A Teacher During Covid: Chapter Seventy-Two
Before the Law.
“The one great principle of English law is to make business for itself.”
Charles Dickens, Bleak House
(Ubi eadem ratio, ibi eadem lexto with Scots law)
It was not always necessary for everyone associated with our group to turn-up every week. It would be useful, but not essential. What was useful was if they turned-up when they were needed. And, in general, the resistance community could be relied on to do that to a large degree. The same old warriors perhaps, now become familiar over the past year, but, to their credit, they were always there. This was important because our last greatest protest needed numbers. Our initiative was to use yellow cards to protest the vaccination of those under sixteen.
The steps too far of the vaccine programme, the red lines crossed, the lines in the sand overrun, were innumerable – paying influencers, trying to bribe people, fear-filled adverts pretending to sound scientific basis, illegal sackings, contracts cancelled, ostracism – however, gaining no traction pointing these perfidies out, we as a group felt we could, with public, loud, repeated demonstrations, make some in-roads into the Edinburgh collective consciousness on this issue of child vaccination with Covid jabs. Parents would protect their children - surely - even if they took the jab because they wanted to immunise themselves.
A lengthy road envelopes the south side of the Meadows. It had several sets of traffic lights for pedestrians and the odd branch road that led into the well-heeled, population-dense Bruntsfield area. Urban geography made it a busy throughfare for cars and passers-by and gave us good visibility. (Great for the message – not great to avoid a belligerent wanting a fight.) Additionally, it is a low-speed zone; a perfect place to stand with a sign and have it read by passing drivers and their passengers. The reduced rate of motion aided and abetted the natural advantage given by an extended, straight part of the boulevard along which we could string ourselves out and hold-up our signs.
Every Saturday, as late summer became Autumn, our little group, led by Richard, took up our yellow cards, each one displaying an inscription that was part of a longer message, which, if ordered correctly – something we always had to check we were doing – made coherent sentences to anyone driving along on our side of the road. Motorists would read the first part of the message, then the next part and the next, until, the full meaning was clear. With a nice, rhythmic gap between each to allow for mental processing and stimulate curiosity. It was a fine example of enjambment that I appreciated. We did number the boards in case we fucked it up. And we still got it wrong at times. No schoolboy errors if you want to be taken seriously. However, despite the odd aberration, it went smoothly.
The first message was one urging caution vaccinating children with experimental vaccines and warning of possible heart issues, as I recall. We stood holding-up our signs and blowing on our whistles to gain attention. I didn’t have a whistle, so I just stood with a sign. If a vehicle was supportive, they would beep a horn. If they were unsupportive, they tended to drive past ignoring us. There was a lot of beeping. It was heartening. A lot of noise from workmen’s vehicles, numerous lorry drivers and many, many taxi drivers: they seemed to be the hard core of our support. They beeped with abandon, sometimes even raising a fist out through their windows. The private cars were more ambivalent. Among the low-level hums of regular traffic, a brave car might venture a beep and then suddenly there would be a cacophony of horns sounding as others too courage, joined by our cheers, whistles and acclaim. But lacking a resolute driver, then a stream of traffic would pass silently until the next clarion call to resistance reverberated around the trees lining the road.
We made quite a scene. There were some spikey and some hilarious moments. On the first deployment of the cards, one of our number, Jason, who was a nice guy but a bit of conspiracy-bore, knowing as he did everything about everything, go into a dust-up. He worked as a delivery driver, keeping weekend afternoons free for protests. Tragically, he knew the impact of vaccine ‘side-effects’ first hand. His infant daughter had been vaccinated by his partner without his approval, dying at a few weeks old. Jason blamed the vaccine. Who can say different? The medical establishment’s interests are so entrenched in the pro-vax camp, no investigation of the subject is allowed, and inquiries are met with a flat denial.
Jason brought a sign with a picture of his baby daughter on it. I felt uncomfortable about this. Treading softly was the leitmotif, and this was a little too intense. As much as I sympathised with Jason, we were involved in a form of politics and it is best not to go either too far, even if you’re in the right; too fast, faster than people can assimilate; or expose your deepest feelings too much: there are heartless individuals out there who will trample on your most sacred emotions and say inhumanely cruel things for the sake of being ‘right’. Break these rules and you can become dangerously defensive or provocative, undermining what you set out to achieve.
Sure enough, given his loss, the year of abuse and marginalisation, the fears of the unknown, Jason was militant and, when he came across a similar type, although a celluloid negative of his own position, a zealous, unbending advocate for vaccination, an adamant, unrepentant pro-vaxxer, it all got ugly. The Pro-Vaxxer had wound down his window to shout the usual and berate Jason for his temerity in dissenting, and was then so angered by Johnny’s expletive shelled retorts thrown in response, including the acutely personal nature of his invective – because for Jason it was so personal - that he sprung from his halted car ready to confront Jason physically.
