I dislike Russell Brand so intensely that I cannot honestly judge whether he is guilty of the offences for which he has been convicted. I am too biased to offer a reliable opinion. What I can say, without hesitation, is that he strikes me as an unpleasant person.
He is wholly unsuited to any significant role in public life. The claim that he is a comedian also appears, to me, to have been conclusively disproved: the evidence suggests someone who is profoundly unfunny.
Even so, I suspect Britain’s liberal establishment continues to prefer Brand and his opinions on drugs to me and mine. I was unwillingly placed in his company three times in 2012. On one occasion, during a Google debate, he answered my criticism of his views with personal insults. On another, at the BBC, he repeatedly heckled me and at one point threatened to kiss me.
I used that appearance to criticise the Corporation for hiring him, of all people, to make a BBC3 programme about drugs. Naturally, it did so. Although nobody at the BBC is known to take drugs, the organisation has long been enthusiastic about liberalising drug policy and weakening the relevant laws.
Brand was their preferred representative; I was there to provide the appearance of balance. It is worth remembering that, in 2008, the BBC was engulfed by the Sachsgate scandal, after Brand and Jonathan Ross left offensive voicemail messages for actor Andrew Sachs on Radio 2. The BBC fined itself £150,000 and Brand resigned. Four years later, however, he was considered suitable to return as a presenter.
We also both appeared before the House of Commons Select Committee to give evidence on drug policy. He wore a sleeveless black shirt, tattoos and what seemed like about 40 crucifixes; I wore a suit and tie.
Brand gives evidence to MPs on drug policy
My impression was that the committee treated him more sympathetically than it treated me. His position—that drug abuse is a disease—was broadly aligned with the liberal consensus. Mine was not. Whatever else Brand may be, he is much more attuned to the mood of the present age than I am.
Why can’t we make a movie like this?
English-speaking film-makers seem to have forgotten how to make films. Their productions run for four hours, drag terribly and rely on ridiculous plots. All too often, subtitles are needed simply to understand the actors’ mumbling.
So I recommend the finest director working today: the Polish film-maker Paweł Pawlikowski. There is no need to worry about pronouncing his name. His films are concise, beautiful and intelligent.
His latest film, Fatherland, is set in Germany shortly after the Second World War, a country overwhelmed by darkness, fear and shame.
Joanna Kulig portrays a jazz singer in Fatherland, set in post-war West Germany
Thomas Mann, Germany’s greatest writer, has returned from American exile after fleeing the Nazis in 1933. His daughter drives him through the ruins in a magnificent black Buick Super, a symbol of American power. He has been invited to both the capitalist West and the communist East, where each side wants to honour him with praise and prizes. Both hope to claim him, but neither succeeds. At one point his daughter tells him, ‘Let’s go home.’ He replies sadly, ‘Where is home?’ He no longer has one.
The West appears jazzy, self-satisfied, frivolous, shallow and still crowded with unrepentant Nazis. One of them is satisfyingly slapped across the face by Mann’s daughter. The East is sombre and stern, using former Nazi concentration camps to imprison political opponents. Mann describes the choice as being ‘between Stalin and Mickey Mouse’. Yet Mickey Mouse proves to possess sharp teeth and claws. Soon after these events, the great writer was driven from the United States by wild accusations that he sympathised with communism. There is little sex and, apart from that slap, even less violence. Nevertheless, the film is gripping.
Wars help the Left. Don’t start them
Donald Trump’s richly deserved defeat at the polls last week offers conservatives a straightforward lesson: they should stop trying to launch wars. It is remarkable that parties claiming to be right-wing and patriotic remain so eager to drag their countries into unnecessary catastrophes.
War destroys civil society and impoverishes nations. Prices go up, taxes increase and nobody knows how to bring the conflict to an end. The state gains greater power over our lives, while public debt grows. Young men are taken from their families and often never return; when they do, they may come home severely wounded, psychologically damaged or both.
The war in Iran has hurt Trump at the polls
When matters deteriorate, destruction arrives from the air. Imagine your quiet suburb being hit by drones or missiles, or having to live beneath the constant threat of air-raid sirens. War also encourages politicians and the media to tell more lies as they attempt to conceal its grim reality.
And what is the purpose of it all? Since we adopted the habit of starting wars—in Vietnam, Iraq, Yugoslavia, Afghanistan, Syria and Libya—has the world become safer, freer or more just? Have these chosen conflicts benefited us? Quite the opposite. Their enduring consequence has been the huge movement of people from the East and South into Europe and North America. Are you pleased with that outcome?
Yet bombastic politicians and war enthusiasts continue to win support by demanding still more conflict. The leader of the supposed ‘Conservative’ Party is an enthusiastic supporter of the senseless war in Ukraine. Why? How does it benefit Britain? Even if we were wealthy, the cost of extending this pointless struggle would be excessive. Learn the lesson from Donald Trump, Mrs Badenoch. War is beloved by socialists and revolutionaries—and it costs you votes. You should oppose it.