I was in the presence of evil
Description
When I received an e-mail from a podcaster contact of mine with the subject “debate Helen Webberley?” My first response was that this couldn’t be happening. Surely this rabid, extreme trans activist would not agree to a debate with someone who disagrees with every word she says on the topic? Why would she put herself in the firing line, I wondered?
But it was a genuine invitation. I said ‘yes’ and pinned down the date. It was perfect, because it was to take place in Liverpool around the time I needed to visit to do an interview, and I was already looking forward to seeing a good friend of mine for dinner prior to the debate. But of course, it didn’t work out that way: one of Webberley’s team (five strong - the podcaster told me that he had not once been in direct contact with her, but various of her “people”) subsequently informed us that the date was no longer suitable and suggested a single alternative.
The proposed new date could not have been more inconvenient. I was going to be in Yorkshire that weekend at a book festival, and would have to take two trains first thing in the morning to get to Liverpool, and then back for my evening event. But there was no way I was going to back down, suspecting it might be a ruse – a way for her to drop out without losing face. I agreed the date, went ahead and made the very complicated arrangements to get there, and sat back with dread.
Why did I agree to debate her? Since it became public that I was doing so, reactions have been split between two distinct camps. One set of people seemed to sit back, rubbing their hands with glee, posting popcorn and champagne emojis, and saying how much they were looking forward to this explosive entertainment. The other set asked earnestly how I could possibly give this woman the oxygen of publicity, claiming I would do more harm than good by legitimising her bonkers and dangerous views.
Helen Webberley, 2023
To the second camp, I would say that she obviously believes there is no such thing as bad publicity. As a journalist, I know this to be wrong. I knew she must have some product to sell, and I also knew that, in this instance, my considerable debating skills and knowledge on the topic would only help me so far – because it is impossible to debate with flat-earthers who belong to a cult, just as it would be impossible to debate religious fundamentalists.
Some people assumed I might be doing the debate in an attempt to get Webberley to change her mind. Not at all! There is absolutely no chance of that, and there’s also no way I would humiliate myself (or waste my time) trying for one second to appeal to their (non-existent) better judgement or even assume that their arguments are made in good faith. My faults are legion, but I’m not that stupid.
I wanted to hold her arguments up for scrutiny, to ask questions that she would have to at least attempt to answer. To expose her illogical lunatic rantings for what they are. To say things directly to her about the harm she has done, even if just for the children and their parents whose lives she has ruined. At no point did I think “What a pushover”. Somebody said to me, when I told her what I was doing, that it would be “like taking a flamethrower to tissue paper”. In fact the dread in the pit of my stomach, as I travelled to Liverpool through as Storm Celia’s raging wind, sleet and freezing conditions, felt like a lead balloon.
We were asked to arrive at the studio 30 minutes before recording, to make sure everyone was there in good time, so we could have a convivial chat to relax us all (!) and take instruction from Dan, the podcaster.
I arrived on time only to be told that Webberley’s PR person had texted to say that they were running late, enjoying a relaxing lunch nearby. Clearly a ploy. She didn’t want the convivial chat (neither did I) and wanted to put herself on the front foot from the offset. They arrived 10 minutes before kick-off, and it was all I could do to look her in the eye and say hello.
Some non-binary wazzock
The PR bloke announced himself as’ nonbinary’ without anyone asking. When we entered the studio, he came in and sat just out of c
United States
