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Reclaim the sandbox
<*> Take 12 scaffolding poles, eight 60ft-long banners, one converted Saracen armoured car, two tonnes of sand, 11 carpets, 42 watermelons, one standpipe, 14 drums, 27 assorted musicians, 15 legal observers, a band of hard-working activists, and a well-kept secret location.
Add over 2,000 assorted pedestrians with a purpose. Put most of them on the Northern Line at King's Cross, London. Don't tell them where they're heading. At the Angel, tell them to get off. And what have you got?
The 400 metre length of Islington High Street, totally shut off to traffic for five hours of non-stop illegal street partying, the likes of which Islington had probably never seen.
This was Reclaim the Streets' second major street action of the year; the previous one, in the middle of May, blocked off Camden High Street. Reclaim the Streets was formed nearly three years ago by activists within the green movement, but it has only been in the past year, with the arrival of anti-motorway activists from the M11 campaign and elsewhere, that it has risen to prominence with mass participation and an equally committed police following.
Not that the police had a clue. While numerous riot vans lined up at King's Cross, their intelligence was as low as ours when it came to working out the whereabouts of 23 July's tarmacked dance-floor. Rumour has it that several vans sped off to Park Lane.
Once the initial nervousness of setting up the liberated zone had largely evaporated, people got into the main business of the day: hanging out chatting in the sun-soaked street and dancing. And more dancing. The converted Saracen acted as the main sound system, but for those with more delicate eardrums or musical sensibilities, there were smaller systems dotted about, including a pedal-powered one. As the day and the dancing bodies heated up, the magic standpipe provided welcome free showers, and organisers kept a steady stream of free drinks. Young children played merrily in Islington High Street's first-ever on-road sandpit.
The sheer weight of numbers meant that the police took no disruptive action during the main part of the action, and cooperated with the venture by reinforcing the "tripod" blockades with riot van-loads of bemused constables. This was a sensible choice on their part, as--given the political disparity of those taking part, and despite the general carnival atmosphere - - any provocative police action would probably have met with as much counter-force as determined nonviolent intervention.
At the end of the day, however, rather than allow an "organic" dispersal of the crowd, riot police lined up across the road to disperse the final 100 with a bit of gratuitous violence, and seven-and-a-half beer cans were thrown by twelve-and-a-half revolutionaries.
I returned home uplifted and entranced by the day. Apart from a few political diehards selling Fight Racism! Fight Imperialism!, Class War, and Peace News, it had been a day strictly for partying politics.
And a very good party at that. In their clever and imaginative way, the radical environmental movement has been broadening the debate from anti-roads to anti-car-culture, from worksite disruption to disruptive celebration. While the first two such actions have been in London, it's hoped that the next will be in Birmingham.
When the suggestion is made to individuals that they forego cars on an individual basis, most are reluctant. But if the question is made collectively, then most people do want far less pollution and far safer streets. The 23 July street party was an impressive exhibition of collective concern and vision.