Jason, already highly sensitised, already in an enraged state, advanced on his Wraith, welcoming a chance to purge his pain by sublimating it into violence against one limb of the universal spider. Those attendant rushed to intercede and separate them. A thin line of protestors held them apart. Nothing happened except verbal cocktails of abuse lobbed by both belligerents over the heads of the peacekeepers that protectively encircled Johnny and the man. However, it was a sign of the deeply felt passions we were wading into.
That was the most serious incident. Although, there was no shortage of pro-vaxxers ready to brazenly insult those asserting their rights to express an opinion publicly. A passing car, at speed, had one young woman leaning out the window, the entire top-half of her torso jutting out from the rear passenger seat window, her body held in place by the dark shape of a fellow traveller in case she toppled out on to the road. (Fortunately, some excess rolls of fat around her midriff that obliterated the gaps between the car’s window frame and held her ample body and tightly held to a satisfactory extent for any health and safety inspector concerned she fell out.) Safely wedged, she had both arms reaching outward to the utmost, with one middle-digit extended from each clenched fist, and greeted us with screams of, ‘Fuck You! Fuck You! Fuck You!’ continually while the car continued passing our group at pace. We all stood silently, adhering to our non-conflict policy, utterly bemused, though perhaps some of us secretly pleased that our protesting was irritating the gelatinous, pro-vax fundamentalists.
Obviously, the woman had strong feelings on the matter. Feelings that were not strained by reason. Deranged and tubby. From experience, this was our most vociferous and fervent opposition.
Sometimes Brian would be placed near me in the line. Brian was a lawyer and completely isolated within his profession. He worked at a financial company and told me his fellow legal officers would come into work wearing short sleeved tops with plasters on their arms signifying their ‘jabbed’ status, just in case they were suspected of not conforming enough. They were all masked too. Everyone in his office was masked, except Brian. Who worked from home, when he could, because the office was ‘too depressing’.
Brian, as a lawyer, was a rarity in the opposition. I did meet one who gave me an indication that many, in influential positions too, were thinking wrongthink, but were sitting on their hands, or hand, I should say, as the other hand was clamped firmly over their mouth. In this instance, I was displaying a sign, when a man about mid-thirty, his longish brown hair bouncing on his head, jogged past me, stopped, and then returned to speak to me.
‘Well done you,’ he said with an air of enthusiasm.
‘Thanks,’ I said. I was a bit suspicious. Well-kempt joggers running through the park - we stood near the traditional running circuit that belted the Meadows - usually made their feelings clear about our protest by swerving round us at such exaggerated distances I concluded they must think us sewers of highly infectious material. A clear threat to their efforts to exist in perfect health.
This man was not doing a large body swerve.
‘Look, I’m a lawyer,’ he said, ‘But I work at the university now.’
‘You’re an academic lawyer, but you used to practise,’ I said, repeating and sounding dim-witted.
‘That’s right,’ he nodded. He looked like he was readying to jog on. I wanted to ask questions.
‘I’ve got a question for you,’ I said, as he began to move away from me.
‘Yes?’ he stopped turning away and returned to face me.
‘You know that lawyers are all about rights, aren’t they?’
‘’Yup,’ he looked at me intently. He probably knew what was coming but was prepared to answer.
‘There’re all kinds of lawyers specialising in all kinds of rights. Due to Covid, I’ve had a search of different types of law on the internet. Obviously, there are human rights firms, but there are also human rights lawyers who specialise in a specific areas of human rights. I never knew it was so varied. These lawyers advise or sit on committees, committees such as bio-medical ethics ones, all staffed by lawyers, run by lawyers. Private lawyers attend these committees, some from the university, likely some who work in the industry…’
‘Yes…’
‘…these ethics committees give advice to companies, universities and government on a range of things like research, product development and testing…’
‘Yup…’
‘…they are often university affiliated, but if not, they represent themselves as an independent or a charitable body that is disinterested in the research or the product that is being evaluated…’
‘Uh-huh…’
‘…but the pharmaceutical companies sponsor these committees, and they pay the attendees, most often lawyers, but other relevant academics too, and if they are not directly sponsored by the pharmaceutical corporations then they are funded by this or that private health company or legal firm who will get a pay off downstream for a product or type of research getting approved…’
‘Yes,’ he was still listening.
