The attempted resistance at Clifton Mansions, Coldharbour Lane, Brixton is a sorry tale of what London has become, and a missed opportunity for radicalising a new generation of resisters. Brixton, once the home to black power, a strong community spirit, DIY punk culture, squatting and the Brixton Riots in the 1980's, has become a sad shadow of its former self.

The attempted resistance at Clifton Mansions, Coldharbour Lane, Brixton is a sorry tale of what London has become, and a missed opportunity for radicalising a new generation of resisters. Brixton, once the home to black power, a strong community spirit, DIY punk culture, squatting and the Brixton Riots in the 1980's, has become a sad shadow of its former self; it now hosts Brixton Village with its gourmet boutique restaurants, coke-crazed munters flailing on the pavements and the professional upper-class jabbering over a glass of Chardonnay ("Oooh darling, its sooo wonderful"). Its a classic example of gentrification (or "regeneration") wiping away the old community ties, its history and all that gave Brixton its reputation for standing up to police and government oppression, replaced by a sort of pseudo-community that proudly wears the badge of Brixton, but is as flakey as fuck.

Prequel
So open the scene for the eviction of Clifton Mansions. The evening starts off slowly, and as a few of us hand out some leaflets for the eviction party and the morning's resistance, the crowd walks by sullenly, ignoring our solicitations and looking sourly at us, or rushing past to the gym, the Sainsbury's or any number of Brixton's hip venues. Even from this moment, the idea that the community would support the resistance and make a stand for a by-gone Brixton against the murderous Met - Smiley Culture, Ian Tomlinson - was as remote as if we were canvassing against the invasion of Iran. Having given out very few leaflets we wandered back to the Mansions to see if things had started up, but to no avail. The courtyard was beginning to be filled up with those coming down to the eviction party (famously advertised on Fakebook with 1,200 attending); however, they were met with a cold reception by the Residents, who were still busy moving their furniture and stuff out even though it was already 9pm. There were no sound-systems, there were no events - say a film room -, so people sat around, drinking, chatting and making do. Every now and again, there was a burst of ominous thuds, the sound of misled party-goers trying to kick-in doors, because they thought it was an empty building they could trash.

Sequel
Later, we wandered about the building and stood in the snaking queue up the stairwell that led up to the roof, three floors up. And we stood and stood, people pushed past, people came down, the queue moved slowly upwards, until finally we made it up to the hatch and a rickety ladder. There an "organiser" called people up and down, otherwise there would have been true chaos and god-knows how many injuries - hats off to those that self-organised the hatch that night. So at last we reached the wild expanse of the roof, where bodies silhouetted the skyline and a straight 3-storey drop on all sides, including down to the courtyard below. This situation demonstrates the power of anarchism in people (and a lot of luck) - even though the drop was unguarded and precarious, everyone had enough sense not to fall off the roof that night without the need for any overzealous Health and Safety measures. However the scene was not as anarchistic as one would have hoped; there was a serious lack of mutual respect, as punters carelessly or maliciously threw cans and bottles into the crowd below. At times it seemed like a war-zone below as the crowd rushed for cover in the doorways, smashed glass scattered and people covering their heads or eyes ran to get help.

The End is Nigh
At last a sound-system was established in one of the bottom flats, and the D 'n B spewed into the courtyard and a dance-floor started up. Wandering down and mingling for a while, we spotted groups of men moving in and out of the building, sometimes masked up, and later we heard about how people were being pickpocketed on the stairwells, and how a group of these crims had broken into a room, beating up and robbing everyone in there; a man with a bloodied face wandered round the party looking for his attackers. People just partied on and one felt very little solidarity in the place, just a sort of hedonistic intentional ignorance. Some activists there looked around at the crowd, shook their heads and muttered: "This is a lost cause." And they were right; we made off a couple of hours later as the sky lightened up. Well done to those that stayed, and turned up the next morning, to meet the brute force of the murderous Met; any resistance is always better than none. Even though the resistance was symbol, rather than effective, the media screamed about "violence" and the picture of the man "jumping" into the police lines, was actually a man who tripped off scaffolding as police pulled it away from under him; he is currently being held, facing charges of "assaulting a police officer".

Lessons Learnt
So Clifton Mansions, a squat since the 1990's was closed down in a matter of hours; the resistance was symbolic, the Brixton community did not rise en-masse to say "No!" to police brutality, the corrupt Lambeth council or gentrification; what could have been an opportunity for creative direct action was lost. So what went wrong?

1] The Fakebook Crowd: the FB crowd has been slagged off everywhere for the bad atmosphere, and in many ways, quite rightly. The Fakebook invite itself seems a little mystery in the affair: was it sent out by "disruptive" influences looking to either break apart any effective direct action, or to lure kids into the fray so the police and media could later take paint them as a violent and unruly generation needing stern repression (which they did anyway, even though there was little resistance)? However the crowd was also a good mix of South London crew, regular kids and many locals, residents, ex-residents and the like. What was lacking was direction, activities, some ground rules (like "don't kick any doors in"), a sense of solidarity and organising groups who could make sure people didn't take the piss. Such things might have been sneered at first by a cynical generation, but in the end, it creates a much more productive atmosphere, fun mixed with a sense of purpose. We were there to resist, and while a good South London mash-up is fun, all you really have in the morning is a hangover.

2] Clifton Mansion's residents: Understandably residents were stressed with having to move out of their homes with 2 weeks notice before the eviction party began. However, there was never any sign of any organising for the party or the resistance; while the residents had links with the Brixton community, I did not see any propaganda out and about, or people being properly informed. The eviction party seemed to be a "nuisance" to them, when it could have been an opportunity to educate people about the history of Clifton Mansions, the criminalisation of squatting, or getting people to build barricades and other direct action infrastructure for the next day. Residents seemed to escape to their rooms and there was no engaging or organising the bored party-goers to do something constructive. There was no crash space for activists that had come from all over London to help out. There were no security arrangements to create a safe space for guests and residents alike. A message to all those at the brunt of future mass-evictions: please get organised early, engage with the activist community and plan ahead to be effective.

With better co-operation, a clearer purpose, more unity and a sense of the ridiculous, we might collectively have creatively resisted for a whole day, maybe two. There was ample opportunity for building structures, casting nets, dropping banners, getting a message across. With time, the community might have stepped up and said "No!" to the sight of the fascists-in-blue beating harmless kids. Together we may have secured a reprieve for the building, time to consider its future, in full, as the community. At the same time, there is certainly a fishy stink to the affair: the Fakebook invite, the super-prepared police (notice the piggy-climbers and full TSG in eviction photos), the media harping on about the "violence" at the eviction (what a heap of shite). If people had really resisted, there is no doubt that the Tory-machine would have gone into over-drive to use it as a justification for the criminalisation of squatting. Maybe the damp squib was the best outcome. Nevertheless, the corrupt Lambeth council now has full occupation, the police got their overtime pay (but didn't get to beat any "hippies" up), Camelot will look after the building with its own expensive private squatters ("licensees"), and before long Brixton will become the new Kensington, and everything will be alright.......