“There is no question at all that homosexuality in either sex is psychopathological perversion.”
Nicholas Fairbairn MP, March 1988
“One has only to look through the entire animal world to realise that [homosexuality] is abnormal.”
John Somers, February 1988
“There is not a shred of doubt in my mind that future MPs, Ministers and possibly Prime Ministers will stand where we are right now to dish out the kind of apologies, compensation and retribution for the wrongs of yesterday that we see happening all too often today… Let us not make today’s discrimination tomorrow’s inquiry, public apology and compensation scheme.”
Kate Osborne MP, February 2026
In early 1988, the UK House of Commons debated what would become an era-defining piece of legislation for a generation of LGBT+ people: Section 28 of the Local Government Act 1988.
The clause itself was short, only a few lines long but its impact was far reaching. It prohibited local authorities from “promot[ing] homosexuality” or teaching “the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship.” Section 28 sanctioned stigma in schools, institutionalised silence, and signalled from the highest levels of government that LGBT+ lives were, at best, suspect and, at worst, pathological.
Among the MPs present during those debates was Chris Smith, then the Labour MP for Islington South and Finsbury. As the first openly gay MP, and later the first openly gay Cabinet Minister in the world, Smith stood in Parliament to defend both his own rights and those of LGBT+ people across the country.
The response from some colleagues was brutal. In reply to his defence, his colleagues called homosexuality a ‘major and unnatural perversion’ and an example of children having a ‘homosexual lifestyle thrust on them.’
These words were spoken not in the margins of political life, but at its centre.
Outside Parliament, the response from the community was immediate.

Across the UK, activists marched, protested and organised. In North London, the Smash the Backlash coalition brought together Black and LGBT+ activists to mobilise against both homophobia and racism. In Manchester, thousands took to the streets in protest, among them Michael Cashman, who would later become an MP and a life peer.
A law that legislated silence
Sue Sanders was in the House of Lords on 2 February 1988, the day Section 28 passed into law. Had she not left the public gallery in a fit of rage, she would have witnessed one of the most dramatic protests in parliamentary history: activists abseiling into the chamber, washing lines tied around their torsos, unfurling banners in defiance.
But the effects of Section 28 were felt far beyond Westminster.
In schools across the country, silence became the legislated standard. LGBT+ teachers self-censored and lived in constant fear that being open about who they were, or who they loved, might jeopardise their careers. A generation of LGBT+ young people grew up without access to resources, language, or support that might have helped them understand themselves.
For many, the law did not simply restrict teaching. It erased possibility.
From repeal to remembrance
Section 28 was finally repealed in Scotland in 2000, and in England and Wales in 2003. Its repeal came with relatively little ceremony.
Yet from its ashes emerged something powerful.
In 2005, Sue Sanders and Paul Patrick co-founded LGBT+ History Month in the UK. This was a deliberate act of reclamation. Its aim was simple but radical: to ensure that LGBT+ lives would never again be written out of the nation’s story.
Two decades later, LGBT+ History Month has become an annual fixture in the parliamentary calendar.
This year’s debate was opened by Nadia Whittome MP, co-chair of the Global LGBT+ Rights All-Party Parliamentary Group.
While celebrating the legislative progress achieved during her lifetime, she also spoke candidly about the reality of the past six years in Parliament. The path toward equality, she noted, has not been a steady upward trajectory.
For organisations like Kaleidoscope Trust – organisations that work with activists, parliamentarians and governments around the world to advance LGBT+ equality – the debate illustrated a truth that is increasingly evident globally: progress and precarity often exist side by side.
Progress is not inevitable, nor is it irreversible. As Nadia stated:
“Trans people are the frequent topic of debate in this House, yet they have no ability to contribute to it. We must amplify their voices…
As a queer woman, I feel a particular debt to the trans community, because they fought for the rights that I enjoy today. They were on the Pride marches, they were at the die-ins, they lobbied their MPs, and I benefited from it.
What kind of person would I be to pull up the ladder when the LGBTQ+ community has always been and will always be one, in struggle and in joy? There is no LGB without the T.”
A fragile moment for rights
A clear theme emerged during this year’s debate: despite the extraordinary progress of recent decades, LGBT+ rights remain fragile.
MPs expressed deep concern about the impact of recent legal developments, including rulings from the Supreme Court of the United Kingdom and the profound uncertainty this has created for trans people across the country. Meanwhile, a full ban on conversion practices remains elusive. Since 2018, multiple governments have promised legislation but failed to deliver comprehensive protection.
MPs renewed calls for action, and congratulated Kate Osborne MP for her work presenting a report on conversion practices to the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe, which voted overwhelmingly in favour of a resolution urging member states to implement bans.
Responding on behalf of the government, Equalities Minister Olivia Blake MP reiterated that conversion practices are abuse and that the government remains committed to introducing a ban.
Democracy and LGBT+ rights
The debate also placed LGBT+ equality within a broader geopolitical context.
Former Equalities Minister Nia Griffith MP highlighted how attacks on gender and sexuality are increasingly used by authoritarian movements to undermine democratic institutions. Anti-LGBT+ rhetoric has become a powerful tool for polarisation, frequently deployed by hostile actors including the Russian state.
The weakening of LGBT+ rights, MPs argued, is closely linked to the weakening of democracy itself.
For our global partners, this reality is deeply familiar. From Eastern Europe to Africa and Asia, anti-LGBT+ narratives are frequently embedded within broader attacks on democratic governance, human rights defenders and civil society space.
Local pride, national resilience
Despite the sobering political context, the tone of the debate remained pragmatic and hopeful.
MPs celebrated the work of grassroots organisations that continue to build community in the face of backlash and financial pressure, from UK Black Pride in East London to the LGBT Foundation in Manchester and the vital sexual health services provided by 56 Dean Street.

