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It’s Friday afternoon. I’ve been in this beautiful backcourt of a social centre for the past 3 days. There’s wood lying all over the place, skipped food for everyone, and a good dose of energy to mix it all together. Somewhere in these recycled pallets, power tools and two by twos lies a giant 10 metre long airplane that we are building for the entrance. The ramp leading into the site reads, “Exit the System”.
We are nearly done when my phone rings. A friendly, familiar voice asks in a rather coded manner if I’m interested in “taking the site”. I don’t really know what that involves but I’m now so curious about all this “James Bond” style communication that I can’t help but to get all excited. “Dress smart!” says the voice at the other end of the phone before we hang up. Perfect, I wouldn’t have expected any less at this point.
A few charity shops later, we look dapper and are nearly packed up to head out. Only detail is that we don’t where we’re going. Then, a short man with glasses approaches in a rather shifty manner. He goes by the name of a vegetable and swiftly asks us to follow him. As we walk towards a park the wobbling vegetable says, “if you have a phone, turn it off and take out the battery.” We don’t ask any further questions. I’ve seen this type of paranoid behaviour before and in some strange way I find it rather comforting. At the park the guidelines are simple. The veggie hands over a piece of paper with a time, an address and a train station. “Bring water proofs, pack a light bag and bring enough food and water for 24 hours” says the vegetable “I’ll see you at the meeting point” and our paths split.
It’s difficult to say why we believe in the things we believe in. I mean, what is it in this kind of situation that makes me trust the people that are giving me these hints without ever telling me the whole story? Why am not afraid when a stranger comes over to me, doesn’t tell me his real name and gives me some random address to show up at with only the bare minimum? Why don’t I listen to the media that are calling these people terrorists or the police that are incriminating them?
It’s Saturday afternoon and the train comes to a halt. There’s a warm breeze that fills my lings as I step out onto the platform. I’m early so I decide to pick up a newspaper and try to look inconspicuous. Have you ever realised the more you try to blend in the more you feel awkward? I look down at the front page of the Guardian I just purchased to read, “Climate protesters accused of terrorism.” “Maybe I’ll read this later”, I mumble to myself as I fold the paper and stick it under my arm. The attempted injunction by BAA has been the best marketing move for the Camp that anyone could have possibly wished for. It’s made the front pages for about a week now and nothing’s actually happened yet. Although it puts climate change at the front of the public dialogue, the media still portray those raising these issues as troublemakers. I lift my head and a familiar face walks by me without flinching. Maybe she knows where I need to be. I follow her down the road and I notice a few other familiar faces walking in the same direction. We stop at a flat. It’s the number that was scribbled on the vegetables crumbled piece of paper.
A smiley bald man answers the door. We walk up a few stairs and join another small group of people sitting around a table. A lot of people must have been trying to act inconspicuous because I can count 5 copies of the same paper around the room. There are a few people chatting, others pretending like they are busy while others just sit in half bordom. It’s strange because everyone is probably really friendly and open to meeting new people … but there’s a slight edge to this situation. It’s like no one really knows what we are getting ourselves into. There’s been a small group, maybe a couple of people, who until today have disclosed where the exact site is located. As I sit in this apartment I realise that there are about 20 similar meetings happening throughout the city of London. Everyone sort of knows why we are here and what we are about to try to do but nobody really knows how it’s going happen. That’s why there’s a little tension.
There are no presentations, just smiles and small chat like “where did you come from today.” Everyone is very serious in this room full of activists, and I start to miss the bit of nonsense I had cultivated with an endearing group of clowns. Just a bit of confusion to shake things up is all I’m asking for. Before I felt comfortable enough to start causing havoc, we are broken into small groups of 10 and briefed. We are given a map, a meeting point for pick up and given keys to a van where we could leave our bags. Some people go in the vans, others by public transportation. The idea is for many small groups to arrive by different means of transportation and from all directions. Each individual small group decides how they want to get there without telling the others. Principles of autonomy: no one is essential and no one knows all the details of the plan. There are just a bunch of free ions buzzing toward a similar objective … I guess the situation is surreal enough as it is without having to add any further confusion.
I think there’s a common misconception that autonomous and anarchic groups have no leaders. We say “we are non-hierarchical therefore we have no leaders.” In fact the only reason these groups manage to function, communicate, organise, is because they are composed of leaders. Every individual is a leader that takes on a certain amount of responsibility. That responsibility can rotate but it is essential that someone coordinates it and sees it through. A group without leaders wouldn’t do anything.
