London’s pride undaunted

Not since the 2012 Olympics have I felt such pride to live in such a multifarious city, a planetary community — last Wednesday’s terror attack notwithstanding

he growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts,” George Eliot wrote in Middlemarch. On Thursday, in a statement to the House of Commons about the attack that had occurred right outside parliament the day before, British Prime Minister Theresa May echoed that sentiment, paying tribute to the “millions of acts of normality” that are the most powerful weapons against extremist violence. This was London’s counterattack: To show that it takes more than a murderous rampage through Westminster to shut down the mighty city.

Sombre but undaunted, members of parliament of all parties expressed their admiration for the courage of the police, doctors and nurses who had responded with such speed and vigour, rushing to help those who had been mowed down by a car on Westminster Bridge. Five people died in the attack: A London teacher, an American visitor and a 75-year-old man; a police constable, Keith Palmer; and the attacker, who has been identified as a 52-year-old Briton, Khalid Masoud. As many as 40 people were injured, several of whom remain in critical condition.

The Deputy Speaker of the House, Lindsay Hoyle, voiced the feelings of all his colleagues when he described Palmer as “one of our village policemen”.

Westminster is indeed a village and, as a commentator on Britain’s political scene, I treat it as my professional workplace. For all its architectural grandeur, it is really a noisy souq, a forum for gossip, ideas and haggling. Shortly before the attack, I had been to see a cabinet minister who was worried about a “difficult year ahead” for the government. When I returned, Parliament Square had been closed off by the police and the traffic was gridlocked. The sirens of ambulances told their own distressing story.

“You’d think they’d have sorted it out, for God’s sake,” a taxi driver complained out of his open window, to nobody in particular. As callous as that might sound, it was the authentic voice of London: Unfazed, querulous, eccentric. The city’s cabbies are more fearful of traffic than they are of “nutters with knives” (another Londonism I overheard as I walked across Vauxhall Bridge, trying to find a way home).

Here’s what really counts: By Thursday morning, London was, if not quite back to normal, then certainly back in business. As I travelled through the south of the city, up to Chelsea and later over to King’s Cross, Londoners really were going about their lives as on any other day.

This behaviour reflects something deeper than conscious defiance, I think. It would simply not occur to the 8.6 million citizens of the megalopolis to allow one man to send them into hiding. As they say in the East End, you’re having a laugh, aren’t you?

It is the stoicism of ancestral pride and present realism. Everyone in the city acknowledges the daily threat of low-tech terrorism. Although MI5, Britain’s domestic security service, has achieved remarkable success in recent years, it cannot foil every conspiracy or lone wolf radicalised online. This was not the first attack on London and everyone knows it will not be the last. In such an age, and in such circumstances, the only way to proceed is — in the muchloved British slogan — to keep calm and carry on.

Ill-informed and insulting criticism

There was something else detectable in the fresh spring air, too. The last year, dominated by the Brexit referendum and its aftermath, has been one of brewing nativism and frequently ugly talk about immigration. Even as the injured were being treated, Britain’s equivalent of the alt-right tweeted with revolting ignorance about “illegals”, the very word that United States President Donald Trump used, incorrectly, to describe Syrian refugees in a post-election interview with the Times of London. (In fact, the man named as the attacker was reportedly born in Kent, in south-east England.)

And speaking of the first family, Trump Jr’s ill-informed and insulting criticism of London’s Mayor, Sadiq Khan, via Twitter, did not go down well in Britain. The US president’s son should not plan on visiting a London pub anytime soon.

Of course, the divisions of the past year have not suddenly been healed, nor the poison put back in its bottle. But in conversations, on the radio, in the countenance of passers-by, you could sense a fresh recognition that this is the greatest city on earth because of, rather than in spite of, its extraordinary diversity.

Not since the glorious opening ceremony of the 2012 Olympics have I felt such pride to live in such a multifarious city, a planetary community.

“Yesterday, we saw the worst of humanity,” May said, “but we will remember the best.” That’s absolutely right. It is a commonplace that pain and love are closely related, but true nonetheless. As Londoners absorbed the horror of what had happened, they quietly reaffirmed a principle that has served them well for centuries: That they will not bow to fear.

Matthew d’Ancona is a political columnist for the Guardian and the Evening Standard and a contributing opinion writer.