The RNLI: achingly obvious irony will be lost on the angry phalanx of seaboard warriors
Because you are all good human beings, who go about your business with a sense of decency, respect and polite deference towards one another, it is quite possible that the demonisation of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI), which has reached dangerous levels of incitement, has passed you by. If it had, then, sorry about this…
I will not draw your attention to the account, it isn’t worth a moment of your time, but one post I stumbled across on social media, that has been enthusiastically reposted (the equivalent of shoving a leaflet through a thousand letterboxes all at once) classes the RNLI as a ‘maritime human trafficking racket that is not saving lives but is ending Britain.’
The vitriol doesn’t end there, either. Some of the volunteers, who put to sea of their own free will and volition, to ensure nobody died in the water when a mob of angry, balaclava-clad activists mobilised towards a Portsmouth beach, intent upon preventing a dinghy loaded with migrants from landing ashore, have now been targeted for abusive hatred. One was branded a traitor to the King, the inference being to punish him for treason.
As the online lynch mob swelled, agitators began by suggesting one RNLI volunteer should be refused access to local shops and pubs and it ended with another encouraging people to ‘track him and his family down.’
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Segue: forgive the incongruousness of this passing thought but when I write, my brain seems to flicker and spark and fizz and I know not how to convey to you that sensation, but: strikes me, as we’re told by all-and-sundry that the A.I. bots are on the march and will kill all humans within a decade that I wish them good luck. They can’t do a worse job than we humans do at times.
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Sorry, back to it: the irony of the suggestion to bar a the chap, whom I shall refer to only as Neil, from his local boozer is inflated like a balloon until it bangs in all of our faces by Bill Bryson, when, in his book The Road to Little Dribbling: More Notes from a Small Island he notes that RNLI volunteers truly are the noblest of us all: “Think about it. A troubled ship calls for help, and eight people - teachers, plumbers, the guy who runs the pub – drop everything and put to sea, whatever the weather, asking no questions, imperilling their own lives, to try to help strangers. Is there anything more brave and noble than that?” Quite, Mr Bryson. Quite.
In that context, the opportunistic thuggishness towards the RNLI’s brave and noble volunteers – who last year alone saved 272 lives – reveals itself to be all the more selfish. It isn’t campaigning; it isn’t protesting. It’s self-indulgent, plastic patriotism. These people probably think they’re riding high upon a bright-white steed, vanquishing enemies who mean them harm.
For goodness sake, chaps, you’re taking aim at publicans, sparkies and plumbers. Brickies, butchers and mechanics. Secretaries, teachers and park rangers. A more diverse bunch of people you’ll struggle to find than a crew manning an RNLI lifeboat.
If, as I do, you believe there is merit in the marbles of the notion of Othering: the premise that we define ourselves in opposition to that which we don’t like, fear or know little about, then I think we can all accept that RNLI volunteers really are the best of us. Following that, there is, then, only one space for those who encourage violence and hatred towards them. One label. One identity and that, I’m afraid, brings me to the conclusion that those who attack, abuse and threaten violence towards RNLI volunteers, quite simply, are the worst of us.
Depressingly, the challenges that come with illegal migration are real. From the endangerment of life to those making the perilous crossing of the Channel to the pressures placed on those communities expected to tolerate industrialised processing camps on their doorsteps; the pressure put on services and amenities as unexpected adults and their families suddenly register for eligibility. These are real worries, real concerns, real challenges.
That the space where the genuine fears of the aforementioned good, decent, politely deferential people is being captured and corrupted by those who wish harm on the kindest, most courageous people in society actually has an inverse impact to that which intended.
It marginalises and silences good people who have legitimate concerns because 1) they do not wish to be tarred with the same brush as those storming beaches in balaclavas, along with their supporters who heap hatred on good people and violence, too; 2) they are scared. These people might otherwise, politely, respectfully and thoughtfully help articulate a more coherent, compelling case for stopping the boats but they are not being allowed to.
Until they are, a full and proper debate we cannot so much as dare to dream might break out.
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Word of the day: Mettlesome. One imbued with courage, spirit and determination. An RNLI volunteer, say. Not to be confused with meddlesome.
On this day, 2000: A British paratrooper is killed and 11 injured in a daring military rescue attempt upon six hostages being held in the Sierra Leonean jungle.
Happy birthday to: The irritatingly handsome, charming Colin Firth, 66.
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