May Day London 2003 (4)

It's important to note that the mood of the crowd didn't change until the police tactics did. A serious shut-in took place about three blocks north of Trafalgar Square. They then almost doubled in numbers, and pushed the crowd in nice and tight, narrowing the cordon across the width of the road. Not to allow any kind of access, mind, just to make the gathering look as dangerous as possible and to dish out a mild form of physical punishment.

It was at this stage that I walked past what was clearly a monitoring van, surrounded by a few undercover guys. A quick glimpse inside showed the comprehensive face-by-face indexing was going on - and these were people that had not necessarily chosen to be where they were.

I whipped out my remaining box of surgical masks. I took one step onto the road (to join several other people with cameras) while considering my options. Big mistake - remember the arbitrary rule about roads and pavements?

I was actually grabbed by a policeman, dragged 12 feet across the road, and shoved inside the cordon!

I shit you not.

It all happened so fast, I didn't get the officer's number, but he was uniform - and had one eyebrow doing the job of two. He disappeared pretty sharpish. All the policemen who clearly saw me being shoved in from across the road claimed to be completely ignorant of my situation. I was inside the cordon, and there I was going to stay. I tried to leave early on (it was patently ridiculous, they had all seen what happened, etc.), but got a hefty shove in the middle of the chest for my troubles. Boos from the crowd. I asked to see a senior officer a number of times, but was given the 'he's over there... no, he's not here, he's over there' run around.

I had no problem being hemmed in, shoved around and digitally indexed, really (damn, I'd published everything I was going to do and was well within my rights to do it) but there was a principle at stake. You know what I'm like with those pesky principles. I tend to stick to my guns.

Remember this face. This is one of the guys who 'knew nothing' about my situation, so was 'completely helpless.' We were being held 'for our own protection and in the interests of public safety.' If indeed it were true that I had been shoved across the road and inside the cordon, then that would have to be a serious matter to be discussed with a senior officer, but he had no indication that this truly was the case, so as far as he was concerned, I was there voluntarily. Tough. You wanna try holding that camera still, buddy - it looks like you're shaking a bit there. And so on.

Scary, huh? After promising wife, mother and kids that I would be careful, here I was being outwitted by a bunch of halfwits. It was the trust issue that got me. I actually found it completely inconceivable that a policeman would abuse his power in such a way.

I argued with a number of police until I was blue in the face. Actually, I kind of argued until I was white in the face. That stomach virus and dealing with the rush of activity around it had pretty much knocked the stuffing out of me. On this day, after 8 hours of operating on breakfast alone (and a rather ill-advised scotch and cola en route), I suddenly dropped on the spot in a dead faint.

There were legs, arms, a couple of voices, but I didn't really come to until I found myself sitting on my arse outside the cordon with two police medics in attendance.

Got bag? Yep. Got camera? Yep.

Bodily inventory? Everything intact, and largely unscathed. Good. State of mind? Wits returning, but dignity shot to hell. Still, you can't have everything.

They offered me water, but I fished my own bottle out, along with a chocolate bar. The sugar rush obviously brought the colour back to my face, because the worried look on the medic's face faded away as my focus returned...

...just in time to see the chap you see pictured above tell the medics that I was an organiser (!) and obviously faking it. He wanted me dragged back inside the cordon. Now. Get up, son. A look from one of the medics sent him on his way, but my climb back to reality just got a lot steeper.

A person is an illegal detainee if they are prevented from proceeding or restrained in custody in violation of the law - and I had been specifically singled and collared for that purpose. This so-called servant of the public, and no doubt most of the smug gits around him, knew exactly what was going on. I was calmly and deliberately being taught a lesson.

Lesson noted. Congratulations to the police on a job well done. I used to be a Sometime Concerned Citizen. Now I'm a Determined Activist. What choice do I have?

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