Recently in the United Kingdom, a 15‑year‑old boy found himself at the receiving end of four police officers after making fun of a local councillor on social media. His crimes allegedly included criticising the councillor’s clothing, comparing his appearance to a “rent boy”, and posting an edited image giving the politician rabbit ears. The teenager was arrested, fingerprinted, photographed, had DNA taken, and had electronic devices seized. Reports indicate police considered offences including harassment, malicious communications, and a possible hate crime[i].
The councillor involved was not physically threatened. No violence occurred. No property was damaged.
A teenager mocked a politician. And the police showed up.
A teenager mocked a politician. And the police showed up.
The Logic of Non‑Crime Policing
According to reports, West Midlands Police stated they investigate reports in line with College of Policing guidance[ii].
This is where Britain has been heading for years.
The UK increasingly operates under the principle that speech need not be criminal to warrant police attention. The category of the “non‑crime hate incident” has slowly normalised the idea that law enforcement should concern itself not merely with criminal acts, but with offensive expression, perceived hostility, and subjective harm.
This is yet another example of anarcho‑tyranny.
The theory is simple:
- Violent criminals increasingly avoid meaningful consequences.
- Disorder becomes normal.
- Yet ordinary citizens face growing scrutiny for speech, jokes, online comments, and political opinions.
A Rabbit Today, What Tomorrow?
The important issue isn’t whether the teenager was rude. He was.
The important issue is whether mockery of elected officials should trigger police intervention.
In a functioning liberal society, politicians are expected to tolerate criticism, ridicule, satire, caricature, and even nastiness. That comes with the job.
If politicians can mobilise the machinery of the State against citizens who embarrass them, the relationship between ruler and ruled begins to reverse.
The citizen starts fearing the politician instead of the politician fearing the voter. That is unhealthy in any democracy.
New Zealand Should Pay Attention
It would be comforting to dismiss this as a uniquely British pathology.
Unfortunately, New Zealand has already begun travelling down similar roads.
As I noted in my earlier article on UK‑style non‑crime hate policing, many of the same concepts have quietly entered New Zealand’s political conversation. Ideas that would have been considered authoritarian a decade ago are now discussed as common‑sense regulatory measures.
The Ardern‑Hipkins Government attempted to introduce hate‑speech laws. It failed.
The desire, however, never disappeared. It merely changed form.
Labour’s Digital Duty of Care
The Labour Party has recently proposed a Digital Duty of Care regime, promising action within its first 100 days should it return to office.
At face value, this sounds harmless. Who could oppose “safety” online? Who could oppose “responsibility”? Who could oppose a “duty of care”?
That is precisely how speech regulation is marketed. The concern is not the slogan. The concern is the mechanism.
Labour proposes a system involving a regulator or commissioner tasked with determining what online content is appropriate, what platforms should permit, and what risks require intervention. Public reporting indicates the policy would create significant new powers over online content moderation and platform obligations.
The obvious question follows: Who decides what constitutes harm?
And once that question is asked, another inevitably follows: What cannot eventually be classified as harm?
The Pattern Never Changes
Every speech‑control proposal follows the same trajectory.
First, it targets:
- abuse,
- extremism,
- threats,
- criminal behaviour.
Then the definitions expand. “Harm” broadens. “Safety” broadens. “Hate” broadens. “Suspected misinformation” broadens.
Soon enough, the problem is no longer criminal conduct.
The problem is disapproved opinion.
Britain provides a useful preview of where this process leads. Not necessarily because New Zealand will become identical. But because institutional incentives remain remarkably similar.
The Bureaucratic Temptation
The real danger is not malicious intent. The danger is bureaucracy.
Once a speech regulator exists, it must justify its existence.
Its budget must grow. Its remit must expand. Its staff must find work to do.
A commissioner charged with policing online harm will inevitably discover more and more harm. Because if there is no harm, there is no reason for the commissioner’s office to exist.
This is how bureaucracies behave. It is what bureaucracies do.
Freedom Means Tolerating Mockery
Liberal societies are built upon a simple but uncomfortable principle:
People have the right to say things we dislike.
That includes:
- bad jokes,
- insults,
- mockery,
- rude comments,
- offensive opinions,
- political satire.
The teenager in Britain may have been obnoxious. Teenagers often are. That is not the point.
The point is that mockery of a politician should not involve police cars, DNA collection, and device seizures.
Conclusion: The Warning From Britain
The arrest of a teenager over a mocked‑up rabbit photo would have sounded absurd twenty years ago. Today it is reality.
Britain is showing us where the logic of non‑crime speech policing eventually ends:
- the citizen becomes suspect,
- politicians become protected classes,
- speech becomes regulated,
- and police become arbiters of acceptable expression.
It never stays there. And the people writing the rules are always convinced they are the good guys.
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