Passive Agressive

           Here, in London, a fortnight of XR street protests is drawing to a close. My OH has been on the front line daily, while I sit tight, assiduously playing my part as her anchor in matters both practical and emotional. This entails mostly housework – laundry, shopping, cooking etc – and a sympathetic ear at the end of the day, but I have received calls from her in the field, one expressing distress and frustration at being prevented by the police from assisting a fellow rebel in need, the other recounting, in an astonished tone, how she was picked up and tossed to one side by a (quite small) policewoman. She suffered a bruised knee, a tear in her trousers and a dent in her ego but remains undaunted and on mission.

          Meanwhile, I have been left with time (between chores) to catch up on some reading. Nicola Barker has long been on my wish list, so I read her novella, I Am Sovereign and enjoyed it so much I downloaded her longer, quirkily titled H(A)PPY, though my experience of ploughing through that was a bit of a ch(o)re, unfortunately. Next, for light relief, I tried Cormack McCarthy’s No Country For Old Men. I have seen the Coen brothers’ film adaptation and, therefore, am familiar with the story, but I was curious to experience the author’s telling of it: “compelling”, is how I would summarise it. I finished the book in one avid sitting – though it should be borne in mind that I do have skin in the game in so far as I can identify with the sentiment suggested by the title.

          But it hasn’t been all housework and reading. I have ventured out a couple of times to where the action is, taking care, of course, not to get involved and thereby compromise my role as anchor. In so far as I have experienced it, a good deal of protesting is quite boring – hanging about, waiting for people to muster, standing around holding banners, listening to speakers who are preaching to the converted – but that may be because I am observing rather than actively participating. Meanwhile, I am impressed by the diversity of the crowds, the inventiveness of the slogans, the colourful banners and, in the case of XR, the imaginative and often amusing tableaux that appear. All these things considered and my espousal of the cause a fait accompli, the thought of joining in becomes alluring.

          But there is the other side of demonstrating to consider. XR supporters are unified in their cause and committed to non-violent protest but marching with banners to the accompaniment of drummers is too placid a form of demonstration to satisfy some more vehement proponents, those who are driven to opt for more spectacular actions that are physically challenging and/or illegal. From the perspective of the bystander, this adds spice to the spectacle of streets full of colourful marchers. However, for police charged with enforcing the law, it is probably more than just a nuisance and they have been turning up in huge numbers, deploying tactics that may not be violent, but are certainly menacing – especially if, like me, you are unaccustomed to facing a rank of steadily advancing officers intent on clearing a street.

          I have watched – in person and on screen – as protestors have put themselves into dangerous or uncomfortable situations, deliberately defaced buildings and otherwise invited arrest in order to make their point. I think of them not as foolhardy, headstrong extremists, but as brave, passionate individuals fully committed to the public good. Would I do the same? I’m not sure that I am either passionate or brave enough to join them. In fact, rather than put that to the test, for the time being I’m proffering the excuse that it’s no country for old men.