On Tuesday 1st September 2020, I was at the local train station early. It was a beautiful clear day, promising to feel warmer later on.
I met a friend at the next station, who had generously carried a drum for me all the way to her own local train station. We were masked, obviously, and chatted about our hopes for the day, yoga and sewing as the train sped up towards London. People on the underground are quite accustomed to seeing unusual things, so my drum and sticks didn't get many funny looks. Maybe Londoners are also becoming accustomed to seeing XR flags sticking out of people's rucksacks too.
Being from the East of England, we gathered outside this beautiful building. I'm sorry, I have no idea what or where it is, but I loved the architecture of it. Gradually, dozens an dozens of wonderful humans gathered, testing instruments, comparing banners and freshly printed t-shirts (Printed with ink, that is, not newly-made t-shirts. We XR rebels generally print onto existing clothes already in our possession. The carbon footprint of clothing is shocking.) and starting to feel excited for what was to come. We all had other places we could have been at. Other things we could have been doing. My first day of in-person teaching at Uni was in 2 days time and it would have been nice to spend my last 2 of the summer holidays chilling with my family. But this was more important.
After a time, we organised ourselves into a formation, spaced 2m from each other, and we began to drum and march. We marched together through the streets of London, banging out beautiful rhythms of warning and desperation and love. Our banners called for attention to the greatest threat to the continued existence of the human species. We arrived at last, along with those from other areas of the UK who had mustered and marched from different locations, in Parliament Square. We did one final lap around the square and then sat down where we landed. You can see it had warmed up, because my jumper was off. Seated on the tarmac, chalk and measuring tapes and make-shift scrap paper protractors appeared, so we could mark out a tesselated array of hexagons, enabling us to stay socially distanced from others around us.
There were hundreds of us. Thousands, I believe. All different ages, experiences, professions, belief systems, but one common goal; to save the world. I mean, that sounds a bit over-stated and dramatic, but essentially that is what is boils down to. Life on Earth is in peril. And we would like to see it preserved and protected. Not just bees and pandas and whales and polar bears, but humans too. The entire, complicated eco-system, from fungus to falcon, earwig to elephant.
Together cleaners and religious leaders and doctors and parents and scientists and students and accountants and teachers and farmers and solicitors and musicians and retail workers and grandparents listened to speeches, sang songs, shared food and stories and did everything we could think of to draw attention to the Climate and Ecological Emergency Bill. Some of the actions were incredible. If you haven't seen another more than road blocking and arrests on the news, you've missed the best parts.
We were surrounded by police on pretty much all sides. They had stopped traffic around Parliament Square in preparation for the action, and arrests were many and rapid. I believe the Met Police had been given target numbers of activists to arrest so they were efficient. Most were peaceful, respectful arrests. Many rebels sat quietly on the ground, and were carried away by 4 officers through the crowd, who clapped and called their thanks to the arrestees. Supporters and legal observers were kept busy ensuring that arrestees were properly looked after and we knew who had been arrested and which station they had been taken to.
I saw one arrest, however, that really upset me and everyone around. I happened to be close, by sheer co-incidence, having been drumming next to a qualified midwife while she was arrested and carried away. A young black man was observing an arrest, and I saw an officer square up to him. They seemed to be talking, then suddenly, the young man was shoved, pushed down and had his arms yanked behind him by two officers in what I can only describe as an aggressive and violent manner. He was forced to march, head down, arms wrenched up behind him for several hundred metres to a police van. Many of us followed, asking the officers to be more gentle, listening as he cried out in pain. It made me feel sick to the pit of my stomach. Obviously, I wasn't close enough to hear or see exactly what passed between the arresting officer and the young man before his violent arrest, but he certainly had not assulted the officer, as I later heard the media attest. I had already accepted that racism is still an issue in this country, but seeing it in person up close a painful eye-opener. This kind of appalling discrimination is not acceptable.
It's weary work, marching around in 20 degree heat with a rucksack with the bare essentials on your back and a drum on your front. I had planned ahead and brought a belt with me, to harness the rucksack straps together a la baby carrier, to make it more comfortable, but I was still aching from feet to shoulders by mid-afternoon.
It was a welcome relief when we could take a break from drumming to enable speeches and songs and rest. I plonked my rucksack (yes, that is a bit of woven wrap fabric printed with logos) on the ground, ate a snack bar and some fruit and enjoyed taking the weight off my feet.
Later in the afternoon, after a particularly uplifting samba session, with kids dancing in the middle of the circle of drummers on the street, the police attempted to force us all onto the green of Parliament Square. Two officers approached me and made it clear, despite the noise, that they wanted me in particular to move to the green. I declined. I stayed on my aching feet in the road and refused to budge.
