It was a scene that would have made even the most jaded Roman satirist wince. A frenzy, a melee, a disgraceful scramble for a fleeting glimpse of a popular entertainer. And what did we get? Broken glass, bruised egos, and a stark reminder that we are, culturally speaking, sliding into a cesspool of managed chaos. I refer, of course, to the incident where eager fans, driven by a passion that borders on the pathological, smashed through glass doors in pursuit of the so-called 'Pursuit of Jade' star. Let us not mince words. This is not merely a security failure. It is a symptom of a deeper malaise, a corrosion of the very idea of public order.
Consider the event's organisation, or rather, the lack thereof. We are told that barriers were in place, that security personnel were present. Yet, at the first surge of collective hysteria, the whole edifice collapsed like a house of cards in a hurricane. This is the result of a mentality that prizes spectacle over substance, that treats crowd management as an afterthought rather than a sacred duty. The British, with our storied tradition of queuing and orderly conduct, used to be the envy of the world. Now, we import American-style celebrity worship and wonder why our doors shatter.
Let us draw a parallel to the fall of Rome. The Roman mob, intoxicated by bread and circuses, would tear down gates to get a better view of a gladiator. Our modern equivalent is a glass door and a gilded influencer. The difference is that the Romans, at least, had the excuse of a decaying empire. What is our excuse? A bloated entertainment industry that treats every fan as a potential revenue stream? A police force that has abandoned preventive policing in favour of ticking boxes? Or is it simply that we have lost the collective will to enforce basic standards of behaviour?
The event management standards here are a farce. One need only look at how a country like Japan handles crowds. They do not need to shout. They do not need barriers that resemble a prison camp. They have a social contract, an unwritten understanding that the group's well-being trumps individual whims. In Britain, we have let this contract lapse. We have become a nation of individuals, each convinced that their desire to see a star justifies any breach of civility.
And what of the star in question? 'Pursuit of Jade', a title that drips with the vacuousness of our age. Jade is a stone, hard and cold. Much like the hearts of those who would break a door for a selfie. We must ask ourselves: what have we become when the pursuit of a bauble, a celebrity, or a transient thrill compels us to act like barbarians? The Victorians had their own obsessions, but they knew that order was the bedrock of civilisation. They understood, as Walter Bagehot put it, that the 'dignified' parts of the constitution must be respected, and that includes the orderly conduct of public events.
I propose a fix. Not more security. Not more barriers. That is a sticking plaster on a gangrenous wound. We need a cultural reckoning. We need to teach our children that a celebrity's autograph is not worth a bruised rib or a broken door. We need to reinstate the petty constraints that make society function: queuing, patience, respect for property. Until we do, we can expect more shattered glass, more bruised egos, and a nation that drifts further into the morass of intellectual and moral decadence. The fall of Rome was not a single event; it was a thousand such failures. We have had ours. Now, let us see if we can learn from it before the next door breaks.
