Jenrick vs the fare-dodgers

Robert Jenrick did not break the law. He did not assault anyone. He did not incite violence. What he did was far more offensive to Britain’s institutional class: he acted.

The former immigration minister turned Shadow Justice Secretary filmed himself confronting fare-dodgers at Stratford Tube station, one of whom allegedly threatened him with a knife. The footage is uncomfortable. It's meant to be. Jenrick, casually dressed and direct tone, demands the young men explain why they're jumping barriers. They laugh, ignore him, walk on.

Within hours, the backlash came. The Guardian branded it "vigilantism." The TSSA rail union declared it "dangerous." On social media, the liberal commentariat wrung their hands. How dare a politician intervene? How irresponsible to highlight lawbreaking on camera! How embarrassing to suggest personal agency still matters!

But Jenrick's real offence was more fundamental: he violated the central orthodoxy of progressive governance—that only credentialed authorities can uphold order, and only on terms approved by the cultural elite. In this worldview, the fare-dodger is not a petty criminal but a victim of circumstance. Policing him is suspect. Confronting him is inflammatory. Filming him is unforgivable.

The reaction is instructive. It tells us who today’s press and public servants fear more: the fare-dodger or the man who points at him and says, "Stop."

It is now considered indecorous to expect consequences. TfL loses an estimated £130 million a year to fare evasion, yet the idea of an elected official doing anything beyond issuing statements is treated as dangerous theatre. Meanwhile, the public stews in frustration. They see what Jenrick sees: a culture of official paralysis, where disorder is normalised and dissent pathologised.

Was the video political? Of course. But politics is not the problem here, cowardice is. Jenrick named the decay, showed it and did what our institutions increasingly refuse to do: draw a moral line.

In Britain today, it is safer to let things rot quietly than to be seen intervening. That is the scandal. Not Jenrick. Not the video. The silence. He didn’t solve anything. But he said what needed saying. And for that, he must be punished.