The Peace March in London
Me trying to see, the crowd trying to be heard, and the politicians trying not to listen.
- angeltoad Feb 15th 2003

If Tessa Jowell had not retracted her ban on using Hyde Park for the rally, what would have been the effect of 2 million extra people arriving in Central London with an agenda? Have we now reached the critical mass at which the people can change the minds and policies of those in power?

At the start of the march the police in the region of Gower Street at least, were refusing to let the press photographers have access to vantage points to take pictures of the march. If there were doorsteps, they were policed- the usual little bits of concrete that we cling to to get a vantage point were blocked to us, and we were not allowed to cross police lines or walk on the pavement to get a view of the crowd. You couldn’t go anywhere to plan a shot or position yourself ready for a banner to reach you. You were either on the road, made to walk in the jam of marchers, or sent away. Time and time again this happened. Many TV crews - with particularly cumbersome equipment - were phoning back to their studios in frustration. . It seemed like some attempt to cut down on the reporting of the event. Could such an order really have been issued in England?

I could see some good banners above the heads though – “Killing civilians is the wrong way to liberate them”, a picture of Blair as a poodle being walked by Bush, “Why Iraq? Why Now? Who next?”, and the Nike logo with “Just Don’t Do It!” underneath.

The mood was good despite the freezing cold. Here were whole families, with babies in pushchairs, small dogs on leads and grandparents on sticks. Those who has expressed reservations about going due to fears of a crowd jostling, police brutality and riots could not have been more wrong.. These people are here because they believe in peace, tolerance, coexistence, and patience with our fellow humans as much as the weapons inspectors. It was a good vibe. I have never seen so many ages, races, religions, and classes united for one cause. It was living proof that firstly, a better world is possible, and secondly, that people are prepared to put themselves out and take a stand against their government’s policies in order to achieve it. As I said in an interview later in the day, “We mustn’t leave running the country just to the politicians. It’s up to each of us to take part”.
Running through Soho back streets trying to find a place to take pictures, I saw the march crossing the end of a street, singing heartily and crowned by two huge white swans gliding above the heads. If the Notting Hill Carnival takes place in heaven, this is how it looks. There were numerous musicians out in force. Samba drummers, Jazz quartets, a man playing some obscure Middle Eastern instrument, and the bloke with a guitar who just sang and strummed 2 lines repeatedly, but with all his heart and joy in his face. The radiance if his love at being able to contribute eclipsed any judgement about his lack of musical dexterity. A musician friend who was there as a first time marcher said that the whole things was so amazing and wonderful that he was frequently on the verge of tears. Some groups had organised a “love-in” at the Eros statue in Piccadilly Circus for after the rally in Hyde Park. If you ask me the whole event was one big brotherly Love In. It was the biggest march Britain has ever seen.

I got through the crowd and found a perch on the underpass wall at the bottom of Piccadilly. A stilt-walker in the crowd was level with me, and had ceased clowning for a few minutes toface the oncoming hoardes and take his own photos. (It’s a technique which might be useful in future.) The crowd stretched as far as I could see in a solid mass of heads and banners. Two other photographers climbed up after me. One was a hardened old tabloid hack. As soon as he got balance he instinctively raised his camera and then stopped short. “Jesus…..” he said, and seemed frozen, motionless as though someone had just nicked his paparazzi and he didn’t know what to do. The other guy behind him was just awestruck and smiling with wonder. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” he asked. We both agreed that we had not. “It’s the - biggest - thing - I’ve - ever seen..” said the hack in a faraway voice, still too shocked to start clicking. “He has to listen to this…”. Blair, meanwhile, was already responding with a speech written days before the march had even assembled.




.
The Peace March in London
Me trying to see, the crowd trying to be heard, and the politicians trying not to listen.
- angeltoad Feb 15th 2003

If Tessa Jowell had not retracted her ban on using Hyde Park for the rally, what would have been the effect of 2 million extra people arriving in Central London with an agenda? Have we now reached the critical mass at which the people can change the minds and policies of those in power?

At the start of the march the police in the region of Gower Street at least, were refusing to let the press photographers have access to vantage points to take pictures of the march. If there were doorsteps, they were policed- the usual little bits of concrete that we cling to to get a vantage point were blocked to us, and we were not allowed to cross police lines or walk on the pavement to get a view of the crowd. You couldn’t go anywhere to plan a shot or position yourself ready for a banner to reach you. You were either on the road, made to walk in the jam of marchers, or sent away. Time and time again this happened. Many TV crews - with particularly cumbersome equipment - were phoning back to their studios in frustration. . It seemed like some attempt to cut down on the reporting of the event. Could such an order really have been issued in England?

