Police Harass Creators in England


‘The police have finally caught up with me,’ was a joke I often made to family members and friends. So often do I see police cars and riot vans near my home. On the morning of the 25th August 2021, however, the jest that brought so many laughs turned into a reality.

After my usual morning jog, I arrived home and planned to take the dog for a walk in the park. A lady had a look of horror on her face. ‘Oh my god!’ she exclaimed. I turned towards the front door, through the opaque glass I could see the outline of what appeared to be police riot vans. Known locally as ‘meaty vans,’ these are military style vehicles with a menacing steel riot shield on the front. I opened the door to see what was happening. Maybe there had been an issue with a neighbour? The police came by a few days earlier alleging there had been a problem. Walking towards me was a rather out of shape officer, with scruffy trousers, filthy shoes and eyes pointing in different directions.

‘Can I help you officer?’ I asked. He asked for my name, which I gave him. He then grabbed me by the shoulder, ‘The Bill’ style and declared that I was under arrest for ‘stirring up racial hatred’. One of those nice anti-White Orwellian terms. He was then followed by a dozen or more masked officers armed with taser guns. They were here to search the premises for anything wicked and pro-White.

As a dedicated racial loyalist for many years, and seeing many decent people targeted by the sinister establishment powers, I often wondered why these forces had never approached me. Not even so much as a quiet ‘word of warning’. Almost offensive. Enough to make you wonder if there is a ‘guardian angel’ looking out for you. All the more strange as Creativity promotional materials received a lot of publicity, all of which the controlled media grudgingly declared to be completely legal and peaceful.

But finally here it was, a cold reality. It was a surreal experience. ‘Isn’t this a bit excessive?’ I asked. I knew that whatever the reason for this heavy handed approach would be for something ridiculous. Relatives that were present obviously feared that something horrendous had taken place. I had to assure them that whatever the reason, it would be complete nonsense. Then came the big reveal: I was being targeted for ‘stirring up racial hatred,’ ostensibly because a sticker had been discovered on a bus stop that read ‘Proud to be White?’ They were alleging that I was the ‘perpetrator’ of this ‘crime’. The aforementioned relatives were now furious with this gross invasion of privacy. A female constable sat everyone together in the living room and, holding up the warrant document, haughtily asked if we were familiar with the ‘Creativity Agenda!’

I am reluctant to acknowledge anti-White terminology. I was not eager to ‘own’ this ‘Creativity Agenda’ term. It sounded familiar, like something from an anti-White website. The term almost certainly will not be anything we recognise as our religious faith. Only a gross, filthy, diseased distortion. All was a little hazy, as one can imagine in the circumstances, but I think I said words to the effect of, ‘I think I may have an idea of what you are getting at, but not entirely sure.’

I sat for a couple of hours, remaining as calm as possible as every part of my house was searched for ‘incriminating evidence’. They took computers, mobile phones and other electronic devices. The officers coordinating the whole thing demanded the passwords to my devices, which I resisted, on the grounds that I wanted to discuss if I had a legal obligation to do so. We could talk about this later at the station, I said. They also took all the Creativity religious and promotional materials, including books, flyers, stickers, flags, lapel pin badges, etc.. A proper declutter job. All of these items were held before me as one officer asked what the item was and who it belonged to.

After this tedious process, which was recorded with cameras, I was then handcuffed and taken to a police station around 10 miles away. As I was booked in, the arresting officer commented on my time in the military – ‘You know how to stand up straight, you’ve been in the army’ – which let me know these people had been doing research on me. My fingerprints and mugshot were taken and I was led to a cell. On entering the cell you must remove your shoes and anything with a lace, just in case you attempt to hang yourself. How exactly you do this in a cell which appears to have nothing to hang a piece of string on, I’m not sure. That dodgy toilet looked like it could do a lot of damage if you slipped and fell face first. Or maybe slipped and fell backwards. Smack! Nasty. Maybe I’m just not inventive enough in that department?

When you find yourself in a situation like this, especially when you are not used to it, you are coming to grips with this reality. ‘Wow, this is actually happening!’ We know that the police are aiming to intimidate with these antics and make us regret ever getting involved in pro-White activity. Fortunately for me, I always find the positives and humour in such crazy situations. After all, the police did not beat me senseless. Being locked in a jail cell over allegedly putting up a pro-White sticker is so completely insane that I cannot help but laugh. It is enough to leave me in a fit of giggles.

I remember hearing somewhere that if you are ever arrested under these circumstances, you should take the opportunity to get your head down and rest. I had not slept very well the night before, perhaps only two hour’s sleep. There was little chance of sleeping with the adrenaline running through me. So I lay down and closed my eyes.

I requested a duty solicitor for the impending ‘interview,’ ‘interrogation’ or whatever they call this questioning process. I was greeted by a lady who then proceeded to read aloud excerpts from the works of Klassen, racial epithets and all. She sat shaking her head, as though this was a proverbial case of ‘game, set and match’. I informed the legal representative that everything I ever do, everything I ever say, I am happy to defend in a court of law. But that I planned to give a ‘No Comment’ interview. She agreed that was the best way to proceed.

I explained that I have read the transcripts of a few police interrogations in which the suspect planned to give a no comment interview. However, within minutes these people are lured into engaging with the officers, answering questions and making smart remarks. The now smirking duty solicitor interjected: ‘Within seconds!’ I was determined not to be one of these people. As committed as I was, I asked that if on the small chance I deviate and play the fool, please tap me on the shoulder or otherwise remind me.

