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On Saturday February 28th 2015 I went on my very first political rally. Normally I don't get involved, I place my cross in a box every four or five years and leave it at that, content that I've earned the right to moan about the government when it goes pear-shaped. This time felt different. This time was Pegida.
Pegida is a movement that began in Germany as a protest against, as they saw it, the 'Islamization' of the west. I file this sort of talk in my mental 'aye, righto' box alongside its polar opposite, the notion that being a Muslim in Europe these days is akin to being a jew in 1930s Germany; Exaggeration by groups who want to paint themselves as victims.
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| Gathering |
What got my goat in particular was the location for the first UK Pegida rally. Newcastle. My Newcastle. In the days before the march I asked why Pegida bothered me so much. After all, the EDL have marched several times in Newcastle and I never so much as raised an eyebrow. Having thought about it I believe it's because the EDL (and the BNP) are well known and quite easy to dismiss as the usual crowd of knuckle-draggers. Pegida on the other hand is new, and in the context of a stream of ever-increasing bad news (British-born fighters joining ISIS, Charlie Hebdo murders in Paris, beheadings on Youtube, female genital mutilation, burqas, etc etc) it's perfectly reasonable to have concerns about 'Islamization'. And this is what picks at me. That there's a possibility that Pegida, without the baggage of the EDL/BNP, could have genuine mass appeal. If we ever find ourselves in the sort of 1930s Germany scenario I've always poo-pooed, a movement like Pegida will be at the heart of it. So we need to expose it and stop it before it starts.
Having made the decision to attend a counter-march I dutifully turned up at the part of Newcastle known as Gallowgate, joining a burgeoning, bustling crowd in preparation for the planned 10:30 march. This is going to sound a bit cliched but the best adjective I can think of to describe it is 'colourful'; the drums, the flags, the clothes and the haircuts were all a sight to see. All ages, races, genders and religions were in evidence, some carrying amusing banners, my favourite being 'Stop it, alright? Just stop it!'.
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| We're off |
The march set off slightly later than planned but was still in very high spirits as it wound its way through Newgate Street to the finishing point, about a hundred metres from the Bigg Market where the Pegida rally was occuring. It was here, I assume, that speeches were made by such luminaries as George Galloway and local Labour MP Chi Onwurah. I say 'assume' because I couldn't see or hear a bloody thing, but that's the price of popularity.
So a success then, and to that small, nagging voice in my head concerned about Jihadi John moving in next door, I say this: Religious fundamentalists are like bumble bees.
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| Newgate Street |
If that requires an explanation, it's that as a child I was terrified of bees, particularly whopping great bumble bees. If one got into the house and proceeded to buzz about as it angrily collided with the windows I would play merry hell until it was removed. Or until I was removed, whichever was easier for my parents to do. And while it cut no ice with me at the time, I've never forgotten their advice. Bees are much more scared of you than you are of them. The same goes for religious fundies; just as we might be scared of being forced into a burqa or the day Gregg's is banned from selling sausage rolls (Nooooo!!), religious extremists fear our loose morals and lax standards. And that's the crux of it. If it comes down to a clash of ideology, my moneys on the side with bacon, Stella Artois and casual sex.
