The Woke Stasi Files: Fielding Hope

A new series in which we name the self-appointed morality police who set out to ruin lives and livelihoods. Richard Sanderson's story comes from the world of experimental music

Fielding Hope

In the world of music, the experimental/improvised music scene is tiny - a largely ignored corner where men and women gather to make strange noises together, it could be compared to performance poetry or bell-ringing. It's niche, but it has an audience, and it was a scene I was highly invested in as a musician, promoter and record label boss since the mid-90s. It was music I loved, and I wanted to share my enthusiasm for it with as many people as possible.

Linear Obsessional was my label, I’d released about 170 albums (downloads, cassettes, CDs, one vinyl!) and I held gigs at a quirky little venue in South East London.

Doing this kind of thing doesn’t make you any money, you do it because you love it, and in my case it was something I did in my spare time (I am a full time carer for my two adopted kids).

Generally speaking, the people involved in the free improv/experimental scene tend to range from left-wing to very left-wing. And I would include myself in that, although over the years some of my opinions have rubbed people up the wrong way; I am a Labour Party member who considered the voter-repelling crank-magnet Jeremy Corbyn to be an absolute disaster; I was worried about a clear rise in anti-semitism, I was a pro-science rationalist and ex-punk with little patience for the crankier, hippyish, self-righteous end of the Green movement, and unlike many on my side I do not consider “most people” to be stupid. People would argue with me, but it was always friendly - we talked, and we discussed.

One area that I felt that I was on fairly safe ground with was that of the rights and safety of women and girls. I tried to improve the ratio of women performers at my club and on my releases. Including the occasional all-woman line-up.

At this stage -about four years ago, I wasn’t particularly aware of the Trans Rights movement, and it certainly didn’t seem to be something that would particularly affect me - I am a bloke after all. In fact, I gave concerts to three separate trans performers, and was happy to do so.

But as time progressed I became aware of a more troubling side to the Trans movement; Lesbians being punched on a Gay Pride march by aggressive men in bizarre costumes; sinister black-clad, masked men bellowing “go home” in the faces of women gathering to speak; the huge, unprecedented rise of young girls wishing to transition to male with all the accompanying medical horror, and the growing, chilling climate of No Debate.

I found it impossible to see these violent, angry men as the good guys.

I read “Trans” by Helen Joyce and “Material Girls” by Kathleen Stock, and despite the rantings of their opponents on social media, found both to be intelligent, persuasive and humane. I also found myself in general agreement with them.

I posted a few things on Twitter but instead of the usual pushback, I mostly got links to interesting pieces. There was no further engagement from my followers, and I was unworried by it.

But it turned out some people were noticing….

Three years ago I was sitting behind a table laden with Linear Obsessional product at a music festival, when I got a cryptic text from a man whose music I was about to release . He told me he no longer wanted to go ahead “because of the Twitter”. Baffled and disappointed, I checked Twitter and discovered I was a “cunt” and a “fucker” and other nasty stuff from people I’d never heard of.

I started doomscrolling through loads more of this, with a massive sinking feeling in my gut, until I eventually found the source. A gothy-looking male with a female name had taken 4 screenshots from my account and added the legend “Richard Sanderson is a massive transphobe, fuck Linear Obsessional”. I’d never come across this person before - they seemed to come from the “Noise” end of the scene, a confrontational sub-genre of hideous industrial noise often accompanied by imagery of sex offenders and concentration camps. Yucky stuff frankly. We had a few followers in common, some joining in the abuse.

I can’t remember exactly what the screenshots were of-  I know one was David Aaronovitch’s review of Trans, another was a repost of a gay man complaining about Alan Turing being described as “queer”. I do know that none of them were abusive, and all of them were factual and persuasive.

I was horribly shaken, but at this point I thought it was survivable, as it was just the work of a few vitriolic cranks.

But then a man called Fielding Hope stepped in - retweeting the original and adding “Really enraging stuff here. Absolutely no pasaran to this stuff. Transphobia has no place in the scene and I hope everyone on the label and who gives it a platform does the right thing”

For those unfamiliar with ‘the scene,’ it’s difficult to put into words the level of power Fielding Hope commands. He’s the senior producer and curator at the Cafe Oto venue, without doubt the centre of activity for experimental music, improvised music and left-field stuff generally, putting on gigs seven days a week of some of the best and most interesting stuff around. I used to go for the music, and I’ve even performed on their 3-inch stage several times myself.

Every musician in the scene wants to have their music at Cafe Oto, and absolutely no-one is going to argue with the curator, who had just instructed his nearly 8000 followers  to “do the right thing” to my label. Until this moment, I’d considered us to be working in the same area - promoting similar music, even sharing some artists - although we were only competitors in the same way as, say, your local newsagent and WH Smith.

The floodgates opened. The messages started to come in almost immediately - more artists (all men) cancelling their forthcoming releases because they couldn’t afford to be associated with me. Two separate musicians I’d given gigs to and released CDs by revealed to the world that they wouldn’t release anything else with me. Another, Phil Maguire, added he’d “noticed some transphobia” but oddly didn’t mention it to me as I was still promoting his music at the time.

I had some much-appreciated messages from female musicians - mainly to check I was OK (I wasn’t) although understandably none were prepared to defend me publicly.

I was a wreck, my beloved label was disintegrating in front of my eyes, people I considered friends were attacking me, and strangers were sending me horrific abuse.

I desperately tried some damage limitation - I apologised and, to my eternal shame, I repeated one of the sacred mantras “Trans Women are Women” (in my head that “are” actually meant “should be largely treated as if they are” - something I still believed then). But this regrettable self-abasement did no good, the damage was done and it appeared permanent.

I took down the website, I kept up the Bandcamp page because people who bought the albums have a right to stream them, but made everything unavailable to download or purchase. I sent the remaining CDs and tapes back to their creators, and tried to learn how to sleep again.

All of this was three years ago - since then I’ve done a few gigs outside London, but largely immersed myself in folk and classical music, and joined a choir. I am retired. I don’t put on gigs, I don’t play live, I don’t release albums - I am uncancelable now. I’ve left “the scene” behind- I still can’t believe that improvised music, which relies on social cooperation and communication, is so full of men who would climb over the bodies of their fellow musicians for the chance of a gig in Dalston.

"I still consider myself 'of the left' because I believe that protecting women's rights, opposing misogyny and homophobia, challenging sexist stereotypes, and prioritizing children's health are longstanding principles of the left that I grew up with. This new left, authoritarian, misogynistic and careless of the rights of women and children, is one I do not recognise.

When Graham kindly asked me to write an account of what happened, my wife and I discussed the pros and cons. Cons: I might lose a few more friends, I’ll get a bit more abuse, and I probably won’t get to play Cafe Oto again. Pros: The friends I keep are better friends. And I’ve finally told my story.

Richard Sanderson

(ED’S NOTE: If you have a story of being cancelled and you know the name or names of those who tried to ruin your life, please send to me and I'll publish.)