Stop the war

On 15 February, the world saw mass demonstrations opposing war in Iraq, with people protesting in some 60 countries and 300 cities across the globe. People from all walks of life took to the streets, from Sydney to Berlin, from Rome to New York, to send a message to their leaderships that came through loud and clear:
Stop the war
In London, Nyier Abdou shadowed the organisers of the largest demonstration in British history and joined the crowds coursing through the city's streets
It's 4.00pm on 13 February, two days before what organisers hope will be the largest anti-war demonstrations since the Vietnam war, and Lindsey German, convener of the Stop the War Coalition, is scrawling a makeshift timetable of member interviews on a large board by the door of the coalition's press offices near King's Cross. In the run-up to the demonstrations planned for Saturday, 15 February, the British press has -- whether purposely, as is the case with the Daily Mirror, or unwittingly, as is the case with the unexpectedly sizeable coverage given to preparations by the Daily Telegraph -- become an active agitator, fuelling heightened anticipation for Saturday's events. Stop the War members are lined up for interviews the next day starting from 5.30am and running on to a 10.30pm engagement.
A table in the centre of the small office -- a space donated by the National Association of Teachers in Further and Higher Education (NATFHE) -- is littered with the day's press clippings, most of them proclaiming the estimated turnout of half a million protesters, alongside a detailed guide to the where, when and how of the demonstrations. The Guardian, the Scotsman, the Independent are snipped and scattered in a proud array of publicity prowess. A dry erase board in one corner is crammed with scribbled contact numbers for quick reference. Leaning against filing cabinets, slumped in their desk chairs, hands pressed to their brows, mobile phones glued to their ears, coalition staff are fielding last minute arrangements. Will Jesse Jackson and his entourage be able to drive? Will pop diva Ms Dynamite get stuck in traffic? Can Corin Redgrave appear on S Live at 7.30 in the morning? Magnum wants to know how to get a good aerial shot.
Between relentless mobile phone calls, Stop the War Coalition co-founder John Rees tells me that the demonstrations will easily top half a million, with coaches setting out from large and small towns alike -- 200 from Birmingham, 30 from Liverpool, 35 from Devon, and so on. The government has decided to take out the railings in Hyde Park, where marchers setting out from two separate starting points in the city will converge for a high-profile rally.
Press packets are being assembled, replete with "Stop the War" pins. At the same time, at the coalition's other office in East London -- what Rees refers to as the "mobilisation office" -- "Don't Attack Iraq" placards are being assembled in huge numbers. Gear for the more than 400 volunteer staffers who will steward the demonstration is being pulled together.
For all the public noise generated from Stop the War's press office, one could easily envision a legion of dedicated staffers working around the clock to generate publicity. But there are only nine people in this office on Thursday, and according to Rees, "the actual number of full-time workers that the coalition has is ... three." These are very energetic, very organised people -- and most of them have a day job. Still, the atmosphere is loose and jovial -- strangely calm. There is a latent sense of wonder over how big all this got so fast.
MAKE LOVE, NOT WAR: FOR Stop the War, 14 February is not Valentine's Day, it's the eve of the 15 February demonstrations, and there is no time for romantic interludes. The day is spent zigzagging around London for an array of anti-war events, kicking off with a press op at the Criterion theatre, on Piccadilly Circus, at 11.00 in the morning. Members of casts from an array of West End musicals have gathered under the banner of "Artists against the War" to show their opposition to war in Iraq. The gathering is brief, with the performers doing two takes of a song for the television cameras and then dispersing, but the clip gets considerable play on news channels throughout the day.
I head over to the national office of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND), in north London, tucked behind an unassuming door painted with a peace sign. CND, along with the Muslim Council of Britain (MAB), are co-sponsoring the demonstrations, although unlike Stop the War, both organisations have another primary agenda. In the case of CND, it's raising awareness about nuclear non- proliferation and bringing about the abolishment of British nuclear weapons.
Up the stairs, the halls are lined with stacks upon stacks of placards for the demonstrations. Kate Hudson, looking tired but friendly, greets me with coffee and a healthy dose of resentment over US-UK hegemony and contravention of international laws. Again, I am amazed to see how limited the resources of CND actually are. The organisation has around 10 staff members. But, as with Stop the War, what the group lacks in manpower and office space, it more than makes up for in drive and ingenuity.
Stop the War, CND and MAB all share a basic conviction, which is that war in Iraq is no way to solve the problems in Iraq, or even the potential threat posed by Iraq. Hudson does not make any excuses for Saddam Hussein, but she is certain that "To bring about regime change by bombing civilians would seem ... crazy, and counterproductive."
