Maybe “I’m Doing Nothing Wrong” Isn’t Enough Anymore

Something has been bothering me this weekend.

And no, remarkably, it isn’t the washing basket.

Although that is also bothering me because I swear it breeds when nobody is looking.

It’s the Neil Cox judgment.

On Wednesday, the High Court dismissed Neil Cox’s appeal against his conviction under section 5 of the Public Order Act 1986. The case arose from an early-morning walk along Middlewood Way near Macclesfield in August 2023, where he encountered an off-duty police officer and then two women travelling to work.

I’ve read the judgment. I’ve read some of the reactions. I’ve wandered away, made tea, come back to it, disagreed with myself at least twice and eventually landed somewhere slightly uncomfortable.

Which is usually where the interesting conversations live.

Before anybody starts throwing pants at me, the judgment does not establish that simply being naked in public is automatically a criminal offence.

That distinction matters.

The court considered the existing police guidance and the circumstances in which behaviour may become disorderly under section 5. This case turned heavily on context: the location, the time of day, the people Cox encountered and their ability to avoid the encounter.

And context is the word that has been following me around the house ever since.

Because perhaps change is coming.

Not necessarily the change naturists have spent years asking from everybody else.

Maybe we need to change too.

Oof.

I can practically hear keyboards being pulled closer.

But stay with me.

I love being naked. At home it is simply ordinary life. I’ll make tea, hunt for something I’ve misplaced, sit down, get up because I’ve remembered where it is, then forget again halfway there.

Nudity isn’t something I consciously do at home. It’s simply how I live. Normal, natural and completely unremarkable.

But the moment I share a space with strangers, something changes.

My intentions are no longer the only perspective in the room.

Or on the footpath.

They bring their experiences too.

Their expectations.

Their vulnerabilities.

Their understanding of what is happening.

And that doesn’t automatically make their interpretation correct.

But it does make their experience real.

The court recorded that Cox did not speak to the two women or interact with them, and that he was respectful and calm when arrested. But it also considered the particular circumstances of two women walking alone to work on a quiet path, where they had not expected the encounter and had little opportunity to avoid it.

That feels bigger to me than one naked man on one footpath.

It makes me wonder whether naturism sometimes gets too comfortable saying:

“But I’m not doing anything wrong.”

Maybe that isn’t always enough.

Perhaps another question belongs beside it:

“How might somebody else reasonably experience what I’m doing?”

That isn’t shame.

It isn’t apologising for being a naturist.

And it certainly isn’t an argument for hiding our bodies.

It’s awareness.

If I’m walking alone somewhere quiet and there’s a stranger ahead of me, I don’t know that person.

I don’t know their intentions.

They know their intentions perfectly well.

Those are two completely different experiences of the same encounter.

Being a naturist doesn’t magically remove that difference.

And being legally entitled to do something in one set of circumstances doesn’t mean every possible way of doing it will be perceived in the same way in another.

Actually, I think naturism should aspire to something better than technically permissible.

Think about it this way.

You could wear a Manchester United shirt while sitting among thousands of Liverpool supporters at Anfield. Wearing it isn’t against the law.

But would you realistically choose to do it?

Seriously?

You’d probably consider where you were, who was around you and how your decision might be received.

Not because wearing the shirt had suddenly become wrong, but because context changes how perfectly lawful behaviour is experienced by other people.

That’s really what I’m getting at.

Freedom doesn’t relieve us of judgement, awareness or common sense.

And I think naturism should aspire to something better than simply asking:

“Can I legally do this?”

Acceptance, kindness, respect and community demand a little more from us than that.

We should be brilliant at reading a room.

Or a beach.

Or a footpath.

We should understand boundaries.

We should notice discomfort rather than immediately treating somebody else’s discomfort as an intellectual challenge that needs defeating.

And perhaps our wider community needs to become much more comfortable talking about standards.

Because if we want society to understand the difference between naturism and exhibitionism, voyeurism or sexual behaviour, we have to demonstrate that difference through our conduct.

Not merely insist that the difference exists.

That means groups, clubs, organisations and online communities establishing clear standards and actually upholding them.

It means not looking the other way because somebody pays a membership fee.

It means being prepared to challenge inappropriate behaviour even when the person responsible calls themselves a naturist.

It means protecting the integrity of naturism rather than automatically defending absolutely everything somebody happens to do whilst naked.

And, occasionally, it means asking ourselves an uncomfortable question:

“Could I have handled that differently?”

Society is becoming increasingly conscious of consent, boundaries, personal space and vulnerability. That should be a good thing for naturism too.

But we cannot ask people to understand our perspective whilst refusing to consider theirs.

That isn’t acceptance.

That’s entitlement wearing no trousers.

Sorry.

Couldn’t resist.

Maybe the lesson from this week isn’t that naturists should retreat.

Perhaps it is precisely the opposite.

Maybe it is time to raise our game.

Be visible, but thoughtful.

Confident, but perceptive.

Free, but conscious that our freedom exists alongside everybody else’s.

And demonstrate through our behaviour that naturism isn’t something society needs protecting from.

Because I’d much rather somebody’s first unexpected encounter with a naturist left them thinking:

“Oh. That was actually completely fine.”

than:

“I never want to experience that again.”

We cannot control every reaction somebody has to a naked body.

Nor should we spend our lives trying.

But we absolutely can control the standards of behaviour that accompany our own.

And perhaps, after this week’s judgment, that is a conversation our community can no longer afford to avoid.

If we want society to become more understanding of naturism, what should we be prepared to change about our own behaviour in return?