Naked men brandishing swords, bombs, funerals and protests: why did this week make history?
25th November 1963: John Kennedy’s Funeral
It was estimated that 800,000 people lined the streets to watch the procession of John Kennedy’s coffin from the Capitol in Washington. Sir Alec Douglas-Home and Harold Wilson were amongst those who attended the funeral. In the image below, President Kennedy’s son John Kennedy Junior can be seen saluting his father’s coffin.
Image Credits-AP/BBC
26th November 1983: £25m gold heist at Heathrow Airport
An estimated 15 people were involved in the largest robbery of its time at Heathrow Airport. Over £25 million of gold, which was bound for the Far East, was stolen from a warehouse. To this date, most of the gold still hasn’t been recovered.
Gold Heist Warehouse Image Credits: BBC
27th November 1990: John Major chosen to lead the Tories
John Major was chosen to lead the Conservative party, and become Britain’s new Prime Minister. The vote came after Margaret Thatcher resigned from the leadership role. Major remained Prime Minister until 1997, when the tories were defeated with a landslide Labour win.
John Major Image Credits: BBC
28th November 1999: Naked Sword Attack
A naked man wielding a 3ft Samurai sword attacked church-goers in South London. Eleven people were injured in the attack. Eden Strang was charged with seven accounts of attempted murder and six of assault, but was found not guilty for reasons of insanity.
The Church where the incident occurred Image Credits: BBC
29th November 1963: Canadian aeroplane Crash kills 118 people
118 people were killed as a Canadian aeroplane crashed just minutes after taking off. The cause of the crash was never uncovered, as adverse weather conditions including rain and snow made it difficult for investigators to acquire evidence. It was also said that looters stole personal belongings from the victims and parts of the plane. However, the cause was suspected to be a technical fault.
Crash Site Image Credits: Montreal Star
30th November 1982: Downing Street bombed by animal activists
A letter sent by animal rights activists exploded inside number 10 Downing Street. Although Margaret Thatcher was inside the building at the time, she was not injured. A member of her staff was slightly burned after the bomb went off, but other than that, there were no injuries. The group Animal Rights Militia were connected to the attack, because they had signed letters sent with the bomb. However, this was never confirmed.
Image Credits: BBC
1st December 1955: Rosa Parks refuses to give up her seat
Rosa Parks ignited the spark that would fuel the Montgomery bus boycott, by refusing to give up her seat on the bus to a white woman. The boycott lasted for 381 days, and nearly all of Montgomery’s 40,000 black citizens were involved.
Rosa Parks on a Montgomery Bus Image Credits: AP/BBC
The government despatch box. Image credits: Harry Lawford
Parliament is back in session, and David Cameron and Ed Miliband are shouting from despatch box to despatch box once again. Online Features Editor Imogen Watson debates whether this tradition is really helping anybody.
Questions to the Prime Minister is a prime example of why the country is so frustrated with the political world. The shouting, the arguments and the incessant sound of jeering is highly reprehensible from the so-called “mother of democracy”, and it represents just what is wrong with our Parliament.
Prime Ministers have answered questions from the Commons for centuries, but its previous fixed format was only established under Winston Churchill. Theoretically, Members of the House of Commons can put questions to the Prime Minister in the hope of an explanatory and helpful answer, as part of a sure-fire way of keeping the transparency of politics alive.
For those unsure of the process of Prime Minister’s Questions, it works as follows. Backbench Members of Parliament submit their names to the Order Paper and allocations for question slots are distributed by ballot. The first question is almost always a request for the Prime Minister to list his engagements for the day, followed by a supplementary question from the same MP. The Leader of the Opposition can ask a maximum of six questions. All that bizarre standing up and sitting down is the way in which MPs who were not selected on the ballot attempt to “catch the eye” of the Speaker should they wish to speak. Tradition is an odd thing.
It used to be that Prime Ministers were forced for face the wrath of the Commons twice a week, on a Tuesday and a Thursday to be precise, for fifteen minutes at a time. Arguably this allowed for a wider scope of questions, especially seeing as certain Prime Ministers were far more commanding of attention, or perhaps, so as not to deride our current and recent esteemed leaders, at least the Commons was better behaved. In Thatcher’s time, there were an approximate 0.6 interruptions per session, as opposed to over six in Cameron’s.
