I have had a long day of doing politics in Londres. It turns out politics involves a lot of walking. Now I am tired, but fairly satisfied. I spent most of the day in the Southern City of Londres, full of ugly towers and fading shops. To start with I joined a team of people going door to door in support of the only major opposition to our rulers that has happened in my lifetime. Initially I had not planned to do this, because the opposition is a troubling organisation full of people I do not trust. But I found myself defending their leader so often that in the end to stay out of such a serious battle I would have felt…not a hypocrite exactly, but perhaps a bystander at an attempted violent mugging.
On the doorstep many people are concerned about weak versus strong leaders, but they are not always clear about what this means. Often it doesn’t even seem to matter if a strong leader is taking them in the wrong direction, so long as she is strong. I can’t help thinking this is a product of low self-esteem. If you felt strong yourself, would you be so concerned about strength in your leaders? That is not what I said. Even I, not known for tact, can be a bit tactical.
We walked miles door to door, and only met a few of the enemy. It was more fun they I had been expecting. Next time I will take more food and snacks. Parts of Londres are a desert. At the start of our tour of the houses I failed to recognise one of my fellow walkers as someone I met last year. This often happens to me. When we all get augmented reality implants I will immediately install a Face Rememberer.
NextI went to a street protest, also in the Southern City, against a gang of racist extremists. Only eighteen or so of them turned up, and there were hundreds of us there to oppose them. Fortunately for them they had hundreds of police to protect them. It’s been a while since I pushed against an advancing police line, and as usual we lost, because we aren’t as well trained as they are. But it was invigorating. I asked some of the police officers, in a slightly ritualistic way, why they never make way for us when we want to go somewhere. As usual they didn’t reply. Some of my fellow protesters brought a sound system, which made for a festive mood. I looked at the gang surrounded by police and by us, and they had clearly lived hard lives, many troubled by alcohol. They were rather pathetic. I wished that someone had cared for them, so that their hatred had never developed.
Off now to a well-deserved barbecue in the Londres twilight.