Maybe you have even read about it in your newspapers. The Countryside March in London on 1st March, 1998, was the biggest march ever staged in Britain. Never mind that some of the media immediately said that it was "almost as big" as the anti-nuclear marches of the early 1980s. That was just typical liberal-left bunkum. As a helpful police spokesman informed the Daily Telegraph, they used to claim half a million supporters every time they had a demonstration but, in reality, there were never more than 90-odd thousand people involved. So that's all right then.
This time they really were properly counted at a dozen points in the march and there were 280,000 people from every corner of England. Not a sign of Rent-a-Mob Inc.; no delegation from the Student's Union of Strathclyde, enjoying a day in London at the Union's expense; no "collective" of this, or "community" of that-these were whole villages that descended on the capital, leaving just the Church Warden and the retired policeman to act as Home Guards whilst they were away.
And no, they were not all "toffs," red-faced aristos or landed gentry taking time off from grinding the faces of the workers. They were the ordinary people of Great Britain from every class, background and financial bracket. Many had their dogs, even more had their children and, as on all the other occasions when the people of England get together-such as the Royal weddings and other serious State occasions-there wasn't so much as a flower trampled in the immaculate beds of the different parks they travelled by or through. As we passed down the Strand, crossed Trafalgar Square and walked up Pall Mall, all the posh clubs of St. James' had members on their balconies toasting us; the ordinary Pubs, filled to capacity with Londoners and overflowing onto the pavements, raised a cheer and shouted "Good Hunting brothers!"
Good Heavens! In that one phrase, which I heard many times, was packed a very precis of an anti-politically-correct cannon. Hunting-commended; brothers hailed with no separate category for our disaffected sisters; the implicit assertion of a blood relation between the people on the march. Tradition, sexism and racism all in one phrase! It was enough to make all those who have laboured for a generation to make us disdain and renounce all such sentiments despair.
First of all, therefore, what was the march for? And secondly-what does it mean in terms of the sort of thing which might interest Human Life Review readers? The first answer here is fairly straightforward and factual. Our present New Labour government gives the impression of two boys fighting under a blanket. That is to say, it is not socialist and has done many things so "right-wing" that Mrs. Thatcher would not have dared to try them; like introducing University fees, for example and sending home illegal immigrants. On the other hand, elements of the "Old Guard," class warriors of the old Labour Party, are still heaving about under the umbrageous tegument of the blanket coverage which accompanies everything they do. It was no doubt as a harmless sop to these mediocrities that the government decided to allow one of them to test public opinion on the matter of fox hunting. They found that, when asked, most people said they did not like it.
Fair enough; no doubt they would have found the same majority against arranged marriages; an even larger number who disapproved of circumcision, and an overwhelming majority who were absolutely outraged that Muslims are permitted to slaughter animals for their Hala meal without stunning them first. Furthermore most people, when asked, say that they disapprove of homosexual behaviour. So what?
It has long been our tradition that minorities are not coerced into doing what the majority happens to favour, unless they are doing something criminal, which hunting animals is not. However, for the purpose of throwing this titbit of class envy to the dogs of egalitarianism, members of the government all went into "democratic" mode and pretended that what the people wanted, they must get. …