‘..but they present as part of the university…’
‘Yup…’
‘…and the university too has major contracts with these pharmaceutical companies, and others of course, but pharmaceuticals, bio-tech are huge, especially for somewhere like Edinburgh University, one of the world’s best in the field, world leading, pharma corporations has big investments and pay hundreds of scientists…’
‘Yeah…’
‘…and they do research, also funded by us, the taxpayer and our children’s fees, and if it’s successful, if the project they are working on is a success, the lead researchers of it incorporate and turn it into a highly profitable business or they sell their research to Pharma which profits them and the university, sometimes…
‘Yeah…’
‘…or it’s been tentatively sponsored by a foundation and the research and products goes to them, with the taxpayer always, always cut out…’
He nodded.
‘…they’ve got pre-approval sewn-up before they go to market because they’re working with the lawyers, the lawyers involved with these committees of safety, legality, ethicality and so on, the university’s involved…I’d not be surprised if the NHS and NICE weren’t connected somehow…perhaps a crossover of individuals on certain panels…’
‘Yup’
‘…Big Pharma are delighted. They’ve got a product that’s near officially approved - by people on the payroll - and, of course, it gets NHS approval too. Lawyers signing it off every step of the way…,’ I paused and checked he was still with me.
‘…lawyers who are familiar with all the relevant law, there to prevent any possible indemnity…to provide a safe product…’
‘Yup,’ he nodded.
‘… and they’ve got lawyers in negligence, medical negligence; they’ve got lawyers on liability, including medical liability; there are lawyers on insurance, medicine is not a small part of their business and so on and so on. All completely aware of medical ethics and the principles of informed consent…it’s all so tight…’
He listened attentively. I breathed.
‘…you read about the committees, the companies, the law practices, the universities, the government bodies, the language they use, the patient’s rights, ‘blah, blah’, ‘commitment to ethics…rights…blah, blah’, and it sounds all so…all so…ethical…’
‘Yes.’
‘…so my question is probably more of an observation, when the interests are so overt and contradictory in these processes, and the public propaganda so sickeningly moralistic and righteous, is every lawyer a schizophrenic bastard or are they all hypocritical, pieces of shit?’
He said nothing. He just looked at me.
‘What happened to all of that?’ I continued, trying to rein it in, ‘That huge framework of legislation? What happened to our rights? Powerful people clicked their fingers and it all disappeared.’
He looked at me.
‘Of course, aided and abetted by the entire legal profession,’ I added trying not to sound caustic, and bitter. ‘Not one lawyer in this country stood up. Aside from the blatant criminality, what happened to basic human rights?’
He was silent for a moment, looking at the grass, not in a guilty or forlorn way; he was deciding whether to trust me. Then he spoke.
‘It’s gone. It’s dead,’ he said with a confident, serious finality.
I was taken aback by the lack of give in his statement. ‘Human rights are gone?’ I asked, although it was hardly a question. Something clicked. It was obvious. The quailing, quivering lawyers cowering in the shadow of their egotism as if its darkness can hide their betrayal, and, possibly the red blushing of their shame, if they the decency to have any.
The lawyer’s transparency surprised me. He had the guts to say it. No hiding behind ‘mandates’, or the ordinances of governments, charities, politicians, corporations, the UN and every other organisation or person trying to have a say over our lives and who bleat on neverendingly about ‘saving lives’.
‘Yes.’
He paused. Should he go further? Elaborate to a stranger with a yellow sign?
‘I wrote an academic paper on it a few months ago,’ he said. ‘Detailing how Covid had essentially ended human rights in this country.’
‘Did you?’ This was different. Lawyers had shown themselves up as straw…people. Had I bumped into by chance one of Scotland’s bravest lawyers? (Not a high bar, admittedly.) ‘And what happened?’ I asked, intrigued at the impact a bombshell claim like this would have on the legal community. ‘Have the Law Society been in touch to have you removed from the register?’ I half-joked.
‘No, the opposite in fact. It’s the most cited paper I’ve ever written. Look, in academia, if you’ve got a huge reputation then you might get cited a few times, but people like myself, basically unknown…’
For a lawyer, he had a streak of humility.
‘…you are rarely cited until years down the line, if you reach a certain position, then maybe, usually as a form of flattery traded for help with careers…’
Where had I observed that before?
‘…but, I wrote this paper and I’ve had phone calls from Glasgow University Law post-grads and professors…’
‘Glasgow?’ Was Glasgow important in the legal world beyond Scotland?
‘…from lawyers here in Edinburgh, from lawyers up in Aberdeen and other parts of the country. I’ve had emails from other countries – Switzerland, the Unites States - they’ve all wanted to cite my paper or get a copy of it,’ he said, without a hint of boastfulness.
