There are many things in modern Britain that I have absolutely no objection to arguing about.
Immigration? Crack on.
Asylum policy? Debate away.
Border control? Have at it.
The Government? Knock yourselves out. They’ve been arguing about themselves for years.
But the RNLI?
Really?
Have we really reached the point where people think it is perfectly acceptable to intimidate, threaten and abuse volunteer lifeboat crews because they don’t like the Government’s immigration policy?
Because, frankly, if that’s where we’ve got to, we’ve taken a rather spectacular wrong turn somewhere.
The RNLI is not the Home Office
Let’s get something painfully simple out of the way.
The Royal National Lifeboat Institution is a lifeboat service.
It isn’t the Home Office.
It isn’t Border Force.
It doesn’t make immigration policy.
It doesn’t decide who is allowed into Britain.
It doesn’t organise Channel crossings.
It doesn’t put people into dinghies.
And it certainly doesn’t write the laws governing asylum.
Its volunteers do something considerably simpler.
When somebody is in danger of drowning, they go and get them.
That’s it.
That’s the job.
And they’ve been doing it for more than 200 years.
Yet following the recent arrival of a large dinghy off Portsmouth, RNLI volunteers found themselves being called “traitors”, having their names and photographs circulated online and being subjected to abuse and threats. Police have become involved in protecting RNLI staff, volunteers and facilities.
The Portsmouth lifeboat station was subsequently temporarily closed because of safety concerns.
Just let that sink in.
A lifeboat station had to close because people were threatening the people who operate the lifeboats.
You couldn’t make it up.
If somebody had written that as the plot of a particularly stupid episode of The Thick of It, we’d complain that it wasn’t believable.
“But they’re migrants!”
Yes. And?
If somebody is drowning, does the lifeboat crew first ask for their passport?
“Excuse me, sir. Before we pull you out of the water, could you just clarify whether you have the appropriate visa?”
Of course they bloody don’t.
The RNLI has never operated on the principle that some people are sufficiently deserving to be rescued and others aren’t.
Imagine the alternative.
A fisherman falls overboard.
“Sorry mate, we’ve checked your tax returns and you’re not getting a lifeboat.”
A holidaymaker gets caught in a rip current.
“Hang on. Did you read the beach safety notice before entering the water?”
A drunk idiot goes swimming at 2am.
“Well, frankly, this is your own fault. Best of luck.”
No.
You rescue them.
Because that’s what a rescue service does.
And here’s the really important bit
The RNLI isn’t even deciding where these people are going.
HM Coastguard tasks rescue services when people are in danger at sea. The RNLI’s job is to respond to people who need rescuing.
The charity says only 1.2% of its lifeboat rescues in 2025 involved Channel crossings.
One point two per cent.
So apparently Britain’s great lifeboat conspiracy involves an organisation whose overwhelming majority of rescue work has absolutely nothing to do with immigration.
Perhaps somebody should tell the people waving placards outside the lifeboat stations.
And then we get to the “taxi service” nonsense
This description has been thrown around by protesters.
A taxi service.
Really?
I’ve seen some bloody expensive taxis in my time, but I don’t remember many of them having volunteer crews prepared to go charging out into dangerous seas at short notice.
Nor do I recall Uber requiring its drivers to train for maritime search and rescue.
The accusation fundamentally confuses rescuing somebody from danger with putting somebody into danger in the first place.
Those are not the same thing.
If smugglers are putting people into dangerously overcrowded boats, prosecute the smugglers.
If immigration policy isn’t working, change the policy.
If the Government isn’t controlling the border properly, hold the Government to account.
If Parliament needs to change the law, change the law.
There are lots of perfectly legitimate targets for political anger.
The bloke volunteering at the lifeboat station isn’t one of them.
And what sort of person targets a volunteer?
This is the bit I find particularly difficult to get my head around.
These aren’t politicians.
They haven’t stood for election.
They haven’t written the asylum laws.
They aren’t sitting in Whitehall making decisions about migration.
