Monday, April 30, 2012


New post created to prevent deletion by Google.

Saturday, September 24, 2005



Tony Benn.









Abdul and Ahmed.

Abdul from North London.


Today I marched against the occupation of Iraq.

When I arrived in Westminster, at half past eleven, the Right Honourable Anthony Neil Wedgwood Benn, known as Tony Benn, formerly 2nd Viscount Stansgate, sat alone in Parliament Square. ‘I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just’, said my protest sign. My country is the US, and the words are Thomas Jefferson’s.

‘My wife was American’, Mr Benn told me, after I introduced myself to him. He said that God would be the subject of his speech today and wondered aloud what religion I am. Episcopalian, he guessed. He asked many questions about my life, such as what state I am from and what I do for a living.

Later an American tourist named Ben stumbled into the protest from an adjoining street. Ben is young, clean-cut, and well-dressed. He ventured for a moment into our march and politely asked ‘which God’ my sign indicated and whether I am a Muslim.

Ben graduated from the prestigious United States Air Force Academy in Colorado. He is now a pilot in Germany. My protest sign interested him because he is a Christian. After some discussion, we agreed that Jefferson was a Deist. Ben too is troubled by the occupation of Iraq.

A few other people photographed and discussed my sign. They were mostly from England and other parts of Europe, but some of the protesters came from American cities like Boston and New York. Two girls from Pennsylvania had not anticipated the protest. ‘We’re here on a teacher-training course’, one of them said to me. ‘Will this march be on the news in America?’

Near Trafalgar Square, I heard a man’s voice in an Indian accent, behind me. ‘That is very true’, said the voice. I turned around and saw an Asian man with a beard, no mustache, and warm clothes of the kind that young English people wear. ‘That is very true’, he said again, pointing to my sign. He was Abdul from North London.

Abdul moved to London from India 43 years ago. He has relatives in the US and Canada and three sons in London, the eldest of whom is a Metropolitan police officer. Abdul has been on many peace marches. After we entered Hyde Park, he excused himself to pray. When he returned from prayers, he shared some of his food with me. He came to the march with his friend Ahmed who moved to London from the same part of India 47 years ago. Abdul is 73. Ahmed and Abdul have each been to Mecca.

When I reached the stage, Tony Benn had already finished his speech. George Galloway, the Member of Parliament in Tower Hamlets, the council for which I work, was in America. I had met Mr Galloway a few weeks earlier, in the borough. My boss is a close friend of Mr Galloway’s rival, so perhaps I should not have chatted much with Mr Galloway. In any case, he was absent today. Another MP spoke, followed by the relatives of the Brazilian who was shot dead by police recently.

Foolishly, on my way home through Speaker’s Corner, I forgot to remove my sign and was accosted by every socialist looking for the kind of loud debate that attracts an audience. Typically, in Speaker’s Corner, two people shout at one another. Even though they disagree, the resulting attention of the crowd benefits them each. With my sign about God, it appeared that I was looking for just such a fight. ‘What the f*** is God?’ yelled a Workers Party member, happy to oblige my apparent desire to attract attention. ‘Opiate of the masses!’ he shouted at me, looking puzzled when I ignored him and walked on. Still, the protest was generally more peaceful than a similar one that I joined in Oakland, California, a few years ago.

I continued to walk home by the Marble Arch tube station. ‘I am from Spain’, a man accompanied by two small girls said to me, in order to excuse his ignorance of London. ‘What is this?’ he asked, pointing to the park. It is Hyde Park, I answered. ‘Yes, but what is it?’ he asked. It is a march against the war, I explained. ‘Buenos días’, he said. ‘Adios’, waved the two little girls.