There is something uniquely British about Brian Haw, the man who left his home to camp outside parliament in protest at our foreign policy in 2001.
His continued success in a David and Goliath struggle against the most senior politicians and lawyers in the land carries with it all the underdog qualities Brits love. And the quiet, eccentric nature of his protest also has a peculiarly British charm.
A succession of extremely powerful men has tried to end his campaign, but he survived. It's now David Cameron's turn, after an interview with Sky News saw him lambaste the protestor. The Tory leader made clear any future government under his leadership would try to end his protest.
Haw has survived before, of course, and he may well survive again. A law passed specifically to deal with him by David Blunkett - home secretary at the time - succeeded in banning unauthorised protests in Westminster, but failed to deal with Haw himself. His protest began before the law was formed, a judge found, and applying it to him would be retrospective.
The case gave several reasons to pause for thought. Firstly, it was interesting that the government believed it had the right to authorise protests anywhere - in actual fact we, the public, authorise the government to exist, not the other way round. And secondly, because even as ministers were establishing this appalling limitation on our freedom they were too incompetent to achieve their primary objective - removing Haw. And that was because they had laughably overlooked one of the primary principles of British law. It was merely another piece of evidence in the increasingly convincing argument that Britain is saved from being a police state by the incompetence of its rulers.
Westminster City Council then failed in its attempts to have Haw removed, as did the Greater London Authority, which said its objections centred around the fact homeless people could sleep in the tents. But Haw's Worcestershire stubbornness overruled their bureaucratic manoeuvring.
The arguments against Haw's presence are rarely coherent. They usually centre on the personal or the aesthetic. Blunkett, for instance, admitted he was passing a law radically affecting British freedom simply because Haw was making too much noise. It's like using a "hammer to crack a nut", he confessed, but added that Haw was "a nut" that had "caused total havoc".
This personal attack varied somewhat from the usual tactic, which is to complain of the effect Haw's protest (and those of the people who regularly join him) has on the touristy beauty of Parliament Square. Cameron's quote is the ideal, mixed-up example. Here it is in its entirety: "I am all in favour of free speech and the right to demonstrate and the right to protest. But I think there are moments when our Parliament Square does look like a pretty poor place, with shanty town tents and the rest of it. I am all for demonstrations, but my argument is 'enough is enough'."
The argument is preposterous. Neatness has nothing to do with freedom of speech, which is intrinsically messy. Attacking a protest on the grounds of its messiness is like attacking a restaurant for the fact you later had to go to the toilet. It's a necessary side-effect. Dictatorships, on the other hand, are very tidy. Take this, from Britain's former ambassador in Uzbekistan, Craig Murray: "Totalitarian dictatorships are generally extremely tidy places. In Uzbekistan, even with major massacres, the streets are sluiced down within a few hours, bullet holes filled in, walls repainted, new flower beds instantly in bloom. There is never any litter, nothing out of place."
Freedom of speech causes mess on the streets through protests, for instance, or the odd, unruly gathering of people that is Speaker's Corner. But it is also messy in its social and political effects. People get upset or angry, others are offended, others form groups which are opposed to democracy and society has to decide whether their presence confirms freedom or is a threat to it. Freedom of speech is innately chaotic. The clue is in the phrase.
When I pass by Haw's small protest, I feel a great swell of pride, especially when I see the bemused looks of tourists and passers-by. 'This is what democracy looks like,' I think to myself, and I hope they will go home to their countries and tell their families how chaotic and free Britain is.
To base an argument calling for the limitation of someone's freedom on a different issue, like tidiness, is wholly unacceptable. The only legitimate reason to take away someone's freedom is if it hinders the freedom of others. But purely on the basis of competing freedoms, there is no argument to remove Haw. There is no time limit on freedom. There is no geographic limit on freedom, as long as you are in a public space. There is no noise limit on freedoms, as long as it is within safe levels. There is no single political principle one could apply which would legitimately conclude Haw should be removed. There is only the fact that powerful men are irritated by him.
That is not enough. Brian Haw is a great Briton. He should be left to protest in front of the mother of parliaments because that's what Britain means: democracy inside the palace of Westminster, democracy outside the palace of Westminster.
Right now we have precious little of either. The Tory leader's decision to denounce Haw is a telling sign his incoming government will fail to change that fact.
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