At 4.30pm I make my way down to the new Mayor's building, jutting out alongside Tower Bridge in southeast London, for a press conference featuring London Mayor Ken Livingstone, American civil rights activist Jesse Jackson and actor Tim Robbins. Always a charismatic speaker, Jackson is nonetheless deep into the clichés by the time I arrive -- All this "name calling", he says, incites fear. It's "Meet me at high noon at Okay Corral". The "have" nations cannot say to the "have-not" nations "my way or the highway". "Peace is possible," he notes. "Reconciliation is the order of the hour."
Seated next to Jackson, Livingstone invited incendiary questions from the press, but in the end, all the fiery words came from the two in front of the cameras. While he noted that there was "not the slightest doubt" that there is a terrorist threat to London, Livingstone questioned the dubious link made by the US between Saddam Hussein and Al- Qa'eda. Livingstone warned that innocent Iraqis were going to die to enrich oil companies. Jackson concurred, noting that "We don't want to run the risk of killing them to save them."
Arguing that the statement by UN chief weapons inspector Hans Blix, only a few hours old at this time, indicated that there was no evidence of weapons of mass destruction (WMD) in Iraq, Livingstone underscored the hypocrisy of the argument for disarmament by adding "Israel has dozens and dozens of nuclear weapons; nothing is being done about it."
A statement offered by Tim Robbins lauded the "genuine, spontaneous movement" of people from all backgrounds, across the political spectrum. Saying that he "take[s] great hope in the resistance", Robbins called the swelling anti-war movement an "unprecedented outcry". "This is what democracy looks like," he said. "It should be celebrated."
The television crews descend on Jackson and Robbins, and Stop the War staff are quietly deploying to different events across the city. No time for free drinks upstairs; I have just enough time to make it across to city for a bit of culture.
WAR, WHAT IS IT GOOD FOR? At the doors of the Bloomsbury Theatre, near Euston Square, I am rebuffed from the poetry reading by "Poets Against the War", the first event on Stop the War's "Make Love, Not War" evening. "It's not that I'm turning you away," says the woman manning the ticket booth. "It's just that there is actually no space in the theatre." At the door, a stall selling Stop the War Coalition paraphernalia, from T-shirts, to posters, to buttons, is doing brisk business.
There are a number of other events going on simultaneously: a talk organised by the Campaign Against Criminalising Communities on "The war on terror at home" in the nearby Friends Meeting House, and a trade union rally at the Bloomsbury Baptist Church, in central London. I duck into "Globalise This!", a talk at the London School of Economics featuring international activists and a video link-up with Edward Said. I have just enough time to hear Egyptian activist Soheir Morsy deliver her solidarity message before its back to Euston Road for the evening's big event: the Stop the War Coalition rally, a warm-up for the day ahead.
It's easy to find my way to the Friend's Meeting House. I know I'm getting warm when the graffiti gets political: "No War in Iraq", "Freedom for Palestine". People are pouring into the hall and the house is packed -- standing room only by the time the speeches begin. Most of the speakers here will give similar speeches at the rally in Hyde Park tomorrow, but the venue, in virtue of its dimmed, crowded atmosphere gives a conspiratorial feel to the event and the buzz of resistance is infectious.
Veteran labour politician Tony Benn leads off, reminding the audience that he lived through the Blitz and served as a pilot. It is now time to reassert the principles of the UN charter, he said. "We are actually tomorrow, dear friends, building a world popular movement," he told the crowd of almost 1,500. What was being born here, he said, was "the greatest thing in my lifetime".
Behind the podium, pictures play on a stage-wide screen on a loop: military footage of bombs being dropped, the cover of the Daily Mirror proclaiming, "You are not powerless. You do have a voice. NO WAR." On the stage, an unlikely melange of well- known figures get chummy. Jesse Jackson is rubbing elbows with human rights activist Bianca Jagger. Algerian resistance leader Ahmed Ben Bella sits alongside Tim Robbins.
When Ben Bella gives his speech, through a French translator, he reminds the crowd that he has a pedigree of resistance. "I started being a militant when I was 15," he says. "Now, I am 84. I've fought through two wars." At the edge of the stage, a worn-out- looking Robbins was snapping his gum, but the charismatic Ben Bella still managed to rouse him. "I was a statesman, but I was also a guerrilla fighter," he said. "Mr Bush has to tidy up his own house before going on to others."
Prominent anti-war spokesman and former UN humanitarian coordinator for Iraq Denis Halliday painted a picture of devastation in Iraq should the US and UK go to war, saying that there will be the use of depleted uranium and cluster bombs that will "contaminate the cities of Iraq for the next 4.5 billion years". The war will kill innocent people, he said -- "people who weren't born when Kuwait was invaded, if we haven't killed them already". Sanctions, he added, "are still killing them as we sit here".
