Harvey Proctor is Private Secretary to the Duke of Rutland and was a Conservative MP from 1979 to 1987
On the 30th November, I had the honour of returning to the University of York, my alma mater, to speak at the Conservative and Unionist Association’s Christmas Ball alongside Dr David Starkey. Starkey and I share a unique distinction: we have survived being cancelled. Cancel culture sought to silence us, but ideas, unlike reputations, cannot be extinguished.
Cancel culture, though treated as a contemporary phenomenon, is not new. Throughout my political career, I have faced everything from protests and bans to physical attacks. In 1987, the ultimate cancellation came when a vengeful Robert Maxwell destroyed my parliamentary career. But like so many others who have been vilified, I found my voice again.
The essence of free speech lies in its capacity to challenge, provoke, and confront ideas we may fundamentally oppose. Without this, society stagnates. Universities, such as York, must remain bastions of open discourse, offering platforms for the contentious and the unconventional. To silence dissent is to hinder progress.
Cancel culture was once an exclusive club, reserved for the few who dared to challenge the prevailing orthodoxy. Today, however, its reach has expanded, ensnaring an ever-growing number of individuals from all walks of life.
While this may seem like a sign of rising intolerance, it is also a testament to the growing number of people willing to question the status quo. Each new voice silenced reveals a larger undercurrent of dissent, a refusal to conform to the narrow confines of acceptable opinion. This proliferation of “cancelled” voices is, paradoxically, a powerful signal that more individuals are embracing their right to challenge societal norms, refusing to bow to the tyranny of consensus.
Freedom is not freedom from want, discomfort, fear, or mistakes – it is the unyielding ability to decide for oneself. Yet freedom inherently includes the right to be wrong. A society that eliminates the capacity for error strips its people of their autonomy. History teaches us that progress arises from debate, even when voices clash.
The same holds true for cancel culture. To some, it is justice; to others, it is censorship cloaked in morality. Its roots stretch deep into history, whether in the form of protests against “unacceptable” ideas, behaviour or institutional bans on controversial figures. But today, its reach is more insidious, amplified by social media and driven by ideological rigidity.
Margaret Thatcher, often mischaracterised as a feminist, understood the folly of identity politics long before it became a dominant force. She rejected the notion of special treatment based on gender, when it was out to her that “they don’t seem to make any concession to the fact that you’re a woman”, she said, “I don’t make any concession to the fact that they’re men.” Her success was proof that ideas and character – not labels – define an individual.
Today, feminism, once a noble movement for equality, is often marred by a strain of misandry that seeks to silence men simply for existing. This is but one example of how modern discourse has regressed into tribalism, where guilt and virtue are ascribed based on identity rather than action.
Cancel culture embodies this regression. It weaponises shame and exclusion to suppress dissenting voices, particularly those of white men branded as beneficiaries of “white privilege.” But privilege cannot negate truth, nor does identity determine the value of one’s ideas.
As a nation, we face an urgent need to protect and promote freedom of speech. The Conservative and Unionist Party, once a bastion of intellectual debate under Thatcher, must reclaim its role as the defender of free thought. Universities, long the breeding ground for ideas that shape the future, are critical battlegrounds in this fight.
Standing up against cancel culture is not easy. I have lived through the personal agony of silence and the trials of speaking out. Silence, though often tempting, is a form of complicity. As I have said to students at universities where I have been kindly invited to speak, you are the future leaders, you must challenge injustice, not from the safety of conformity but from the courage of conviction.
As Nelson Mandela once said: “As long as injustice and gross inequality persist in our world, none of us can truly rest.” My own fight for justice and accountability will continue until my last breath.
True progress demands dissent. True freedom demands courage. Without these, we risk losing the very essence of what makes us human.
Harvey Proctor is Private Secretary to the Duke of Rutland and was a Conservative MP from 1979 to 1987
On the 30th November, I had the honour of returning to the University of York, my alma mater, to speak at the Conservative and Unionist Association’s Christmas Ball alongside Dr David Starkey. Starkey and I share a unique distinction: we have survived being cancelled. Cancel culture sought to silence us, but ideas, unlike reputations, cannot be extinguished.
Cancel culture, though treated as a contemporary phenomenon, is not new. Throughout my political career, I have faced everything from protests and bans to physical attacks. In 1987, the ultimate cancellation came when a vengeful Robert Maxwell destroyed my parliamentary career. But like so many others who have been vilified, I found my voice again.
The essence of free speech lies in its capacity to challenge, provoke, and confront ideas we may fundamentally oppose. Without this, society stagnates. Universities, such as York, must remain bastions of open discourse, offering platforms for the contentious and the unconventional. To silence dissent is to hinder progress.
Cancel culture was once an exclusive club, reserved for the few who dared to challenge the prevailing orthodoxy. Today, however, its reach has expanded, ensnaring an ever-growing number of individuals from all walks of life.
While this may seem like a sign of rising intolerance, it is also a testament to the growing number of people willing to question the status quo. Each new voice silenced reveals a larger undercurrent of dissent, a refusal to conform to the narrow confines of acceptable opinion. This proliferation of “cancelled” voices is, paradoxically, a powerful signal that more individuals are embracing their right to challenge societal norms, refusing to bow to the tyranny of consensus.
Freedom is not freedom from want, discomfort, fear, or mistakes – it is the unyielding ability to decide for oneself. Yet freedom inherently includes the right to be wrong. A society that eliminates the capacity for error strips its people of their autonomy. History teaches us that progress arises from debate, even when voices clash.
The same holds true for cancel culture. To some, it is justice; to others, it is censorship cloaked in morality. Its roots stretch deep into history, whether in the form of protests against “unacceptable” ideas, behaviour or institutional bans on controversial figures. But today, its reach is more insidious, amplified by social media and driven by ideological rigidity.
Margaret Thatcher, often mischaracterised as a feminist, understood the folly of identity politics long before it became a dominant force. She rejected the notion of special treatment based on gender, when it was out to her that “they don’t seem to make any concession to the fact that you’re a woman”, she said, “I don’t make any concession to the fact that they’re men.” Her success was proof that ideas and character – not labels – define an individual.
Today, feminism, once a noble movement for equality, is often marred by a strain of misandry that seeks to silence men simply for existing. This is but one example of how modern discourse has regressed into tribalism, where guilt and virtue are ascribed based on identity rather than action.
Cancel culture embodies this regression. It weaponises shame and exclusion to suppress dissenting voices, particularly those of white men branded as beneficiaries of “white privilege.” But privilege cannot negate truth, nor does identity determine the value of one’s ideas.
As a nation, we face an urgent need to protect and promote freedom of speech. The Conservative and Unionist Party, once a bastion of intellectual debate under Thatcher, must reclaim its role as the defender of free thought. Universities, long the breeding ground for ideas that shape the future, are critical battlegrounds in this fight.
Standing up against cancel culture is not easy. I have lived through the personal agony of silence and the trials of speaking out. Silence, though often tempting, is a form of complicity. As I have said to students at universities where I have been kindly invited to speak, you are the future leaders, you must challenge injustice, not from the safety of conformity but from the courage of conviction.
As Nelson Mandela once said: “As long as injustice and gross inequality persist in our world, none of us can truly rest.” My own fight for justice and accountability will continue until my last breath.
True progress demands dissent. True freedom demands courage. Without these, we risk losing the very essence of what makes us human.