There is only really one topic worth writing about this week; the riot I accidentally walked into. When I say accidentally, I mean deliberately forced my way to the front of an angry, rioting mob to get some pictures. On Wednesday 10th November, about 50,000 students from across the UK marched through Westminster, past Parliament, in protest against the rise in tuition fees. Obviously, I was sent, along with the News Editors, to report on the event.
This was my first major protest as a student and it was very exciting. We met at Trafalgar Square, after Tristan, myself and Laura travelled up by train. There, we were met by Charlie and Ellie who had marched from Euston Square with the London Universities students after attending an NUS press conference. The atmosphere was electric and we had heard the drumming and whistling gradually getting louder and louder as the procession approached before, with a fanfare of supportive car horns, the march emerged from The Strand, with Charlie and Ellie carrying placards. So much for journalistic impartiality.
From there we headed down Whitehall, chanting and with my camera clicking away. I scrambled up walls and over all sorts of fences trying to get shots of the ever growing mass of people. It was very intense, with an overwhelming amount of people and it was incredibly difficult to get clear pictures. I was shouted at numerous times by the police, despite the press pass hanging around my neck.
At one point, the barrier separating students from the road gave way, and with it about 500 people went charging down the empty side of the street. At this point I left my co-editors and charged down with the group, trying to get pictures without being tripped up or getting crushed in the stampede. Emotions were clearly high, but it was obvious that a lot of people were there just for the spectacle, excitement, and excuse to slag off the Government. I expect a lot more of these protests to be taking place in the coming months.
After taking photos of the crowd around Parliament, I met up with the others and we marched down towards the rallying point outside the Tate Britain Museum. The route, as is well documented, ran past number 30, Millbank Tower. The Conservative HQ. A small group, with a Nick Clegg effigy, broke away from the main group, despite the marshals protestations, and stormed to the doors. I climbed a staircase along with a TV crew and a couple of other photographers, and Ben, our Music Editor, but quickly realised the action was closer. I forced my way down, knocking a guy in the head with my camera, he looked like he was about to hit me with his placard when I walked into a bonfire of placards and Nick Clegg's former effigy.
After a few pictures I forced my way to the doors of the building where some beleaguered and startled looking Police Constables were attempting to prevent people entering the building, it's fair to say they failed. The lobby already had around 50 protesters inside holding a banner, though at this point nothing else was going on. I forced my way through the thousand strong crowd and down to the march rally point. After some speeches, one by Aaron Porter sounding like a mix between Hitler and a Dalek, which is a scary thought, we were told the march was over and to disband. We walked back towards Millbank Tower where there was still a large group and a lot of noise.
The graffiti on the pillars was being guarded by marshals who tried to hide it from my lens with little effect. From the back of the crowd, which had now filled the entire courtyard and sprawled onto the street, I could see the windows were shaking and one was cracked. There was also a sofa from the lobby in the middle of the road, and it was obvious something was up. Without thought I started forcing my way through the crowd, following a man with some bongos, which are actually very effective at parting angry mobs.
I ended up at the front extremely quickly, and hadn't really thought about what would be there. I was confronted by a line of riot police and baton wielding constables. This was a bit disconcerting at first but an apple exploded against the building about a metre above my head and the subsequent rain of rotten apple pieces jolted me into photo taking. I'm not really sure about the rules with regards to photographers and Police, but after breaking their lines several times and being thrown back into the crowds I realised they treat us (or at least me, looking very much like a student in cherry red Dr Martens boots, jeans tucked into them, and green parka (I'm actually visible in the background of the now iconic image of the man kicking the window)) the same as all other rioters.
That famous image was annoyingly on the wrong side of me, so I didn't get it quite the same as some of the other photographers, however, after he kicked the window, it collapsed. I was narrowly missed by a massive plate of breaking glass, but the pane cleared a huge gap in the crowd, with the police unable to restrain them in the debris. hundreds surged forwards, with the 100 or so inside beckoning them in. I rushed forward, determined to get pictures from inside, and was pulled in by one of the protestors, face covered by a scarf. Inside was an entirely different experience. The rotten fruit and bottles that had been hurled towards the police and windows, and as a result myself, had now been replaced by flailing hands, broken roof tiles, and glass, and all other types of detritus imaginable.
