£4.9 million indeed. And it could easily be seen. Police, horses, dogs, helmets, body armour - even the horses had kneepads. They looked ready for some kind of weird sporting spectacle that crossed horse-racing and skateboarding.
There were thousands of them. Yellow coats, armed police, anti-terror squads and Evidence Gatherers (Police EG), or as one Indymedia journalist called them, “police examples”. Helicopters constantly circled the protestors every thirty seconds. I was informed a long time ago each police helicopter cost the UK taxpayer £10,000 every time one was put up in the air.
And all to protect an empty Gmex conference hall. No one was there, apart from a few support staff and cleaners, who watched the demonstration from behind lines of special “Matrix squad” police.
But there was no sign of those boys and girls from the Metropolitan Police Force, or the London Forward Intelligence Teams, who have recently been discovered holding up a naked bike ride protest and assaulting nude roller skaters on 2005 archive footage.
For many this was a relief, including myself and my loyal, if insane, cameraman. As one bystander put it, “they didn’t invite them because they didn’t want trouble.”
The journey to Manchester for me comprised of rotten half-sleep in a bus full of Brent Stop The War activists, my sleep being disturbed by relentless conversation about war, genocide, human rights and shopping. By the time I staggered on to the Mancunian streets I was in a foul mood, a mood not seen since those fearful days in Russia, when an exhausted and depraved state led me to try and rescue four UK activists from a dirty and corrupt mini-gulag police station.
Strapped to the front of the Gmex conference centre, a huge red banner – Labour: the future for Britain. And that really set the scene of flooded streets of yellow coats and surveillance of peaceful protestors. This was the future. The future did not exist. Only now. That moment. This is what we were going to get. State security, evidence gathering, for our own safety. To protect us from ourselves. After all, we are our worst enemy, right?
As one protestor put it to a Manchester police officer: “When we need you, in my community, you’re never there. But when we come here, there’s thousands of you.”
The protest did go relatively peacefully. Even the police behaved, mostly. Some individual officers did take it upon themselves to shove the odd protestor or samba player around, only to be reigned-in by one high-ranking officer sporting a piranha smile.
Stop the War said 60,000 people attended the protest. Phone calls from associates watching the major television news coverage said numbers were being called at 10,000.
The Beard opinion was the streets were filled, noisy, colourful and definitely the most prominent threat to national security. People had arrived from all over the country, thousands of them. The north and south divide – divide and conquer – despite being stirred up by the mainstream media again this year in pointless news reports and surveys and questionnaires, was nowhere to be seen. Nor was the cultural and religious divides prevalent, that would ease the stress of the global war machine and make it easier to bomb other nations back to the stone age.
No, Muslims marched with Christians and Seeks, the middle class marched with the anarchists, the poor street kids in hoodies with the students, three-legged dogs and their owners. And despite all their differences on a daily basis, the goal was one common consensus. Time to go.
But as one banner put it, “Who comes next?”
And a good question. All there seemed to understand just ridding the country of Tony Blair was not going to change anything. They knew it went deeper than that. Much deeper. The next one would only carry on the same vile and deranged Waterhead project, be it the Project for the New American Century, the War on Terror – rebranded to the Long War – the dissecting and privatisation of education to companies like Microsoft, IBM and Coca Cola, and selling off health services to private prison gurus, and outstanding representatives of human rights, like Serco.
No, The next one will do as they are told, and continue the rapid downward spiral into high profit margin destruction and annual turnover environmental raping because deals were done and promises must be kept, or the consequences could be disastrous - on a personal level for the greedheads that is. Just ask John F. Kennedy, or Richard Nixon for that matter, or even Emilo Zapata.
Despite the seemingly pointless situation of the entire protest – tens of thousands marching around a heavily fortified empty conference centre, marching round in a circle - not even going from A to B, only back to A - the day must be considered a success.
On government statistics a protest is a good way of determining the way a country feels. For every protestor count 50 people in the country. One equals fifty. 60,000 equals three million people all feeling the same. And when less than 50 percent of the voting population fails to vote in a general election, that is a serious and dangerous figure to contend with.
The demonstration came to an end, back where it started. The usual figureheads took to the stage to rant off what had been said before, and a few new ones, with Respect MP Galloway going for his infamous no-holds-barred verbal attacks. Some criticise this, the endless regurgitating of the same speeches, the same statements. But what else would they say for the time being, until there is a shift.
Me? I ducked out to a rock-n-roll pub, downed two pints and narrowly missed a highly-organised attempt by masked terrorists to drug and kidnap me to barren northern wastelands.
