The Cultural Tyranny Of Paddington Bear
The beloved children's character has been idolised and politicised to an unhealthy extent.
It’s been said that the closest thing to a national religion Britain has is the NHS. However, in the last decade, a new faith has been growing. At this point, it may even be a cult. The prophet is a fictional talking bear in a blue duffel coat who keeps a marmalade sandwich under his hat. A mild-mannered messiah known by the name of...Paddington.
If you haven’t heard, the bizarre words of a judge uttered in a recent court case pertaining to the creed of Paddington have elicited much mockery, derision and commentary. While sentencing two young men, both engineers for the RAF, for vandalising a statue of the beloved bear in Newbury while on a drunken night out, the district judge issued the following reprimand:
“[Paddington] represents kindness, tolerance and promotes integration and acceptance in our society. His famous label attached to his duffle coat says ‘please look after this bear’. On the night of the 2nd of March 2025, your actions were the antithesis of everything Paddington stands for.”
The antithesis of everything Paddington stands for. This is the sort of sermonising language that might be justified after a war memorial was desecrated, not a children’s character, however popular. If it needs saying, vandalism is a senseless crime at the best of times, and inflicting it on a statue that doubtless made many children smile seems particularly spiteful. Alcohol is no excuse. They deserve the fine they got (around £3000). And as the judge rightfully pointed out, this sort of behaviour was not befitting of men in uniform. But in all seriousness, this was a prank, a poorly thought out laugh. I’ve not read any evidence ‘intolerance’ (???) was a motivation. Give the two blokes stern slaps on the wrist for acting like a pair of pillocks and move on. No need for a diatribe accusing them of some kind of heresy.
The cultural obsession with Paddington Bear- who, I feel we all need reminding of this, is FICTIONAL - exemplifies what has become known as the ‘tweeification’ of British society, written brilliantly on by Gareth Roberts here and here . In a nutshell, there has been a creeping trend of politicians and other ruling elites addressing the public in the same cloying, infantilising tones more suited to small children. More troubling is our passive acceptance of this. We may find it annoying or angering but the depth of condescension and - I don’t think this is too strong a word - tyranny beneath it doesn’t register as it should. It’s a slow, state-level issued lobotomisation. (See also: Police Scotland’s ‘Hate Monster’).
Paddington though is tweeification’s ultimate symbol. If deity is too strong, he’s certainly at royalty standards. He famously had tea with the Queen to mark her platinum jubilee and this forged them as a sort of joint mascot for Great Britain. After Her Majesty’s death in September 2022, an illustration of Paddington guiding her into the afterlife like a sort of cuddly grim reaper went viral. Among the captions were “Don’t be frightened Ma’am, the world will be holding your hand”.
Paddington may as well have been the accessor to the throne. I found it very telling that the programme Great British Menu, which sees the nation’s greatest chefs compete to get a dish to a very prestigious banquet, chose Paddington Bear’s 65th birthday in 2023 as their honoured occasion. Previous years had seen the banquet honouring things like Queen Elizabeth’s golden jubilee, the London Olympics and Wimbledon. It wasn’t like anything else significant was happening in 2023 - the coronation of our actual new monarch, for instance.
But Paddington’s cultural significance has a political dimension too, one that explains the elitist/upper-normie canonisation of him: immigration. Creator Michael Bond actually based Paddington’s appearance and displaced plight on children evacuated to the countryside during World War II. However, the resurgence of Paddington-mania, which began in 2014 with the extremely lauded film franchise, focused purely on the ‘foreigner’ aspect of the character. The first film was a barely-disguised metaphor for the evils and bigotry of British colonialism and celebration of multiculturalism. (I remember watching it as a student with a bunch of friends in our early twenties. The person who insisted on the screening winked at us continually throughout as if to say: isn’t this profound.)
The 2017 sequel, which by anyone’s standards was a clever, funny and charming family film, was obscenely popular. People raved as though it was up there with the cinematic greats of Citizen Kane and La Dolce Vita, rather than simply very (very) good entertainment. This was hugely connected with the timing of its release, at the height of post-EU referendum division. The film was described by many outlets as being ‘anti-Brexit’ in its messaging. To quote the New Statesman’s review - “The villains have the narrowest minds”.
The obvious problem here - and I suppose with all national icons by default - is that there are always going to be people who aren’t represented (British republicans with the Royal family, wokies with Winston Churchill etc). However, the Paddington Bearification of national identity is more exclusionary than most. If Paddington is the symbol of the kind, tolerant Remainer and by extension ‘real Britishness’, then he stands in opposition to the (supposed) unkind, intolerant people in Britain who supported the Leave campaign - a rather whopping 52% of the electorate.
In the interest of transparency, I voted Remain and would probably vote to Remain again (albeit with a lot more ambivalence). I’ve no Brexiteer axe to grind. However, without playing down the big faults of the Leave campaign or the pretty despicable rhetoric that came out of Farage’s and Tice’s mouths after winning, the elite class of ardent Remainers (or Remoaners, as they were unhelpfully branded) did exhibit jarring snobbery and classism towards their fellow countrymen and women, and some an open disdain for democracy. Two different forms of Britishness were created in their minds. One was a kind, fluffy, inclusive nation where decent, citizen-of-the-world type people, who beamed when Nadiya Hussein won Great British Bake Off and shared Brian Bilston poetry on Facebook, dwelled. The other one was racist, thick, and backwards. Both Britains don’t exist and sweet, bumbling, open-hearted Paddington Bear happens to speak very much to the narcissistic Remainer delusion fantasy.
As tensions around mass migration and problems with multi-culturalism have only increased and become more mainstream - to the point even the Labour government are having to acknowledge it, so has the canonisation of Paddington as representing a cohesive, united and EDI-loving British culture that is becoming less and less of a reality. It doesn’t seem a coincidence that in late 2024, after a summer where tensions around migration reached boiling point and the Reform Party got four MPs - including lead Brexit orchestrator Nigel Farage - elected to Westminster, Paddington was awarded an official passport by the Home Office, making him a certified British citizen. Such a cute, innocent-seeming gesture makes it difficult to call out flagrant politicisation of a children’s character. Such is the tyranny of twee.
Whatever one’s political affiliations, we should all resist the infantilisation and condescension of the British public that Paddington has unfortunately come to represent. By all means, cherish the books, watch and enjoy the movies with your kids and go take a selfie in front of the Newbury statue once it’s restored. But let’s not allow our cultural psyche to be turned into marmalade in the process.