Driving home from holiday on a French motorway last week, we were passed by a convoy of gendarmes. Nine or 10 large blue vans, lights flashing, hurried past at high speed. I never did find out where they were going or what they were doing, but I was quite keen to get out of their way. La Gendarmerie Nationale has a reputation for ferocity, as you might expect from a unit of the armed forces.

The sight of the convoy was a timely reminder that the French state, with a population almost identical to that of Britain, has vastly more police and public-order resources available than our own authorities. The gendarmes number almost 100,000 officers, while the National Police employs another 145,000, although that figure includes civilian and support workers. With local municipal forces, the total rises to around 250,000. In comparison, the British figure, including the Police Service of Northern Ireland, is around 170,000.

The reminder was timely because of growing concerns in Britain about the state’s ability to keep the peace. This week it emerged that plans are being made to release inmates early to free up prison space for those detained at protests against the settlement of illegal immigrants in English communities, as well as demonstrations in favour of Palestine Action.

Public-order policing is in the spotlight in Britain, after years of controversy over the authorities’ manifest refusal to apply the law without fear or favour. Certain groups have largely been indulged — Black Lives Matter, pro-Gaza protesters, Just Stop Oil — and others have been dealt with harshly. Last month, a police officer in Epping drove a van at speed into a protester against asylum hotels, with no apparent consequence.

The truth is that the British state has relatively limited options available in the face of serious civil unrest, and the fiddling at the edges with prison capacity is another example of this fact. Clearly, the establishment hopes that some punitive and exemplary sentences can dampen community tensions.

But our resources are, in the words of Bilbo Baggins, “like butter that has been stretched over too much bread”. Even at the height of last summer’s serious riots, the Guardian reported that only about 6,000 trained riot police were available across the country, with another 2,000 in reserve. Over a third of officers in England and Wales are women, who are often ill-suited to the physical demands of public-order policing. The reservoir of special constables is small, at around 6,000. The army could be called upon to help in extremis. However, even if a government were willing to take such a controversial step, the entire strength of the army is below 75,000, with fewer than 20,000 infantry.

One can understand why successive governments have paid little attention to the maintenance of the state’s ability to control the streets. Mainland Britain has been a basically high-trust and orderly place for a long time, and its record remains enviable compared to many other places in the world. Nevertheless, its social bonds are visibly fraying. There is a widespread and often justified feeling that the Government is no longer on the side of the people. Keir Starmer claimed in a recent interview that he sleeps well at night; perhaps he shouldn’t.

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Niall Gooch is a public sector worker and occasional writer who lives in Kent.

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