I knew they would have no choice to arrest me. I knew I could avoid arrest simply by moving to the grass. But I chose to allow them to arrest me. Not because I was exhausted and the idea of having a time out at the police station, with access to drinking water and a toilet was appealing (though it was). Not because the grassy square was clearly full and pushing all the activists into this one area would make it impossible for us to adequately socially distance (which it would have done). Not even because the officer was being unecessarily shouty and angry and ignoring my gestures to request she maintain some distance for the sake of coronavirus.
And this:
Getting arrested was mostly paperwork and procedure. It was intimidating, being talked and shouted at by two officers for several minutes before they finally arrested me. Really intimidating. I locked eyes with a friend and later with one of the samba leaders and they helped to keep me steady, though I was trembling. I clung on tightly to my drum sticks, since they were borrowed, while they carried me through the crowds and onto a side street. It was unpleasant, hearing a passer by thank the officers for dealing with me, like I was some selfish, lawless troublemaker. It was distressing, seeing another arrested person shaking and crying, overcome by all the emotions, and being unable to approach them to offer words of comfort.
Being a middle-class, white woman, I was treated with respect and dignity by the police officers I met after my arrest, although I was not permitted to take my own co-codamol, so nearly succumbed to a migraine in my cell. I was allowed to see the nurse and given some paracetamol, which never touches my migraines. However, the cell was clean and comfortable. I had access to a toilet of my very own (after a day of action with limited toilet opportunities this was very exciting) and when I asked for some hand gel to clean my hands after I had done some yoga to relieve my aching muscles, the officer walked me down the corridor to a sink where I was able to use warm water and real soap! He laughed at my gleeful relief at having properly clean hands. I was provided with a really not-that-bad vegan curry and rested until I was released later in the evening.
There was an XR rebel waiting for myself and the other two rebels at that station to be released at the station, with snacks and onward transport. I was happy to be taken to the nearest tube station, but she drove me right to the flat some friends were staying at, since it wasn't far out of her way. We talked about midwifery and immunity and I discovered that she carried out some of the research which led to the Rubella immunity test being discontinued for pregnant women. I'll be thankful to her always for taking time out of her life after a day at work to offer support and assistance. She made me feel safe and cared for. My buddies were awake to greet me and debrief on what had happened to me and at Parliament Square for the rest of the day, then I freshened up and tucked myself on the sofa bed for a sleep.
The next day, we went back out and carried on with actions. I was careful on this day not to risk arrest again, as I needed to catch a train and get home for school run and Uni the next day. Also, because I wanted to see what the outcome of my one arrest would be in terms of my training and career prospects before even considering another.
It was another rewarding day of speeches, actions, drumming and learning. I met other healthcare professionals (and looked after the bike of one of them, while they popped to the toilet). They'd done a brilliant creative action on the green at Parliament Square which I was sad to have missed. Lines and lines of bodies covered with white sheets, each one labelled to explain how they had been killed by climate and ecological breakdown. I bumped into the midwife I'd seen being arrested the day before. We talked briefly about midwifery and how to raise awareness among our colleagues. I think we had a photo together, but sadly I didn't get her name. Maybe one day we'll bump into each other again.
Eventually, aching, drained but also energised, I clambered on a train heading back out to Suffolk.
It was a long while before I heard anything more about my arrest, but I have now attended court and signed a caution, admitting that I did knowingly breach a Section 14 order, by protesting outside of the agreed area. It will appear on my enhanced DBS for at least 6 years. There is a chance that it will affect my job prospects when I complete my midwifery degree. However, I hope that future potential employers will see that my action was an act of loving rebellion for the greater good.
I have formally been a law-abiding citizen. In truth, any kind of rule breaking - even rule bending - makes me uncomfortable. I strive to be a good person and a responsible citizen. I work hard, I study hard and a try to be the best parent I can be. As a good and responsible human being, how could I continue to ignore the complete failure of our government to admit the truth about what is happening or deal with it?
The catastrophe which was accurately predicted before my birth has been studiously ignored by those who could do something about it my entire life. I have tried, and still do try the things we are supposed to. I write to my local MP. Unfortunately, my local MP is Jo Churchill and she doesn't seem to give a toss about the planet, or about much that I hold dear. I draw the attention of the local press to environmental issues where I live. I engage with the Parish Council about issues in my village. I have signed countless hundreds of petitions. I have made personal changes and sacrifices to limit my personal carbon emissions. None of it has worked. None of it is enough.
It might sound crazy, but in the face of a world gone insane, sometimes the sane choice ends up appearing crazy. Even if it fails. Even if the thousands of brave, earth-loving, terrified humans who have allowed themselves to be arrested, many of them multiple times, do so in vain. Even if those in power around the world choose profit over survival, I can look my children in the eyes and tell them that I tried my best. That I gave my all to save them from an avoidable apocalypse.
And that is why I now have an criminal record.