Tony Blair changed PMQs significantly. Image credits: Chatham House
Nowadays, thanks to Tony Blair, Prime Ministers defend themselves at the despatch box for a thirty minute session every Wednesday at noon. Except if they were really answering questions for half an hour it would be a miracle; as per the aforementioned fact about interruptions, Prime Ministers and their questioners rarely speak for that long at all due to the volume of noise stopping anything productive from happening. Blair himself refers to PMQs as “the most nerve-racking, discombobulating, nail-biting, bowel-moving, terror-inspiring, courage-draining experience in [his] prime ministerial life, without question,” which explains the desire to not go through it twice a week.
Indeed, the whole spectacle is a debacle. Can you remember the last time you watched the event televised, or a clip of it? I would wager possibly not, but if you can, can you remember the last time you were satisfied with an answer? Sometimes, the Prime Minister will satisfy a questioner, and sometimes he will go away and find more information, which is great. Unfortunately, most of the time when the Prime Minister is allowed to speak through the shouting of his own backbenches at the questioner, or the shouting of the Opposition at the ongoing sight of the Prime Minister, answers are sufficiently unhelpful. If this description sounds like a playground, that is because it looks like one too.
The times either Prime Minister or questioner have been sufficiently humiliated are the videos so delightfully uploaded to YouTube. The greatness of someone’s question or response? Not so common. Now there is a standard for which to aim.
Exeter’s MP Ben Bradshaw said in June that “PMQs has become so awful I would rather be doing something more useful with my time like responding to constituents’ letters… The noise and rowdiness in the Commons’ chamber is much worse than the public realise, because they only hear what is broadcast by the single microphone activated above the head of the person speaking.”
Misbehaviour and volume of voice are not the only problems. Male MPs have been known to make gestures juggling imaginary breasts at female MPs and Ministers, and rather eloquently shout comments such as “Melons!” David Cameron got into hot water by telling Angela Eagle, Shadow Chief Secretary to the Treasury at the time to “calm down, dear”. Encouraging, perhaps, for more women to get into politics.
Lucky enough as I was this summer, I was able to view the final PMQs before the summer recess live and in front of the security glass (installed post Blair’s experience with condoms filled with purple flour – no doubt on YouTube if you have no idea what this means). I am one of those people who has regularly watched, or has seen parts of the noon session on television or online. I had once found it interesting.
It is entertaining to watch it in such a manner – or arguably in any manner at all – for maybe ten or fifteen minutes. Afterwards, sadly, it just turns into a head-in-hands event. When you can hear through the wall of noise (if only this were an exaggeration), it is, granted, slightly amusing when somebody slips up, or when somebody has a great line. But otherwise in its current form it is a shambles of an element of democracy. There is no way it is a good way of holding government and the Prime Minister to account: questions are not consistently asked for a real answer, they are asked to embarrass, and answers are not desired to be heard. If MPs could jeer any more loudly, certainly they would.
Whilst there are good intentions in its existence, Prime Minister’s Questions is simply a show and – I am even saying this as a political bean – an embarrassment of one.
James Roberts, Features editor, speaks of his experience at the funeral of Baroness Thatcher.
ONE Monday afternoon, in a sleepy London pub, the BBC announced to me the death of my political idol, Margaret Thatcher. And a week later, on a packed London street, I stood in line to say an emotional final farewell to her.
Image Credits- BBC
I wasn’t alone: opposite me an ordered line of former paratroopers who had fought in the Falklands; next to them a restless flock of suited City investors; a coach load of Birmingham housewives and a rabble of placard-waving protestors. Looking around me, at the array of well-wishers, revellers and demonstrators, I realised that this moment perhaps better summed up the Thatcher premiership than even the best of Spitting Image sketches.
The atmosphere was heavy with trepidation, but laced with pride. The occasional chanting and booing of the protestors was predictably met with audible tutting, and a ripple of silencing applause to drown them out. But as the gun carriage approached, the pavements went silent – even the protestors.
It drew alongside us, the Union Flag billowing in the cold, crisp wind and a palpable cloud of solemnity seemed to descend on the deathly still crowds. For just a moment, everyone was united in the gravity of Mrs Thatcher’s legacy. Suddenly, the ranks of Falklands veterans shifted to a salute. Their hearts hardened by war, but spirits softened by the coffin of the Iron Lady. The sombre and stately music of the military procession pierced the moment, and tears rolled down the cheeks of the City boys.
