that later. So it doesn’t come into force (it affects nothing) until the day after that happens – if it does. That means that people can’t already start acting as if the GRR is law. It’s not. At the moment it’s still a proposed law. (I’m not using legal jargon here.)

The relationship between Holyrood and Westminister is complicated. It really doesn’t matter what your opinion of that relationship is; what matters here is the legal reality. If you’re used to politicians spouting off their opinions and party policy all the time, the restrained language of cool logic of legal experts can strike you as odd. It’s also quite refreshing. Joanna Cherry is a feminist and Scottish Nationalist; Murray, Blackburn & Mackenzie are certainly feminist but I have no idea if they’re nationalist or unionist; exactly where Michael Foran stands personally in this debate I can’t tell for sure. That’s quite normal in legal circles.

Bills passed by devolved legislatures (Scottish Parliament, Welsh Senedd, Northern Irish Assembly) have to stay within the powers that they are legally allowed to exercise. This is quite normal. Holyrood can’t pass a law outlawing kangaroos in South Australia, for example. That’s literally, and clearly, none of its business. Neither could it, for the same reason but closer to home, decide that all schoolkids in Kent will get free ice-cream. However, it’s also not free to decide everything and anything in terms of Scotland. Why? It’s our parliament, our country, why can’t we do whatever we want? That’s because there isn’t a straight line of succession between the ancient Scottish Parliament, which closed in 1707, and this new one that opened in 1999. In the meantime, Holyrood went to Westminster – and only some of it made it back over the border. This brings us to the first way to kill the bill:

• Outwith legislative competence – some matters are reserved to the Westminster parliament and Equality (most aspects) is one of them. Employment is another. (You can find the full official list of reserved and devolved matters HERE.) That’s why the recent judgment (legal spelling) of Scotland’s highest court, the Court of Session, delivered by Lady Dorrian on that matter, in the petition of For Women Scotland, is so important. What that means is that any attempt by a devolved legislature to interfere with legislation that’s the business of the UK parliament will be smacked down. This Bill could be challenged immediately, by the Lord Advocate, for example, or it might be challenged in a Scottish court. The difference between those who make laws and those who interpret them is that the latter are legal experts. I’m not being nasty. Politicians don’t tend to have legal training and even those who do may, for some reason, choose to ignore tensions between legislation and legality.

The second way may strike residents in other parts of the UK as very odd:

• Incompatible with Convention rights – what this refers to is the peculiarly Scottish situation that, despite Brexit, Holyrood legislation still has to be compatible with the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR). This is quite similar to the more famous UDHR (Universal Declaration). So there could be a challenge under Article 9: Freedom of thought, conscience and religion; or, more imaginatively, under Article 6:

3. Everyone charged with a criminal offence has the following
minimum rights:
(a) to be informed promptly, in a language which he
understands and in detail, of the nature and cause of the
accusation against him;

A woman could perhaps make the case that she doesn’t understand the language or the nature and cause of the accusation (of ‘misgendering’, for example) levelled against her. Repeating, “I don’t understand that, what does that mean?” to all occasions of the charge might be very interesting legally. And, putting the onus on the prosecution to explain, in language that she does understand, possibly an effective defence. If the Scottish Court Service is faced with the prospect of hordes of bemused women clogging up the Sheriff Courts while frantic court clerks phone round for academic doctors with a speciality in the metaphysics of transgender (I think I’m the only one, certainly in Scotland) then the pushback might be enough to find this legislation so incompatible and therefore illegal. The third way is more probable and has already been foreseen:

• Section 35 order – this refers to the power (indeed the duty) of the Secretary of State for Scotland, according to the Scotland Act 1998, to stop the Bill being submitted for Royal Assent:

35 Power to intervene in certain cases.

(1) If a Bill contains provisions—

(b) which make modifications of the law as it applies to reserved matters and which the Secretary of State has reasonable grounds to believe would have an adverse effect on the operation of the law as it applies to reserved matters,

he may make an order prohibiting the Presiding Officer from submitting the Bill for Royal Assent.

Which brings us to the fourth way: King Charles could decide not to sign it. Extraordinary as that action would be, the timing is interesting. The Heir Apparent is not yet crowned and in September 2022, after the Proclamation in Edinburgh, he swore a solemn oath before the Accession Council in London to uphold certain specific religious rights:

I, Charles III, by the grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of my other realms and territories, King, Defender of the Faith, do faithfully promise and swear that I should inviolably maintain and preserve the settlement of the true Protestant religion as established by the laws made in Scotland in prosecution of the Claim of Right and particularly by an act intituled an act for securing the Protestant religion and Presbyterian church government and by the acts passed in the Parliament of both kingdoms for union of the two kingdoms, together with the government, worship, discipline, rights and privileges, of the Church of Scotland.

