Hate crime obsession is killing off our freedom of speech

IN the earliest days of devolution, there was an extraordinary demonstration of ‘ people power’ that proved the first real challenge for the Labour- l ed Scottish Executive.

The fledgling parliament found itself at the centre of a row over plans to repeal ‘section 28’, the legislation that banned the promotion of homosexuality in schools.

A petition against the move gathered 120,000 signatures and Stagecoach tycoon Brian Souter gave £500,000 to the campaign to ‘Keep the Clause’ and prevent repeal.

Ultimately, however, it was destined to be an early example of political indifference to popular sentiment. Despite a poll showing two-thirds of the public opposed repeal, MSPs ploughed ahead and voted to abolish section 28.

The majority of Scots had deep misgivings about a seismic shift in educational policy driven by an administration that seemed hellbent on ignoring their concern.

And the pattern was to be repeated. In 2006, the Labour-led Executive legalised gay adoption, despite a consultation showing almost nine out of ten Scots were opposed to it.

Now, 16 years after section 28 was scrapped, Lord Advocate Frank Mulholland, QC, has suggested that the Keep the Clause campaign could have been investigated as a ‘ hate crime’ under l egislation intended to protect minorities.

He also made clear that he could not comment directly on the section 28 row, nor could he say whether the campaign would have fallen foul of hate crime laws.

Debate

While he spelt out that there are a ‘number of legal protections’ for free speech, when he was asked about section 28 at a public meeting, Mr Mulholland said: ‘We would need to look at the context of it… if it strayed into the context of hate.’

His remark demonstrated the great distance that has been travelled in a relatively short space of time, echoed in other major social reforms such as civil partnerships and gay marriage.

But it was also a powerful illustration of the huge societal shift in the way public debate is perceived and policed.

The reformers who championed a more liberal approach in social policy have shown themselves to be less tolerant of freedom of speech.

The Keep the Clause campaign was a tremendously successful mobilisation of public opinion which used entirely legitimate means to challenge a deeply controversial reform.

But in Scotland in 2016, its very existence may well have triggered a police investigation on the grounds that it was inherently homophobic.

Whatever your opinion of section 28, the idea that a democratic movement, as the Keep the Clause campaign became, could be considered effectively criminal is highly disturbing.

But on another level Mr Mulholland’s remarks are hardly surprising: public bodies in Scotland have long followed an agenda of political correctness that preaches ‘ diversity’ and equality at all costs.

When councils and hospitals began hiring well-remunerated ‘diversity co-ordinators’, it was a clear sign of muddled priorities – exemplified by barmy guidelines which dictated that firefighters had to ensure gay people did not suffer discrimination while being rescued.

Ten years ago, a Strathclyde firefighter was demoted and eight colleagues were disciplined after they refused to attend a ‘gay pride’ march.

In this context, it is also worth noting that the Crown Office – our independent prosecution service – has given more than £100,000 of taxpayers’ money to gay rights and ‘diversity’ campaigners. It has paid the controversial Stonewall Scotland body to participate in the gay group’s ‘diversity champion’ scheme.

Again, whatever you think of gay rights campaigners, is it really the role of prosecutors (and therefore the taxpayers) to bankroll them?

The funding is all the more questionable when we recall that, in 2010, a street preacher was arrested and fined £1,000 after telling passers-by that homosexuality was a sin.

Baptist Shawn Holes was taken away from Sauchiehall Street, in Glasgow, in a police van and locked up in a cell for the night.

Mr Holes was charged with ‘uttering homophobic remarks’ in a breach of the peace that prosecutors said was ‘ aggravated by religious prejudice’.

The view that homosexuality was sinful was his sincerely held religious belief – but it was deemed to be homophobic and therefore a hate crime.

Locking people up for what they say, rather than what they do, is becoming something of a speciality for police.

In 2014, grandfather Ian MacGregor and his wife were watching television at their home in rural Perthshire when two police officers turned up and revealed that neighbours had overheard him using the word ‘tinks’ – slang for gipsy travellers.

He was arrested, locked in a police cell overnight and appeared i n court, visibly shaken, on his 71st birthday.

Mr MacGregor admitted saying ‘That’s the tinks got the shed up’ and was admonished at Perth Sheriff Court. The ‘offence’ will be kept on record as a ‘hate crime’.

Limits

His comment was reported by neighbour Kelly Byrne, who once broke an electronic tagging order to appear on Trisha Goddard’s ITV show.

With violent and sexual crime on the rise, and the single police force beset by crises on an almost daily basis, police were more interested in locking up a pensioner who made a comment which, while illadvised, was not directed at any individual.

It was a story that underlined just how far the state is prepared to go to place limits on whatever is said in public – though in Mr MacGregor’s case he made the remark on his own property.

Then there i s the SNP’s legislation banning sectarian chants at football matches – with the threat of five years in jail. Last year, it emerged that police officers had to be taught sectarian songs to help them arrest football fans singing them at an Old Firm game.

The legislation (memorably described by a sheriff as ‘mince’) is hugely controversial. While few doubt it was a well-intentioned attempt to tackle bigotry, it has proved a failure.

Academics have found that police relations with fans have been severely strained, while only about half of t hose prosecuted for sectarian abuse at f ootball matches are convicted.

According to 2014 figures, the conviction rate has fallen from 74 per cent to 52 per cent in the space of a year, casting doubt on the credibility of the legislation. Meanwhile, violence on the pitch f requently goes unpunished.

Perhaps the most convincing proof that the stranglehold of political correctness is slowly killing freedom of expression was provided yesterday by leading gay rights campaigner Peter Tatchell.

He was initially one of the most vocal critics of the Christians running a Belfast bakery who were prosecuted after refusing to produce a cake with a pro-gay marriage slogan for a potential customer.

But Mr Tatchell has now changed his mind. ‘In my view,’ he said yesterday, ‘ it is an infringement of freedom to require private businesses to aid the promotion of ideas to which they conscientiously object.’

He was, of course, quite right – but let’s hope he doesn’t get a knock on the door from police officers investigating a potential ‘hate crime’.