When Right is always wrong: disabled anti-fascist on far-right abuse and Met failure

Disability and union activist Phil Smart speaks out in an article exclusive for Skwawkbox

On Saturday 13 September my friend Karen and I caught the 6:18am train to London to join the Stand up to Racism demo. We are both 50+ and classed as disabled and we are Unite the Union members, one being the black Branch Equality Officer and the other being the white/privileged Branch Secretary/Treasurer for WM:6070.

The train journey was raucous and rowdy from Worcester onwards when a large group of ‘patriots’ climbed on board. The drink flowed and voices got louder and this eventually led to a bloated, hateful, 30-something, (it will become obvious later on why I say this), racist, genocide-enabler, who took issue with my “Stop Bombing Gaza” t-shirt, verbally assaulting me.

As he walked past to go to the toilet he must have spotted my t-shirt and upon returning he growled and said “Are you going to the anti-march?” and “What’s with the t-shirt, it’s shit”, he said hoping to get a reaction.  I just said I was going to the demo and left it at that and he bumbled off laughing. This was not the first time I had been verbally abused for showing solidarity to my Palestinian brothers and sisters who are suffering genocide. I was verbally abused in Morrisons in Hereford just the week before. The far-right and the bigots are being empowered by the mainstream media and their love-in with Farage and Trump, that’s for sure.

Standing up to racism: a difficult endeavour

We both became aware at this point that getting to and from today’s demo was going to be difficult but we thought we would be safe on the demo because the Met Police would surely have things under control and properly segregated with “sterile areas” put in place to protect us.

Sadly it seems my trust in the Met Police was badly misplaced. The anti-racist demo moved off peacefully and at a slow pace. We had met up with our dear friend Khalid and his team from Portsmouth Unite Community and the TUC. We moved along slowly with Mark and his megaphone leading the chants and the wonderful drum beats behind and to the side of us. The atmosphere was party-like and upbeat with good people all supporting one another and having fun.

We danced down the Strand and when we were opposite the Coal House pub I had not noticed that there were lots of fascists gathered on the pavement and milling about. They began shouting obscenities, making the usual rude gestures, and openly threatening to hurt us.

Under attack from the far right

Then, as I was chanting along to When Asylum Seekers are under attack, what do we do?, I was struck on the forearm by an open can of Banks “Bitter” which was nearly full and sprayed its contents all over me and into my mouth (which for a recovered alcoholic/addict of 14 years came as a nasty shock!).

As more cans and missiles peppered the ground around us, a lovely lady came over to ask me if I was alright and Khalid came over too. Thankfully I was okay; shaken up and very cross, I looked at the faces of those who had attacked us and saw the utter hatred they had for us. They should never have been there but it soon became apparent they had broken through the police lines and were all over the Strand and Trafalgar Square, which we had to pass to get to Whitehall for the speeches.

At 3.30pm we had to leave the Stand Up To Racism demo to walk back to Paddington Station to get our train to Hereford, leaving behind Khalid, Mark, the Portsmouth community, and all the other brave souls to be ‘kettled’ by the police for their own protection because the fascists had completely surrounded them.

Our journey through the streets of London to walk back seemed a safer option than getting the tube because it seemed the fascists had taken over everywhere. On the way back I stopped to get a takeaway kebab and, as always, I was treated with kindness and smiles in the wonderful little Lebanese restaurant we stopped at. So, the end of the day finished with a flourish of love and happiness.

That used to be me

Now, to our “bloated hateful 30-something” mentioned earlier on in this piece. My reason is simple: I used to be that hate-filled, bloated 30-something. I was an alcoholic/addict who not only joined the BNP but hung off every word ‘Tommy Robinson’ said to the point I bought his books and believed everything he said. I was disillusioned by the Blair government and the establishment and I hated myself so much that I had to hate “Others” to try and make myself feel better.

When I was 42 I got properly clean and sober through AA and the love of my wonderful partner Gail, my family, my friends. I began the hard process of learning to live life on life’s terms and I began learning how to love again. I stopped being hateful but was still wary of the world around me and this could be seen in me voting for Brexit.

Then in 2019 my broken heart was truly healed, through a meeting with the Holy Spirit at the house church I attended at the time. It was from that point forward that I was totally freed from the bondage of bigotry and I found that I was consumed with an unconditional love for “ALL” others no matter who they are or where they come from.

So there is hope that people can heal their broken heart but without them healing their minds this will never, ever happen.

Second chances to stand up to racism

I was given a chance to live a free man or to die, alone. But I was one of the lucky ones, I chose to live and I am so grateful to my Higher Power and the transforming nature of love for helping that happen.

I am so grateful to my Higher power for showing me that being RIGHT was most definitely WRONG in every way imaginable.

Keith Giles – This former pastor left the pulpit to follow Jesus and started a church where 100% of the offering goes to the poor.

Came to Believe Recovery

Featured image via the Canary