A Very Polite Demo
I’ve never been on a demo before, but I felt angry enough about this to attend, so went to my local council’s anti-cuts protest. And I will not engage in a political or economic argument here about the nature of the cuts and how to govern the country, as neither I, nor the people at the demo, nor I suspect anyone blogging, or anyone indeed who runs things, can fully get their heads around the sheer scale of what is happening in the world, the country or this time. I did not protest against all cuts, and do not deny that we are in trouble – I was protesting against reckless cuts, against cuts that I personally think will cause more long-term harm than short-term good, and against cuts which I feel are being made for ideological rather than economic reasons, but anyway, I’m already breaking my own rule and so will move swiftly on.
What made the demo interesting, for me, was just how polite it is. I live in a sorta vaguely polite part of town… well, I say that… I live in a part of town which, like so much of London, is both five minutes walk from incredible middle class living and unbelievable grot; in fact, I’d argue, I live right on the fault line between the two. The demo I went to was very much at the polite end of things, and as the speakers took to the podium to declare that they stood for community, for justice and for the people, the assembled crowd clapped politely and shared their mugs of tea. Just the other side of a fence, a children’s playground swarmed and on the streets around, joggers in compromising latex trousers passed between the dog-walkers. At the end of the speeches and the requests to stand up for the poor family, the innocent people and against bankers and all their evils, there was, in a slightly strange movement, a release of balloons. Because… well… why not? Children cheered and women in sensible shoes shook hands and announced that all things considered, it had been a reasonable morning’s diversion and would anyone like to pop down to the corner for an espresso?
As for me… I signed a ‘wall of protest’, writing my message – ‘please think long-term’ – on the my swimming buddy’s helpful back, who wrote hers – ‘too much too fast’ on mine – before, feeling politically vaguely stirred if not exactly inspired, we did indeed go swimming. I’m not at all convinced that our presence or indeed, our protest and views will make the slightest bit of difference to our government, but on the other hand, I wouldn’t feel like a proper citizen with a vote if I didn’t try.
