Given all the media attention on Police malpractice recently, and the constant, repetitive wheeling out of the “few bad apples” analogy, it seemed timely to explain why Anticapitalists hate the Police so much. Rather than present some dry, academic thesis full of depressing facts and figures (there are plenty of those about at the moment!) we have decided to simply post one local Anticapitalist’s experience of dealing with the Police as a “Political Activist” and homeless person.
I’ve always been “Political” in one sense or another, but it was when I turned 18 that I really got involved in Anticapitalist politics, having had my eyes forcefully opened by the financial crash and subsequent bank bailouts. My first real engagement with street protest was also my first (bruising) encounter with the Police. I was part of the Radical block on the G20 protest, April 1st 2009. I spent hours stuck in the kettle, being beaten black and blue by various armed Territorial Support Group (TSG, UK riot Police) thugs. My partner at the time was similarly ill treated. The main thing I remember is finding my way out the scrum and discovering, to my surprise, that I had a large bootprint on my t-shirt, and a similarly shaped bruise underneath. I had been kicked in the chest and hadn’t even noticed it. It was the first time I’d encountered Police as a “protester” and it set the tone for things to come. The murder of Ian Tomlinson, a passer by, hardly came as a surprise to me, having seen the way Police were lashing out at people. What did shock me was the brazen lying in the Police’s press releases afterwards. I remember thinking “they can’t get away with that, surely?” That time they didn’t, but I dreaded to think how many times they had gotten away with such misinformation.
Police Lashing Out
Police Lashing Out
Soon after the G20, I returned to my hometown of Brighton and attended a Mayday carnival organised by SmashEDO, a local anti-arms trade group. Another protest, another round of nasty bruises caused by Police Truncheons and round-shields. It was also the first time I remember notice the soon-to-become-omnipresent FIT, with their cameras and intimidating leers.
Police at the SmashEDO protest, 2009
Police at the SmashEDO protest, 2009
Soon after this, nursing my bruises and shattered illusions about the Police, I moved to Reading for university. This turned out to be a massive mistake on my part, I wasn’t cut out for the academic life at all. I dropped out and ended up homeless in London. It was during this stressful time that I had my first face-to-face encounters with the FIT. At a protest against Tony Blair (remember him), I was stopped under the now-infamous S44 of the Terrorism act. I had been taking photos of the rally with a small digital camera and according to the cop who stopped me, this was grounds to suspect I was a terrorist. I was detained, my bag, person and camera were search and my details demanded. I refused and the police persisted. However, having read up on my rights, I was aware they had no power to take my name and address. Eventually, they relented and I was sent on my way. It was a surreal experience for a 19 year old newbie protester to go through, being accused of Terrorism and surrounded by a large number of Police. What was to come next was even weirder.
I had become involved in a small group called “Election Meltdown”, meeting every two weeks to oppose the upcoming election in May 2010. I believe it was my participation in this group (which included well known activist individuals such as Chris Knight and Ian Bone) that got me “noticed”. Very early in 2010 I went to a climate change protest called by Rising Tide, a small direct action eco campaign. They had announced their intention to shut down a Shell petrol station somewhere in London. On the day, the petrol station was peacefully shut down, and there was indeed a party at the pumps. FIT were in attendance, and as I arrived, I was singled out. An officer came over to me and addressed me by my full name. “Hello XXXXX, How’re you doing? Read any good books lately?” I was gobsmacked. Why was this cop interested in me? How did he know my name? Obviously someone, somewhere in the echelons of Scotland Yard was interested in me, and had spent some time researching me despite the fact I was not a criminal, had never been arrested and had no known history of violent behavior.
The plans for Mayday 2010 soon took shape, and when the day came round, it was very successful, with the protest leading to the full scale occupation of Parliament Square.
“Democracy Village”, the occupation of Parliament Square.
“Democracy Village”, the occupation of Parliament Square.
This presented the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, protesting the election as well as solving my housing problem. I ended up living on the square for 3 months, until July when it was evicted. During this time I was arrested twice, both times while protesting entirely peacefully. Once I was de-arrested straight away, another time I was charged with “obstruction of the highway”. I was brought before court without legal advice after 24 hours in the cells and in the end pled guilty just to get out of there. It was stupid but I was in an understandably bad state at the time. I was told my punishment was one day in the cells, which I had already served, so I was released immediately.
