This is a summary of an interview I had with Peter Hitchens, the Conservative author and The Mail journalist, at the start of the year. It was something of a car crash, which is why I chose to shelve it and pretend it never happened. The interview was empty, providing little to no new information, and left me with grappling with a feeling of failure. Self-pity is never a good look, especially when there’s no one else at fault. After sitting on the transcript for a while, I thought this failure might be of some interest to other students. I also felt I owed it to Peter to publish something, though I’m sure the final product will not please him. You can treat this as something of a guide on how not to conduct an interview, especially if you find yourself in dialogue with someone as cantankerous as Peter. So, rather than the professional, well-crafted article I had anticipated, here is what actually happened.
The interview, if I can even call it that, lasted a little over thirty minutes. I had hoped, in my naivety, that the conversation would provoke a compelling debate. After all, Peter is many things, but boring certainly isn’t one of them. Being a student of public policy, I thought it would be interesting to discuss some of his views on education and policing. I had read through his most famous book The Abolition of Britain, followed by The War We Never Fought. I had also been following his Twitter feed and had watched a dozen or so of his interviews. I had made my notes. I was prepared. Or so I thought.
The tone was set almost immediately. I began by introducing myself, telling him a little about what I wanted from the conversation and how I thought his views would perhaps be of interest to other students of public policy at the LSE, if not the wider student body. He cut me off halfway through this preamble, stating that I already had his attention and that he’d rather just get on with it. If he was unhappy with where the conversation was going, he’d let me know. Fine.
Following this, in a misguided attempt to get Peter to like me, I mentioned the incessant hate he receives on social media and his unyielding resilience in the face of such attacks. I thought by complimenting his character I could at least get him on my side. At the time of the interview he had found himself at the heart of a Twitter storm, the result of a controversial article he had published in his weekly column for The Mail on Sunday. Peter seemed surprisingly untroubled. Business as usual, I suppose. I realised quickly that he has no use for flattery.
Picking up on this misstep, I lead the conversation to education more broadly. We discussed the current state of education, something which he believes is in decline. We then discussed his rescinded invitation to speak at Southampton University. Again, I gravitated towards a topic that ostensibly aggrandised his position as an honourable contrarian. There is a natural reaction one has when dealing with someone as combative and earnest as Peter, and that is to offer an olive branch. I became more interested in keeping the dialogue civil when I should have been challenging his views.
After a tirade against Southampton University, bemoaning his cancelled invitation, Peter makes it clear that these subjects bore him. He has argued his case for too long. He admits that people aren’t buying his books and that with the exception of one hefty advance, he’s never made all that much from his publications. This shouldn’t surprise anyone, as it is hard to imagine Peter doing anything merely for money or approval. In some ways he has given up on changing anyone’s mind. And yet, he keeps swinging.
After lingering on education for a while, I broached the subject of drugs. This is a topic on which Peter has very strong views, arguing that the war on drugs has never been attempted, addiction is a fantasy, and drug use should result in a prison sentence. I attempted to push him on these points, although he swatted them away as though it was a mild irritation.
I mentioned that I overheard two students talking in the LSE Library about smoking weed, to which he replied that he would be much happier hearing two students discussing a friend of theirs who had just been arrested for such a crime. I was hoping to use this anecdotal story to illustrate how common the use of cannabis is, and how pursuing the law to its fullest extent and locking up students may not be the best course of action. His conviction was astonishing. He assured me that if society starts enforcing its drug laws, fewer people will use cannabis. Perhaps a few students locked up is acceptable collateral in the pursuit of a drugless society.
He concluded by telling me that he is done writing books. He then rails against Britain, delivering what anyone who is familiar with his work is the usual put down. He proclaimed: “I’ve never seen a country more finished.” Peter is, it would seem, Britain’s obituarist.
There was so much I wanted to say, and yet I failed to push back. However you feel about Peter, there is no denying he is a fantastic communicator. He is completely at home in debate, and his biggest annoyance was probably my inability to adequately challenge him. This left him bored.
Shortly after the conversation I sent Peter an email. I thanked him for his honesty. His abrasive attitude and complete dismissal of my ill-formed and uninspired questions was exactly what I needed. Having spent so much of my time in a university environment, receiving a reality check, a reminder of what it’s like out there in the real world, was a lesson I won’t soon forget. For that, I am very grateful for the experience. Those thirty minutes have proven to be very important for me.
