Birmingham City Council and the Theatre of Managed Dissent

Up sprang Councillor K McCarthy, wielding a response clearly written by a committee of people whose main skill is saying something without saying anything.

At Birmingham City Council, democracy is not something that simply occurs. It is a carefully controlled process. Members of the public are permitted to ask questions at Full Council meetings, provided those questions are submitted weeks in advance, formatted correctly, emotionally compliant and carry no risk of embarrassing anyone who wears a lanyard.

I know this system well, because I have used it myself. I have asked a question at Full Council in the past. Despite the manner in which you are politely wrapped in procedural cotton wool, the exercise in futility is a glorious one. You feel briefly alive. You feel momentarily dangerous. Then your question is taken away, treated, processed and neutralised like a minor administrative hazard.

You are not allowed follow ups. You are not allowed spontaneity. You are not allowed to respond when the “answer” bears no relation to the question. The councillor reads words written for them by officers whose only professional instinct is risk avoidance. The councillor does not answer. They survive.

I may be slotting another question in in the near future. It will not be properly answered. But hey ho.

This month’s Full Council featured six pre-vetted public questions. The first concerned Gaza and whether Birmingham City Council should continue working with Barclays, who were accused of financing various unpleasant activities. Up sprang Councillor K McCarthy, wielding a response clearly written by a committee of people whose main skill is saying something without saying anything.

Out it came: concern, empathy, seriousness, reflection, and the magic spell of local government, “we will look at this when contractual obligations allow”. Translation: nothing will happen unless it is painless, free and fashionable.

Then came the fossil fuel advertising question. Would the council ban adverts promoting petrol, diesel, oil, gas and other carbon-based heresies?

For context, “fossil fuel advertising” is not just about oil companies buying space on billboards. It is part of a growing international movement that treats fossil fuels not as an industrial reality but as a moral pollutant. Campaigners want oil, gas, coal, petrol cars, diesel vans and even flights advertised less, or not at all. The aim is to stigmatise, not replace.

Cities such as Amsterdam and The Hague have flirted with these policies. Campaign groups lobby councils to introduce “ethical advertising” standards. The model is tobacco. Make it socially unacceptable, then prohibit it quietly.

The important thing they rarely mention is this: we still run on fossil fuels. Entirely. Our food, logistics, plastics, medicine, heating, manufacturing and transport all depend on them. You cannot ban your way out of that. Not unless you are serious about nuclear, or waiting for fusion to stop being science fiction.

But seriousness is not the point. Optics are.

When the question was asked, I expected the usual ritual. Sympathy. Waffle. A promise to consider. Into the long grass it goes.

Instead, something unusual happened. We got the sympathy. We got the waffle. And then, from the leader of Birmingham City Council himself, a soft, gelatinous yes.

Not a declaration. Not a policy. Just a signal.

“We are looking at this… contractual constraints… public health considerations… city vision… reducing carbon emissions.”

In plain English: we are thinking about banning lawful advertising by back door regulatory means once the paperwork allows and the lawyers feel safe.

And once you accept that logic, the theatre can go to its logical conclusion.

The leader of the council must, obviously, surrender his chauffeur-driven car. It is grotesque to preach carbon virtue while reclining in leather seats, gliding through Birmingham like a small municipal monarch. The car should be removed. Publicly. Preferably crushed in a photogenic ceremony.

If he needs to visit a Government Minister in London, he should hitch hike.

No trains. Electricity is morally complicated.

No taxis. They run on questionable fluids.

No council fleet car. It would undermine the narrative.

He should stand by the side of the M6 with a handwritten sign:

“Leader of Birmingham City Council. Net Zero Mission. Lift Appreciated.”

Cabinet members will follow. Car allowances abolished. Walking encouraged. Bicycles idealised. Wooden carts acceptable. Electric vehicles tolerated only if nobody asks too many questions about lithium mines.

Dress codes must change.

Fashion is carbon heavy. Polyester suspicious. Leather offensive. Cotton has water issues, not our leader John Cotton I trust and pray, I assume his water works are in tip top order, one would hope. Therefore councillors and senior officers should be issued with sackcloth and sandals. Buttons must be wooden. Zips eliminated due to fossil fuel ancestry.

Inside the Council House, leadership must be visible.

Heating off. Permanently.

Hot water discontinued.

Officers issued recycled blankets.

Meetings conducted in visible breath.

Press releases about “climate leadership” drafted by hands turning gently blue.

Lighting reviewed.

Do we really need internal lighting? Eyes adjust. Candles considered. Candles rejected because wax has ethical implications. Battery lanterns introduced, powered by a diesel generator parked behind the building, out of sight, morally invisible.

Streetlights.

Why do we need them? Darkness builds character. Crime will be rebranded as “community adventure”. Fear becomes “adaptive awareness”. Potholes become “interactive civic features”. Residents who fall into them are officially thanked for their contribution to carbon reduction.

Meanwhile, Birmingham City Council’s pension fund will almost certainly remain invested in oil, gas, mining, aviation, shipping and automotive giants. But that is finance. That is complicated. That is an officer matter. It will be reviewed in due course, once a working group has been formed and a lanyard has approved a glossary.

This is not about climate.

This is about performance.

Style over substance.

Statement over strategy.

Gesture over grit.

Nothing real will change, because real change would mean nuclear. Real change would mean fusion. Real change would mean industrial honesty about how modern civilisation is powered.

This is not that.

This is managed virtue, delivered by people who will never live by it.

Housing still collapses.

Roads still resemble bomb sites.

Services still shrink.

Council tax still rises.

But the adverts might go.

And in Birmingham City Council, that counts as progress.