Jews for Justice placard

On the first Saturday of the year, I was down in the centre of town at the Stand Up for Gaza march. I was joining thousands of people showing their solidarity, just as Israel was gearing up for the ground invasion and the US was reiterating its position that it was up to Hamas to stop the violence. I was frustrated, to say the least.

But don't worry - I'm not intending to bore you with the rights and wrongs of the conflict. I’ve a very simple position: Israel has a right to exist and to defend its citizens, but that its military actions in Gaza (and those in Lebanon, last time round) represent a disproportionate response to a complicated threat. I also don't think the actions are in the country's long-term security interests, but that's an argument for another time... This is about the march itself.

Whatever your stance, I’d hope you’d agree that my views are relatively moderate, in what is an extremely polarised debate. So I thought I’d be fairly safe in trying to persuade my broadly left-wing, Palestinian-people-sympathising friends to come along.

Kinda ran into trouble though. It turns out that a lot of my moderate friends think that nuanced opinions on the whole Mid-East mess are lost when they a march is dominated by the hard-left, or US-haters, or violently anti-Zionists, or strict Muslims. A whole crowd of people who they can’t identify with.

And to be honest, they did have a point. One of the first placards I saw when I turned up at Embankment tube proclaimed ‘Death to Israel!!’, whereas there were even more calling for an end to the ‘Holocaust’ in Gaza. Away from the political extremism, there was lots of religious piety on view too; on turning into the freezing Embankment gardens, you could see plenty of Muslims gathering on the grass for one of their five daily prayers.

Add to that a very visible crowd from the Socialist Workers’ Party, people disfiguring Star of David flags with the swastika, as well as lots of very angry-looking young men masked in keffiyehs. And then when the chants started going, the hopeful “Free Palestine!” cries alternated with slightly less unifying shouts of “Allahu-Akbar!” (God is Great). It was a bit alienating.

These people have every right to express themselves, and that’s what marches and protest are for. But given that I and my shrinking violet friends don’t agree with so many – probably the majority – of the protestors, was it really worth us being there?

There’s an argument that we were even being counterproductive. When the figures come out, and it turns out that people like me have pushed the attendance up to 10,000, won’t the other side just be able to dismiss it as a crowd of fringe loonies?

Perhaps.

But I’m glad I went.

Firstly, a protest is made up of the people who have the balls to go. I’m not really thinking of myself, but of Jews for Justice, who I went over to speak to when I saw their banner. These were people in what must have been a very hostile environment, who nevertheless stood up to be counted because they believed that their own people, more than any other, should not be responsible for the suffering in Gaza that Israel is behind.

Secondly, although the most visible and noisiest elements of the march were the most obvious, there were plenty of more mainstream elements of society. Imagine if we hadn’t been there. What if it was only the angry young male Muslims, for instance?

What would the message be if, having used their civil right to politically protest, they discovered they were the only ones who seemed to care? Yeah, it sounds a bit fluffy, but I really believe that anything that can bring Londoners from all walks of life together and establish common ground can only be good for social cohesion.

Thirdly, protesting is just like voting. When you do it, it feels insignificant; you might as well not bother, for the difference it would make. And when it’s over, the majority of people who took part might not even like the end result. But unless you engage, you have no right to complain. If you don’t make your voice heard, you can’t expect anyone else to do it for you.

Despite my misgivings, I’m proud to say that I was there when London stood up for Gaza.


Besides white van men, motorcyclists easily come top in the prestigious all-London “who can nearly knock Imran off his bike the most” championships.

So, some people might be a bit concerned that Major BoJo is proposing that motorcycles be allowed onto the thus-far hallowed turf of bus lanes.

Personally, I just love the challenge. But for all those of you who would like to see me live a little longer, please sign the petition to remind ‘cycling-friendly’ Boris that there are bigger dangers on the road than sodding bendy buses.

Image courtesy of Adelarks

During the few months I’ve been living in London, there have been at least two potentially catastrophic tube strikes called off. So when I see the BBC reporting that the RMT are planning yet another one, I can’t help but feel like I’m justified in suffering from strike-threat fatigue.

I don’t even get what the fuss is about, to be honest. Given that “TfL said it had assured the RMT that no staff would lose jobs or pensions, nor would any be transferred”, the fact that “the RMT wants a guarantee that Metronet workers will be allowed to join the TfL pension scheme and receive the same travel facilities as other TfL employees” seems like a pretty poor reason to try and bring an entire city to a standstill.

But don’t get me wrong, I’m a massive fan of unionisation and what it’s given this country, and others.

Actually, here’s a fantastic example from South Africa from this very week. Despite the fact that Zimbabwe has bought some arms from China – and that South Africa’s National Conventional Arms Control Committee has approved the transit of the weapons through the country – the members of the SATAWU union are refusing to unload the arms from the cargo ships because they disagree with their government’s lack of action on the issue.

Now that’s what I call solidarity. I suspect that if the RMT picked an issue that actually had a lot of public support to strike on, it’d be less likely to have to back down…

If you’re going to vote in the upcoming elections for the London Mayor and Assembly, and have a bit of a green tint to you, it’s well worth checking out some of the recent podcasts on Guardian Environment Weekly.