‘It can’t be news to them that human rights have been squashed?’ I said perplexed by the notion that for some it had to be set down in a legal paper before it became reality. ‘The man in the street knows his rights went out the window during Covid,’ I said. Stop. Wait. No. I had to heavily qualify that. ‘The ones with any sense, that is.’ A single figure percentage probably.
‘No, they’re all aware of it. That’s why they’re so interested in my paper. It’s my most cited paper, as I say, and it’s my most read paper. I can see the numbers on the website,’ he said. He was hinting at an extensive network of legal professionals who below the shows of public life were completely aware that Covid was both a hoax and an illegal enterprise.
‘Everybody knows,’ I exhaled with a long, cynical breath, recognising an affirmation of my conclusions. Everybody who can think, knows. The rest swim unaware in the ideology of their own confusion.
Should I be angry that no one spoke out? I was past that. Avoidance was our culture. A mute passivity upon being abused was how we did things.
Should I be relieved there is an unknown silent resistance in the legal profession? A silent collective whose strongest mode of opposition is reading an obscure legal paper. It’s hardly setting the heather alight never mind storming the Bastille.
Should I be infuriated that intelligent men and women with prestige, having positions from which they could lead and influence events for the better, quickly came to the conclusion that those who fell for the Covid-Hoax and who are going to vaccinate themselves and their families, are lost causes and there’s no point standing up trying to save them or arguing with them to save themselves?
People look down on one another. Hardly breaking news. Once when younger, during a city to city bus journey, I heard one tramp on the backseat of a bus say to another quite savagely, ‘Whae de ye think ye ‘re? Ye’re naebody, fuckin’ naebody!’ The passions of social discrimination do not require a palatial setting whereon to play a part but can be enacted by vagabonds with equal intensity. It’s no surprise that an indifferent, callous haughtiness exists in the corridors and rooms of law departments and legal offices.
Can I blame them for that? After all…they’re right. I’d tried and everywhere I had turned my great Eye of Opposition, resentment and accusation had spouted forth…towards me. Despondency curled in the mist of my breath as the words came out.
‘Everybody knows,’ he said. Stamping my thoughts with the Seal of Resignation.
We chatted for a few minutes more. I asked him his name and vowed to look up his paper, but, unfortunately, I forgot both his name and the name of the paper.
‘Keep doing what you’re doing,’ he said, shaking my hand.
‘I will,’ I said, smiling and repressing the urge to say, ‘Look, why don’t you lend a hand too? The fact that lawyers decline exerting others legal rights unless paid is not helping.’ But it was a pleasant encounter and I didn’t want to spoil it by asking for a greater sense of responsibility.
Brave lawyers were thin on the ground. There was at least one other lawyer who had been in our resistance group. From career considerations, she was not too active, excepting on one occasion when she single-handedly, in my opinion, managed to change government policy by a well-worded and threatening legal letter to the governmental body concerned. Within a couple of weeks, the NHS performed an about-face on the criteria to whom they provided specific medical services.
Perfectly inverting a short Franz Kafka story. A woman came before the Law. The doorkeeper was frightened. She easily gained access. The seemingly powerful bureaucrats of the Court were weak and impotent. Their bladders turned to jelly when Law was used righteously to force accountability upon them. They immediately retraced with quivering steps back to their old formulations and incantations, reversing the policy.
When the Law was applied correctly, its results were just, humane and impressive. The government was a coward. The individuals in the system were cowards. It could be intimidated by taking it to court. However, this insight is useless if the People and the legal establishment are abject– or bought – and cowards too.
The legal and medical professions co-ordinating together could have ended this fraud overnight. Even just a small proportion of them. But they just sat on their hands. Each one scared of their [captured] governing bodies and the opinions of others, and especially, in a lawyer’s case, the view of those who are Partners, those who say which career flourishes and which stalls. The disponing of salary and status was all they cared about.
People’s rights? The written law? They did not care. They had no true respect for the law. They did not appreciate the history, the philosophy or underlying spirit. It’s intersecting cords of statue was merely a frame to climb for wealth and deference. What’s the point to law if it is picked up and set down at the nod of the rich? That’s gangsterism. The chatter about human dignity and human rights practised by lawyers, pontificating endlessly, occasionally exerting themselves to practise the statutes themselves, never for unprofitable causes unless it’s a public relations exercise, while every opportunity is taken to cheat, to betray and violate those ordinances for profit. Would it be a worser world if there was no law? It would be the same world without the hypocrisy. And the parasitic class of lawyers.