They’re volunteers.
People who give up their time.
People who can be called out at ridiculous hours.
People who climb into a bloody great orange boat when most of us would quite sensibly be thinking, “Blimey, it’s a bit rough out there — perhaps I’ll stay indoors.”
The RNLI says its volunteers and staff have been subjected to online and, in some cases, physical abuse. Volunteers have been advised that they should consider not wearing RNLI-branded clothing if they believe doing so could put them at risk.
Think about the insanity of that.
A lifeboat volunteer being advised to hide the fact that they’re a lifeboat volunteer for their own safety.
What happened to us?
And now even the supporters are being dragged into it
As if abusing volunteers wasn’t bad enough, the RNLI has also warned supporters that personal information may have been compromised following a cyber-security incident involving a third-party supplier.
The information potentially affected includes names, contact details and records of interactions with the charity. The RNLI says there is currently no evidence that the information has been misused, published or sold.
That incident is not being presented as proof that the RNLI was specifically targeted by the people protesting against it — and we shouldn’t pretend otherwise.
But the timing certainly makes the whole episode feel even more unpleasant.
And the people who have been targeted aren’t just faceless “the RNLI”.
They’re ordinary supporters.
People who put a few quid into a collection box.
People who buy Christmas cards.
People who stick an RNLI sticker on the car.
People who think that saving drowning human beings is probably a worthwhile thing to support.
But here’s the funny thing
The attempt to intimidate the RNLI appears to have produced rather the opposite effect from what some protesters wanted.
The charity reported a significant increase in donations following the attacks, alongside new supporters joining.
Which is rather wonderful.
Because if the idea was:
“Let’s frighten people into stopping their support for the lifeboats,”
a lot of people seem to have responded:
“Actually, I’ll stick another tenner in the pot.”
Good.
Very good.
You don’t have to support immigration to support the RNLI
This really shouldn’t need saying, but apparently it does.
You can think Britain accepts too many asylum seekers.
You can think the Channel crossings should be stopped.
You can think the Government’s immigration policy is a complete mess.
You can want stronger border controls.
You can want people who don’t qualify for asylum to be removed.
You can campaign, protest, write to your MP, demonstrate and shout at the television until the neighbours complain.
All perfectly legitimate political arguments.
But none of that requires you to threaten a lifeboat crew.
Indeed, I’d argue that keeping those two things separate is one of the basic requirements of living in a civilised country.
Britain has always had a rather simple rule at sea
When somebody is in trouble, you help them.
That’s not some fashionable new ideology.
That’s not “woke”.
That’s not a conspiracy.
That’s not a political manifesto.
It’s an old-fashioned bit of British decency.
You don’t leave somebody drowning because you don’t approve of how they ended up in the water.
And thank goodness for that.
Because one day it might be you in the water.
Or me.
Or your wife.
Or your husband.
Or your son.
Or your daughter.
And when that happens, I rather hope the person steering the lifeboat isn’t standing there wondering whether we’re politically acceptable victims.
I hope they simply come and get us.
So here’s my message
Argue about immigration.
Argue about borders.
Argue about asylum.
Argue about the Government.
Argue about smugglers.
Argue about anything you bloody well like.
But leave the lifeboat crews alone.
Don’t photograph them.
Don’t publish their names.
Don’t hunt down their homes.
Don’t threaten their families.
Don’t intimidate their volunteers.
Don’t close their stations.
And, above all, don’t call them traitors for doing the job they’ve volunteered to do.
If you think the immigration system is broken, go and shout at the politicians who run it.
Don’t shout at the people who pull drowning human beings out of the sea.
Because there is something deeply pathetic about attacking the lifeboat after you’ve failed to stop the boat.
And there is something even more pathetic about attacking the people who came to save the people in it.
Britain can argue about almost anything.
We probably will.
It’s what we do.
But surely, just surely, there ought to be one thing left that we can agree on.
When somebody is drowning—
send the bloody lifeboat.