Haringey Lesbians and Gays Banner – taken from this website
Others used the debate to tell local stories of LGBT+ activism and history.
Uma Kumaran MP paid tribute to historic collectives in her constituency, including the Tower Hamlets Gay and Lesbian Campaign Group and the East London Gay Collective.
In an emotional intervention, Martin Rhodes MP recounted the story of the Scottish artists Robert Colquhoun and Robert MacBryde, known as “The Two Roberts”, whose intertwined lives as artists and closeted lovers began when they arrived in Glasgow as students in 1933.
Meanwhile, Rachel Taylor MP spoke about her successful amendment to strengthen hate crime legislation so that offences against LGBT+ people and disabled people are treated with the same severity as those motivated by race or religion.
She also described her visit to the LGBT military memorial at the National Memorial Arboretum, unveiled by King Charles III, rightfully honouring the LGBT personnel who served their country while facing discrimination and exclusion.
A global movement
The debate also recognised major advances in LGBT+ rights worldwide.
Steve Race MP highlighted the legalisation of same-sex marriage in Taiwan (2019), Nepal (2023), and Thailand (2025), alongside the decriminalisation of same-sex relations in Botswana (2019), Mauritius (2023) and Namibia (2024).
In other parts of the world, governments are recognising non-binary or third-gender identities, from passport markers in New Zealand to the legal recognition of hijra communities in India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. Behind each of these developments are activists who have fought, often at great personal risk, for dignity and equality.
Earlier this year, parliamentarians had the opportunity to meet some of those activists through the Global LGBT+ Rights APPG, including Botswana activist Nozizwe and Hong Kong campaigner Henry Tse, both commissioners of the Kaleidoscope Trust LGBTI+ Rights Commission.

Steve Race MP, Nozizwe (Botswana), Henry Tse (Hong Kong), Alex Farrow (KT), James Asser MP
The return of “Section 28-style” laws
Yet globally, the political climate remains volatile.
New iterations of “propaganda laws” (policies that restrict discussion of LGBT+ identities in public life) are emerging once again. Countries including Kazakhstan and Bulgaria have followed the legislative model pioneered in Russia and expanded in Hungary and Georgia.
In the United States, similar debates have played out through state-level legislation widely described as “Don’t Say Gay” policies targeting schools and education curricula.
Nearly four decades after Section 28 was first introduced, the echoes are unmistakable.
The record we leave behind
It has been almost 40 years since Section 28 entered the statute book, and more than 20 years since it was repealed.
The political landscape has changed dramatically. Chris Smith now sits in the House of Lords after two decades in the Commons. In 2009, then-Prime Minister David Cameron formally apologised for the law. Today, LGBT+ History Month is observed in 22 countries around the world.
But the parliamentary debate that takes place every February is not simply a moment of celebration.
It is also a moment of accountability.
In years to come, historians, activists and students will read the official parliamentary record. They will study the debates of 1988. They will read the speeches delivered during the passage of marriage equality. They will examine the interventions made during Pride Month and LGBT+ History Month.
They will also read the debates of 2026.
They will find hopeful and defiant words from MPs who chose to speak up, who defended the rights of LGBT+ people at a moment when those rights once again felt uncertain.
But they will also notice something else.
They will notice who was not there, and that silence will be deafening.