And that leads us to one final point. Will the citizens of the UK have a say in the next leader? After all, this is not just replacing the head of one party or another. No, this is who will lead us into the next election, who will fill the rooms and hallways of 10 Downing Street. If it is Gordon Brown, I’m sure he’ll fill it well. They may even have to do some renovations. Widen the doorways. Not just for his bulk, but to get that head through the front door after he has whipped Blair into a bleeding, bruised and scarred pulp, leaving him unconscious on a pile of bin bags on Whitehall, ready to be scraped up by the hardcore hip-hop private refuse collection service Onyx. Judgement Night indeed.
Labour: the future of Britain. For some it was just an advertising slogan, the product of a 15-hour boardroom meeting of advertisers and spin-doctors high on cocaine and ibogaine.
But for others it was a warning - a foreboding to what could come unless something changes fast. And for these ten or 50,000 people the change could not come soon enough. Some sit and wait it out. Like the 70s and 80s survivalists, probably arming themselves up with whatever improvised weapons they can salvage, waiting for martial law. Others are not waiting around. They are making the change, first on the inside, then expanding with a sense of invincibility. Finding their place, what they can do, and acting on that in any positive way they can, be it direct action, alternative communities, new and unrestrained media and music. No-holds-barred. All the way. Ain’t no stopping us now. This is the Real Thing, not some sugary drink that thinks it acceptable company procedure to hire the 1980’s death squads to rid the board of annoying union leaders and members in Central America.
Yes indeed. The future for Britain. It ain’t going to be nice, but it sure as hell ain’t going to be boring. The police state, all-be-it a polite one at the moment, apart from random acts of violence that last 30 seconds to a minute, is already in place. The laws protect them more than us now. The databases are there too, often controlled by unidentified corporations and centralised despite major concern being drawn up way back in 2003. Your children could be taken from you at any time a database demands, protestors face being sectioned under the revised Mental Health Act because if they are not happy with their government then obviously they must be mad and need a good six-month treatment of Librium. Maybe some electro-shock.
And as this journalist has found out, the databases instigated to protect you can at any time is erased by someone at the top and you no longer exist on that level. No protection. Only threat of arrest for no crime at all.
The future of Britain is a dirty phrase in its current context and should be treated so. But one thing is for sure, there are thousands out there, millions who will not let it transpire without dissent, revolt and opposition. And this old hack sits waiting for the next one, the next incident that will send a message, either large or small, to a government obsessed with profit and corporate handshakes behind closed doors, and keeping up with the Bush’s, or the Bin Ladens, or the Berlusconi’s, or even the Beckhams. A government so bogged down in globalisation it cannot see the impending doom awaiting it and all those that are forced to cow down under their leadership. Democracy is dead. Only corporate glee is acceptable, no matter what the cost. And that is why these protests and others like them must continue and escalate without fear or foreboding.
And all to protect an empty Gmex conference hall. No one was there, apart from a few support staff and cleaners, who watched the demonstration from behind lines of special “Matrix squad” police.
But there was no sign of those boys and girls from the Metropolitan Police Force, or the London Forward Intelligence Teams, who have recently been discovered holding up a naked bike ride protest and assaulting nude roller skaters on 2005 archive footage.
For many this was a relief, including myself and my loyal, if insane, cameraman. As one bystander put it, “they didn’t invite them because they didn’t want trouble.”
The journey to Manchester for me comprised of rotten half-sleep in a bus full of Brent Stop The War activists, my sleep being disturbed by relentless conversation about war, genocide, human rights and shopping. By the time I staggered on to the Mancunian streets I was in a foul mood, a mood not seen since those fearful days in Russia, when an exhausted and depraved state led me to try and rescue four UK activists from a dirty and corrupt mini-gulag police station.
Strapped to the front of the Gmex conference centre, a huge red banner – Labour: the future for Britain. And that really set the scene of flooded streets of yellow coats and surveillance of peaceful protestors. This was the future. The future did not exist. Only now. That moment. This is what we were going to get. State security, evidence gathering, for our own safety. To protect us from ourselves. After all, we are our worst enemy, right?
As one protestor put it to a Manchester police officer: “When we need you, in my community, you’re never there. But when we come here, there’s thousands of you.”
The protest did go relatively peacefully. Even the police behaved, mostly. Some individual officers did take it upon themselves to shove the odd protestor or samba player around, only to be reigned-in by one high-ranking officer sporting a piranha smile.
Stop the War said 60,000 people attended the protest. Phone calls from associates watching the major television news coverage said numbers were being called at 10,000.
The Beard opinion was the streets were filled, noisy, colourful and definitely the most prominent threat to national security. People had arrived from all over the country, thousands of them. The north and south divide – divide and conquer – despite being stirred up by the mainstream media again this year in pointless news reports and surveys and questionnaires, was nowhere to be seen. Nor was the cultural and religious divides prevalent, that would ease the stress of the global war machine and make it easier to bomb other nations back to the stone age.