Into the interview room, I was greeted once more by the officers who are leading the ridiculous investigation. What unfolded was a gross invasion of privacy, including accessing bank accounts and discussing transactions. They read from the works of Klassen, as they appear on The Creativity Movement website, epithets and all, then asked if I am the author. Crazy.

One officer, who was determined to get a ‘bite’ out of me, repeatedly mispronounced the works of Klassen, Klassen’s name and contemptuously referred to our deeply held religious faith as ‘the so-called religion of Creativity’. With strong emphasis on ‘so-called’. This was deeply offensive to me. I was committed to my no comment stance and I wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders, for the reasons I explained throughout this piece. Namely lack of rest and disorientation. I gave the officer an unfriendly look when he caused this outrageous offence. However, in retrospect I am thinking that maybe I should have requested to speak to my solicitor in private to highlight the offence. Perhaps she could articulate this grievance to the officer on my behalf and request that he show the same respect he would any other deeply held religious faith. The same officer asked if I would be willing to sign our website over to them so they could ‘get it off the Internet’. Super offensive religious intolerance.

The second officer insisted that this was my opportunity to tell my side of the story. After many questions, many of which are a blur, he proceeded with a very bizarre query. I have a few decent pairs of shoes, and a few decent other things, as I invest in quality goods that are ethically made, look good and last. ‘What is it with the shoes?’ he asked. ‘They are very nice shoes, I must say. But what’s it all about? Do you think only White people wear shoes like this?’ Every time I tell people about this question, they either burst out laughing or give a look of total bemusement. Here are people who are otherwise well educated and highly capable reducing the subject at hand to a ridiculous triviality. Yet we are to believe they want to hear my ‘side of the story’? Dreadful. Obviously this was just a silly ploy to have me ‘snap’ or ‘bite the bait’. I smiled, rolled my eyes, pointed directly towards the offending officer and declared ‘No Comment’.

During this entire despicable process, the police like to make you feel like the naughty little pupil on detention and that they are the headmaster giving you a good telling off. Because of my unbending religious conviction, I certainly did not consider myself to be the inferior party. Just the opposite. There is no doubt in my mind that I hold the superior moral ground. I am absolutely certain of that. The gentlemen sat before me, be they activists with sinister motives or normal people ‘just doing their job,’ are agents of the forces of darkness. There is literally no doubt about it.

The whole process seemed to be over relatively quickly. I have heard of such ‘No Comment’ interviews lasting for up to four or five hours. This seemed to take less than an hour, but maybe I lost track of time. I expected the officers to take me to one side and lay down the law about those passwords they were so eager to obtain. But for some odd reason they had lost their enthusiasm. Suspecting a possible stitch up (the old ‘he didn’t hand over the information, imprison him for a year’ routine), I asked the solicitor if I am legally obligated to hand over the passwords. She immediately said ‘No’. Only if stated on the arrest warrant do you need to do this. Unless it is the ‘anti-terror’ nonsense the vile establishment loves to throw around like sweets at harmless autistic kids.

The two officers, so hostile during the interview, suddenly went back to being friendly and civil. ‘Time to get you home,’ said the better groomed of the two. Okay, so what is next? I wondered. I braced myself for the possibility of having to wear one of those horrible electronic tags and be put under a curfew or whatever. Instead they gave me papers stating that I was being released from custody without charge and that I am not subject to any terms or conditions of police bail. Better than a kick in the crotch I suppose.

Back into the open air, I was brimming with excess energy. I could have jumped on the train and sat there for half an hour, but instead I decided to jog the 10 miles back to my home town. Once home, I discovered that a dozen or more relatives were waiting for me. They were concerned and understandably enquired about the ‘terrible thing’ that must have happened to cause so many military style vehicles to screech up to my door. When it was revealed to them that the pretext for the whole thing was a sticker that asks if a White person is ‘PROUD TO BE WHITE,’ there was a lot of frothing at the mouth and countless expletives. Let us just say the police aren’t exactly popular. For all their research, the officers clearly didn’t look into my popularity with relatives and in my home town. Maybe they hoped I would be ‘disowned’ or made a ‘pariah’? Actually, one elderly relative, who I suspected may give me a telling off, instead said ‘You are the only one brave enough to say what the rest of us think!’ Oh well. Such is the level of detachment.

This whole episode has been the perfect ‘Ice Breaker’ to talk about issues affecting White people. Many neighbours were previously unaware of my pro-White views and have been eager to spend hours getting concerns off their chest. When I explain that three ‘meaty vans’ were at my door, a dozen or more coppers invaded my privacy and subjected me to interrogation for allegedly putting up a sticker that says ‘PROUD TO BE WHITE,’ people foam at the mouth. They curse the police, compare them to a notoriously ‘non-kosher’ farm animal and point out the obvious hypocrisy of the ‘Black Lives Matter’ rubbish, which has these very same coppers literally GROVELLING ON THEIR KNEES. This does not have to be explained. It does not have to be spoon fed. They figure it out all by themselves. The reputation of the police has gone from on the floor, right down to the pit of hell. Frankly, I have no sympathy. I tried giving the police the benefit of the doubt many times. Again and again they surpass themselves with disgraceful behaviour.

Though unpleasant, I have found the whole state harassment experience to be reinvigorating. If the police – or the sinister forces behind them – were aiming to intimidate me and have me scurrying for cover, they are mistaken. If anything, they have lit a fire up my backside. I am bursting with enthusiasm for Creativity and spreading the good word. I am eager to talk to as many people as possible about my experience and my religious passion for racial loyalty. Let’s go!

~Rev. James Costello