I could see some good banners above the heads though – “Killing civilians is the wrong way to liberate them”, a picture of Blair as a poodle being walked by Bush, “Why Iraq? Why Now? Who next?”, and the Nike logo with “Just Don’t Do It!” underneath.

The mood was good despite the freezing cold. Here were whole families, with babies in pushchairs, small dogs on leads and grandparents on sticks. Those who has expressed reservations about going due to fears of a crowd jostling, police brutality and riots could not have been more wrong.. These people are here because they believe in peace, tolerance, coexistence, and patience with our fellow humans as much as the weapons inspectors. It was a good vibe. I have never seen so many ages, races, religions, and classes united for one cause. It was living proof that firstly, a better world is possible, and secondly, that people are prepared to put themselves out and take a stand against their government’s policies in order to achieve it. As I said in an interview later in the day, “We mustn’t leave running the country just to the politicians. It’s up to each of us to take part”.
Running through Soho back streets trying to find a place to take pictures, I saw the march crossing the end of a street, singing heartily and crowned by two huge white swans gliding above the heads. If the Notting Hill Carnival takes place in heaven, this is how it looks. There were numerous musicians out in force. Samba drummers, Jazz quartets, a man playing some obscure Middle Eastern instrument, and the bloke with a guitar who just sang and strummed 2 lines repeatedly, but with all his heart and joy in his face. The radiance if his love at being able to contribute eclipsed any judgement about his lack of musical dexterity. A musician friend who was there as a first time marcher said that the whole things was so amazing and wonderful that he was frequently on the verge of tears. Some groups had organised a “love-in” at the Eros statue in Piccadilly Circus for after the rally in Hyde Park. If you ask me the whole event was one big brotherly Love In. It was the biggest march Britain has ever seen.

I got through the crowd and found a perch on the underpass wall at the bottom of Piccadilly. A stilt-walker in the crowd was level with me, and had ceased clowning for a few minutes toface the oncoming hoardes and take his own photos. (It’s a technique which might be useful in future.) The crowd stretched as far as I could see in a solid mass of heads and banners. Two other photographers climbed up after me. One was a hardened old tabloid hack. As soon as he got balance he instinctively raised his camera and then stopped short. “Jesus…..” he said, and seemed frozen, motionless as though someone had just nicked his paparazzi and he didn’t know what to do. The other guy behind him was just awestruck and smiling with wonder. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” he asked. We both agreed that we had not. “It’s the - biggest - thing - I’ve - ever seen..” said the hack in a faraway voice, still too shocked to start clicking. “He has to listen to this…”. Blair, meanwhile, was already responding with a speech written days before the march had even assembled.




.
The Peace March in London
Me trying to see, the crowd trying to be heard, and the politicians trying not to listen.
- angeltoad Feb 15th 2003

If Tessa Jowell had not retracted her ban on using Hyde Park for the rally, what would have been the effect of 2 million extra people arriving in Central London with an agenda? Have we now reached the critical mass at which the people can change the minds and policies of those in power?

At the start of the march the police in the region of Gower Street at least, were refusing to let the press photographers have access to vantage points to take pictures of the march. If there were doorsteps, they were policed- the usual little bits of concrete that we cling to to get a vantage point were blocked to us, and we were not allowed to cross police lines or walk on the pavement to get a view of the crowd. You couldn’t go anywhere to plan a shot or position yourself ready for a banner to reach you. You were either on the road, made to walk in the jam of marchers, or sent away. Time and time again this happened. Many TV crews - with particularly cumbersome equipment - were phoning back to their studios in frustration. . It seemed like some attempt to cut down on the reporting of the event. Could such an order really have been issued in England?

I could see some good banners above the heads though – “Killing civilians is the wrong way to liberate them”, a picture of Blair as a poodle being walked by Bush, “Why Iraq? Why Now? Who next?”, and the Nike logo with “Just Don’t Do It!” underneath.