Without doubt Mrs Thatcher will go down as one of the most important, and controversial, politicians of the post-war generation. But for that moment during the funeral, it was far more a personal moment than a political one. The politics of Thatcher’s legacy will live on, to be debated in television studios, university lecture rooms and pubs alike.
To most, her name will always be veiled in the crusader politics that defined her premiership. Certainly, to some, her funeral was a political event. But for those of us that were there, it was a personal experience that we will never forget.
The coffin is carried to the hearse at the Royal Hospital Chelsea. Image credit: Joshua Irwandi
Margaret Thatcher died on Monday 8th April 2013. Online Features Editor Imogen Watson discusses the funeral held on Wednesday 17th April in London as experienced on the ground.
Funerals are a mark of respect, and of commemoration.
The atmosphere in London the day before Margaret Thatcher’s funeral was like any other. That is except for the barriers lining the planned route for the procession the following day, the continued preparations around St Paul’s Cathedral, and the movie scene-like way in which a lone policeman on a motorbike, without any warning, single-handedly cut off three lines of traffic on Parliament Square with one swift skid to allow the body of Margaret Thatcher to be brought to the Chapel of St Mary Undercroft. It was so calm that the presence of sunshine was quite possibly the most unnerving, unexpected thing of the whole day.
At precisely ten the following morning, Big Ben kept its promised silence and the hearse left Parliament in the dreary drizzle. The crowds in Parliament Square were not as huge as maybe anticipated, judging by the numbers of police in the streets, although Parliament staff came out to join the public in paying their respects. Press photographers in the area from any number of outlets were disappointed to have seen only one sole protester calmly make his way across the green with a placard fairly incomprehensible in terms of English (“stealing from people public to pay wealthy few losses and tax cuts.”). After some deciphering, however, he appeared to be demonstrating against the public footing of the funeral bill, as well as presumably current government economic policy.
Image credit: Joshua Irwandi
The beginning of the procession was fast over; there was neither applause nor opposite reaction, and most moved on fairly quickly. Walking down Whitehall, a couple easily young enough to have been born after Thatcher’s demise were spotted also bemoaning the cost and public payment of the funeral, and were somewhat hounded by any reporters or photographers around. However, for all the barriers erected in advance, Trafalgar Square was surprisingly empty.
Crowds had chosen to congregate in Ludgate Circus, further along the processional route towards St Paul’s Cathedral, including people not only from across Britain. Although some Brits had travelled long distances, there were others from as far afield as the United States of America who had come to pay their respects, as well as tourists (often French) who, when asked, explained they had simply been caught up in the event. With so many around, inevitably, the small group of back-turning protesters was overwhelmed, outnumbered and rather unnoticed, meaning equally no one was arrested – perhaps to the relief of those on the protest’s Facebook event page hoping to get away from the funeral in time “to do the school run”. At St Paul’s itself, that applause missing from Parliament Square showed itself amongst the large crowds when the cortège arrived, partially drowning out the booing of a small minority.
An anti-Thatcher protester argues with supporters after the funeral. Image credit: Joshua Irwandi
Unfortunately, and I say this not as an avid Thatcher supporter, there were a few distasteful placards, with one involved reading “Rest in shame!” with the word “peace” crossed out. On Oxford Street, away from the funeral procession route, “Thatcher was evil” and “The witch is dead” had been scrawled tackily in marker pen inside a few bus shelters. Whether Thatcher herself would have minded such dissent at her own funeral is a question to which we will never know the answer, despite the speculation, but there comes a point where human decency in allowing a fellow human being their goodbye from the world must outweigh protest. Whatever the issue, just protest has a time and a place – funerals not being it.
The media has been rife with discussions and debates about the legacy of the late Prime Minister, and about the appropriateness of the style of the funeral. But, regardless of personal opinions about cost or grandeur, the funeral went ahead in the way it should have done. Despite the multitudes of feeling abound it was, on the whole, dignified. It ought to have been so not only because this one person had dedicated so much time to her country (and that in itself commands a certain amount of respect) but because violent disorder at such an occasion would have been, at the very least, completely inappropriate.
Sitting inside a café attempting to warm cold, yellowy fingers, it was obvious that, despite the heavy media attention, the funeral was not the only thing occurring in London on Wednesday 17th April; there were families and school groups on trips, people taking breaks from work and business meetings. The country continues as normal. Yet these observations were a reminder, wherever on the wide spectrum lies your opinion about Maggie Thatcher, controversial as she clearly is, that normal in twenty-first century Britain is not without her influence – even if we are not, contrary to the Prime Minister’s belief, actually “all Thatcherites now”.
