My Lords, in this mammoth omnibus Bill, there is an uncomfortable shift in the balance of power away from citizens and towards the state and the police. It feels like a lockdown hangover. The suspension of civil liberties for a public health emergency was bad enough, if understandable, but now, using the language of safety, protecting citizens and fear—again, although fear of crime this time—I am worried that the Government think the new normal should be less freedom and fewer rights. There are lots of examples of this throughout the Bill, but, for now, I shall confine my remarks to Part 3, which should be removed in its entirety from the Bill.
That is because, first, despite the reassurance from the Minister, which I know she means sincerely, I cannot see how, having read the Bill, it is not glaringly obvious that the Bill will damage hard-fought-for historic rights to freedom of expression and freedom of assembly. Other noble Lords have explained that very well. Secondly, why is Part 3 necessary at all? There are plenty of laws on the statute book which would deal with the problems that the Government have identified.
I realise that this debate comes hot on the heels of Extinction Rebellion’s rather egregious disruption to the M25 and the lives of so many drivers. There has been a series of utterly galling and self-indulgent actions of late, and it becomes easy to conclude, as many do, “lock ‘em up and throw away the key”. Do not get me wrong, I find that these stunts are misanthropic and narcissistic, and I think it is a real problem that they are driven by the anti-democratic instinct that because the majority are allegedly being too slow at adopting net-zero or hairshirt eco-policies, they must be coerced, bullied and annoyed into submission by these demonstrations. However, I do not think the answer to that anti-democratic instinct is for the Government to introduce anti-democratic legislation.
The truth is that the statute book is bulging with laws that could be used to ensure that when protest tips over into bringing society to a halt, it can be dealt with. If statues are pulled down, buildings defaced and roads blocked, we already have laws against that. Criminal damage, obstructing highways, hindering emergency vehicles—that is all against the law. Cressida Dick even conceded, on a review of the Extinction Rebellion protests in London, that the powers of the Public Order Act 1986 were sufficient to deal with them.
Surely the question for the Home Secretary is: why are the police not enforcing the existing laws? Why do they so often seem to stand by and watch when obvious lawbreaking happens? Why do the police seem instead to be rather zealous when, for example, they are scouring social media for allegedly offensive tweets?
They become very efficient at adding innocent citizens’ names to the utterly illiberal non-crime hate incident database, as has already been mentioned, and they are very energetic when they are parading their own social justice and diversity credentials on Instagram, but they seem somehow hesitant when they are policing some demonstrations.
I appreciate that that comes over as a crass caricature by me—some people might not be surprised—but I note that it is the way it is widely discussed and perceived. Many people in the public believe that the police have become politicised and that they treat demonstrations differentially: some with kid gloves, some with real brute force. Yet here in the Bill, in Clause 55, we are asking the police to have even more discretionary powers to decide what protests should be clamped down on, what should be allowed, et cetera. This can only exacerbate the situation and put the police under even more political pressure, and it is why so many front-line officers are themselves worried about the Bill.
The police, for example, will have to decide which protests “may” or “risk” causing too much noise or result in disruption, as we have heard. As the noble Lord, Lord Dubs, very wittily reminded us, those who are not familiar with demonstrations should note that protests are, by their very nature, noisy. That is the point. They are not sedate garden parties or occasions where you whisper: noise is a crucial way to make your voice heard by the people in power but also, actually, by your fellow citizens, who you are trying to persuade to join you. And the larger the demo, the noisier. One of the noisiest demos that I inadvertently encountered was calling for a second referendum. I was harangued by many people on it. I can assure noble Lords that I did not agree with it, but it was certainly loud, and I defend their right to shout even about an anti-democratic call for a second referendum.
I find it particularly distasteful that Clause 58 widens the geographic scope of curtailing protest around Westminster. Of course parliamentarians need access to their place of work for democracy to function, but this clause has much wider-ranging provisions and creates a de facto buffer zone around the corridors of power to protect the Westminster village from encountering dissenters. The Government regularly rail against student snowflakes retreating into safe spaces, and now they suggest turning the Palace of Westminster into a giant safe space and echo chamber. That would be a terrible mistake.
8.04 pm