The mood was good despite the freezing cold. Here were whole families, with babies in pushchairs, small dogs on leads and grandparents on sticks. Those who has expressed reservations about going due to fears of a crowd jostling, police brutality and riots could not have been more wrong.. These people are here because they believe in peace, tolerance, coexistence, and patience with our fellow humans as much as the weapons inspectors. It was a good vibe. I have never seen so many ages, races, religions, and classes united for one cause. It was living proof that firstly, a better world is possible, and secondly, that people are prepared to put themselves out and take a stand against their government’s policies in order to achieve it. As I said in an interview later in the day, “We mustn’t leave running the country just to the politicians. It’s up to each of us to take part”.
Running through Soho back streets trying to find a place to take pictures, I saw the march crossing the end of a street, singing heartily and crowned by two huge white swans gliding above the heads. If the Notting Hill Carnival takes place in heaven, this is how it looks. There were numerous musicians out in force. Samba drummers, Jazz quartets, a man playing some obscure Middle Eastern instrument, and the bloke with a guitar who just sang and strummed 2 lines repeatedly, but with all his heart and joy in his face. The radiance if his love at being able to contribute eclipsed any judgement about his lack of musical dexterity. A musician friend who was there as a first time marcher said that the whole things was so amazing and wonderful that he was frequently on the verge of tears. Some groups had organised a “love-in” at the Eros statue in Piccadilly Circus for after the rally in Hyde Park. If you ask me the whole event was one big brotherly Love In. It was the biggest march Britain has ever seen.

I got through the crowd and found a perch on the underpass wall at the bottom of Piccadilly. A stilt-walker in the crowd was level with me, and had ceased clowning for a few minutes toface the oncoming hoardes and take his own photos. (It’s a technique which might be useful in future.) The crowd stretched as far as I could see in a solid mass of heads and banners. Two other photographers climbed up after me. One was a hardened old tabloid hack. As soon as he got balance he instinctively raised his camera and then stopped short. “Jesus…..” he said, and seemed frozen, motionless as though someone had just nicked his paparazzi and he didn’t know what to do. The other guy behind him was just awestruck and smiling with wonder. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” he asked. We both agreed that we had not. “It’s the - biggest - thing - I’ve - ever seen..” said the hack in a faraway voice, still too shocked to start clicking. “He has to listen to this…”. Blair, meanwhile, was already responding with a speech written days before the march had even assembled.




.
The Peace March in London
Me trying to see, the crowd trying to be heard, and the politicians trying not to listen.
- angeltoad Feb 15th 2003

If Tessa Jowell had not retracted her ban on using Hyde Park for the rally, what would have been the effect of 2 million extra people arriving in Central London with an agenda? Have we now reached the critical mass at which the people can change the minds and policies of those in power?

At the start of the march the police in the region of Gower Street at least, were refusing to let the press photographers have access to vantage points to take pictures of the march. If there were doorsteps, they were policed- the usual little bits of concrete that we cling to to get a vantage point were blocked to us, and we were not allowed to cross police lines or walk on the pavement to get a view of the crowd. You couldn’t go anywhere to plan a shot or position yourself ready for a banner to reach you. You were either on the road, made to walk in the jam of marchers, or sent away. Time and time again this happened. Many TV crews - with particularly cumbersome equipment - were phoning back to their studios in frustration. . It seemed like some attempt to cut down on the reporting of the event. Could such an order really have been issued in England?

I could see some good banners above the heads though – “Killing civilians is the wrong way to liberate them”, a picture of Blair as a poodle being walked by Bush, “Why Iraq? Why Now? Who next?”, and the Nike logo with “Just Don’t Do It!” underneath.

The mood was good despite the freezing cold. Here were whole families, with babies in pushchairs, small dogs on leads and grandparents on sticks. Those who has expressed reservations about going due to fears of a crowd jostling, police brutality and riots could not have been more wrong.. These people are here because they believe in peace, tolerance, coexistence, and patience with our fellow humans as much as the weapons inspectors. It was a good vibe. I have never seen so many ages, races, religions, and classes united for one cause. It was living proof that firstly, a better world is possible, and secondly, that people are prepared to put themselves out and take a stand against their government’s policies in order to achieve it. As I said in an interview later in the day, “We mustn’t leave running the country just to the politicians. It’s up to each of us to take part”.
Running through Soho back streets trying to find a place to take pictures, I saw the march crossing the end of a street, singing heartily and crowned by two huge white swans gliding above the heads. If the Notting Hill Carnival takes place in heaven, this is how it looks. There were numerous musicians out in force. Samba drummers, Jazz quartets, a man playing some obscure Middle Eastern instrument, and the bloke with a guitar who just sang and strummed 2 lines repeatedly, but with all his heart and joy in his face. The radiance if his love at being able to contribute eclipsed any judgement about his lack of musical dexterity. A musician friend who was there as a first time marcher said that the whole things was so amazing and wonderful that he was frequently on the verge of tears. Some groups had organised a “love-in” at the Eros statue in Piccadilly Circus for after the rally in Hyde Park. If you ask me the whole event was one big brotherly Love In. It was the biggest march Britain has ever seen.

