THE TIMING could not be more grotesquely perfect.
Just as ThinkScotland published my piece Scotland 2025: The End of Delusion, The Start of Recovery, a document exposing the moral bankruptcy of a regime that governs by euphemism and spin, the Daily Telegraph revealed how Whitehall had conceived its latest innovation in self-parody – the National Internet Intelligence Investigations Team.
The name alone sounds like something brainstormed during a paranoid ayahuasca retreat in Whitehall. Its mission? Not to stop crime. Not to intercept terrorists. Not even to target incitement. No, the brave new frontier is sentiment. Thoughts. Feelings. A flicker of unease expressed in the wrong tone. The heresy of noticing.
They call it NIIIT. Fitting, since it already resembles a head louse – parasitic, irritating, and burrowed where it is not wanted.
Policing dissent, not disorder
While towns like Epping and Diss – hardly hotbeds of extremism – are out on the streets in peaceful protest against mass hotel requisitioning, the state’s response is not to restore order or fix policy but to install emotional perimeter fencing.
It’s like being mugged in the street while the police form a taskforce to arrest your facial expression.
Ordinary parents voicing concerns for their children, decent citizens wondering why promises on immigration are broken year after year these are the people now treated as suspect. As Paul Embery observed, when these kinds of towns rebel, it’s not a fringe problem. It is a mainstream electorate reaching its breaking point.
But the state cannot admit that. So instead of listening, it sends in the Thought Police.
Bureaucrats as blasphemy hunters
Angela Rayner muttered something last week about “real concerns.” Yes, Angela, there are real concerns. Rising crime, cultural alienation, unaffordable housing, and a collapse in democratic legitimacy. And yet, in place of answers, we get Sentiment Surveillance Squads with Twitter logins and a direct line to HR.
It’s not radicalisation that frightens the State. It’s recognition that the people have noticed the con. The scandal isn’t what citizens are posting. It’s that so many are seeing through the pantomime of “inclusion” used to silence ordinary alarm.
Chris Philp put it bluntly: “Starmer can’t police the streets, so now he’s trying to police opinions.” If this regime had any more contempt for its citizens, it would require us to pre-submit our thoughts to a local diversity czar before posting them.
Pandemic panic, permanent infrastructure
This isn’t new. It’s the bastard child of the Covid disinformation units, those strange years when “following the science” somehow meant silencing the scientists who asked the wrong questions. We built infrastructure not for resilience, but for repression. And now it has found a new mandate – making sentiment itself a crime.
The joke that isn’t funny
Orwell would laugh, then cry. The local police station may be boarded up, but somewhere in Whitehall a civil servant is scrolling your posts from 2018 with a lanyard and a latte.
Meanwhile, real victims wait:
- The girls are unsafe in their school loos.
- The shopkeepers no longer bother reporting crime.
- Women are told their trauma offends inclusion.
These voices are not protected. They are surveilled.
This isn’t safety. It’s superstition with software.
Reality always wins
But here is the weakness in their project: reality always has the final vote. The British people are not cruel or hateful. But they are tired, tired of being lied to, tired of being managed, tired of being told that noticing problems is itself a problem.
You can monitor sentiment, but you cannot erase it. You can file away dissent, but you cannot cancel reality.
The truth is simple: a regime that fears its own people is already losing them.
History never applauds the censor. It mocks him. And it remembers the moment he tried to turn democracy into a crime scene.
Because once delusion ends, recovery begins. And the people of Britain are already on their way.
Photo by HudHudPro via Adobe Stock
