Martyrdom can wait

How to Protest and Report

From Protest 21/2/07

In every one of those little stucco boxes there's some poor bastard who's
never free except when he's fast asleep and dreaming that he's got the boss
down the bottom of a well and is bunging lumps of coal at him.

-- George Orwell, Coming Up For Air

On 21st February I joined at least 30 others in chilling winds to take my part in

organised the 'mass lone demonstrations', held the third Wednesday of every month
outside Parliament. We were protesting against Section 132 of the Serious Organised
Crime and Police Act (2005), which stipulates anyone who "carries on a demonstration
by himself" in the "designated area" is "guilty of an offence if, when the demonstration
starts, authorisation for the demonstration has not been given" by the Metropolitan
Police Commissioner. Authorisation?

Enraged at the loss of right to spontaneously speak ones mind, imbibed with the spirit of
Homer's Iliad, ("To speak his thoughts is every freeman's right/ in peace and war, in
council and in fight!") I duly filled out an application form to parade my own loyalties to
England's ancient liberties, even if alone. The irony of this response was obvious to me
and to everyone else. But we are only starting out. Martyrdom, should it be needed, can
wait.
 From Protest 21/2/07

In his famous essay Politics and the English Language - which I finally got round to
reading when settled on the first morning train to Birmingham New Street - George
Orwell observes how "it is broadly true that political writing is bad writing. Where it is not
true, it will generally be found that the writer is some kind of rebel, expressing his private
opinions, and not a 'party line'." I am pondering this line when a sliver haired man sits
down next to me, forcing me into the window seat, partly crushing my placard in the
rush, all while he clutches a copy of The Times. Is that a newspaper that strikes you as
an obvious home for such rebellious opinion?

The man wears a weathered face, oblivious of my mission to change the world as he
heads off to what will probably be his nine-to-five. I wonder what he'd think of me should
I tell him my plans: I suspect I would be the angry young man, no doubt "going through
a phase". I wonder how divergent our lives are. Does he care about politics? I realise it
is not simply good writing or journalism that requires the "rebellious spirit". It is also
needed for the good life. I look at my fellow passengers and think how many of them
have this. The point of protesting is always to achieve change and advance ones goals,
yet it is not the point too. In apathy of and disinterest in the affairs of our world many are
missing out on this experience.
 From Protest 21/2/07

I instantly recognise the voice of Brian Haw coming through the loudspeaker as I walked
toward the area of the protest. He is accompanied by various supporters and a whole
herd of other independent minds that have brazed the weather to make their stand. I
quickly crossed the street to join in. The variety of characters and variation in protest
theme was pleasing, many going with a similar idea as mine (one prominent board
reminded us all, "Millions have died for freedom of speech") though a roughly equal
amount decided on the deliberately ridiculous, in hope of illustrating absurdity by being
absurd. One sign read "dislexcs foor sympliyfid splelling", another "Save British
Comedy, Censor Catherine Tate". Anticipating this kind of approach, Mark Thomas,
organiser of the demonstrations, went with "Ban silly protests!"

Along with the serious anti-war demonstrations, freedom of speech advocates, and
playful silliness, there was the mandatory selection of fruitcakes. By far the most
memorable of this group was the representative of the Monster Raving Loony Party.
Dressed in an orange suit, braces and a top hat, the old man waived his placard
furiously at passing motorists to get their attention. Many tooted horns and flashed lights
in approval. Obviously intrigued, I walked over from my chosen position to get a glance
of what the sign said. Taking pride of place right in the centre, fashioned in bold text,
lied the solitary word "Globule". I did not ask.

At one point, while I was standing alone, a man in a suit and scarf was sufficiently
interested to come toward me and ask what my placard was about. As I explained I
could tell he had never heard of SOCPA, the mass lone demonstrations, or even Brian
Haw (who had only recently finished shouting "who voted for genocide, for rape, for
torture?" at the remaining lit work offices in the parliament building). He kindly thanked
me for the conversation and went on his way. It caused me to think back to earlier in the
day. A Financial Times reader? As the man crossed back over to the other side of the
street, Brian Haw asked me what the man had wanted. He commented "you don't
usually get those people, those business types".

Even though completely quiet, I felt loud and noisy for the final few minutes I stood
there. Someone who probably hadn't taken much interest in politics before, who may
have been apathetic and disinterested, had now gone home with my message in his
head. I would be surprised if the man had ever read Animal Farm and Nineteen-Eighty-
Four. I would be positively shocked, incidentally, if Tony Blair has either, even in his
young, idealistic - rebellious? - childhood.
 From Protest 21/2/07

Governments get bigger for a multitude of often contradictory or tautological reasons,

grow vast and expensive bureaucracies, forget why they were originally constituted, and
eventually abuse the rights of the people. This is what governments do. Lawyers
compose laws only understandable by other lawyers, from which lawyers tend to benefit
the most. This is what politicians do. Liberty becomes a rhetorical devise, wheeled from
its decrepit cage for false praise and attention, as cover for when the ignorant dare
resist the ministerial pursuit of control. New Labour is the best example of all these
phenomena this country has had for centuries. As citizens we must play a role against
the whole process, expressing our views through our writing, in making sure our voice is
heard through protest and demonstration, in drawing the line. No further!

I had taken the restrictions of jury trial, removal of the absolute right not to testify against
oneself, phone taps, mass central databases, the detention without charge of the
Terrorism Act, the violation of free speech of the Race and Religious Hatred Act, and
the instituting of internal passports though the passing of the Identity Cards Act. I had
taken them with a smile and a skip in my step. But SOCPA is a step too far, the final
inking out of the Magna Carta. I will not let this lie. I will be back to Parliament Square,
armed with my placard, reinforced by my good and rebellious political writing in
reporting the event. I will be back to defend my values. I am determined to act "as if" I
am free, in all I do, for then I will be free. There is no better way to protest.

Christopher Hughes
February 2007