Niki Best

Ah, Ms. Braverman, your latest performance on the political stage is a masterclass in stirring the pot of division. You conveniently glossing over the real disruptors of peace. It's like blaming the mirror for the reflection it shows, isn't it? You praise the police for their professionalism in the face of what you call 'violence and aggression' from protesters, painting a picture as one-sided as a coin glued to the pavement. Yet, let's not forget the real face of aggression that yesterday, the far-right mobs, whose idea of honouring the war dead was to brawl on the streets, their actions a mockery of the very notion of remembrance. These so called patriots, rampaging through London, were a disgrace to the memory of those who fought for peace and justice. And your portrayal of the pro-Palestinian marchers, let's not mince words here, is nothing short of fearmongering. To suggest that their chants and placards marked a 'new low' is to ignore the high ground from which they were advocating a call for an end to the oppression in Gaza. To twist their cries for justice into a narrative of hate and antisemitism is not just misleading, it's a brazen attempt to shift the focus from the real issues at hand. Your accusations of antisemitism and valorising of terrorism among the protesters are as baseless as they are inflammatory. This isn't about defending Jewish people or British values, it's about silencing a movement that seeks to highlight the suffering of Palestinians. It's a tactic as old as time – demonise those who challenge the status quo, label them as threats, and watch the public outcry do the rest. So, Ms. Braverman, as you stand on your soapbox of righteousness, condemning those who march for peace, I must ask: Who are you really serving with these divisive words? Is it the cause of peace and justice, or is it your own political agenda? When will you recognise that your words have consequences, that they fan the flames of division rather than quell them? Isn’t it time to look in the mirror and see the true reflection of your actions?

Losing the will to live with comparisons, you say? Perhaps the will to confront the uncomfortable parallels is what's truly at stake. To draw from the well of Greek philosophy, Aristotle asserted that 'it is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.' And yet, here we are, entertaining the thought that a people, once subjected to the vilest form of human eradication, could not possibly replicate even a shadow of that horror. One must not cheapen the atrocities of the Nazis, that's a given. Their crimes stand alone, monumental in their inhumanity. Yet, when Machiavelli wrote that 'the ends justify the means,' he could not have envisioned a world where those who once endured the most brutal means would use a similar logic to justify their own ends. The irony is stark and bitter. The pogroms of the past are not mirrored but echoed in the relentless bombing of Gaza, where children, who know only the inside of what might as well be a modern, day siege, fall like leaves in autumn, untimely, unjust, and unnoticed by those who turn their gaze away, comfortable in their indignation. Israel's actions may not be a carbon copy of the Nazi regime, but do we wait for a precise historical replication before we allow ourselves the moral outrage? The scale is different, the ideology is different, but the outcome? Displacement, death, and the systematic dehumanisation of a people ring with a historical resonance that cannot be ignored. The Jewish community, whose safety must always be defended, now includes voices that stand with Palestine, recognising that the suffering of one is the suffering of all. To protest is not to hate, it's to honour those who fought for the world to never again stand silent in the face of oppression. So, as you stand with Israel, ask yourself this: will you dismiss all criticism as ignorance and racism, or will you allow for a moment of introspection to consider that perhaps, just perhaps, the cries of Palestine do not stem from hatred, but from a history that taught us that silence is complicity?