Let us start here:
The BBC has officially declared its intention to no longer live broadcast so-called “high risk” performances — a thinly veiled policy to censor dissent, suppress uncomfortable truths, and ensure that politically charged, anti-establishment voices are sanitised or excluded altogether.
This comes in the wake of the broadcaster’s decision to air punk-rap duo Bob Vylan’s Glastonbury set, where the band led chants of “death to the IDF” — a direct denunciation of Israel’s military aggression. Rather than defend freedom of speech, the BBC quickly backpedalled, admitting it was a “mistake” to allow the performance to go out live, despite having already assessed it as “high risk.”
The corporation now claims it was an editorial failure not to cut the feed — a stunning admission that what truly disturbed them was not the possibility of harm, but the possibility of the public hearing unfiltered, spontaneous opposition to violent state power.
The BBC’s statement — filled with hollow platitudes about warnings and risk assessments — cannot hide the core issue: the broadcaster is tightening the noose around live, unscripted political dissent. This new policy is not about safety. It’s about control. It’s about protecting governments, militaries, and oppressive structures from public criticism that cannot be managed or delayed.
When powerful institutions are accused of crimes or systemic violence, the BBC has made it clear: those who shout too loudly, too directly, will now be shut out.
Bob Vylan, predictably mischaracterised in some circles, clarified that their chants were not a call for the death of any people — Jewish, Arab, or otherwise — but rather a call to dismantle violent military systems. “We have never been, and never will be, for the death of Jews, Arabs or any other race or group of people,” the duo stated. “We are for the dismantling of violent systems.”
But the BBC seems unwilling to differentiate between legitimate political critique and dangerous rhetoric, opting instead to erase any live platform where the truth about state violence might pierce through their carefully controlled narrative.
The band’s final point is telling: they have become “a distraction” — a media scapegoat — while the real conversation about military oppression, imperialism, and the cost of war is swiftly buried.
What the BBC’s decision ultimately reveals is this: live, unsanitised dissent is now deemed too dangerous for public consumption. Instead, the public will be fed a pre-approved, tightly managed version of events, scrubbed clean of the raw, disruptive voices who dare to tell the truth.
