The real danger to democracy

I'm ashamed to say that I can't remember whether or not I met PC Keith Palmer, the policeman murdered by Khalid Masood in Parliament last week. I have been in and out through those gates often enough, greeted in that polite, slightly wry manner that British coppers use. But, like most people, I would generally just grunt "morning," often with minimal eye contact. (As you'll have noticed, this is another British specialty.)

It is easy to take the police for granted, to see them almost as wisecracking gatekeepers. Palmer's death reminded me that these smiling, sardonic men will, when the need arises, place themselves between me and a murder weapon. From now on, I'm going to thank them properly.

Lots of politicians and journalists will be thinking similar thoughts. That's what made the attack on Parliament so effective in propaganda terms. It's not simply that reporters were nearby; it's that many of them, locked inside the Palace of Westminster, were part of the story themselves.

Then there's the history. Although we Brits can be unspeakably rude about our MPs, we still think of Parliament itself as a symbol of national freedom. We have a half-memory, somewhere at the back of our collective mind, of a smoke-wreathed Westminster Hall standing defiantly among the Nazi bombs. A terrorist abomination in the center of a provincial city would not have had the same impact, either psychologically or in news terms.

But please try to keep a sense of perspective. There has been only one casualty of Islamist violence in Britain since the 2005 Tube bombings: Lee Rigby, an off-duty soldier who was mown down by a car as he cycled outside his barracks and then hacked to death. His murderers, like the attacker in Westminster, had no access to bombs or firearms. They, too, used the most basic weapons of all: a car and a knife.