Following Margaret Thatcher’s death, Dominic Madar discusses her legacy.
I for one was glad to hear that Margaret Thatcher had passed away on Monday 8th April. For too long she had struggled on in pain against the inevitable; at least the end was quiet and peaceful.
The reaction on social media however was anything but, as a stream of tributes and foul mouthed jibes flooded every inch of the web. Few British figures in recent decades have simultaneously inspired such hatred and vitriol against such unashamed love and affection.
For a 90s kid, the legacy of Thatcher has passed into the realms of myth and legend: Lady T the heroic saviour of Great Britain and global freedom fighter, champion of prosperity and development; or the tyrannical Iron Lady, who single-handedly destroyed our nation, tearing apart the livelihoods of communities and elevated an evil ideology on the world stage. Not even Marmite divides opinion quite like Thatcher.
She grew up the daughter of a greengrocer, before graduating from Oxford, becoming a barrister and eventually joining and ascending the ranks of the Conservatives. In 1974 she became party leader and went on to achieve an unprecedented hat-trick of election victories from 1979 to 1987; she left office in 1990 as the longest serving – and to date, first and only female – Prime Minister of the 20th century. Even her fiercest critics begrudgingly acknowledge her phenomenal success, lasting influence and formidable character in a climate dominated by bland and uninspiring politicians.
There’s little point in a detailed dissection of her economic policy, given that almost everybody has already made their mind up (not that most people have a thorough understanding of economics anyway). The hard evidence shows relatively healthy levels of economic growth and crucially stabilising levels of inflation. It also, less pleasingly, displays a growing rich poor divide and consistent budget deficits. Encouraging aspiration and removing draconian levels of income tax, as well as tackling the overly indulgent Trade Unions, rank among her biggest economic successes. Implementing the poll tax and failing to regenerate growth in more areas of the country stand out as her greatest domestic failures.
Similarly, in foreign affairs Thatcher’s status swings (depending on whom you speak to) from an imperialist war lord to a bountiful heroine staunchly defending the free world. Her refusal to back the proposed sanctions over apartheid in South Africa and her support of destructive South American dictators were areas of great controversy – pounced on by her critics as proof of her lack of compassion. Her efforts in protecting the defenceless Falklands Islands that desired to remain British (check out the recent referendum results), detoxifying Cold War negotiations with Gorbachev, acceptance of climate change and spirited rejection of the death and calamity of Communism suggest otherwise.
So much resentment of Thatcher revolves solely on emotion and anecdotes. The evidence doesn’t back up the pathetic claims levelled by those too stubborn to seriously analyse or too lazy to properly research her policies. It’s hard to appreciate capitalism when most of us have never been exposed to the genuine tragedy and suffering of Communism and tyranny. Thankfully in this country poverty is relative and not absolute. Ed Miliband and Tony Blair openly admit some of what she did was right and graciously credit her principled and diligent demeanour. For some however that’s simply too much – so they attack her humanity and chortle at her death – rather hypocritical for those insisting it was Thatcher who lacked the compassion.
The alternative at the time was a deeply protectionist Labour Party, verging on Communism and in the vice of Trade Unions. Thatcher and her policies weren’t always successful; there is plenty in her tenure to be criticised, but she was a hell of a lot better than anything else at the time. She forced the Left to reform; we no longer debate over the virtues of a 90% top rate of income tax. The USSR and its horrific legacy collapsed, while China has transformed from a country of starvation to a land of growing prosperity as a consequence of economic liberalisation. Tony Benn and Michael Foot will rightly be swallowed up by history – their dangerous ideologies driven into the ground by Thatcher and the surrounding empirical evidence. As Peter Mandelson said, “we are all Thatcherites now”.
Then again, maybe I’m just a middle class university kid who’s been hoodwinked by the media and the establishment; maybe my comrades are right; maybe Maggie Thatcher is the ultimate cult of personality. I somehow doubt it. But at least we cared. I cannot imagine Tony Blair, David Cameron or anyone else stirring quite so much passion (whether good or bad) in our apathetic electorate. And I’m not surprised – compared to her they all lack balls.
exeposedev 