First, it was Robert Jenrick tackling fare dodgers. Then it was Gareth Davies pursuing a thief. You might be forgiven for thinking that copies of Marvel’s Avengers were circulating in Portcullis House. But among elements of the British right there is a renewed appreciation of the benefits of direct action. Shut out of office until at least 2029, Tory and Reform politicians are finding ways to channel their frustrations into novel, low-cost, forms of protest.
Nigel Farage’s aides have embraced humorous stunts such as beaming their membership numbers onto CCHQ and handing out blank books to journalists titled Highlights from my first 100 days, by Kemi Badenoch. Others, like Jenrick, try to think of new ways to land messages. He is vox-popping voters and leading a rally against China’s super-embassy. Badenoch has also sought to position herself as the leader of the family farm tax protests, speaking as the keynote speaker at the London rally in November. Lawrence Newport’s ‘Looking for Growth’ group has meanwhile taken to filming themselves cleaning up graffiti on the London Underground.
Such tactics are not completely new. At the Margaret Thatcher conference in Buckingham in March, older attendees talked fondly of ‘Operation Pony Express’. This was a reference to the 1976 Grunwick strike, in which postal workers refused to handle deliveries for a photographic laboratory at which there was a strike. Volunteers – such as members of the newly-formed Freedom Association – wanted to help the business survive the strike, to strike a blow against trade union power. They smuggled mail out of the Grunwick depot and transferred thousands of processed films to plain envelopes to prevent the unions from identifying them. The orders were then reposted in hundreds of post boxes across the country, to keep the mail-order business going. It served as a way of energising activists and giving heart to a cause.
Good politicians recognise that the legislative process is just one route to achieve their ends. But in the internet age, there is an obvious incentive to produce moments or clips of the unusual or subversive, which are more likely to be shared by fans and critics. A right wing MP is unlikely to secure a legislative triumph in the current House of Commons; a viral clip online is a much more realistic goal. Elite media gatekeepers no longer serve as a block on ambition.
The use of such tactics could be seen as an indictment of impotence. Yet, in a highly cynical age, there is a merit to the ‘show, don’t tell’ approach to politics. It is not enough, now, for politicians to simply claim to care about crime; they need to demonstrate it too. Some stunts, like Farage’s book, are purely humorous; others, such as LfG’s graffiti clean, aim to shame Transport for London into stepping up their game.
At a time when a powerful sense of hopelessness is gripping much of the right, such case studies offer a way of empowering individuals and cheering their supporters. Expect to see more non-violent direct action in future.
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