 'Not in Our Name' - David Fielding
Newcastle Emlyn marches on London
Reprinted with permission from David Fielding
When I told Stewart I wasn't going to be in on Saturday evening to look after the bar at the Blue Bell because I was going to London for the anti-war march - my first ever 'demo' - he was, as ever, philosophical. No comment on Saddam Hussein's ill-treatment of the Kurds of Northern Iraq, of Bush's problems with the UN Security Council, of Hans Blixs' inability to find even one weapon of mass destruction or even of Tony Blair's highly principled moral stand/self-destructive political death
wish (delete as appropriate). Instead Stewart concentrated on a more parochial nuts and bolts issue which had not even occurred to me.
"Well if you're going by Blah Blah coaches you'll be lucky to get halfway," he laughed, polishing a pint pot in one of the regular therapy sessions he uses to release the pressures built up working in the kitchen on a busy night.
In the event his sarky forecast turned out to be wildly optimistic. Our bus - the last of three hired by the organisers (and not from Blah Blah coaches by the way) and boarded at 6.3Oam by ten would-be demonstrators - just made it past the town limits on the Carmarthen road and then, having complained all the way from our pick-up point, the mart car park, expired with a whimper at that first lay-by. We didn't even make it to the Pensarnau service station.
After a short interval during which the two drivers tried to effect emergency repairs to get us back to the depot, we limped on to Henllan, crossed the bridge and headed north towards Aberbanc only to expire at the roadside once more - this time with a splutter and a cough which sounded both final and fatal.
The engine refused to restart. The radio closed down. The heating turned off. It began to get cold. The moon - suspiciously close to the full - hovered over the landscape. It was eerily quiet.
In such conditions the mind can sometimes play its own version of Looney Tunes. I felt cheated. It was personal. Tony Blair was to win a reprieve for his war on Iraq because of a faulty valve on a Lewis Rhydlewis coach. The childhood doggerel on Richard III's death at Bosworth - about a kingdom lost and 'all for the want of a horse-shoe nail' sprang unbidden to mind.
This pathetic mental meandering was interrupted by the arrival of the replacement coach. Lewis Rhydlewis had responded promptly. We were on our way. More Looney Tunes: 'You shall go to the demo Cinders.' We picked up more people on the way and by the Leigh Delamere Service Station on the M4 our bus, now three-quarters full, had caught up with our travelling companions. Soon after mid-day we were on the Embankment, exiting the coaches and heading for Parliament Square. The march had already started.
Why go?
I certainly wasn't sure I was going to - right up to closing the front door at 6.20am on D-Day.
At the very lowest level, I was going to miss a feast of tv sport - Man U v Arsenal in the fifth round of the FA Cup and England v France at the start of the Six Nations.
All the more reason for going really. If I stayed home and watched I knew I wouldn't enjoy it. I'd feel guilty - and rightly so.
In spite of the Looney Tunes logic outlined above I didn't consider my presence of the remotest significance to the outcome of the demonstration. My mate 'Arry (a demo veteran going back to the miners' strike of the 80s) had been talking to officers in the Newcastle Emlyn police force, some of whom were being drafted into service, and they said the authorities were expecting up to three million. If they only got 2,999,999 my absence was hardly going to be noticed.
Yet it was important - to me at any rate. The temptation to be a couch potato made me even more determined to go. If only for me.
Why? It was - and is - personal. Because I felt - and feel - I was being lied to.
Reasons given for war on Iraq:
1. Change of regime. Out with Saddam Hussein. In with democracy.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
But, wait a minute, there have been dictators aplenty in my lifetime - some far worse than Saddam Hussein - who have not only not been attacked, but who have actually been kept in power by the West. We have sold them weapons - if not of mass destruction - then of sufficient destructive power to keep their own people in subjugation and to kill thousands of their minority groups.
It was 'the West' who brought Saddam Hussein to power in Iraq.
Getting rid of tyrants? Assuming Hussein is toppled in Iraq do we then go on to Burma? To Zimbabwe? To China?