No, Muslims marched with Christians and Seeks, the middle class marched with the anarchists, the poor street kids in hoodies with the students, three-legged dogs and their owners. And despite all their differences on a daily basis, the goal was one common consensus. Time to go.
But as one banner put it, “Who comes next?”
And a good question. All there seemed to understand just ridding the country of Tony Blair was not going to change anything. They knew it went deeper than that. Much deeper. The next one would only carry on the same vile and deranged Waterhead project, be it the Project for the New American Century, the War on Terror – rebranded to the Long War – the dissecting and privatisation of education to companies like Microsoft, IBM and Coca Cola, and selling off health services to private prison gurus, and outstanding representatives of human rights, like Serco.
No, The next one will do as they are told, and continue the rapid downward spiral into high profit margin destruction and annual turnover environmental raping because deals were done and promises must be kept, or the consequences could be disastrous - on a personal level for the greedheads that is. Just ask John F. Kennedy, or Richard Nixon for that matter, or even Emilo Zapata.
Despite the seemingly pointless situation of the entire protest – tens of thousands marching around a heavily fortified empty conference centre, marching round in a circle - not even going from A to B, only back to A - the day must be considered a success.
On government statistics a protest is a good way of determining the way a country feels. For every protestor count 50 people in the country. One equals fifty. 60,000 equals three million people all feeling the same. And when less than 50 percent of the voting population fails to vote in a general election, that is a serious and dangerous figure to contend with.
The demonstration came to an end, back where it started. The usual figureheads took to the stage to rant off what had been said before, and a few new ones, with Respect MP Galloway going for his infamous no-holds-barred verbal attacks. Some criticise this, the endless regurgitating of the same speeches, the same statements. But what else would they say for the time being, until there is a shift.
Me? I ducked out to a rock-n-roll pub, downed two pints and narrowly missed a highly-organised attempt by masked terrorists to drug and kidnap me to barren northern wastelands.
And that leads us to one final point. Will the citizens of the UK have a say in the next leader? After all, this is not just replacing the head of one party or another. No, this is who will lead us into the next election, who will fill the rooms and hallways of 10 Downing Street. If it is Gordon Brown, I’m sure he’ll fill it well. They may even have to do some renovations. Widen the doorways. Not just for his bulk, but to get that head through the front door after he has whipped Blair into a bleeding, bruised and scarred pulp, leaving him unconscious on a pile of bin bags on Whitehall, ready to be scraped up by the hardcore hip-hop private refuse collection service Onyx. Judgement Night indeed.
Labour: the future of Britain. For some it was just an advertising slogan, the product of a 15-hour boardroom meeting of advertisers and spin-doctors high on cocaine and ibogaine.
But for others it was a warning - a foreboding to what could come unless something changes fast. And for these ten or 50,000 people the change could not come soon enough. Some sit and wait it out. Like the 70s and 80s survivalists, probably arming themselves up with whatever improvised weapons they can salvage, waiting for martial law. Others are not waiting around. They are making the change, first on the inside, then expanding with a sense of invincibility. Finding their place, what they can do, and acting on that in any positive way they can, be it direct action, alternative communities, new and unrestrained media and music. No-holds-barred. All the way. Ain’t no stopping us now. This is the Real Thing, not some sugary drink that thinks it acceptable company procedure to hire the 1980’s death squads to rid the board of annoying union leaders and members in Central America.
Yes indeed. The future for Britain. It ain’t going to be nice, but it sure as hell ain’t going to be boring. The police state, all-be-it a polite one at the moment, apart from random acts of violence that last 30 seconds to a minute, is already in place. The laws protect them more than us now. The databases are there too, often controlled by unidentified corporations and centralised despite major concern being drawn up way back in 2003. Your children could be taken from you at any time a database demands, protestors face being sectioned under the revised Mental Health Act because if they are not happy with their government then obviously they must be mad and need a good six-month treatment of Librium. Maybe some electro-shock.
And as this journalist has found out, the databases instigated to protect you can at any time is erased by someone at the top and you no longer exist on that level. No protection. Only threat of arrest for no crime at all.
The future of Britain is a dirty phrase in its current context and should be treated so. But one thing is for sure, there are thousands out there, millions who will not let it transpire without dissent, revolt and opposition. And this old hack sits waiting for the next one, the next incident that will send a message, either large or small, to a government obsessed with profit and corporate handshakes behind closed doors, and keeping up with the Bush’s, or the Bin Ladens, or the Berlusconi’s, or even the Beckhams. A government so bogged down in globalisation it cannot see the impending doom awaiting it and all those that are forced to cow down under their leadership. Democracy is dead. Only corporate glee is acceptable, no matter what the cost. And that is why these protests and others like them must continue and escalate without fear or foreboding.
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