Now, unlike the Free Kirks and the Free Presbyterians, the Church of Scotland is pretty woke, in terms of homosexuality (and I’m proud to say I played a small part in that endeavour to change hearts and minds), however the extent of rage about male rapists (there isn’t any other kind in law) in the Scottish female prison estate may have caused some worthy kirk sessions to consider that ‘inclusion’ isn’t quite as fluffy bunnies as it’s chalked up to be. So there could possibly be a challenge on religious grounds: there is a specific religious duty to protect the vulnerable, and this mercy extends to those in prison, so it could be argued that this legal change by the state, that threatens incarcerated women with rape, a religious injustice that cries out to God, unsettles ‘the true Protestant religion’. That’s not legal logic; it’s the language of symbolism. Charles depends on his Scottish subjects recognising that he has fulfilled that oath. If not, he is not lawfully our monarch and may be deposed. A particularly fiery and authoritative preacher might make the point. The last way is linked: the power of the people:

• Sovereignty of the People of Scotland – on 26th January 2012, Nicola Sturgeon MSP (then) led a debate in Holyrood on the Claim of Right with the motion:

‘That the Parliament acknowledges the sovereign right of the Scottish people to determine the form of government best suited to their needs and declares and pledges that in all its actions and deliberations their interests shall be paramount.’

If the Scottish people demonstrate, en masse (it might take a general strike of women) that in the recent actions and deliberations of the Scottish Parliament their interests have not been paramount then, by the Claim of Right that was approved by the Scottish Parliament, in the following amended form, then they may force that Parliament to think again:

The Presiding Officer: The result of the division is: For 102, Against 14, Abstentions 0.
Motion, as amended, agreed to,
That the Parliament acknowledges the sovereign right of
the Scottish people to determine the form of government
best suited to their needs and declares and pledges that in
all its actions and deliberations their interests shall be
paramount, and asserts the right of the Scottish people to
make a clear, unambiguous and decisive choice on the
future of Scotland.

Thanks to Dawn Hudson for releasing her image A Very Angry Woman into the Public Domain.

Why I Love Whitney Webb’s Work

At the time of writing, there are 59 reviews on Amazon UK for Whitley Webb’s long-awaited dossier One Nation Under Blackmail (vol. 1) with an overall rating of 4.5 stars. Some of the comments seem to misunderstand what Whitney is trying to do: provide evidence for a thesis which is breathtaking in its implications. The subtitle lays it bare:

“The sordid union between Intelligence and Organised Crime that gave rise to Jeffrey Epstein”

It’s true that there are lot of names, dates and connections. Acronyms abound; each is explained at first but it’s a book so it’s fairly easy to flip back to the first occurrence if you get mixed up between BCCI (Bank of Credit and Commercial International, CCC (Commercial Credit Corporation) and CDC (Control Data Corporation) for example. There’s also an extensive index where they are written out in full. The obvious reason why Whitney is providing all this detailed evidence is that her meticulous and extensively referenced research cannot therefore be dismissed as mere fiction. That said, I can see lots of fiction writers rubbing their hands with glee and coming up with saucy scenes like the following:

Stubbing out his pungent Egyptian cigarette in the jadeite ashtray, Roy gave one last lascivious look at the exhausted naked young man chained to the radiator and exited the penthouse suite. Housekeeping would take care of him. Fun could wait – but Air Force One would not.

this was not written by Whitney!!!

I can see a whole new bestselling genre blending The Da Vinci Code, The Godfather, Tales of the City and 50 Shades of Grey. More seriously, Whitney’s work is a gift to investigative journalists and legal professionals wishing to focus on a particular event, person or crime out of this worldwide web. I must say that I was surprised, at first, that a book purporting to deal with a late 20th-century scandal would start its exposé in 1942. As I read on, I understood.

We react with horror at the news that our presumed democracy is under threat. We rejoice when heroes uncover the full facts of what we assume to be isolated incidents. Who doesn’t love Hoffman and Redford in All the President’s Men. What is more disturbing is to realise that Watergate, the Iran-Contra’s and the Profumo affair are not, in fact, isolated incidents. There are not even anomalous in the otherwise smooth operation of domestic and worldwide democracy. All that marks out these particular scandals is that they made the news. In other words, this is business as usual.

