If Paddington is all English values amount to, we're really in trouble

Yahoo

27-03-2025

Now look, I have nothing against Paddington Bear. But if I did, just hypothetically, would it change my moral standing in the world? Would it cast my failings in a new and sinister light? Would it indicate, even, a nascent treachery against the values of my country?
I submit, your honour, that it would not. And I put it to you, therefore, that the belovedness or otherwise of this fictional bear should have had no relevance in the case of the Crown versus Daniel Heath and William Lawrence.
These young men, both RAF engineers, spent the day at Newbury Races, in Berkshire, and emerged several sheets to the wind.
Walking back through town, they spotted a fibreglass model of Paddington Bear sitting on a bench, and – like all too many boozed-up blokes before them – felt moved by the spirit of vandalism. After much heaving, they managed to pull away the front half of the model and take it home to RAF Oldham, where it was later discovered hidden in Lawrence's car.
Both men pleaded guilty this week to criminal damage. Quite right too. But this somewhat dry, technical – you might say legalistic – term did not seem to satisfy the lawyers at Reading Magistrates Court. They wanted the court (and the press) to know just how offended they were by this particular offence.
'Paddington Bear is a beloved cultural icon with children and adults alike,' said judge Sam Goodze. 'He represents kindness, tolerance and acceptance in our society. His famous label attached to his duffel coat says, 'Please look after this bear.' Your actions were the antithesis of everything Paddington stands for.'
All of which, aside from being revoltingly twee, is either inaccurate or irrelevant. If criminal damage is the antithesis of anything, it is (at a stretch) civic conservation. But in any case, it's a crime, and that should be enough. Or is vandalism only to be deplored when it affects a 'beloved cultural icon'? If Heath and Lawrence had spray-painted an un-iconic wall, or smashed an un-beloved shop window, would that have been less reprehensible?
Jamie Renuka, the prosecuting barrister, seemed to feel that an attack on Paddington – or his fibreglass likeness, which was installed as part of a marketing campaign for the film Paddington in Peru – was an attack on us all. 'Paddington is a national treasure,' he opined. 'When you think about England, you think about two things: Paddington Bear and the Royal Family.'
Even if this somewhat depressing claim is true – in which case, hats off to the marketing team – what is its legal relevance? This was not, at least not officially, a trial for high treason.
I realise this is hardly the most important news story of our times. But it bothers me to see such saccharine populism deployed in a court room.
It bothers me to hear a judge anthropomorphise a fictional bear, describing the damaged statue as 'him'. It makes me worry that these legal professionals are just as foolish, sentimental and easily swayed as the rest of us.
The law is supposed to be evidence-based, dispassionate, clearly-defined. That's how you know you can trust it. And the people who dispense the law must demonstrate those qualities themselves. If they are to sit in judgment over us, they ought to be cleverer than us. Or at least pretend to be.
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