In his rabble-rousing speech, Stop the War's Rees raises his estimate from the day before to declare that "we have every chance of putting one million people on the streets" tomorrow. "I open the Evening Standard to find that the prime minister is 'not concerned'."
"I did not vote Labour", he said, "to have the decisions made over war and peace, by the national security adviser of the United States, Condaleezza Rice". Painting the anti-war movement as heir in a long line of "great mass movements", Rees issued a stark warning to the Blair government: "You depend on the trade union movement in this country for 70 per cent of the funding of every general election you stand in," he said. "We, through the policies of trade unions, through the actions of this great mass movement, through the actions of this international movement, are telling you here and now: Listen to us, listen to us on the 15th of February, or we will pull you down."
IT'S A WONDERFUL DAY FOR A PROTEST: It's cold but bright as I make my way to the tube on Saturday morning. Protesters headed for the Embankment tube station -- one of the gathering points where marchers will set off for the Hyde Park rally -- can be spotted easily by their "Stop the War" badges and makeshift signs tucked under their arms.
More protesters pile onto the train as we approach Embankment. This is one of the last trains before the tube station shuts. The march begins as we file off the train, because from that moment on, and for the next four hours, it is one continuous sea of people and placards, pamphlets and chants, horns and whistles, as the southern contingent of Britain's largest ever demonstration winds its circuitous route through the streets of London.
As we exit the station, an all-commanding voice blares over the speaker: "Please move away from the station. Do not loiter at the station." Crowds flow into the tightly cordoned off roads along their prescribed route up onto the Strand. Throngs of protesters, 25 to 30 people across, row after row, after endless row, swarm past billboards for musicals like "STOMP" and "Chicago". At the Strand Palace Hotel, a few tourists hang back behind the doors, gawking.
It's cold, but with this many people, you don't feel the wind. Photographers are shimmying up lampposts, scrambling on top of phone booths and balancing on railings to get a shot of the crowds. From the ground you can only see as far as your nearest neighbours and their placards, which range from the obvious -- "Blood 4 Oil", "Don't Attack Iraq", "Not in My Name" -- to the witty -- "Put the Gun Down George", "Monkey and the Flunky", "Don't Let Bush Come to Shove, Don't Attack Iraq" -- to just plain out there -- "Sex Workers of the World Unite", "Don't Bomb, Bike", "Make Tea, Not War".
There is no way to classify the 15 February protester because the people are so strikingly diverse. Most of the people I ask have never been to a protest in their lives. There are skinned heads, pierced tongues, double strollers, families of five. There are lovers and puppies; there are drunken agitators. But most of all, there is an overwhelming sense of camaraderie. People are eager to chat with strangers, offer a smoke, giggle as they hit each other's heels in the shuffle down Victoria Embankment and up past Parliament.
An Iraqi marching next to me with his wife and daughter tells me that it is not a matter of whether Iraqis support the war -- it's a matter of distrust. The US did nothing when Iraqis rose up against Saddam Hussein, he noted, and we all know that this war is about oil. An elderly Afghan marching with his family said that war would bring destruction and chaos. No one is for the war, he said.
The sea of bobbing placards flows onwards. "Leave Him Tony, He's Not Worth It", "Regime Change in America", "Capitalism is America's Jihad", "A World in Peace, Not in Pieces". Some get more profound -- "Love of Oil is the Root of All Evil", "War is the Defeat of Humanity" -- others cryptic -- "The Darkness Lies Within". Many are tantamount to incitement: "Blair's Blood First", "Class War to Stop War". One man hands me a flyer saying that marching from one place to another will not stop the war -- "Occupying the US Embassy could change history!" A map to the embassy is provided.
The smell of cannabis is potent in giddy pockets of the crowd. Two girls are gossiping about their friend and her failed exams. I weave between "Jews Against the War" and "Socialist Workers Unite", past "Freedom for Palestine". I am starting to get impatient, weary of all this solidarity and just wanting to get to Hyde Park. "One, two, three, four! We don't want your bloody war!" The chants go up, the whistles shriek, the cries rise up and then settle down to a murmur once again. I am thwarted at every turn. While this is the biggest protest London has ever groaned under, it is also the city's largest traffic jam in history.
As our stream of the march opens out onto Trafalgar Square, the group behind me decides they've shown enough solidarity for the day and veer off for a pint. As we converge with the northern faction at Piccadilly, I am starving and considering what I might be willing to do for a bite of the apple the guy walking next to me is crunching into. At Piccadilly Circus, the atmosphere is reminiscent of Mardi Gras. Street performers are dancing and pounding on loud, percussive drums. People are covered in body paint, walking on stilts, wearing skeleton costumes and George Bush masks. People are dancing, and the mood is decidedly upbeat. "If we never make it" to Hyde Park, one fellow marcher remarks, "then that's the best success." As the moving party streams on past Piccadilly, I ask a Stop the War Coalition steward if the rally is still going on. "It is," she said, waving us on. "Only half a mile to go."
