It was inevitable, wasn’t it? The moment Robert Kenyon was announced as the Reform UK candidate for the Makerfield by-election, the social media archaeologists were on to him, digging meticulously through layer after layer of his past commentary in the hope of excavating some valuable gem – one they hoped might render his campaign dead in the water before it had even begun.
Because that’s the world in which we now live, right? A world in which full-time offendotrons go hunting for evidence of “wrongspeak” by their political opponents, all with the purpose of suppressing views they don’t like and ejecting from the public square anyone who dares express them.
Fewer and fewer contentious issues are judged on the merits of competing arguments. Instead, they are tested according to whether a particular argument conflicts with what passes for fashionable opinion among a cohort of self-appointed liberal-left political and cultural gatekeepers.
And, slowly but surely, this new authoritarianism has seeped into our state and corporate institutions, so that the commanding heights of our public life are now dominated by “progressive” ideology, and we end up at a place where a major city council sees fit to offer “safe space conversations” to anxious staff ahead of a visit by Nigel Farage, a man who may very possibly be our next Prime Minister.
The whole thing has had a suffocating effect. “I disagree with you” has increasingly been replaced by “You mustn’t say that”.
The causing of “offence” through the expression of an unwoke political or moral opinion is seen as a grievous sin, with transgressors fair game for vilification or cancellation, particularly if they have any sort of public profile.
So you could sense the new puritans positively salivating at the prospect of unearthing something incriminating from Kenyon’s past, all the more so when it emerged that his ‘X’ account had for some undefined reason been temporarily suspended.
And, sure enough, they turned up some mildly embarrassing artefacts, including a tasteless remark about Carol Vorderman and some spicy comments about women drivers and immigration.
But, look, Kenyon is an ordinary working-class guy – a white-van-driving plumber and former Army reservist – who, during many years of activity on social media, has, like millions of others, occasionally engaged in some off-colour banter.
The pitchfork-wielders pursuing Robert Kenyon are ten years too late - Paul Embery
|Getty Images
Though he speaks well in front of a camera, I dare say he never imagined he would one day stand for parliament, and, while I am no supporter of Reform, I think the party deserves credit for selecting a local man with no background in politics and who appears to be the sort of bloke you might find yourself standing next to in the pub or on a football terrace.
Much rather that than someone who has taken the conventional route to Westminster: university, thinktank or charity, MP’s assistant, minister’s special advisor, and eventually a safe parliamentary seat.
I do not argue that those who stand in elections are entitled to expect a free pass for anything they have done in their lives until that point. On the contrary, scrutiny of those who seek to govern our country is a good thing, especially where it shines a light on flawed policy commitments or exposes lies, hypocrisy or corruption.
But that plainly isn’t what is going on with Kenyon. Instead, what we are seeing is character assassination, an attempt to convince voters in Makerfield that the Reform candidate isn’t fit to represent them on the green benches, not because his arguments are defective or he has committed serious impropriety, but because he is morally a Very Bad Human Being.
The pitchfork-wielders pursuing Kenyon have an innate loathing for what they see as the reactionary working classes. They view such people as low-IQ “gammon” unworthy of holding political office. Their prejudice was laid bare after the Brexit vote and still lingers.
They see politics as the preserve of their own kind – morally-enlightened guardians of civilised society who hold the “correct” opinions and are therefore uniquely qualified to run the country and control its institutions. There is no place in the corridors of power for members of the lower orders who dare to express un-PC views from time to time.
But here’s the thing. Cancel culture, and the general attempt to demonise anyone who has ever expressed an unfashionable opinion, is meeting with growing resistance. Voters are increasingly unmoved by it. In fact, many are sick of it.
So when the progressive elites launch an assault on a new target, they are finding less and less that the mud sticks.
When a country is functioning effectively, the masses are less inclined to rock the boat – or to rally to the support of anyone so minded. But when the nation is going to the dogs, they are more willing to get behind dissenting voices, to defend those from ordinary backgrounds who are brave enough to speak unvarnished truth to power, to express themselves in plain language like the man on the street and to challenge the status quo.
If Robert Kenyon had stood for a mainstream party a decade ago, his past comments, once uncovered, would have sounded the death knell for his candidature and reputation. And there would likely have been little public protest.
Not so now. Things are shifting. People don’t care about such things any longer. They look at where the progressive authoritarians have taken the country, and they feel no kinship with them, nor any desire to see their critics silenced.
Cancel culture is on the retreat. Heresy is in vogue. You don’t have to be a supporter of Robert Kenyon or his party to welcome that long-overdue reset.