If so, who decides where there will be a change of regime and where there won't? The USA? No thank you. They've being doing that for years and in their own backyard for centuries - the Monroe Doctrine and look what a mess that's in. In the final analysis, people have to decide to get rid of their own Ceaucescus.
2. Democracy?
The West doesn't want democracy. It wants compliant, friendly governments firmly in control. Democracy in Saudi Arabia? A nightmare. It would not be allowed to happen. The electors might just vote the wrong way. As they did in Chile. As they did in Algeria. As they might do in Iraq if they are given the vote. The USA and Britain want control - not democracy.
3. Weapons of mass destruction?
Iraq does not have nuclear weapons nor the means of delivering them. There are several states that do including Britain. If all of them were to give up their nuclear weapons the world would be a much safer place. But they won't.
The only nation to have used nuclear weapons is the USA. And Goldwater might well have used them to bomb North Vietnam had he been elected. The only state in the Middle East with weapons of mass destruction is Israel. And Israel is not going to be attacked by the US and Britain. Nor, come to that, is North Korea. Too dangerous.
So why? What is the real reason if the arguments advanced by B&B are lies? That can only be oil. Control of the oil production and regional control of the Middle East.
We were warned as we were dropped off that such was the turnout the five miles from the Embankment to Hyde Park might take five hours. I wanted to listen to the speakers to see if their reasoning reflected my own so I asked 'Arry to take a short cut to Hyde Park.
In the event we got to Hyde Park in about half an hour, crossing the main route once and being denied access through to Shepherd Market for a cup of coffee by police. Since the next street had no police barrier we were able to get through anyway. The obstruction seemed a bit pointless and while the officers in the yellow jackets were only following instructions from above it felt like an unnecessary show of force aimed at letting people know who was in charge. This unnecessary police
prescence was to be even more striking in Grosvenor Square later - though I guess the authorities weren't to know that.
After coffee, on to Hyde Park. Since we were amongst the early arrivals we were able to get near the front.
There was a temporary outdoor 'theatre/TV studio' with mobile tv cameras and on either side two enormous screens relaying pictures and sound. To the right was a large can of cola - with a difference. This was a marketing promotion by Mecca Cola, a product aimed at the Moslem-Arabic market as an alternative to the two US colas: Coke and Pepsi. Mecca Cola was also acting as one of three sponsors to the demonstration.
Tony Benn at anti war protest
Some of the speakers were expected - flagged up before the day itself. Tony Benn was fluent and spiky: "If there are inspectors in Iraq I want to see inspectors in Israel, inspectors in Britain and inspectors in America."
Mo Mowlam was courageous, the effects of her brain tumour affecting her speech but not her resolve:
"Tony Blair and the government have put themselves into a corner We will lose this war. It will be the best recruiting campaign for terrorism that there could be."
Harold Pinter was venemous, speaking of "American barbarism".
A surprise speaker was Ben Bella, first prime minster of an independent Algeria back in the 60s. He spoke in French and used a translator, who showed real skill, for Ben Bella's chunks of French became longer and longer as he warmed to his theme. His final words needed no translation: "Vive la France!" an extraordinary cry for a man who had fought one of the nastiest of wars of liberation against French paratroopers.
Ben Bella at anti war protest
Jesse Jackson was energetic but disappointing, his attempts to involve his audience in repetitive American-style, rap chanting not really matching the mood of the marchers.
For most of us were not seasoned demonstrators. We came - for a million individual reasons - to make a point against Mr Blair's war - and to listen. It was more a pilgrimage than a demonstration. We nodded in agreement and we clapped but we didn't war-whoop. How could we?
Charles Kennedy was another who disappointed. His was a debating speech, a parliamentary contribution, a report to us on what he had attempted to do in parliament and the four points - I forget which four - Mr Blair must bear in mind. It was cerebral and we wanted passion, warmth and commitment.
The two best two speakers were George Galloway and Ken Livingston. Galloway was anger controlled, pure passion, promising that if Mr Blair got his war it would break the Labour Party. Yet that same party would be built up again - this time with real Labour values.
Ken Livingston warned against the 'legitimisation' of the war by a second UN resolution which would be brought about by pressure and bribes from the Americans.
