They ought to do something about it

Do Mizzy's videos matters more than his crimes?

Every so often, I argue with my old man about politics. I like to keep this occurrence relatively rare, as something to be savoured like a fine wine. Overindulgence would breed contempt. Usually, when he’s running out of road, he declares that ‘they ought to do something about it.’ I always press him on this. Who is ‘they’’? What is the ‘something’ they ought do?

I wonder if it’s time to start asking MPs the same questions.

On Twitter yesterday, Parliamentary staffer Salman Anwar tweeted a catalogue of offences committed by the TikToker and Youtuber ‘Mizzy’ - also known as Bacari Ogarro – in the name of ‘content’. The thread contained examples of him stealing an old woman’s dog, open harassment of women in public spaces, destroying books in local libraries, threatening to punch people, entering people’s houses and cars and approaching women late at night on a train station platform, stroking their hair and asking them if they ‘want to die.’ These of course are not crimes but content, the actions not of a deeply maladjusted youth, but an influencer – presumably of the congenitally insane and irretrievably stupid.

The reaction to this catalogue of depravity from MPs was that someone ought to do something about it. That someone was they, and the something was the introduction of the Online Safety Bill. Labour MP Alex Davies-Jones tweeted that this ‘disturbing and upsetting’ content was ‘Yet another example of how we desperately need the Online Safety Bill to hold the social media platforms to account.’ Conservative MP Paul Scully quoted tweeted the most disturbing video (‘do you want to die?) reassuring the public that all would be ok, because ‘as soon as the Online safety bill goes the hosting of this video will be illegal.’ Scully did not hold back from calling for strident action, however, reminding Tiktok that they didn’t need to wait until then ‘to do the right thing.’

Leaving aside the actual necessity of the Online Safety Bill to more informed commentators, the reaction to the video raised questions around why MPs are more focussed on the platforms hosting this content rather than the content itself.

MPs are developing a reflexive tendency to reach for new laws; every year the statue book grows as MPs respond to the latest, gravest ill that has to be legislated out of existence. Often, MPs feel they have to be seen to be doing something; passing a new law is something, and therefore it must be done. It’s also easy to comprehend; when people tell them ‘they ought to do something about it’, answering ‘we’ve made it illegal’ is an easy answer.

But the problem is not that you can view these videos on Tiktok or Youtube. It is the fact that ‘Mizzy’ is committing crimes. The fact he is producing ‘content’ should be totally irrelevant, both to the law and to lawmakers; laws already exist to prevent this behaviour. Truth be told, I simply do not understand their mindset. I see the video of Mizzy approaching those women, I hear their terrified silence after he asks them if they want to die and my heart screams out to demand for justice, for them to be protected. It isn’t outraged at where the video is hosted, it is outraged at the very act. It is the content of the content that should matter the most.

This content is not, in fact, ‘another example of how we desperately need the Online Safety Bill to hold the social media platforms to account.’ It is an example of how we desperately need a police force interested in solving crime to hold people to account for criminal behaviour, and a political class that holds the police force to account when they systematically fail in their duties to both solve and prevent crime. Scully is right to point out that Tiktok don’t need to wait until then ‘to do the right thing’. If only he were as keen on wondering why the Met didn’t either.