Why that insight is important is because there are three mechanisms preventing the public from realising the extent of the international organised crime and government intelligence network. The first is the control of the media by the kingpins. Rupert Murdoch and Robert Maxwell feature heavily in these pages but it is a mistake to associate particular types of crimes and misdemeanours with any particular person. The point is that this kind of thing goes on, has gone on for a very long time, and will go on unchecked unless there is decisive intervention – and that the arrest or death of any particular criminal (inside or outside of any recognised mob or government agency) does not affect this network greatly. The foot soldiers of this army of saboteurs of the rule of law are sown by dragon’s teeth: where one falls, another springs up in his place.

The second mechanism is denial. Always to be relied on. The reason why Whitney provides such meticulous detail is that the de facto existence of this network can no longer be denied. While Nixon was making speeches about defending American democracy, while Reagan was supposedly warring against cancer, while the Clintons promised (with the backing of Fleetwood Mac) that yesterday’s gone, all this sordid corruption was taking place – and the evidence in this book supports the theory that they knew about it.

The last, and most insidious mechanism is that, in order to fully comprehend the state of affairs (in some cases, quite literally) that Whitney has revealed, it is necessary to undergo a painful and profound paradigm change. Most people would rather not face the fact that we do not live in a democracy. We never have. We live in a society ruled by brigands. A key difference between the modern day peasant and his mediaeval counterpart is that the latter was aware of the true nature of power. However there is another difference. This one is to our advantage. Nowadays we have a system of law which, still, supports our rights – if only we know how to use it. Yes of course there is corruption in the legal system and there is corruption in the legislatures but the one thing that the darkness fears is the light – and the best defence that we the people can employ is to expose these people and their nefarious practices in the light of day.

When I talk about the clear evidence of patent fraud, the proven scientific malpractice, the massive kickbacks,[1] methodological anomalies and widespread censorship of experts in the AIDS debate, people find it all very hard to believe. The same is true for the climate debate. Right now, in 2022, finally, there is some hope that the public have begun to see through the lucrative multinational narrative of the Covid pandemic that benefited only the pharmaceutical industry and big data. When we finally admit to ourselves that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely, then we will no longer be surprised by the evidence of such widespread corruption.

“They wouldn’t do that!” is the pious thought of every subservient citizen unwilling to face the criminal corruption of their own government. In One Nation Under Blackmail, Whitney Webb has shown conclusively that they would do that, that they have been doing that, and that they will go doing the same.

Unless we stop them.

Front cover of One Nation Under Blackmail Vol. 1 showing three besuited White men and dark clouds over the US Capitol

[1] Detailed in Chicago Tribune writer John Crewdson’s (2003) Science Fictions: A Scientific Mystery, a Massive Cover-up and the Dark Legacy of Robert Gallo.

A Season in Hell

I don’t blame you for booing and applauding the various actors in the Parliamentary panto currently being staged in the UK. I’ve blogged about the deadly consequences of distraction and missing the point already, and the leader of the Freedom Alliance party has reiterated that point: which particular World Economic Forum puppet is in power doesn’t matter—it’s the same hands pulling the strings.

In that Freedom Alliance video, Jonathan Tilt speaks out against the criminal WEF agenda of digital slavery and for the FA manifesto of peace, freedom and the rule of law. The vision he shares is one of small, decentralised, government with minimal interference in the lives of individuals and the democratic decisions of local communities. He also strongly upholds equality and inclusion—well aware that these buzzwords have been misused.

Pantomimes follow a script and, although some ad-libs are expected, they’re very formulaic. There’s the man playing the Dame, the couple of clowns playing the Dafties, the young woman playing the Principle Boy singing duets with the young woman playing the Principle Girl, the older man as the Villain, and of course there’s everybody else playing the Villagers.

The scenes are also generic. Most pantos include some version of the following: Happy Village Life; Mysterious Stranger with an Offer; Kidnapped; Finding Courage; Journey to the Villain’s Lair; Slapstick…and right before the Finale there’s Community Singing.

This scene is usually performed in front of the closed curtains to give the stage crew time to set the stage for the Finale and for some principles to change costume. It involves the actors splitting themselves and the audience into two factions for a sing-off. In any good panto, the actors will start singing merrily, then halt, then complain to the audience that they’re not joining in. This unfair complaint will hopefully prompt some child to shout back that they don’t know the words. (If this doesn’t happen the adults, in the know after years of panto-going, will do this and if the audience is too posh to shout things out then the Prompt will.) At this point, the actors will stand amazed at this lack of provision by the theatre company (that they’re part of) and start to stir up the audience by getting them to repeatedly shout BRING OUT THE WORDS!!!

