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Forget San Francisco — Britain has a shoplifting epidemic too

September 7 2023 - 7:00am

San Francisco’s shoplifting epidemic is shocking to behold. But we shouldn’t imagine that the same couldn’t happen here. In fact, we’re well on our way. According to the British Retail Consortium, theft from stores across 10 UK cities is up by 26%. More, “incidents of violence and abuse against retail employees have almost doubled on pre-pandemic levels.”

On Tuesday, Asda Chairman Stuart Rose told LBC that “theft is a big issue. It has become decriminalised. It has become minimised. It’s actually just not seen as a crime anymore.”

In the absence of an adequate response from the authorities, retailers are beginning to take defensive measures. For instance, home furnishings company Dunelm is now locking up duvets and pillow cases in cabinets; Waitrose is offering free coffees to police officers to increase their visibility; and Tesco plans to equip staff with body cameras. 

The “progressive” response to this phenomenon isn’t quite as deranged as it is in in the US. Nevertheless, British liberals have responded as expected. A piece in the Observer is typical. You’ll never guess, but apparently it’s all the Tories’ fault: “Starving your population and then ‘cracking down’ on it for nicking baby formula or a can of soup can start to make a government look rather unreasonable.”

But as the writer ought to know, the issue here isn’t the desperate young mum hiding a few groceries in the pram. Nor is it the schoolboy pilfering the occasional bag of sweets. Rather, the real problem is blatant, organised and sometimes violent theft of higher value items. Criminals who never previously thought they could get away with it increasingly now do — thus presenting a material threat to retail as we know it. 

But instead of addressing the issue head-on, the writer blames the victim: “Once goods were kept behind counters, but since the birth of large supermarkets they have been laid out near the door, ready for the taking.” How terribly irresponsible of them! On the other hand, perhaps the open display of goods isn’t just a convenience for customers, but instead the hallmark of a high trust society. 

In fact, modern shops are a minor miracle of civilisation: public spaces, stacked high with products from all over the world, that passing strangers may freely inspect and handle, but which aren’t looted by anyone who feels like it.

Surely, that’s something worth defending. But if you’d prefer to abandon retailers to their fate, then don’t moan when they do what it takes to survive. Some will close, of course, and others will move their operations online. Those who stay open will guard themselves and their stock behind plexiglass and electronic tags. And then there’s the hi-tech solution: the fully automated and completely cashless store, in which customers have to be authenticated to even get in. 

Remember that retail facilities like this already exist. One day, when they become the norm, we’ll remember what shops used to be like. Then, we’ll ask why no one stood up for them.


Peter Franklin is Associate Editor of UnHerd. He was previously a policy advisor and speechwriter on environmental and social issues.

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White House Correspondents’ Dinner deepens Trump’s press codependency

'Trump needs the press as villain, amplifier and Greek chorus.' Credit: Getty

“Trump needs the press as villain, amplifier and Greek chorus.” Credit: Getty

July 25 2026 - 1:00pm

Three months ago, gunshots brought the White House Correspondents’ Dinner to an abrupt end. Donald Trump was rushed from the ballroom, journalists ducked beneath their tables, and a Secret Service officer was struck in his ballistic vest. Trump, never a man to let mortal danger interfere with good programming, quickly announced that he wanted to “LET THE SHOW GO ON.”

Last night, it finally did. The rescheduled dinner was smaller and more subdued than usual: around 700 guests instead of 2,600, no red carpet, fewer parties, and much tighter security. It was also relocated from the Washington Hilton to the Waldorf Astoria, the former Trump International Hotel. Even when Trump no longer owns the building, it remains his room.

“As I said three months ago, the show must go on,” the President told the crowd. He returned to the phrase several times over his rambling, hour-long speech, referencing the UFC spectacle on the White House lawn and the rain-threatened Fourth of July celebration. It is something close to the operating principle of his presidency: storms may gather, wars may escalate, and bullets may fly, but the cameras need to keep rolling.

At first, Trump appeared almost chastened by the unique circumstances of the night. He thanked Weijia Jiang, the outgoing president of the White House Correspondents’ Association, for her “beautiful” introduction. He praised the journalists in the ballroom for doing an “amazing job” and said he had planned to deliver some “rather nasty statements” before deciding that perhaps tonight was not the night. He spoke movingly enough about the Secret Service and Victor Gonzales, the officer who confronted the gunman in April, and helped lead the room in an ovation. For a few minutes, it seemed possible that the shooting had produced the unlikeliest event of the Trump era: a truce between the President and the press.

The awards ceremony had already demonstrated how strange such a truce was. Reporters were honored for work produced by news organizations Trump has sued, subpoenaed, punished or threatened. The room applauded the Pentagon press corps without dwelling on the fact that Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, sitting among the guests, had pushed reporters out of the Pentagon during a new war in the Middle East. Tyler Pager, one of the New York Times reporters recently targeted by Justice Department subpoenas in a leak investigation, shook the President’s hand.

Then came the Wall Street Journal team honored for its reporting on Trump’s relationship with Jeffrey Epstein. The same reporting prompted the President to sue the newspaper and temporarily eject it from Air Force One. When the award was announced, he threw up his hands theatrically, laughed with the room, and stood to congratulate the reporters. This was presented as one of the evening’s heartwarming moments. It was also the entire Trump-media relationship condensed into a handshake: the President attacks a news organization, the news organization turns the attack into a story, the confrontation generates attention for both sides, and everyone wins.

But Trump couldn’t keep up the warm smiles for too long. What began as begrudging admiration for the free press curdled into something between a roast and a MAGA rally, then one of those sprawling late-period Trump speeches. He aired ancient grievances about the 2011 dinner where Barack Obama filleted him over the conspiracies that the former Democratic president was not born in the US. “I have watched this clip thousands of times,” Trump said, insisting — a little too hard — that it was not the night he decided to run for president.

“I hate some people,” he announced, before working through Rosie O’Donnell, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Elizabeth Warren and the other figures who populate the extended Trump cinematic universe. He even invoked “Lyin’ Ted” Cruz before pulling back, saying, “I don’t talk about my past conquests,” which was possibly the most dishonest thing he said all night. He even took potshots at the very reporters being given awards a few feet from his podium — Kaitlan Collins among them.

But the press was not merely his captive audience. Trump and the national media remain locked in one of America’s most poisonous and profitable codependencies. He needs the press as villain, amplifier and Greek chorus. The press needs Trump as an inexhaustible source of conflict and content. He calls reporters enemies of the people, then takes their calls. They warn that he represents an unprecedented danger to journalism, then provide rolling coverage of his jokes about Chris Christie’s weight.

No wonder Trump helped make this night happen after all. His deepest instinct, formed across decades of casinos, beauty pageants and reality television, is that the worst outcome is not danger or death but a dark marquee. Canceling is for losers: whatever happens, do not cancel the show.


Ryan Zickgraf is a columnist for UnHerd, based in Pennsylvania.

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