After the front window gave way the crowd inside almost doubled and with the foyer unable to contain such large amounts, they set about destroying the rear and side windows. Chairs and poles were constantly rammed and smashed against the glass as it cracked and splintered. Toward the rear of the lobby, the few Police Officers that had managed to maintain a cordon were pinned against the fire escape that led to the staircase. Earlier, several protesters had made it to the roof and now the plan seemed to be for the rest to get up there. Outside, debris was raining down from above and from the crowd, and the police line was breaking. Several people inside picked up on this and used the benches to try and smash open the remaining front window as the crowd outside surged forward in support.
The Police line collapsed about the same time the doors to the stairwell were forced open. I made in through the doors behind the first 20, just as the second front window collapsed. After the first set of steps, was met by a small group of Police and a medic, sheltering in a corner looking defeated, angry and injured. About ten more people made it through the doors after me but I stopped to take a few pictures and when I turned back was confronted by a wall of Riot Police, as they had reclaimed one side of the foyer. They looked up the stairs and on seeing me shouted that I had one chance to leave. I paused to consider my options: carry on upstairs and face being trapped or leave, back into the soon-to-be-stormed lobby. I chose the latter, stumbling down the line of Police, being buffeted by the riot shields. The crowd was still massive and I was squashed between them as the officers charged.
I tried to break through the lines but was thrown back, and after shouting to find a way out was told to leave through one of the smashed windows. There were still hundreds blocking my way and after pushing behind the line of Riot Officers blocking the main doorway I made it outside through the window I had come in, stumbling right into the waiting banks of press photographers and camera crews, plus the thousands of students who hadn't made it inside.
After a few more pictures of the Police protecting the front of the building, and being jostled and pushed by them trying to clear the crowd away from the windows, I pushed my way back into the crowds and out into the street. There were hundreds of bemused looking by-standers trying to see what was going on in the courtyard through all the smoke and dust. There was something sharp in my foot so I ended up limping, somewhat melodramatically, down through the milling crowds in the road. Covered in dust and grime, with the taste of flares and burning in my mouth.
Some things I have learnt from this are:
1) If you are going to riot, make sure there is someone on hand to supply cans of Stella.
2) Hardcore DubStep music is essential to get the crowd in the mood to trash.
3) If offered, after you've taken enough pictures, take the escape route. The result would have been an arrest and expulsion from University.
After meeting up with the other editors we went to Pret where I had a very nice sandwich. Back in Exeter and not a lot has happened since, though the picture I took from the opposite angle, of the man kicking in a window, made front pages around the world…
This was my first major protest as a student and it was very exciting. We met at Trafalgar Square, after Tristan, myself and Laura travelled up by train. There, we were met by Charlie and Ellie who had marched from Euston Square with the London Universities students after attending an NUS press conference. The atmosphere was electric and we had heard the drumming and whistling gradually getting louder and louder as the procession approached before, with a fanfare of supportive car horns, the march emerged from The Strand, with Charlie and Ellie carrying placards. So much for journalistic impartiality.
From there we headed down Whitehall, chanting and with my camera clicking away. I scrambled up walls and over all sorts of fences trying to get shots of the ever growing mass of people. It was very intense, with an overwhelming amount of people and it was incredibly difficult to get clear pictures. I was shouted at numerous times by the police, despite the press pass hanging around my neck.
At one point, the barrier separating students from the road gave way, and with it about 500 people went charging down the empty side of the street. At this point I left my co-editors and charged down with the group, trying to get pictures without being tripped up or getting crushed in the stampede. Emotions were clearly high, but it was obvious that a lot of people were there just for the spectacle, excitement, and excuse to slag off the Government. I expect a lot more of these protests to be taking place in the coming months.
After taking photos of the crowd around Parliament, I met up with the others and we marched down towards the rallying point outside the Tate Britain Museum. The route, as is well documented, ran past number 30, Millbank Tower. The Conservative HQ. A small group, with a Nick Clegg effigy, broke away from the main group, despite the marshals protestations, and stormed to the doors. I climbed a staircase along with a TV crew and a couple of other photographers, and Ben, our Music Editor, but quickly realised the action was closer. I forced my way down, knocking a guy in the head with my camera, he looked like he was about to hit me with his placard when I walked into a bonfire of placards and Nick Clegg's former effigy.
After a few pictures I forced my way to the doors of the building where some beleaguered and startled looking Police Constables were attempting to prevent people entering the building, it's fair to say they failed. The lobby already had around 50 protesters inside holding a banner, though at this point nothing else was going on. I forced my way through the thousand strong crowd and down to the march rally point. After some speeches, one by Aaron Porter sounding like a mix between Hitler and a Dalek, which is a scary thought, we were told the march was over and to disband. We walked back towards Millbank Tower where there was still a large group and a lot of noise.