I got through the crowd and found a perch on the underpass wall at the bottom of Piccadilly. A stilt-walker in the crowd was level with me, and had ceased clowning for a few minutes toface the oncoming hoardes and take his own photos. (It’s a technique which might be useful in future.) The crowd stretched as far as I could see in a solid mass of heads and banners. Two other photographers climbed up after me. One was a hardened old tabloid hack. As soon as he got balance he instinctively raised his camera and then stopped short. “Jesus…..” he said, and seemed frozen, motionless as though someone had just nicked his paparazzi and he didn’t know what to do. The other guy behind him was just awestruck and smiling with wonder. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” he asked. We both agreed that we had not. “It’s the - biggest - thing - I’ve - ever seen..” said the hack in a faraway voice, still too shocked to start clicking. “He has to listen to this…”. Blair, meanwhile, was already responding with a speech written days before the march had even assembled.




.
The Peace March in London
Me trying to see, the crowd trying to be heard, and the politicians trying not to listen.
- angeltoad Feb 15th 2003

If Tessa Jowell had not retracted her ban on using Hyde Park for the rally, what would have been the effect of 2 million extra people arriving in Central London with an agenda? Have we now reached the critical mass at which the people can change the minds and policies of those in power?

At the start of the march the police in the region of Gower Street at least, were refusing to let the press photographers have access to vantage points to take pictures of the march. If there were doorsteps, they were policed- the usual little bits of concrete that we cling to to get a vantage point were blocked to us, and we were not allowed to cross police lines or walk on the pavement to get a view of the crowd. You couldn’t go anywhere to plan a shot or position yourself ready for a banner to reach you. You were either on the road, made to walk in the jam of marchers, or sent away. Time and time again this happened. Many TV crews - with particularly cumbersome equipment - were phoning back to their studios in frustration. . It seemed like some attempt to cut down on the reporting of the event. Could such an order really have been issued in England?

I could see some good banners above the heads though – “Killing civilians is the wrong way to liberate them”, a picture of Blair as a poodle being walked by Bush, “Why Iraq? Why Now? Who next?”, and the Nike logo with “Just Don’t Do It!” underneath.

The mood was good despite the freezing cold. Here were whole families, with babies in pushchairs, small dogs on leads and grandparents on sticks. Those who has expressed reservations about going due to fears of a crowd jostling, police brutality and riots could not have been more wrong.. These people are here because they believe in peace, tolerance, coexistence, and patience with our fellow humans as much as the weapons inspectors. It was a good vibe. I have never seen so many ages, races, religions, and classes united for one cause. It was living proof that firstly, a better world is possible, and secondly, that people are prepared to put themselves out and take a stand against their government’s policies in order to achieve it. As I said in an interview later in the day, “We mustn’t leave running the country just to the politicians. It’s up to each of us to take part”.
Running through Soho back streets trying to find a place to take pictures, I saw the march crossing the end of a street, singing heartily and crowned by two huge white swans gliding above the heads. If the Notting Hill Carnival takes place in heaven, this is how it looks. There were numerous musicians out in force. Samba drummers, Jazz quartets, a man playing some obscure Middle Eastern instrument, and the bloke with a guitar who just sang and strummed 2 lines repeatedly, but with all his heart and joy in his face. The radiance if his love at being able to contribute eclipsed any judgement about his lack of musical dexterity. A musician friend who was there as a first time marcher said that the whole things was so amazing and wonderful that he was frequently on the verge of tears. Some groups had organised a “love-in” at the Eros statue in Piccadilly Circus for after the rally in Hyde Park. If you ask me the whole event was one big brotherly Love In. It was the biggest march Britain has ever seen.

