The Disappeared

So, I was going to write a short piece about last night’s little spurt of momentum, when someone on Twitter suggested that those of us who were following Tommy Robinson reciprocally followed each other, thus patching together a little online community of broadly like minded folk. So I’ve got a few people in my circle of virtual comrades who post pictures of Qurans being held open with bacon bookmarks and a fair few who are heavily into football and even one who’s into Shi Tzus – none of which really push my buttons. I think Islam’s a menace – I think uncontrolled immigration has gone way past the point of cultural enrichment and is now deeply corrosive to values and a way of life that we’re all being encouraged to feel ashamed of; but I find a lot of the Muslim baiting a bit puerile and a lot of the sharing of tales of Muslims doing evil deeds all over the world to be not particularly helpful – but I also feel, like I’ve never felt before, that we are all being asked to pick a side, to decide where we stand, and I’m choosing to stand with those who are hanging on to traditional, Western values. Even if some of those make some dubious choices in the kind of thing they chose to post on social media. A time’s coming when we’re all going to have to decide who ‘our people’ are. My people are my family, beyond them the friends and and bit part actors who make up my local community, beyond them my nation, further afield, Europe. My people are the people who are here already, who have contributed toward making this a better place, who are working to make this a country where our children can grow to enjoy the fruits of their ancestors’ labours in peace and freedom. It’s got nothing to do with race – my people are of all colours and all backgrounds and men and women of all creeds and colours have helped lay the foundations of where we live; it’s not where you came from but where you want to go – and if you want to move to a future that can make use of the gifts of the past in such a way that preserves and builds our shared culture, then you’re my people. We’re losing our identity as a nation – successive governments have sold our birthrights for a mess of politically correct pottage, trading lies and illusions for advantage and votes, the blood and sweat of generations for the opportunity to stuff their pockets as quickly as possible – a cultural supermarket sweep that’s leaving the shelves empty as they run out of the door…

And blah blah blah. I was going to write a load of stuff along those lines, but then I got up and checked Twitter and it seems that at some point in the last few hours Tommy Robinson’s account has been taken down. Love him or hate him, the man’s becoming more significant by the day – thousands of people are watching to see where he leads; I don’t think he’s messiah material, but he’s a prophet whose audience is growing rapidly – and the powers that be would do well to learn from the history of other prophets who states have tried to silence. It never ends well.

Now, Twitter aren’t a public service, however people may have become accustomed to viewing the platform – and they can toss whoever they want without explanation. But I’m watching the ants’ nest bristling with activity this morning – angry, reactive, spitting poison into the air. If what is seen as persecution of such an important player continues, then the spitting’s going to subside, and the ants are going to start organising instead. A column of ants on the move is a formidable sight – you wouldn’t want to get in their way.

My head’s tired from too much work, nicotine withdrawal and trying to make sense of what’s going on at the moment. More later, no doubt.