My Extinction Rebellion
©Louis Dorton
I watched a woman talk to her little son from
behind the burly policeman and her son waved
and her husband looked pensive and loving and
together the four of them waited for the van that
would take her to a cell. She had met my eyes in
Falmouth High Street three weeks earlier and we
talked in the rain as she gave me the leaflet that
turned me into a Rebel and I thought that she
was beautiful then in a way I couldn’t describe
and she looked even more so with her handcuffs
and her tired eyes and inner glowing strength.
Our species is unpicking life itself and the
powerful are blind so now good people glue
themselves to the ground and let policemen take
them which scares me because I am passive by
nature but I can’t live in sorrow and fear anymore
so I journeyed to London to do ‘something’ with
new friends from my Cornish coastal town and
together we planned to break the law with
strangers from across our island so that maybe
we can save our planet from this heat-death
spiral. Scary scary scary, but there might be
some hope hope hope – if enough people play
their parts. We arrived and found many many
many police vans and it felt strange to be in the
news now as the helicopter droned noisily
disruptively ceaselessly above the rebelled mass
(of humans) standing in Bank Junction holding
signs like “WE ARE HERE BECAUSE WE ARE
SCARED.” It was a party really with music and
free food and dancing though an old man rabbi
was carried away by uniforms for his (civil)
disobedience and everybody cheered and
financial workers in Savile Row suits looked
angry except for one impeccable rich man who
looked curious and sweet. The days tumbled
onwards all across that ancient city and I chanted
and marched and watched brave people carried
away and felt the easy joy of being right and felt
powerful when I risked arrest and blocked roads.
One night I represented Falmouth at a meeting of
the South West in a city of tents with tired Rebels
from Taunton and Exeter and Mendip and
Dartmouth and Penzance and together we
shared our thoughts and made plans for
disruption and I hoped I was useful somehow.
Sometimes in these days I met good Rebels with
unbounded life-joy in their smiles and I cursed
my stiff anxious insides for holding me back from
connection but it was still good to be with them
because they showed that humans are good just
like the police officer who whispered “I am on
your side.”
I had my doubts though sometimes when there
were speeches given and I could not cheer
because I am suspicious of righteous anger that
simplifies complex things and there were
moments when I thought that maybe I should be
at home because I am just a Shire Liberal really
and when the policemen searched me I felt small
and cowardly. But I can’t be at home when I
know that we’re heading towards unravelling so I
stood outside Rupert Murdoch’s offices and
chanted “TELL THE TRUTH” while his
employees looked down from their towering glass
kingdom their faces too small to see and the blue
lights flashed and a samba band arrived and with
maracas I joined them and felt euphoric with the
rhythm and the crowds and knowledge that I’m
alive and so are you. But on my final day my joy
fell away when some Rebels tried to stop a tube
train and were beaten by a crowd and the
country was contemptuous because why would
you stop people using public transport and I
agreed and was ashamed and despaired to think
that people will turn their minds away from the
bravery of the Falmouth woman who left her son
and looked beautiful as the sun glimpsed out
from rain clouds and sirens filled the air.
by Will Hazell
About The Green Line
The Green Line is part of a third year collaborative project exploring our personal connection with the ongoing climate crisis. Over the next month we will be publishing a variety of pieces from the student community.
Find out more about The Green Line here.