Coming from the perspective of a former disability champion, some people may be surprised that I do not believe the idea of cancelling the upcoming appearance by Katie Hopkins would be the right response.
Not because I agree with her views. In many cases I profoundly disagree with them. But because I increasingly believe that the instinct to cancel and shut down debate is feeding the very outrage machine that allows figures like this to thrive.
When Guernsey began developing its anti-discrimination framework, we spent a great deal of time examining the most effective models from elsewhere. One of the most influential approaches was the social model of disability, which shifts the focus away from ‘fixing’ individuals and instead looks at how the environment can change to become more accessible. When the environment is designed well, everyone benefits.
A key pillar of that strategy was raising awareness. But it was always recognised that awareness alone would not be enough. Legislation was needed to set the direction of travel and provide a framework that protects people from discrimination.
That work was not long ago. Yet in a very short time the wider cultural landscape has shifted dramatically.
Across social media and parts of the commentariat, outrage has become a commodity. Some commentators now actively feed that outrage. Words and ideas that even five years ago would have been widely recognised as socially unacceptable are now repackaged as ‘comedy’ or ‘free speech’, used to whip up audiences who relish the chance to say out loud what they once kept to themselves.
My instinct, like many people’s, was outrage and disgust at seeing marginalised communities used as scapegoats. But over time it has become increasingly clear that cancelling events or shutting down debate can have the opposite effect. It fuels the sense among many people that they are being silenced, and it energises those who build their careers on provoking that reaction.
Anyone who has belonged to a marginalised group understands the burden of being othered. As a woman in public life, I have often felt the resistance that can exist simply to your presence. It is tiring. It requires constant resilience.
But we also need to acknowledge something else that has happened in recent years.
In trying to explain structural inequality, we began identifying and naming privilege. Often this was framed around the idea of the white, middle-aged man for whom the world had historically been built. The intention was to highlight structural advantages and move society toward a more equal footing.
Yet for many people whose lives have been marked by economic hardship or insecurity, hearing themselves described primarily as ‘privileged’ can feel like another form of dismissal. For those who have struggled simply to make ends meet, the language of privilege sometimes lands not as an explanation of systems but as a judgement on their own lived experience.
It should not surprise us, therefore, that figures like Hopkins find an eager audience. For some people, listening to these voices provides a sense of relief. They feel able to express frustrations that, until recently, they felt they had to keep to themselves.
It is important to say clearly that some of the language used in these debates can be deeply hurtful. For people whose identities are frequently questioned or mocked in public discourse, the impact is not theoretical. Words can reinforce exclusion and deepen the sense of being treated as ‘other’, and a mature society should never dismiss that reality.
But recognising harm does not mean we must abandon open debate.
The difficult question is how we respond. What about those communities who have genuinely never experienced privilege? Those who continue to face discrimination and exclusion in their daily lives? How do we ensure their dignity and inclusion remain central to the society we are trying to build?
The answer, I believe, is not to retreat into the politics of cancellation or outrage.
If anything, we need to rediscover the lesson embedded in the social model of disability. Real progress comes not from silencing individuals but from changing the environment in which we all live.
The challenge is how we respond when speech provokes outrage. Our instinct is often to shut it down, to meet aggression with more aggression, or to silence the voices that anger us. Yet experience increasingly suggests that this approach rarely changes minds. If anything, it hardens positions and deepens division.
None of this means accepting hurtful language or abandoning the goal of a more inclusive society. The work of building fairer institutions and widening participation remains essential.
But if attitudes are to change, we must also remain willing to listen, even when what we hear is uncomfortable. People rarely reconsider their views when they feel attacked or dismissed.
I do not pretend to have a perfect answer to these tensions. But meeting outrage with more outrage will not resolve them. If we want fewer people to feel treated as ‘other’, we will need the patience to keep talking, even when the conversation is difficult.