"The British people will not tolerate being used to prop up the most corrupt and racist American administration in over eighty years."
Ken Livingston at anti war protest
Throughout the whole time a helicopter - presumably a police helicopter - had hovered overhead. Whether it was just keeping an eye on things, or was trying to drown the speakers was not clear. It seemed a crazy thing to do. If it had come down it would have killed scores of people. (It is quite surprising how paranoid you can get about 'the police' on such a day - more of that in a moment though without exception individual officers were polite and courteous).
As the afternoon wore on the skies became a darker grey, the temperature dropped and the wind freshened. The ground underfoot was getting colder and clammier. After nearly three hours standing listening to speeches it was time to go.
'Arry managed a call through on his mobile to the coachdrivers. They were waiting in Grosvenor Square.
Except that when we got there, they weren't. There was a strong police presence, behind barriers in front of the American Embassy and sitting, bored out of their minds, inside scores of police vans round the square and in side-streets.
There were media people a plenty all ready to do their Kate Adie in front of the waiting tv cameras plus a host of photographers eager to supply the Sunday papers with pics of the violence.
One police driver seemed to try and heighten the one-sided tension by using his siren and flashing lights to drive from one side of the square to the other. It seemed a curious thing to do. There was no other traffic in the square, few pedestrians and no marchers.
They were all to be disappointed. There was no violence at all. Even 'Arry seemed cheated. The threatened invasion of the 'Trots' never happened.
Well over an hour after our return deadline we finally found our buses - in Berkeley Square. No nightingales singing but it was good to be back on board. The drivers said they'd been moved on from Grosvenor Square by the police.
And then the return journey. A plate of chips and a mug of coffee at every motorway service station stop. What joyless places they are. It was a cold journey home. It was near to 2am when we finally got back to Emlyn's mart. A long day but an enjoyable one.
The best thing about it was being with a group of like-minded people - and it was good to be reminded just what sort of people were likeminded - a lot of Plaid Cymru party members who organised the buses; the deputy-head of the local school; a goodly number of older single women (a type which Britain seems to specialise in - grit, good manners and grey hair in equal measure); some caring couples; a fair few younger people, some dread-locked, some jewellerypierced. None of them seemed to be
'professional' demonstrators not even 'Arry now, begging his pardon. But if you were to be cast ashore on a desert island - and there aren't many of those between Newcastle Emlyn and Berkeley Square - they seemed as good a crew of fellow survivors as you could wish for.
Has it changed me? Yes. I'd be far more likely to go again. And like many things that have come late to me in my life, I wish I'd done it a long time ago.
It might not change the world, but it can and is changing me. And for the better.
'Arry talks about 'empowerment'. I don't know about that, but to stand up and be counted - even in amongst a million (two million?) certainly felt good.
Nor has it stopped there. On the evening of Friday, March 7th, fifty people - many of whom had been on the demonstration - met in the Emlyn Hall and set up the Newcastle Emlyn Stop the War Coalition.
We will work together with similar groups in Cardigan, Liandysul and Carmarthen.
One of our first jobs was to elect five people to go to a People's Assembly on Wednesday March 12th. They will report back to a second meeting in the Emlyn Hall on Friday 14th.
In the meantime the Plaid Cymru office in Newcastle Emlyn will be our headquarters. That also feels right. Labour seems somehow split and paralysed. Plaid is giving a lead.
It's easy to get carried away of course but there's a feeling that this will be something of a turning point in British history.
Of course the war may well be 'over' before the month is out and Blair and Bush - wonderously characterised by a slip of the tongue by one of the Hyde Park speakers as 'Blush and Bare' - might be well advised to strike before the anti-war coalition gathers strength.
But even if war happens it won't be 'over' in no time, because it's not going to 'end'. It never does. The motivation isn't right.
It's not a war of liberation. It's a war for control. And people won't be controlled. Not Arabs. Not Brits. Not now. Not ever.
It's fascinating to watch what's happening. A New Europe emerging. Germany earning British scorn for being 'pacifist'. An Algerian in London crying 'Vive la France!' and meaning it.
We live in interesting times.
David Fielding
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