After the occupation of Parliament square was evicted I needed somewhere to live again. Not wanting to end up on the streets, I started squatting, and the struggle for housing came to define my activism for the next 3 years.
I was again singled out by FIT at the Climate Camp protest in Edinburgh in August 2010. Me and a friend were followed, stopped, questioned and hassled countless times. It all culminated in a plainclothes FIT officer pointing to us on the main march, and screaming “I fucking knew you’d be here!” and drawing his baton whilst running towards us.
I was again arrested in November 2010 for handing out fliers opposing the G20′s meeting in South Korea. I was handing out fliers outside the South Korean embassy, and ludicrously charged with causing “Potential Violence, Damage to property or threat to the life of the community”. I was again held for 10 hours, with no legal advice, and released with a caution in the middle of the night.
Soon after this, a bevy of cops turned up at my home at 4am, claiming to have seen someone steal a computer and hide inside. I tried to calm them down, but they shouted and swore, demanding I open the door to them. I was understandably unhappy at the thought of having so many violent, threatening individuals in my house, so I refused. They proceeded to smash my front door down, filling the room with broken glass and shattered door frame. Then they simply left, not so much as a “sorry”. I had to fix up a new door at 4am, and only managed thanks to some friendly squatters who lived down the road and had a spare one.
In what was rapidly becoming a pattern, I was singled out again at the student anti-cuts demos of late 2010, early 2011. I was followed, filmed, photographed and harassed throughout these protests, and arrested (again!) in January 2011, after being followed around the west end by a whole contingent of FIT. I was detained for an hour for Criminal Damage, all my details were taken and I was extensively filmed, only to have them release me with the excuse that they must’ve got the wrong person (whoops indeed).
A Police Officer strikes a student during a protest.
A Police Officer strikes a student during a protest.
Then came the raid. The big one. Dawn, 28 April 2011. Over 100 riot police smashed their way into my house, dressed up in full gear. Luckily, I wasn’t there at the time, but all my housemates were. They were dragged out of their beds and arrested for the ludicrous charge of “Conspiracy to Cause Public Nuisance”. The squat was closed down, and no-one was allowed to go back for their things. In a stroke, the Police had made me homeless without anything but the clothes on my back. Thanks to the hospitality of other squatters, we were able to get back on our feet before too long.
During the “Disarm DSEI” anti-arms trade protests of September 2011 I was again confronted by FIT. I was singled out, approached and, along with a housemate, identified by name. An officer I’d never met (CO925 Sgt. Adams, I still remember) came up to us and addressed us both by our full names, whilst signaling to the camera operator to film us in detail. He then spent half an hour trying to provoke me, shouting, insulting me and jabbing his finger violently into my chest.
Soon after, I moved back to my hometown of Brighton, tiring of London and dealing with the fucking Met. I met up with a good crew of squatters in Brighton, but still traveled to attend protests. I was at the eviction of Dale Farm, although I’m not going to write about that as the experience left me with some major trauma and complex PTSD that troubles me to this day.
It was on a jaunt up to London in February 2012 that I was arrested again. We had symbolically occupied a Shell Oil petrol station, climbing up on the roof and hanging banners. Soon, loads of cops arrived. At one point, we had 2 vans of City Police, 2 vans of TSG, 2 cars, a FIT team, a Superintendent, a Chief Superintendent and a helicopter. After being removed from the roof I was assaulted by two plainclothes TSG, dragged into a van, hit, kicked, stood on, yelled at and sworn at until they unceremoniously dumped me at the nearest copshop for processing. I was held for 12 hours and eventually charged with aggravated trespass.
Being manhandled by the TSG. This really hurt.
Being manhandled by the TSG. This really hurt.
Then, in April 2012 my house was raided. Again. More riot police, more broken down doors, more shouting and I was unceremoniously thrown back out on the pavement. The raid was politically motivated. A Police camera team went around the whole building, filming things and looking through notes. We were helping organise the upcoming Squatter’s Convergence in Brighton, and Sussex Police had taken an interest. Police in body armour dragged us out and piled our belongings up on the pavement, then ordered us to move it all to the other side of the road “to prevent a breach of the peace”. It was a fucking joke, the police had entered without a warrant and couldn’t justify their actions. A legal case is still ongoing.