The graffiti on the pillars was being guarded by marshals who tried to hide it from my lens with little effect. From the back of the crowd, which had now filled the entire courtyard and sprawled onto the street, I could see the windows were shaking and one was cracked. There was also a sofa from the lobby in the middle of the road, and it was obvious something was up. Without thought I started forcing my way through the crowd, following a man with some bongos, which are actually very effective at parting angry mobs.
I ended up at the front extremely quickly, and hadn't really thought about what would be there. I was confronted by a line of riot police and baton wielding constables. This was a bit disconcerting at first but an apple exploded against the building about a metre above my head and the subsequent rain of rotten apple pieces jolted me into photo taking. I'm not really sure about the rules with regards to photographers and Police, but after breaking their lines several times and being thrown back into the crowds I realised they treat us (or at least me, looking very much like a student in cherry red Dr Martens boots, jeans tucked into them, and green parka (I'm actually visible in the background of the now iconic image of the man kicking the window)) the same as all other rioters.
That famous image was annoyingly on the wrong side of me, so I didn't get it quite the same as some of the other photographers, however, after he kicked the window, it collapsed. I was narrowly missed by a massive plate of breaking glass, but the pane cleared a huge gap in the crowd, with the police unable to restrain them in the debris. hundreds surged forwards, with the 100 or so inside beckoning them in. I rushed forward, determined to get pictures from inside, and was pulled in by one of the protestors, face covered by a scarf. Inside was an entirely different experience. The rotten fruit and bottles that had been hurled towards the police and windows, and as a result myself, had now been replaced by flailing hands, broken roof tiles, and glass, and all other types of detritus imaginable.
After the front window gave way the crowd inside almost doubled and with the foyer unable to contain such large amounts, they set about destroying the rear and side windows. Chairs and poles were constantly rammed and smashed against the glass as it cracked and splintered. Toward the rear of the lobby, the few Police Officers that had managed to maintain a cordon were pinned against the fire escape that led to the staircase. Earlier, several protesters had made it to the roof and now the plan seemed to be for the rest to get up there. Outside, debris was raining down from above and from the crowd, and the police line was breaking. Several people inside picked up on this and used the benches to try and smash open the remaining front window as the crowd outside surged forward in support.
The Police line collapsed about the same time the doors to the stairwell were forced open. I made in through the doors behind the first 20, just as the second front window collapsed. After the first set of steps, was met by a small group of Police and a medic, sheltering in a corner looking defeated, angry and injured. About ten more people made it through the doors after me but I stopped to take a few pictures and when I turned back was confronted by a wall of Riot Police, as they had reclaimed one side of the foyer. They looked up the stairs and on seeing me shouted that I had one chance to leave. I paused to consider my options: carry on upstairs and face being trapped or leave, back into the soon-to-be-stormed lobby. I chose the latter, stumbling down the line of Police, being buffeted by the riot shields. The crowd was still massive and I was squashed between them as the officers charged.
I tried to break through the lines but was thrown back, and after shouting to find a way out was told to leave through one of the smashed windows. There were still hundreds blocking my way and after pushing behind the line of Riot Officers blocking the main doorway I made it outside through the window I had come in, stumbling right into the waiting banks of press photographers and camera crews, plus the thousands of students who hadn't made it inside.
After a few more pictures of the Police protecting the front of the building, and being jostled and pushed by them trying to clear the crowd away from the windows, I pushed my way back into the crowds and out into the street. There were hundreds of bemused looking by-standers trying to see what was going on in the courtyard through all the smoke and dust. There was something sharp in my foot so I ended up limping, somewhat melodramatically, down through the milling crowds in the road. Covered in dust and grime, with the taste of flares and burning in my mouth.
Some things I have learnt from this are:
1) If you are going to riot, make sure there is someone on hand to supply cans of Stella.
2) Hardcore DubStep music is essential to get the crowd in the mood to trash.
3) If offered, after you've taken enough pictures, take the escape route. The result would have been an arrest and expulsion from University.
After meeting up with the other editors we went to Pret where I had a very nice sandwich. Back in Exeter and not a lot has happened since, though the picture I took from the opposite angle, of the man kicking in a window, made front pages around the world…