I got through the crowd and found a perch on the underpass wall at the bottom of Piccadilly. A stilt-walker in the crowd was level with me, and had ceased clowning for a few minutes toface the oncoming hoardes and take his own photos. (It’s a technique which might be useful in future.) The crowd stretched as far as I could see in a solid mass of heads and banners. Two other photographers climbed up after me. One was a hardened old tabloid hack. As soon as he got balance he instinctively raised his camera and then stopped short. “Jesus…..” he said, and seemed frozen, motionless as though someone had just nicked his paparazzi and he didn’t know what to do. The other guy behind him was just awestruck and smiling with wonder. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” he asked. We both agreed that we had not. “It’s the - biggest - thing - I’ve - ever seen..” said the hack in a faraway voice, still too shocked to start clicking. “He has to listen to this…”. Blair, meanwhile, was already responding with a speech written days before the march had even assembled.





The Peace March in London
Me trying to see, the crowd trying to be heard, and the politicians trying not to listen.
- angeltoad Feb 15th 2003

If Tessa Jowell had not retracted her ban on using Hyde Park for the rally, what would have been the effect of 2 million extra people arriving in Central London with an agenda? Have we now reached the critical mass at which the people can change the minds and policies of those in power?

At the start of the march the police in the region of Gower Street at least, were refusing to let the press photographers have access to vantage points to take pictures of the march. If there were doorsteps, they were policed- the usual little bits of concrete that we cling to to get a vantage point were blocked to us, and we were not allowed to cross police lines or walk on the pavement to get a view of the crowd. You couldn’t go anywhere to plan a shot or position yourself ready for a banner to reach you. You were either on the road, made to walk in the jam of marchers, or sent away. Time and time again this happened. Many TV crews - with particularly cumbersome equipment - were phoning back to their studios in frustration. . It seemed like some attempt to cut down on the reporting of the event. Could such an order really have been issued in England?

I could see some good banners above the heads though – “Killing civilians is the wrong way to liberate them”, a picture of Blair as a poodle being walked by Bush, “Why Iraq? Why Now? Who next?”, and the Nike logo with “Just Don’t Do It!” underneath.

The mood was good despite the freezing cold. Here were whole families, with babies in pushchairs, small dogs on leads and grandparents on sticks. Those who has expressed reservations about going due to fears of a crowd jostling, police brutality and riots could not have been more wrong.. These people are here because they believe in peace, tolerance, coexistence, and patience with our fellow humans as much as the weapons inspectors. It was a good vibe. I have never seen so many ages, races, religions, and classes united for one cause. It was living proof that firstly, a better world is possible, and secondly, that people are prepared to put themselves out and take a stand against their government’s policies in order to achieve it. As I said in an interview later in the day, “We mustn’t leave running the country just to the politicians. It’s up to each of us to take part”.
Running through Soho back streets trying to find a place to take pictures, I saw the march crossing the end of a street, singing heartily and crowned by two huge white swans gliding above the heads. If the Notting Hill Carnival takes place in heaven, this is how it looks. There were numerous musicians out in force. Samba drummers, Jazz quartets, a man playing some obscure Middle Eastern instrument, and the bloke with a guitar who just sang and strummed 2 lines repeatedly, but with all his heart and joy in his face. The radiance if his love at being able to contribute eclipsed any judgement about his lack of musical dexterity. A musician friend who was there as a first time marcher said that the whole things was so amazing and wonderful that he was frequently on the verge of tears. Some groups had organised a “love-in” at the Eros statue in Piccadilly Circus for after the rally in Hyde Park. If you ask me the whole event was one big brotherly Love In. It was the biggest march Britain has ever seen.

I got through the crowd and found a perch on the underpass wall at the bottom of Piccadilly. A stilt-walker in the crowd was level with me, and had ceased clowning for a few minutes toface the oncoming hoardes and take his own photos. (It’s a technique which might be useful in future.) The crowd stretched as far as I could see in a solid mass of heads and banners. Two other photographers climbed up after me. One was a hardened old tabloid hack. As soon as he got balance he instinctively raised his camera and then stopped short. “Jesus…..” he said, and seemed frozen, motionless as though someone had just nicked his paparazzi and he didn’t know what to do. The other guy behind him was just awestruck and smiling with wonder. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” he asked. We both agreed that we had not. “It’s the - biggest - thing - I’ve - ever seen..” said the hack in a faraway voice, still too shocked to start clicking. “He has to listen to this…”. Blair, meanwhile, was already responding with a speech written days before the march had even assembled.




.