Then came the illegalisation of residential squatting in the UK. The law came into effect on 1st September 2012, and on the 3rd of September, surprise fucking surprise, my house was raided. I was living in a squatted office above a shop, and the police, on the dubious advice of the security guard, decided it was residential and turned up in riot gear. I, along with two others, super-glued myself into the attic and told them I was going to stay. Again, I knew I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
We were all eventually arrested and charged with Squatting, Obstructing Police and Abstracting Electricity. We were refused bail and held for 24 hours before being taken to a magistrate. The Police wanted to refuse us bail and hold us in Prison until the trial. Needless to say, the judge refused and gave us full bail. We were all eventually acquitted of all charges by the courts. We really had been doing nothing wrong.
2013 turned out to be quite an eventful year for me. I managed to get myself out of squatting and got a flat, with the help of Brighton Housing Trust. However, this offered no letup from the harassment and arrests. In April I was arrested then de-arrested for refusing to give my name to Police (which is quite within my rights) at an antifascist protest. In May I was arrested, handcuffed and put in a Police car whilst talking to Police outside a newly opened squat in Lewes. I was told I was being arrested for Burglary. I was released again when I pointed out how stupid they were being.
In July I was arrested twice. On the 2nd July, I and two other climbed a scaffold in central London and hung banners against war with Syria. I was attacked by security guards, arrested, handcuffed (even though I was six stories up on a scaffold) and held in the police station for the full 24 hours again. During my interview the Special Branch (!) interviewer asked me several bizarre questions like “Are you an Anarchist?” “How would you describe your politics?” “Have you ever been involved in Animal Rights activism?” and “Have you ever been arrested for aggravated trespass before?”. Several times my solicitor had to butt in and point out that such questions are illegal. I was eventually charged with Public Nuisance and having Items to Cause Criminal Damage. I am still waiting for my day in court on this, nearly a year later.
As soon as I arrived home from this arrest the Police were waiting for me. They arrived at my flat early once more and demanded to know who lived there. I told the officer in no uncertain terms to piss off, and low-and-behold, for the first time in my life, they actually did. Hale-fucking-luyah!
Then, on the 30th July I was arrested at the Balcombe anti-fracking camp. I was rugby tackled to the floor and sat on, after attempting to peacefully block a lorry from getting on site. I was held for 26 hours, refused bail, and then taken before a magistrate and bound over to keep the peace for 6 months. Again, during my interview, I was asked all sorts of loaded questions about my politics, who I was friends with and who I protested with. I was also openly insulted by the interviewing officer, who called me “stupid” several times in an attempt to get a rise out of me.
Being arrested at the roadside in Balcombe
Being arrested at the roadside in Balcombe
Then came the large, much hyped antifascist protest in Whitechapel, 7th Sept 2013. After diverting from the agreed route of the march, the Met decided the proportional response was to mass arrest 286 people, myself among them, for breaching a section 14 order and load us all up onto buses. We were driven all around London and eventually, my bus stopped at Sutton Police station. We stood in various queues for hours, were processed, photographed, and bailed to return in several months. Notably, our bail conditions banned us from antifascist protests inside the M25. All charges were soon dropped for all but two people, making the whole thing an exercise in pointlessness, or weaponized bureaucracy as Vice Magazine called it. I was not, in the end, one of the two people who’ve been charged with affray as a result of these arrests, so for once it seems I’ve caught a break.
The Antifascist protesters, prior to kettling and mass arrest
The Antifascist protesters, prior to kettling and mass arrest
However, soon after this… guess what? The Police raided my house again. Twice. A friend of mine had skipped bail and the police had decided he might be at my flat, hiding under the bed or something. Both times they came early in the morning and threatened to break the door down if they weren’t let in. They were aggressive and, when they didn’t find who they were looking for, they made threats that they would “keep coming back” to my flat until they found who they were looking for. The whole thing was pointless, and felt more like a message to me than any serious attempt to find the person who’d fled bail.
So after suffering all that, and more that there isn’t time or space to mention, for just trying to make the world a better place, I have come to realise one simple thing: There is no “Bad Apples”, the whole barrel’s rotten! The Police are a force that are systematic and violent in their defense of the current social order. They have always been and always will be on the wrong side of any struggle, on the wrong side of history. My scars, both mental and physical, attest to the fact that you can’t reform the Police, they must be gotten rid off entirely!
ACAB
–Null
