Day 3: 2 Kettles and a lot of Confusion

9th December, 2010, London Dayx3

Westminster had become a labyrinth. Protestors were milling around everywhere, trying to get access to the main demonstration on Parliament Square. Some streets were blocked by lines of police, others were clear. No one was quite sure where to go. The confusion was tangible.

We had arrived late, mid-afternoon. K-Punk had been teaching in the morning so by the time we got there the rest of the demonstration had already reached Parliament Square. We walked from Charing Cross, down past Trafalgar Square towards Whitehall. At first we kept to the pavement, until we became aware of the lack of cars and people wandering all over the road. There were people with banners walking in every direction, many of them looking like they didn’t know where to go. Police were blocking the way down Whitehall. A massive road sign half way down Whitehall bizarrely said “No Left Turn.” We had to find a different route.

The consensus was to go towards Embankment, where we’d be able to get access to Parliament Square. We walked along the side of the Thames until we met a private security firm who directed us down the steps, past Westminster Tube station and up the other side. Another line of police waited. This time we approached them.

“Can we get in?”

“You want to get in there?”

I was surprised at the Officer’s incredulity. Obviously we want to get in there.

“Yes.”

“If you go in you’re in for the night.”

The tactic worked. We spent another ten minutes debating whether we wanted to go in and get kettled for the night, or whether we should hang back. Solidarity won out in the end. We were directed back down Victoria Embankment, turned left and were on Whitehall.

Again we were walking against the crowd. Protestors, some of them with UCU banners, were walking the other way. We stopped a few and asked them were they were going. There was a rumour of a kettle, they told us, and they didn’t want to get stuck in it.

Again we stood for another ten minutes. Did we want to go in and risk being kettled, or should be get out?

We went forward.

Finally we arrived at Parliament Square. It was packed with students and protestors. We joined the crowd. No longer wandering, at last part of something, we had purpose again. The loud beat of the drum was infectious. Chants sprang up at random from different parts of the crowd. If it hadn’t of been for the overwhelming sense of anger it felt, at that point, like being at Glastonbury.

Then the crowded surged. Hundreds of people were running in our direction from Birdcage Walk. It looked like the kettle was starting. We ran back up towards Whitehall to meet with riot police. They formed a line blocking the way. Some of our group were at the other side. They looked concerned. Undoubtedly, so did we.

“Can we get out?” I asked a policeman.

“Not if you’re a student.”

We didn’t know what to say. The cop had made it clear, at that moment (if not always), that students have less civil rights than other members of society.

Another man, perhaps he worked nearby, approached. He was let through.

Eventually they let us out. We were relieved to be out, but frustrated that once again we were separated from the protest.

We met a dapper man in a suit, wearing a bowler hat. He asked us what was happening with the protest. We told him that the crowd had been kettled, that no one was allowed in or out.

He smiled, “Wearing this, I can go wherever I want.”

London police were charging up the street towards the protestors. We left our suited friend and back we went towards Embankment to try to find at least somewhere we could be. When we got there the crowd was walking back towards Whitehall. They carried UCU and NUS banners.

“It’s boring up there,” they said, referring to the rally speeches arranged by then NUS.

By that point it was getting dark. K-Punk got some phone reception and we made our way towards Birdcage Walk to find some friends. There were people standing around at the outside of the kettle. They reported that people had been getting dragged out, some of them bleeding.

We were on the edge of things, our group had dwindled to only a few. Some people had gone home, others we had lost.

Until we heard music. A bike raced down Storey’s Street, straight through the police tape. It had a sound system attached to the back of it, blasting out music. It was followed by hundreds of people chanting “Who’s Streets? Our Streets!” We were part of a crowd again.

There were so few police there that they didn’t seem to know what to do. Thousands of people joined the crowd, marching down towards Whitehall. It was dark, the music was loud, an air of excitement had once again sprung up. Up ahead, in the main kettle, we could see a bright red glow and smoke.

When we approached the Cenotaph police were pushing protestors off, shouting “Respect the Cenotaph!”

Somehow, all of these thousands of people, who had been dissipated, regrouped. We were purposeful, ebullient, able to show solidarity to the protestors trapped inside Parliament Square. Fires burned and people cheered.

It felt Apocalyptic.

And then we were kettled.

Behind us police in riot gear had formed a line. People sat down on the ground. The police rushed them. I saw truncheons coming down, police running forwards, protestors being dragged up from the ground. We ran into some friends, they looked shaken, things were turning nasty. For the first time that day, I felt genuinely scared. We turned and ran towards Parliament Square, and managed to find a sidestreet where the police were letting people out.

We were spat out on the street once again at Embankment where the UCU/NUS demo was happening. Aaron Porter was giving a speech. It felt achingly hollow beside the scenes that we had just witnessed on Whitehall. He talked about solidarity, about fighting fees and cuts, about anger, but the people showing their anger and being punished for it were on the other side of police lines.

It culminated in a “Candlelit Vigil.” Candles were not used because of Health and Safety regulations – instead the crowd was told to “crack your glow sticks.” The six of us who had just escaped being kettled, for a second time, watched with embarrassment and incredulity, cringing. We were all, in one way or another, associated with an organisation that did this. It was the worst type of gesture politics from a now-defunct New Labour left.

“Wave those glo-sticks in the air.”

Depressing.

It was the end of the day for us. With fires raging across Parliament Square, windows being smashed in Top Shop and protestors being indefinitely kettled, I needed to go home.

My experience at the demonstration on 9th December is much tamer than a lot of the reports that you’ll read around the internet. There were people charged by mounted police or attacked by riot police. Some people were kettled on Embankment bridge until well after midnight. My day was marked mostly by a sense of confusion. Purposeful Police misinformation created a labrynith that felt like we were walking around the pages of Kafka’s “The Castle.” Having thought and read a lot about what happened yesterday, these are the things that stood out for me:

1. Kettling does not simply act as a method of containing a protest. The threat of a kettle causes confusion. No one wants to be stuck in one. It is miserable to be stuck on a December evening in the middle of London. Not only that, but inside a kettle violence erupts. If you are inside a kettle you are considered to be violent and therefore fair game for the cops. It is not a pleasant place to be, especially for people who have come to voice their anger peacefully. As soon as there is the whisper of a kettle people start to disperse. People go in all sorts of directions and lose their centre. Aimless, people go home.  There needs to be secondary areas for people to gather.
2. The police will make snap judgements about what you look like. Wearing a suit will give you much more mobility than wearing a hoody and a scarf around your face. Get in your power suit, shave, and move around at will. If you want to get in and out of place that’s the way to do it.
3. Grassroots anger is emerging amongst the working classes. As this excellent article from Paul Mason says “Any idea that you are dealing with Lacan-reading hipsters from Spitalfields on this demo is mistaken.” There were, of course, the Lacan-reading hipsters around, but there were thousands of young people, protesting a government that is effectively destroying their hope for the future. While the Occupations at all of the Universities have been amazing, it’s not student revolutionaries that transform a country – although they may get it kick-started.
4. The media bias, particularly at the BBC has been appalling. Although it’s not unfortunate in itself that Charles and Camilla’s car was attacked, it is unfortunate that is has dominated the news. Particularly after a night during which a 20 year old was beaten over the head with a truncheon hard enough to warrant brain surgery. Why is it more important that a Royal Car was trashed than an unarmed 20 yr old has his brain damaged by men who are both armed and wear armour?Social media is the place for news, not the mainstream media.

The end of 2010 has seen the end of the mass apathy that had overtaken the country for twenty years. Everyone has woken up wanting something different. And now people are willing to fight to get it.

This is, undoubtedly, only the beginning.