Demo Lition and the student protest movement

I cannot help but think that Wednesday marked the start of something. Despite the hilariously poor organisation of Leeds University Union, who seemed to have seriously misjudged the length of the M1, we managed to arrive before the biggest demonstration in a decade had quite finished. Whilst we were initially disappointed to have missed marching down Whitehall with the rest, it was soon apparent that the main events were yet to transpire.

We arrived at Millbank to scenes reminiscent of something you might see at your average festival; thousands shouting and dancing in time to make-shift drums and hastily rigged speakers blaring out dub step, whilst the unmistakable aroma of pot drifted lazily through the air. Despite the media’s characterisation of those who took Millbank, these were not ‘hardened anarchists’, these were excitable and angry attendees of what was turning out to be a massive free rave, in the centre of the government quarter of London. Most hilariously of all, one side of the occupied square was taken up by a massive ‘goldfish bowl’ style Pizza Express, the diners inside doing their best to politely ignore the noise, flares, chanting and squads of riot police that were literally surrounding them on all three sides. If this had indeed been a ‘riot’ as the papers keep odiously describing it, those massive modern windows would have been smashed and the pizzas looted. However, the only aggression was directed specifically against the Tory HQ. Rioters are indiscriminate, out of control with violence. The violence on Wednesday was spontaneous, and perhaps intimidating to some, but it was targeted and it was undertaken only because many felt it was just. I agree with them.

It was an odd position to be in, on Millbank for those tumultuous hours. We were part of a crowd that was clearly much better educated and more thoughtful than the average mob, and it adopted clear delineations of what was acceptable; there was universal cheering when protestors first took the roof and unveiled ‘Cut Fees’ banners, but the mood quickly turned against them when a fire extinguisher was thrown off into the crowd below. Cue immediate boos and chants of ‘stop throwing shit’. People around me expressed genuine fear that a police officer might have gotten hurt; these same protestors had been chanting ‘fuck the police’ only moments before. I don’t think I’ve ever known a crowd which simultaneously understands the dichotomy of the police as symbols of the state monopoly on power (a legitimate target for protestors) and the police as individuals who are ultimately just trying to feed their families, and who are just as affected by Osborne’s spending cuts as anybody else. Remarkable scenes therefore, of students helping injured police officers whilst others continued to throw sticks at the ones still fighting. It struck me that in a way, all of us there were victims of the same process. The police had been let down; there were far too few of them and they had not been adequately prepared by their superiors, many looked genuinely scared. It was a stark contrast to the G20 protests of 2009, where the police had stepped over the line and an innocent man was killed. Now it looked as if the police might suffer fatalities. What the dickhead who threw the fire extinguisher thought that would achieve for the student movement I have no idea.

At the same time, the occupation of Millbank was genuinely thrilling – what did it mean if ordinary kids were able to so easily take over the headquarters of the ruling party of one of the world’s great powers? Imagine the repercussions if this had happened in Burma, or China, or Russia. Can we seriously doubt that the dozens of protestors who made it onto the roof would have found themselves quietly executed?

My personal take on the events is that whilst I’m probably not the type to fight my way past police lines and start vandalising Tory offices myself, I found myself not unsympathetic to those who did. This wasn’t just mindless violence, of the type you see on any given Friday or Saturday night, this was the righteous expression of rage by a demographic that feels utterly betrayed. Who could have imagined this time last year that 50,000 university students would be marching down Whitehall chanting ‘Fuck the Lib Dems’? I imagine the Labour party is beside itself with glee. The occupation of Millbank made the tuition fees issue international news, something which the original NUS plan of a peaceful march of 15,000 would never have achieved.

The demonstration deserves not our contempt, but joy at the apparent re-awakening of student politics. Apathy has reigned for far too long. The left turned in on itself during the Labour years, it seems that there is now a clear-cut enemy once again. Considering the damage the Tories are doing to the lives of millions and to the health of society in general, they can take a few broken windows. If it feels like the 80s again, it’s because it is like the 80s again. The Cameron government are using the deficit as cover to embark on a programme of cuts that Thatcher could only have dreamed of. Long may the cries of “they say cut back, we say fight back” continue.

Choosing Newspapers

I recently ended my turbulent love affair with The Economist after 4 or 5 years. It began with such bliss. A trip to scout out the University of Sussex, an exciting front cover with a picture of a bulldog on it. Its calm, collected, monolithic style which made you think that, if only people did everything as The Economist said it should be done, the world would be perfect.

Later on, I grew to love its quirks, like its obligatory use of the phrase "mildly Islamic" when referring to any accommodating leader in a Muslim-dominated country (notably Erdogan in Turkey), or the way it put a picture of a withered, old woman with a shawl above every article about the Roma or other travelling people.

However, The Economist has no moral dimension. For example, as someone who tends to lean to the left-wing, I find the way it absolves Murdoch's, Bush's, and Berlusconi's more heinous offences by use of such a passive and balanced voice to be deeply unsettling. As Stefan Stern in The Guardian wrote, "its writers rarely see a political or economic problem that cannot be solved by the trusted three-card trick of privatisation, deregulation and liberalisation." Beyond that, The Economist reveals itself to be limited and distant.

Of course, it might also be argued that my problem with The Economist simply stems from me not being able to cope with its views being more right-wing than mine, and there's probably something in that.

The trouble is that left-wing sources often make me feel uncomfortable for being too left. I have a healthy disregard for the Tories and the right-wing in general, and yet I feel uncomfortable with a column which assumes Tory guilt at every turn. I've been trialling The New Statesman as a replacement for The Economist but it feels to be an easy let-off for the left instead.

I guess the problem is my inherent contrarianism (a word? Probably not). What I really need is a newspaper which criticises everyone all the time, for everything. That would make me a lot happier. Of course, a more conventional solution might be to read lots of different news sources and build an aggregated view based on a careful and reasoned analysis of many different contributors' thoughts and opinions.

The former solution seems easier though...