That Girl from Derwent dwells on the value of religion this Christmas.
That Girl from Derwent has learned a few more things about prejudice since moving up North.
That Girl From Derwent reckons if you're going to be offensive, you should find a better reason.
That Girl from Derwent considers why it is that some words have wider implications than others.
Arriving at Malet Street in central London after an arduous eight-hour journey, we joined the wait for the march to begin. The police presence was light, the atmosphere was relaxed, and the diversity of protestors was quite surprising. In my immediate vicinity were three generations of the same family, several professors, school kids, and a lady in a wheelchair: all joining in with the sporadic chanting. We had the police helicopter overhead and the police officers present had riot gear on their person but they were happy to just keep an eye on us.
After about half an hour’s wait the march set off down towards Trafalgar square. I jumped out of the crowd several times to try to get a grasp of the size of the protest, but I never managed to see either the front or the back of the march, even when I could see roughly three kilometres worth of the protest route. The march was peaceful with people chanting, chatting, playing music and even dancing along to a samba band. Passers-by stopped to take photos, office windows were thronged with people watching the march go past, and in several instances they gave us their support. Once we reached Trafalgar Square the police presence increased dramatically as they routed the protest around Whitehall and down the back of the Treasury towards Parliament Square.
When we reached the square, and it should be noted here that we were routed that way, huge cordons of police prevented us from going in any other direction, we found ourselves trapped up against the side of the Treasury by a line of riot police stationed along the grass in parliament square down to the junction with Whitehall. Six troublemakers dressed in all black and wearing balaclavas did try to shove their way through the police line with the help of a v-shaped wooden board but were prevented from doing so. We only went through the police line when they let us through, there were too many people still coming into the square for them to kettle us against one side of it. They had underestimated the number of people but we did not force our way through.
At this point a group of four police horses retreated from the Treasury around the square to the junction between Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament where they came up against the police line running along the entire face of Westminster. Trapped against their own police barricades the horses turned around to face the wave of protestors escaping the kettling against the side of the Treasury. With nowhere to go the horses rode forward into the protestors creating a mass panic as people fled. Myself and a friend threw someone over the railing into the Abbey grounds and then vaulted over whilst the horses charged past. The horsemen eventually managed to force their way down to the other end of the Abbey and set up a police cordon at that end.
For the next hour or so the flashpoint of the protest was in the space the horses left. Around 50 or so individuals, the majority of whom looked too young to be students, began to throw sticks, stones, metal fencing, and bottles at the police. The police responded by reinforcing the line and using truncheons on the troublemakers. Behind these troublemakers the entire square was filled with people chanting slogans, waving banners, and doing exactly the same as they did on the march down. At my side by the Abbey, protestors were climbing trees whilst youths started spraying anarchy logos on the Abbey building. Yet the police directly in front of me were quite relaxed - with one guy actually chatting to protestors although he had the presence of mind to remain non- committal on the questions we asked him. We were eventually thrown out of the relative safety of the grounds back into the square by police but by now the intensity of the protest had died down. People were dancing to ‘grime’ by ‘Rage Against The Machine’, setting up campfires, and even singing along to Bob Dylan. Some students had set up a gazebo inside the square which provided free tea and biscuits to protestors, others were sat down in friendship groups, the samba band were still in full flow, and one group of teenagers were following an amp around which had been attached to a tandem bike. It felt more like a festival than a violent protest.
Sadly the violence never went away as gangs of youths from south London began running battles between each other and attacking students. Then the horses down by the back of the Abbey charged forward to drive away a small group of encroaching protestors. This mad scramble away from the horses turned into a full flow charge the other way as all the troublemakers flocked to this one location. The police horses were forced to retreat back down the street whilst being pelted by any objects the thugs could find – including flares. A lot of actual students were screaming at the troublemakers to stop attacking the horses but they didn’t listen and for the next half hour the horses advanced, sending the crowd into mass panic before retreating again with the crowd flowing back.
As night fell and people began to wait for the results, in the square itself things died down again. A huge conga line was formed running around the entire square, people continued to sing and dance in small groups, and quite a few of the peaceful protestors left the square altogether. This didn’t last long as the troublemakers on the Abbey side of the square managed to set fire to a guard box, sending a huge plume of acrid black smoke spewing across the square, which sent all the peaceful protestors in the middle of the square scattering to the sides.
Ironically some of the troublemakers began to feed some of the anti-war protestors’ tents into the flames to keep it going.
With the bill being passed, the peaceful protestors completely deflated. We didn’t believe the bill would be stopped but we hadn’t made a plan of what to do once the results were announced. There was a brief chorus of booing and chants that this wasn’t the end, but we decided the best thing to do was head to the sides of the square and attempt to get home.
The police however had other plans and weren’t letting us go anywhere.
After being redirected around the square we arrived at the Whitehall side where people were supposedly being let out, but this was also where the troublemakers had gathered, climbing up lampposts, smashing up phone boxes, covering the sides of the Treasury in graffiti, and throwing bottles at police. We got out of there sharpish and headed over to the other side of the Treasury where a bunch of students were gathered waiting to get out. Although the police weren’t letting us out they were happy to chat with us and weren’t interested in pushing us around. The relationship was so good that when one individual threw a stick at the police he was greeted with a cacophony of verbal abuse from the crowd. As we began to realise we weren’t going anywhere we sat down and sang Christmas carols, deciding to wait the kettle out.
Things weren’t as peaceful on the opposite side of the Treasury. The first indication of this was the flood of injured people that were being brought through the police line at our side by a group of dedicated individuals who were working as medics within the square. Several had to be carried through whilst others stumbled through with head injuries. Most of these were sustained by being trapped within the groups of troublemakers attacking the police at Whitehall. As I went down to have a look at how bad it was, riot police forced their way around the side of the Treasury onto Parliament Square sending protestors fleeing down the side of the building. Racing back from the police I got swept up in the press of people rushing to the door that had just been forced into the Treasury. As riot police swarmed up from inside the building to plug the door I ducked out of the crowd and ran back to the peaceful students camped at the other end of the building. For the next thirty minutes we watched as rioters attempted to force the door fully open, and then began to open windows into the corridor inside, throwing stones onto the offices inside. By this point the press photographers had managed to run round from Whitehall to get as many shots as they could of the protestors, completely ignoring the majority of the people in the square who were just looking to get out and go home.
Eventually the police from the Whitehall side managed to force their way around to the opened door in the Treasury and close it off. In doing this they sent the troublemakers fleeing towards our Christmas carol singing side of the square and it looked like we were going to be squashed between two lines of police. Luckily, a friendly police officer decided to let me and my friends through at this moment and escape the press. Although the police spokeswoman told the press peaceful protestors were free to leave whenever they wanted, we were some of the first out – two hours after the vote had been announced.
The majority of the protest and the protestors were peaceful. It is a shame that youth gangs from south London and anarchists who have no interest in university education hijacked the demonstration. The media duly focused on them and missed the rest of us out because we weren’t as interesting. The police spokeswoman’s declaration that she saw no aspects of peaceful protest is complete rubbish; but as always it was the extreme actions of a few who tarnished the majority, and the chaos within the square quickly blended everyone into one big group.
Being on the ground showed me that a lot of people were there simply to show their objection to the tuition fee rise, that most people were quite friendly, and that the police handled the protest really well; at least until they refused to let anybody out. Even then, once you began talking to a face behind the shield and baton you realise they’re just normal people: we even got out through the help of a police officer. We didn’t end up getting arrested like a lot of others did.
For my first mass protest it was quite an experience.
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