This week featured the Lib Dem candidate Brian Paddick, last week it was the Labour incumbent Ken Livingstone – and I can only assume Boris Johnson is coming up soon! Oh, and the (easily) most attractive candidate in the race, the Greens’ Sian Berry, was on the show back in February. You can find the entire audio archive at www.guardian.co.uk/environment/environment+content/audio.

Whether you think Chelsea tractors are destroying the planet or the Congestion Charge is throttling London’s own residents, the candiates’ environmental policies will clearly have a massive impact on the election. It’s not the only element, but with getting around the place being so central to living in the city, and transport being inextricably linked to the climate change debate, each of the candidates should have interesting things to say about it.

It’s also worth remembering that – unlike national and council elections – the London elections are run on the supplementary vote system. Hopefully this is a small step on the way to nationwide single transferrable voting, but what it means right now is that you get two votes, the second of which is only used if your first choice candidate gets knocked out. So you can be even surer that your vote is going to make a difference… what have you got to lose? You’ve got until the 16th of April to register to vote.

photo courtesy of Женя Яремчук

I’m a fairly recent migrant to this crazy city. I’d been living in Oxford for a few years, up until last October, and I think I’ve figured out the fairly simple difference that really bugs me between the two.

Oxford could be (well, can be, I suppose) a fairly busy place, what with the billions of students and trillions of tourists, but the great thing about it is that you were never more than a turn round the corner and a wander down an alley from a moment of serenity. A 14th century street, a college quad – there are even two entire meadows within a fairly short amble of the city centre.

London, though, isn’t usually quite as peaceful.

Not round ‘ere, anyway. People do go on about it being a terribly green city, given its metropolitan status, what with all its huge parks and all, but I tend to find that they don’t quite satisfy your craving for that bit of calm. Places like Hyde Park are indeed green, but often they’re not particularly quiet, and if they are, they’re just… well… a boring, y’know?

So it was a lovely surprise to (almost literally) stumble into the Kyoto Garden in Holland Park. I’d been jogging around there a few times before, and there are some interesting gardens and buildings and trails, but the Kyoto Garden stands out from the rest.

Or rather, it doesn’t. I’d completely missed it before; there’s no big monument, no huge sign, and it’s difficult to even see what’s there until you’re in. One one side there’s a row of trees that seperates it from the rest of the park, and on the other you’re actually below the garden and have to head up some steps to get in.

It’s so worth it, though. It’s just a lovely little Japanese-style garden in the middle of the city. I’m not a massive horticulturalist, so I can’t tell you about the variety of plants, and I’m not a landscape designer, so I can’t tell you what’s so distinctive about the three-tiered waterfall and the little footbridge over the pond. I wasn’t even there for very long, just taking a quick break to catch my breath – which is actually a passable analogy, now I come to think of it. It felt like slipping out of London for a moment, and stopping to just breathe properly for a moment.

If you’re passing by – maybe shopping on High St Kensington or something – do take the time to drop in. It’s on the northern side of the park, but it’s not exactly an ugly stroll up there. Anyone got their own ideas on where to unwind in London?

photo courtesy of Adrian Schreyer

It’s unofficial; the Government is kidnapping our bikes and selling them into slavery. Unconfirmed reports suggests they’re being used to nuke gay whales in the rainforest.

Seriously, though, it does seem like Londoners’ bikes are under threat if a proposed new law to let the council “forcibly remove bikes chained to railings or lampposts without any warning” gets through. Obviously this is bad news; why they’re not just building more bike racks, I don’t know. Read the full story over at the London Cycling Campaign; the page also has a template for you to email the Mayor to register what I hope will be your displeasure!

photo courtesy of Dave O’Hare

You know it’s going to be grim as soon as you wake up. As you slowly inch over into consciousness, there’s that unnerving noise somewhere in the back of your mind. Kettle boiling flatmate’s tea? Hot water pipes rattling? Leaves rustling in the wind?

No. The early morning (and ultimately) depressing mental effort is just about enough to wake you up sufficiently to realise that the taptaptap-tap-taptap is the rain. It’s turning the soil in the garden to mud. The normally inoffensive concrete outside gets transformed into a putrid grey mess – partly because it’s reflecting the equally disgusting sky. The tarmac on the roads is fairly ugly at the best of times, but a coating of water on the surface seems to turn them into a beastly, black, organic slab of tar.

Eventually, no matter how long you lie in bed hoping that the downpour will abate and the sun will come out and everything will be wonderful, you have to get up and face the wet world outside. And that’s when things start going downhill. If you’re a cyclist, there’s a whole world of roadspray-lubricated pain that awaits you, which probably doesn’t need much comment.

If you decide to go for public transport, there’s a very particular peril that lies in your way. Shepherd’s Bush road is an infamous example: If you’re trying to walk south towards the bus and tube stations on Hammersmith Broadway, there are two enormous puddles that form on the road – opposite each other – every time the heavens open. And, you see, it doesn’t matter that they’re mostly in the bus lane, and that the bus drivers are nice enough to avoid them; because there’s always some indescribably irritating tosser who’ll swerve right into them just to drench you, as if to make sure that your morning was as depressing as it could get.

And once you’re on the tube or your bus, and assuming you’ve managed to get on safely without slipping and breaking your neck on the wet floor, it’s not as if you get a reprieve. Steaming people, steaming clothes, steaming umbrellas, and grumpy commuters. Could it get any worse?

I don’t mean to sound bitter. Sometimes I like the rain; when I’m running, maybe? But right now, I just wish it’d go away…