Last weeks riotous demonstration against tuition fees has prompted columns & columns of nostalgic reminiscence from those old enough to remember the student protests of yesteryear. Bystander has a very nice example:
“Whether you are a member of the Bullingdon or a militant Trot, the sound of breaking glass is deeply satisfying to a young man, and today, as in 1968, the press reports will be avidly scanned by the protesters.”
Naturally I am going to join in with the remembering, even though I wasn’t much of a demonstrator. I can remember only two which I took part in, both in my first term. I thought it was an obligatory part of the curriculum.
The first was outside the Whisky-a go-go, a Soho nightclub which had been proved (to our satisfaction) to be operating a colour bar. We stood on the opposite side of the road one evening waving placards & shouting at the people going in.
The second was a much bigger affair one afternoon. Round & round Trafalgar Square protesting about the South African trials.
The law against causing an obstruction was being strictly enforced by the police & I don’t think that the system of getting permission & then having a police escort to help you march down the middle of the road had yet been adopted, so we had to walk in single file in the gutter round the inside edge of the Square. If you stepped onto the pavement, even for a moment, a policeman would shout at you to get off.
As darkness fell & rush hour began it became more difficult, even a bit scary being so close to the cars. I was particularly alarmed when one man drew up alongside me, wound down his window, thrust his choleric face (a fine match for his maroon Jaguar) over towards me & shouted “I’ll wager you can’t even pronounce the name on your placard!”
He was right. Mind you, I don’t suppose even he would have chosen that insult if my placard had demanded “Free Nelson Mandela”, but it did not – though I do remember that the surname began with M.
I began to believe that such protests were mostly just a self indulgence – the man in the Jag was right there. Effecting real change meant hard work (a thorough knowledge of economics* is vital for revolutionaries according to one good friend), very clear ideas, & choosing your battles carefully.
*It has only just occurred to me that my friend was right too - the economists have come closer to bringing about the end of western civilisation as we know it than have any overt revolutionaries.