When we finally reach Hyde Park, we can't even see it because of the fleet of hired coaches -- an estimated 1,500 coaches ring the park. People have been arriving at the park since 11.00am, even though papers announced that marchers should assemble at the starting points at 12.30pm. When I finally enter the gate of the park it's 4.00pm. I've been marching for over four hours -- the average for people who set off after 12.00 noon. And people are still coming.
People are drawn to the stage set up at Hyde Park Corner, where politicians like former MP George Galloway, Liberal Democrat leader Charles Kennedy, Ken Livingstone and Tony Benn let loose their anger with Downing Street's warmongering. Jesse Jackson, in his element, raised chants from the crowd, while Blur lead singer Damon Albarn and Ms Dynamite entertained the crowds.
I found Nawwaz and Azim Khan, both in their 50s, standing on the fringes of the crowd taking it all in. "It's wonderful!" enthused Nawwaz, saying that people young and old are united in a "mass movement of humankind". Asked if he thought it would stop the war, he said it would not, "but they'll think twice. There's no justification, no reason [for war]. It's for oil. Nothing else."
"Bush and Blair are determined to take control of Muslim countries," adds Azim. "It's up to Muslims to show solidarity, especially in the Middle East. Egypt should take a positive role. If [the Arab world] gets united, no one will bomb you. But divided, you'll be bombed one by one."
Groups hitching a ride on the anti-war drive are manifold. In the crush, I glimpse the Socialist Resistance, the Women's Contingent on the Stop the War March, the Colombia Solidarity Campaign. Statements on issues from the Kurdish question, to the Intifada, to racism against Algerians make their way into my hands.
As Jesse Jackson's voice rings out across the park -- the third time I've heard this speech in two days -- I strike up a chat with Neelo Shravat and Richard Dollamore, two students who, like most people here, are shocked by how enormous the demonstration has actually become. Underneath our feet, the grass has been trampled and left a sticky layer of mud. Shravat says he has turned out, obviously, because he opposes the war, "basically because it's not justified. It's an act of unilateral aggression". Asked if he thinks the government will heed this call to stop the war, he says there is a chance to sway Blair's decision. "We have a very populist prime minister," he said. "Whether he likes it or not, he has to listen." The most impressive thing about the demonstrations, the two agree, is that there are "people from all walks of life", not just the usual suspects. "This is a crisis point for the UN," adds Shravat. "We have to rally behind the UN."
After Ms Dynamite has performed, protesters are told to "keep fighting" and, basically, to go home. But people are still arriving from their march, and many have settled in, lighting campfires, getting out their guitars and making a night of it. On my way out of the park, I'm beseeched to join the Communist Party, embrace Islam today, and support the Intifada. Iraq, that side issue that brought us all here, is barely on the agenda.
BIRTH OF A MOVEMENT: On Sunday morning, organisers are back on the interview circuit. The consistently low police estimate of the turnout was 750,000 people. Stop the War estimated two million. Even at a conservative estimate, there were in excess of one million on the streets, offering the protest its place in history. Close to another million are said to have marched in Rome. More than half a million marched in Berlin.
"I was expecting to get one million," says Stop the War's Lindsey German. "To get two million is absolutely fantastic." Noting that the turnout is irrefutable evidence of "how isolated Blair is", German said that the demonstration was bound to be a "big shock" for him. Combined with the Blix report on Friday, she added, it showed how hard it is going to be for America and Britain to push a second Security Council resolution through.
Kate Hudson, of CND, was equally enthusiastic, calling the protest a "success without precedent" -- a "public outcry that was absolutely incredible". "To get in excess of a million exceeded all our expectations," she said, adding that this is a "massive indication" that people are not willing to accept war. As for Blair, Hudson says she thinks that he will have to take note. "We think he must by now realise that his career is at stake."
German said that the next step for the anti-war movement was to continue campaigns on the local level. "We want Blair to change his mind," she said, simply. She added that there was a call for an emergency conference of union leaders to discuss strike actions. Of the crisis of leadership facing Tony Blair, German warned that Blair was either going to "get broken, or he will break the Labour Party".
Hudson stressed that groups must continue to put pressure on the government in as many ways as possible. CND, along with Stop the War and MAB, have an agreement that should there be a declaration of war, they will immediately mobilise a demonstration. But for now, Hudson said, there is no date planned for another demonstration. The sweet smell of success will linger on for some time to come.