Yesterday morning I woke up at 6:30, exhausted (I’m NOT a morning person) but looking forward to a break in the routine and a fun day in London. 36 hours later I am so proud and inspired by what I was lucky enough to be a part of.
The National Demonstration, for those who don’t know, was a huge march in protest of government cuts and the
Gathering at Horse Guard.
resultant proposal for tripled tuition fees in the United Kingdom. If these proposals pass, tuition fees could reach up to 9000 pounds per year – which may not seem like much to those in the States, who often attend universities with annual tuitions of $50,000 – but when you consider the amount of grant and scholarship money that the average American student receives, the actual out-of-pocket amount is usually significantly less. It doesn’t work quite that way over here: most students have to pay the entirety of their fees in loan money, and while bursaries are available they are far less prevalent. There’s a misconception that UK students are handed a free education – but this is simply not true (no matter how much Fox News tried to pass it off as the truth in their coverage of the Demo…morons).
And so we marched. 52,000 of us, from all over the United Kingdom, gathered at Horse Guards Avenue, bundled up against the cold and toting a colorful array of signs and a hefty
The guy's pink footie pajamas were the best touch. 😉
helping of anger. We screamed, we chanted, and we fought to make ourselves heard; as the march progressed towards Westminster and the House of Commons students upped the creativity and all manner of instruments could be heard, salsa dancing (from Kent Uni, no less!) could be admired, and a giant carrot, whose significance I still haven’t quite figured out, could be spotted in the crowd. Helicopters idled overhead like overgrown mosquitoes, and cameras and reporters were there in droves – far outnumbering policemen, who were noticeably lacking in numbers – a glaring lack of forethought that would prove problematic later on.
It was impossible not to get into the spirit of things, even as the cold bit at our hands and, occasionally, the march ground to a halt for a while. Breaks in the action allowed for plenty of time to
sign-gaze; some of the best ones included “how the hell am I going to afford to go to Hogwarts now?!” “Is this the line for Justin Bieber tickets?” and of course, “I shaved my balls for this.” The chants ranged in creativity from the simple but effective “No ifs, no buts, no education cuts!” to detailed lyrics about the Lib Dems being cunts and Nick Clegg liking it in the bum; to which my friend Freddy responded, “NOT necessarily a negative quality in a person!” Unfortunately, since he didn’t shout it in catchy song-form, it didn’t really register.
As we passed the House of Commons a huge amount of people apparently disappeared, and it was possible to actually walk forward at a normal speed. Totally lost, we asked someone where we were supposed to go now, and were directedtowards the Tate Gallery and told that there was a rally in that direction.
Gathered around the fire at Millbank.
The rally – which sounded innocent enough at the time – was in the courtyard of Millbank, and by the time we got there, the police were barricading it off and trying to keep newcomers out. Unfortunately for them, my friends and I are just rebellious enough to get ourselves to the action anyway, and so we made our way into the throngs surrounding the massive fire that had been started in the courtyard. Placards were being thrown in from all sides, and the thick, dirty smoke curled in dark clouds to the roof of Millbank and the clear sky above. Further in, groups of people started trying to smash the glass windows that stretch from floor to ceiling, and in the windows above, people gathered to peer down at the riot that was slowly unfolding below. The police, all outside and being quite useless, were powerless to stop the crowd as their energy and anger rapidly increased – and when someone threw a fire extinguisher into the flames, causing a bomb-like explosion, the palpable panic in the crowd indicated that this had the potential to spiral quickly out of control.
And then, somehow, there were people on the roof. Waving flags and hanging banners, they brought the people below to a frenzy, and the glass smashing efforts were doubled. A smattering of policemen appeared, to no avail – projectiles,
The wall of Millbank...there always has to be a weird looking penis. Always.
including the sticks from placards and glass bottles, were hurled – several making contact. Those on the inside starting using tables and chairs as battering rams, sending shards of glass flying. People with spray-paint scrawled “Tory pigs” and “Tory scum” on the walls. At this point, frozen and directionally-challenged, we decided to leave. Our half-hour walk back to the London School of Economics was thankfully punctuated by a visit to McDonald’s and we arrived at LSE completely knackered and probably borderline hypothermic, but at least full of greasy food. Three hours later(thank you, London traffic), we finally made it home.
And so it was over – this day that I’d been waiting for for so long. It didn’t disappoint; marching with tens of thousands of other students for such a worthy cause was an incredible experience, and I’m so glad I was able to be a part of it. I don’t agree with how far that small percentage of protesters took things – while I agree that sometimes you have to push some boundaries to make yourself heard, acting like a bunch of violent idiots does one thing only, and that is paint the entirety of us withthe same brush. Browsing through news reports today I have yet to see one that isn’t largely about the Millbank riot; hopefully, after a few days have passed, that’ll become old news and the real point of the march will be recollected. I hope we made a difference – and I think we probably did – but if it takes another march to get the point across, then I’ll be there.
x
A Canterbury Tale 