Russell Brand's transatlantic trial

New Statesman​

3 days ago

Photo byThere are two Russell Brands. One, the British comedian with a cockney lilt and spidery limbs; he cracks wise on Never Mind the Buzzcocks in 2011, a gothic jester; he organises anti-austerity protests and routs Jeremy Paxman on Newsnight; he's terribly concerned about the bankers, the bonuses, the bankers..; he guest edited an issue of this magazine in 2013.
The other is his more recent incarnation. A stint in Hollywood – Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Get Him to the Greek – preceded the transformation of this left-populist raconteur into a new-age guru. His concerns about the bankers never went away, but were turbo-charged with new anxieties: mainstream media, the Great Reset, vaccine injuries, the lying political establishment. A predictable Pokemon evolution for a man, already distrustful of authority, implanting himself into the ecosystem of a nascent New American Right.
Both Brands sat in the dock in Southwark Crown Court at 1030am on 30 May – black shirt unbuttoned below the sternum, jeans as skinny as they were in 2008, the customary ombre-lensed aviators in hand – and pleaded not guilty to five charges of rape, sexual assault and indecent assault. Two of the incidents were alleged to have taken place at the MTV offices and Labour party conference, between 1999 and 2005. On the day he was charged he wrote 'I've never engaged in non-consensual activity… I'm now going to have an opportunity to defend these charges in court, and I'm incredibly grateful for that.' Brand, 49, will go to trial on 3 June 2026.
Brand has long been shorthand for something much bigger than himself: once, a symbol for the excesses of noughties television; more recently, evidence of the right's quest for spirituality; now, the impassable gulf between the American right and establishment Britain.
On 2 May, when Brand first appeared in Westminster Magistrates' Court, Tucker Carlson wrote: 'The entire case is transparently political and absurd… He has no shot at a fair trial, because Britain is no longer a free country.' In the same post Carlson contended that the once 'famous leftwing actor' was being penalised – via rape allegations – for criticising the government ('for using Covid to turn the UK into a totalitarian state').
That sounds familiar. During last year's summer riots America looked on and saw not just tensions spill out onto British streets, but an overweening state happily locking people up for tweeting in response. Senator Ted Cruz suggested 'nanny-state totalitarians' were destroying Britain. Elon Musk couldn't stop posting about Keir Starmer's 'Woke Stasi'. The basic line that the MAGA right have taken on Britain is that it is over: overwhelmed by demographic change, overlorded by left-wing petty tyrants, overcome by contradictions that are no longer possible to hide or wish away. To them, Brand is just another political prisoner.
And so, in Britain Brand sits as a faded rockstar – a once sexy Marxist with one foot in the establishment – diminished as he runs to his shed in Oxford to prepare for an immense legal showdown. And in the imagination of the American right he sits behind the glass staring at the judge in Court 2 as a victim of an authoritarian state that imprisons people for much less than what he is accused of; a standard bearer for their worst suspicions about Labour's Britain; a martyr who handily already looks a lot like a bad picture of Jesus you might find in a Tennessee Sunday school.
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Outside court there was a man I recognised from Brand's first court appearance – his green Krispy Kreme bucket hat and pink trainers made him hard to miss. There were a throng of confused spectating tourists too, stalled by the press pack. If there were fans present they made little attempt to reveal themselves. And so Brand walked through the crowd – flanked by a small entourage – and got in the car, in silence. Cognisant, you must imagine, that his friends are very far away.
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