To the children in the audience, this seems like the pantomime characters solving a problem—especially as the words are then trundled out or lowered onstage. However all this is part of the cheerful fakery of the performance. In pantomime that’s fine. It’s all good fun and nobody gets hurt. If you know what’s going on, you pretend you don’t. The kids love it, and so do the adults. I go every year, whether I’m onstage or not.

Political pantomime has all of these characteristics: it’s distracting, it’s entertaining and it’s fake. However it’s not played out in a theatre. When it’s performed in Parliament or on TV it’s bad enough but the real danger is when it takes the form of promenade theatre—in other words it hits the streets. With massive audience participation.

Stop and think: did the doors open political pantomime of the invasion of the Capitol building in Washington DC on 6th January last year further in any way the aims of the protestors? The media may have focussed on the magnificent manly torso and horned helmet of one of the participants but people died in that incident and the outcome was to discredit the protest—despite the clear evidence that it was a set up.

Now in the UK, a Twitter account only set up in January 2022 named @PoIitics4You is demanding a mass protest in front of Parliament on 5th November:

Poster: Remember the 5th of November. Demand a General Election Now, etc.

At the bottom of the poster are these words:

Vote and be heard – MET Police are notified

So an anonymous citizen sets up an account in January of this year, and waits till July to start expressing opinions (before that it’s only public information and retweets of news stories) which are pro-Covid narrative, anti-Brexit, anti-Tory, pro-Monarchy and, from September, calling for a General Election. In October the account starts tagging the Met Police. At the moment the account has 5K followers.

Here’s my question: why does an account apparently set up by a rather obsessive and opinionated individual wait 6 months before expressing those opinions then, having claimed a vaguely crowd-pleasing identity, wait a further 3 months to call for a mass protest—encouraging others to keep notifying the police?

The 6th January protest at the US Capitol was clearly staged and was subsequently used to justify repression of anti-lockdown protest and social media dissent. This proposed protest is attempting to exploit the sympathy in the freedom movement for the repressed citizens portrayed in the film V for Vendetta yet the organiser is unknown, the pattern of posting odd and the immediate involvement of the police suspect.

For all the reasons that Jonathan Tilt has explained, in consideration of the repression after the protest at the Capitol and of the general Problem-Reaction-Solution dynamic that Spiro Skouras often warns us of, I advise anyone truly committed to freedom to stay indoors on Guy Fawkes’ Night and soothe their pets—there are already too many firecrackers going off on the 5th November—otherwise this political theatre vendetta will only result in a season in Hell.

“V for Vendetta” Guy Fawkes mask in monochrome on black background

Thanks to Piotr Siedlecki for releasing his image Guy Fawkes mask into the Public Domain.

Blue Murder

There’s a word used in Brazil to describe the convenient chaos that thieves and muggers create to distract their victims: confusão. Right now in the UK—distracted by the scuffles, reshuffles and broadcast outrage emanating from the ‘mother of Parliaments’ (a phrase only lacking in colonial hubris in the American street sense)—who is paying attention to the blue NHS envelopes sliding through letterboxes in households where every adult is glued to their phone, computer or TV?

Are you?

Inside, the anonymous and impersonal sender invites the unsuspecting citizen to receive “a winter flu and Covid vaccination”—in full knowledge that Pfizer have recently (at last) acknowledged that there is no evidence supporting the claim that their particular pharmaceutical venom reduces transmission.

Readers of this blog may know that I started questioning the official Covid narrative back in March 2020, based on the investigations of the late and dearly missed David Crowe. Since then, we’ve had all the evils of disaster capitalism: the crony contracts, the suppression of civil liberties, the sabotage of small and medium businesses, the planned demolition of the economy. And we’ve had the deaths.

I won’t keep you long from the updates. Everyone wants to know which new World Economic Forum agent will be in 10 Downing Street next week. Even though it will make no difference.

Meanwhile, if you are able, gently but firmly share your knowledge of the widespread harms occasioned by those foolish enough to trust in the professional responsibility of an industry dedicated only to profit, not people.

I won’t tell you to stop watching the Parliamentary pantomime. I will ask you to stop the blue murder.

Blue NHS envelope