Student Activist Diary

There is a certain something about activism that makes me want to read books out loud to grown strangers on the Docklands Light Railway early in the morning. Admittedly, I’m usually one of your average eye-contact avoiding Londoners; the sort you might spy-out on the Northern Line during rush hour, periodically switching gaze between the advertising, tube map, and ground.  However, once every so often, things that happen in this city give reason for some of us to break down a few barriers. Of course, sometimes the reason in question may not seem so straight forward. Let this never detract from the importance of the cause, or of the way in which you may come to meet one of us enraged folk.
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Recently, the band ‘Star F***ing Hipsters’ spat the words “for every innocent that gets murdered in the fray, we’ll fight 3,000 miles away” in to the ears of alienated ‘crust-punks’ everywhere.  Upon hearing these lyrics, I came to a revelation; I had just found the most conveniently crass quote possible to insert into this article. For it just so happens that roughly 3,000 miles away from the ‘Defence and Security Equipment international’ (DSEi) arms-trade fair in east London is the less-than-liberal kingdom of Bahrain.
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The ‘Arab Spring’ which broke out earlier this year left a profound mark on Bahrain, a country many human rights groups deem an ‘authoritarian regime’. Unfortunately, the immediate history of this young popular movement follows a similar line to other recent movements in the region. The Sunni-dominated elite of Bahrain have overseen the bloodshed of mostly Shia peaceful protestors. In light of this fact, how does the British government respond? Well, it seems that concerns regarding Bahrain among the top level defence authorities in this country do not concern the protesters, but the weapons being turned on them. The list of dodgy delegations invited by the British government to the DSEi fair does not end at Bahrain; among others, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Israel, Iraq, Pakistan, and Kazakhstan were all in attendance. The British government, behaving like a naughty kid confessing to a cookie-jar robbery, only released the list of invitees the day before the DSEi exhibition was due to open after pressure for information from national newspapers. The message of this action by the government is loud and clear; our hugely subsidised arms industry is more important than the subsequent risk put to hundreds, if not thousands of lives.
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Big money is sacred. The holiness of the billions of dollars in the pockets of the visiting delegations to the DSEi arms fair is part of the same unfortunate situation which keeps the public from being allowed access to the highly guarded fortresses in which these moguls operate. Indeed, sound investment requires the prerequisite of lack of dissent. Fortunately, as long as the description ‘being difficult’ exists, there shall be those to fit it. At 9.30 am on the 13^th September, I was sat amongst a sea of glum faces on the Docklands Light Railway. These were not necessarily unhappy people I was sitting with, they were relatively well-off businessmen making a killing in a subsidised trade. These people were merely being humbled with some facts about the by-products of their business; they especially seemed to like the story of how a couple of activists and a school group managed to purchase banned equipment commonly used for torture from a giant arms-producer! We parted ways at Custom House station. They bound for an extravagant reception; I bound for the pavement outside the station. Luckily, the Critical Mass bloc (cyclist activists) had arrived, with an obnoxiously loud sound system in tow. After the initial round of ‘murdering scum’ a sense of dissatisfaction set in. The culprits were where they have always been, just beyond the reach of justice.
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Until we finally reached the vehicle entrance to the Excel Centre, our miniature roaming protest carnival navigated the residential streets of Newham. The locals not already outraged by the localised gun-running orgy stopped to ask carefully worded questions. Discreetly, so as to hide my intentions from the pursuing police Forward Information Team (FIT), I begun to prepare my ultimate revenge. The front gates of the exhibition fell clearly into view; I was patiently biding my time. Blockading the road failed, the group was forced back onto the pavement. My ultimate retribution suddenly gained new meaning. In the pocket of my hoody, my hand fell on the trigger. In a moment of sheer justice-inspired rage, I turned my weapon on a nearby policeman. The jet of clear, crisp water fell just short of his regulation boots, the policeman was slightly bemused. As I examined my pistol for faults, I heard a roughened, yet polite voice boom ‘let us see that, please sir’. Apparently, the government had heeded the protest’s demands and the police were beginning the crackdown on all forms of firearms. As if! In fact, my 99p brightly coloured plastic water gun had been deemed a security threat; “we can’t be sure of what’s inside it, sir!” Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of the Russian delegation’s convoy leaving the conference; they were there to market a new brand of Kalashnikov.
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Police officers were already present and waiting when, ‘affinity group’ by ‘affinity group’, the roaming protest arrived at the headquarters of the flagship corporation of the international arms-trade: BAE Systems. By 5 o’clock, around 60 activists – armed with the knowledge of BAE System’s disregard for US trading regulations, the economies of African countries, and human life world-wide – had coated themselves in red paint and ‘played dead’ on an otherwise quiet Westminster road. The few clouds in a mostly clear blue sky rolled past, the trees in BAE Systems HQ’s personal roof garden were caught by a gentle breeze. I was awoken about half an hour later by a fellow protestor informing me that we were moving on; rule number one, for the sake of objective, never fall asleep mid-direct action. The Forward Information Team (FIT) was snapping away, capturing my incriminating tiredness; “we’ve caught you mildly relaxed, sir!”
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The arms industry is an industry not exactly new to appearing behind innocent façades. Sometimes, the link can appear fairly indirect, e.g. research funding for universities. Sometimes, very occasionally, the innocent façade comes in the form of a large, famous physical destination. As the protest dispersed and reconvened outside the National Gallery by Trafalgar Square, the confused inquisitions of the public at large were slightly overwhelming. Fortunately, the task of appealing to the rich tapestry of people that can be found in central London on any given afternoon is a task that most activists, young and old, are well familiar with. The protesters begun their loud-mouthed rants, engaged startled tourists, confronted the arriving guests of BAE System’s luxurious gallery banquet; before too long, the square was covered in leaflets proclaiming ‘THIS IS NOT OK!’