My friends bully me for being Right-wing
Kate Mulvey is the odd one out in her liberal social circle. Here, she explains why saying what she thinks is now a risky business
‘Out of this lack of scrutiny and fear is emerging a new totalitarianism’
‘If I do ever recognise a fellow traveller, it feels like we’re in a secret resistance’
Afew months ago, I was chatting with pals at the bar of my favourite club in Soho, when an old friend came up to me wagging his finger. “Look,” he said, smirking, “it’s Nazi Kate.”
I managed to lob back a few cutting comments and waited for my two acquaintances (a writer and an artist) to join me in a robust defence.
Instead, they shuffled uneasily from foot to foot, looked down at the floor and sloped off. They later came up to me and individually apologised, both indicating that they didn’t agree with what was said and felt awkward about it, but then admitting sheepishly they hadn’t the nerve to speak out either.
This depressing scenario has become all too familiar in my life nowadays. I am that unusual creature: a Right-wing, Brexit-voting professional who mixes with an arty and liberal crowd. As such, I have become a target of bullying by the so-called open-minded progressive brigade, who also happen to be many of my friends.
So it was with sad recognition that I read a report in the Artsprofessional magazine that said 80 per cent of people working in the arts are too scared to voice “controversial” opinions for fear of being professionally ostracised. According to the Freedom of Expression survey, verboten topics of conversation in liberal company now include Brexit, transgender and my viewpoints considered Right-wing. It is shocking, but it is something I know to be true from bitter experience. Ever since Brexit opened up a cleavage in society – which has resulted in the metro liberal elite taking the high moral ground – I’ve been called out as a racist, bigot, and have been asked by one date “if I walk on my hands”.
It is difficult to explain how painful it is when the people you call your friends shun you when you walk in the room.
When one arts producer acquaintance called me a Right-wing sympathiser and racist simply because I put my cross beside leave the EU and champion Boris, I challenged him to having a grown-up conversation about it. You know, an old-fashioned debate.
Yet he refused to enter into any open discussion whatsoever. Of course, if this had happened, we might have ended up in stalemate, but at least there would have been some kind of respectful awareness on either side to understand why different positions are taken.
Society is based on structures that are agreed upon by the majority of people, such as marriage, the sense of nationhood, biological gender differences. I really believe that these structures are now being torn down in the alleged name of freedom. “Gender is a construct”, “nationhood is inherently racist”… these new ideas are not based on a rational discourse, but a trend of feeling and groupthink among a minority with a huge influence.
Out of this lack of scrutiny and fear is emerging a new totalitarianism. Those of us who don’t agree with the “woke” orthodoxy are quickly understanding that it has become too dangerous to say what we really think. If we ever do go there, it is likely to be on a trusted and closed Whatsapp group.
To be honest, I hate myself for caving in so easily. I feel humiliated and patronised. The moniker “Opinionated Kate”, as one ex called me affectionately, would be one I would relish at this moment.
I was brought up in the freespeech Seventies. Back then, being interesting, having something to say, meant you were welcomed in artistic circles. I remember one late-night debate when I drunkenly wrote my opinion on someone’s kitchen wall
– we are still great friends. Fastforward to today, and I often find myself sharing a pertinent article on Facebook, only to take it down minutes later as I get the familiar knot of fear in my stomach. It is simply not worth the stress. But why should I self-censor out of fear of reprisal – from who exactly? It makes me angry that these people feel they have a greater claim to higher intellectual or moral knowledge.
But this kind of bullying behaviour brings out our most fundamental fears of rejection. “You are not one of the gang,” the voice in my head says, as once again I find myself biting my tongue at another Leftie-leaning dinner party. If I do ever recognise a fellow traveller, it feels like we’re in a secret resistance group quietly giving each other the thumbs-up and trying not to trip the minefields that litter the new social landscape.
A magazine editor, who was robustly for Brexit, told me how a recent catch-up with an old university friend descended into a slanging match. Her Remain companion took to thumping the table and accusing her of ruining the country. She was nearly in tears.
Where has the respect and tolerance for other people’s opinions gone?
Well, if this week’s Twitter storm over a humble cup of tea is anything to go by, it doesn’t feel like we are going to get it back any time soon. When the Chancellor Rishi Sunak posted a picture of himself making tea on social media, cancel culture went full throttle, with the Twitterati calling for a Yorkshire Tea boycott as it had been drunk by a Tory. It perfectly surmised the toxic level of offence and outrage currently being targeted at anyone on the Right.
This kind of bullying has become a common occurrence at our universities. The erstwhile bastions of free speech and critical thinking, today’s campuses of “safe spaces, safe minds” have closed down any discussion by students and lecturers whom they see as racist, homophobic or as having traditional values. This was illustrated in a report out this week from the Policy Exchange think tank. Critically, it says “the nation is losing faith in our universities due to their sniggering attitude to patriotism and traditional values”.
It is about time something is done, a friend who teaches history of art at one of London’s universities opined the other day. As someone who was open about her pro-brexit views, when she shared these on social media, she witnessed a turning-away from not only her fellow tutors but students as well. This is something she now bitterly regrets.
But hang on a minute. Has it really got to the point where well-educated professionals and journalists like myself now feel they wished they had never opened their mouths? Not even to our closest friends and colleagues? In the name of freedom of speech and common decency, I say we start fighting back before it’s too late.