Baroness Fox of Buckley (Non-Afl)

It just gets worse and worse; that is all I can say. I want to know what procedures exist, or will exist, in any review to avoid vexatious complaints. How will the use of accusations, either in pursuit of vendettas or due simply to misinterpreting harmless personality clashes, be dealt with? Who decides what is actionable, and using what criteria? The definition of harassment in the code is arguably even more troubling. We are told that harassment “can be intentional or unintentional” and, again, that it depends on perception. There are some extraordinary quotes; I urge noble Lords to read them because they are frightening. It says: “A person may … be harassed even if they were not the intended ‘target’”. The example that made me gulp was that “a person may be harassed by jokes about a religious group that they do not belong to”. What on earth censorious identitarian doors does that open? Then there is—wait for it—this example: “Deliberately”—I do not know who decides on that— “holding meetings or social events in a location that is not accessible for an individual … by reason of religious prohibitions”. So, a get-together in a bar, which some practising Muslims will not want to attend, could be seen as harassment; that is the word used. Finally, the code refers to the use of “unacceptable or inappropriate language”—again, who decides what is unacceptable or inappropriate?— “or racial or other stereotypes (regardless of whether the complainant is in fact a member of the group stereotyped)”. Is this harassment? It insults the victims of proper harassment to say that. Using a recent controversy, perhaps I can claim harassment here. I heard one noble Baroness call a member of the public a “coconut”, which I consider a racial slur. Well, it does not affect me, but I heard it. I am harassed, am I? I am certainly offended, but let me assure noble Lords that I do not need a code to say that; I will just argue back instead. It is a mistake to encourage people to police their conduct or language using an ever-prescriptive code. If anyone actually read this code and took it literally, or if it was heavily enforced, it would stifle frank and open debate and undermine us holding each other to account in public. Two of the seven Nolan principles denoting standards in public life are openness and honesty. What gives us the ability to be honest and open is not a bureaucratic code but an unapologetic commitment to free speech, so I am glad to see on page 6 of the code—I hope this will stay and be highlighted even more—a recognition of the primary consideration of the principle of free speech in parliamentary proceedings to allow Members to express their views fully and frankly. Hear, hear to that. I wonder how we all feel about a rather disappointing letter, not directly to do with the code but part of mission creep, that we were sent by the Chief Whips across all the parties in which we were asked to mind our language. At the start of the new term on 2 September, we were asked to ensure “debate that does not descend into vitriol … or use of rhetoric designed to offend and inflame”. I find that chilling, perhaps because I wrote a book entitled I Find That Offensive. I know that attempts to purge so-called offensive speech can be a less than subtle code for telling people “You can’t say that”. I want us to avoid reducing political rhetoric to carefully manicured, rehearsed lines from a sanitised script and instead stand up for what we believe to be right with passion and plain speaking. If that sounds vitriolic, so be it. To be honest, there are so many challenges in national and international politics at present that deserve our vitriol that maybe saying it out loud is the mark of honourable public service, far more evidently than following any code of conduct, which, broadly speaking, I would cut, cut and cut again.