My small group of 4 decided to act like strangers as soon as we hit the underground. The idea is to constantly be aware of where every member of the group is without acknowledging we even know each other. That’s the theory at least.
On arrival at our tube station I’m in charge of leading the group to the nearest pub. As I leave the station I can see Kate and Chris but Cindy’s not there. I find a pub, order a pint and Chris comes in. “She’s gone back a station to take a bus cause her ticket wasn’t valid at this station.” My pulse starts to race a little faster. Situations like this teach you that no matter how much you plan, you’ll always run into surprises. I guess that’s one of the reasons it’s so enjoyable. Our rendez-vous at the meeting point for pick up was 10 minutes ago. A wise man once told me, “finish your pint, then think about your next move.” He must’ve been a drunken Scotsman slurring over his whiskey but somehow his words spoke truth. A pint later, Cindy shows up, we find a taxi and a friendly Pakistani driver decides to give us a tour of the area. He doesn’t even know of the place we are looking for but he keeps saying: “It’s no problem, I take you where ever you want to go, no extra charge.” A wonderful man indeed, and sure enough, he drops us right where we needed to go, for no extra charge.
We’re late but other familiar faces are still around. I walk next to Sid near a bus stop. As I look at the timetable she says, “Everything is running a little late so just hang tight and keep a low profile.” Easy for her to say, I’m wearing my finest.
As we sit munching on a snack, trying to keep a ‘low profile’ fireworks start kicking off right next to where we are sitting. In addition to that, cars racing by keep honking at us for no apparent reason. This all puts me in a bit of state of alarm, which I personally enjoy. There’s a great feeling that people are looking out for each other. Then a white van stops. The driver hops out, opens the side door of his transit, and tells everyone to get in. There are about 12 of us huddled in the back. I kind of felt like a refugee, not knowing where we were going, who the driver was, how long I’d be in the dark. “If I stop, everyone needs to be completely silent. If we get caught I’m the one who gets fucked.” The door slides shut and the van starts moving.
Everyone is in good spirits in the darkness of this chariot. “The site’s been taken” says the girls next to me putting her mobile phone away. Then the van stops and everyone shuts up. The front doors open and someone walks to the sliding door. As it opens it lets in a breath of fresh air. “We’re here,” said the driver.
We all jump out to enter a massive field. Triple tripods are already up with a banner hanging that reads, “No Third Runway, Climate Camp 2007.” It’s pitch black and about 150 people are already here with more to come. There’s an overall sense of joy and success. Despite all the things that could have gone wrong all along the way, we are now standing on the grounds, which will be the base for the climate camp. I look up and watch the banner blow in the wind … and then wonder how long until those tripods get blown over.
As I try to get a feel for where I might be of most use, I see people marking out the site with a string, planting little flags to mark the different areas, saying hello to each other and then everything freezes for just a few seconds. A police van drives by slowly. Conversations stop and all eyes turn towards the lonely vehicle. The people at the top of the tripod look down. We knew this moment would arrive but didn’t know how it would go. Just as time seems to slow down for a few seconds, it picks right back up when the police van sprints off into the distance as two flat bed trucks arrive loaded with equipment. Someone marking out the field says,” right, anyone with tents put them up now, we need marquee’s up fast, we need to look big.” Head torches go on and the level of energy and activity seems to immediately rise. Poles and canvas come flying off the flat bed the place becomes an incredible hive of activity. I don’t think I would want to be anywhere else at 11:30 on a Saturday night.
It’s an amazing feeling to be part of a large group of people working together towards a common goal. In times like these it’s not about who you are, everyone’s equal, and we just need to get this shit sorted. Within 2-3 hours marquees are up, people are at the gates (one of which is being blocked by the Scots van), Indymedia photographers are documenting the whole process, legal observers are walking around, and the police are present with a few vans of officers … the show has just begun.
The incredible part is that everything starts happening all at the same time with people naturally flowing where more hands are needed but without anyone ever being in charge. We couldn’t respond so fast if we were only following orders. Certain people have certain responsibility but everyone has full control over their own initiative and where they wish to put their energy. And somehow, it works!
I look around me and can’t believe what we’ve just begun. We’ve just taken a huge field before the eyes of authority and with the clear intention to educate, demonstrate, and take direct action. Only a small string delimits the field, we are now surrounded by police and I don’t even have a tent to sleep in …
It’s an exciting feeling to feel that everyone is completely present and up for something but no one knows exactly what. Everyone is aware it’s up to each and every one of us to make this camp, this event, this party, what we want it to be.
Welcome to Climate Camp, it’s going to be a long night.