Before I make any comment about the recent events involving the British National Party, I should make it clear where I stand: I do not support the BNP. I believe that many of the claims made by Nick Griffin (for example, holocaust denial) are factually incorrect. I do not believe that their policies offer any substantive solutions to the problems facing our country, and many of their policies would be actively harmful to our society.
Having said that, I’m saddened to see people who would presumably describe themselves as liberals fighting with the police in order to prevent a politician from speaking his mind. It seemed a shame that some of the people who had applied to be in the audience of Question Time (which is after all a debate programme) were unwilling to let Mr. Griffin speak in his turn without shouting him down.
At the very least, Mr. Griffin’s brand of clearly-worded racism can be answered directly, as I believe it should be. This is in contrast to the “dog-whistle” crypto-racism that marred the last UK election, and which may well still exist in parts of the mainstream parties.
What bothers me most about the whole affair is the lack of faith in open debate that has been displayed by some of those on the left. Is the ideal of free speech really so easily abandoned? Do people not believe that, when ideas are pitted against one another in debate, that the right idea will win out and that both sides can be enlightened? If we are secure in our belief that racism is wrong, why can we not back our ideas up calmly and rationally, by pointing out the flaw in their arguments?
Postscript
A few hours after writing this, I stumbled across the following quotation, which seemed apposite:
Let me add a certain virile reply recorded by De Quincey (Writings XI, 226). Someone flung a glass of wine in the face of a gentleman during a theological or literary debate. The victim did not show any emotion, and said to the offender: “This, sir, is a digression: now, if you please, for the argument.” (The author of that reply, a certain Dr. Henderson, died in Oxford around 1787, without leaving us any memory other than those just words: a sufficient and beautiful immortality.)
J. L. Borges, The Art of Verbal Abuse, 1933