On the march in Copenhagen

The atmosphere on the streets was the antithesis of the gloom inside the centre

Panda bears with flames coming out of their heads, flying blue dragons, the usual rake of tree-hugging environmentalists and an inordinate number of polar bears took to the streets of Copenhagen today. Estimated at 100,000 strong, the march set off towards the Bella Centre, the venue for the UN's COP15 climate summit, at 2pm today. There they'll greet world leaders and give them a piece of their mind, irrespective that no one of note has shown up yet.

Suited up like Robocop, the Danish police are huge and ready to take on any climate heros, but so far they have been left with very little to do. Since an early ruckus in which 400 people -- part of a peripheral march by the anarchist group "Never Trust a Cop" -- were arrested, the march has been overwhelmingly peaceful.

At 1pm speakers greeted the crowd outside Copenhagen Town Hall. The usual rhetoric and a guest appearance by the new climate poster girl Helena Christensen left me withering and cynical in the cold. But the spirit is there and the atmosphere is a positive antithesis to the doom, gloom and general angst among those inside the centre.

Whether organisers planned this march in protest or solidarity with COP15 is hard to tell. Their demands are vague. They are calling for "climate justice" and "a legally binding agreement". But they don't talk about numbers, and they avoid the kind of contentious debate over targets that has already caused drastic divisions within the conference.

The crowd is diverse and illustrates one of the most interesting aspects of this summit. Here, for the first time, environmental action groups have come together with development agencies to acknowledge the threat of climate change to human lives. It is no longer just a movement of the green elite, a luxury guilt that only rich nations can afford. References to the human effects of climate change are ubiquitous. As Naomi Klein said yesterday, this conference is about "people, not polar bears".

As the first seven days round up, it's clear that this first week was all about the little guys -- letting small island states and the less significant developing countries have their voices heard before China, the US and the EU fly in and bang up a deal. Whatever influence figures such as Sudan's Lumumba Di-Aping might have felt in the past six days (speaking out against the leaked "Danish text") will be obliterated once the real bargaining begins. What could prove significant, however, are the alliances that smaller nations have had the chance to make, if these can withstand the bargaining tactics of the greater powers. These tactics are the kind that stopped the Philippines negotiator and "dragon woman" Bernarditas Muller from joining her country's delegation at the summit.

But then this kind of cynicism has no place here on the streets of "Hopenhagen", and I have to get back to the march. After all, a bit of positive people action can't do any harm.

 

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Inside a shaken city: "I just want to be anywhere that’s not Manchester”

The morning after the bombing of the Manchester Arena has left the city's residents jumpy.

On Tuesday morning, the streets in Manchester city centre were eerily silent.

The commuter hub of Victoria Station - which backs onto the arena - was closed as police combed the area for clues, and despite Mayor Andy Burnham’s line of "business as usual", it looked like people were staying away.

Manchester Arena is the second largest indoor concert venue in Europe. With a capacity crowd of 18,000, on Monday night the venue was packed with young people from around the country - at least 22 of whom will never come home. At around 10.33pm, a suicide bomber detonated his device near the exit. Among the dead was an eight-year-old girl. Many more victims remain in hospital. 

Those Mancunians who were not alerted by the sirens woke to the news of their city's worst terrorist attack. Still, as the day went on, the city’s hubbub soon returned and, by lunchtime, there were shoppers and workers milling around Exchange Square and the town hall.

Tourists snapped images of the Albert Square building in the sunshine, and some even asked police for photographs like any other day.

But throughout the morning there were rumours and speculation about further incidents - the Arndale Centre was closed for a period after 11.40am while swathes of police descended, shutting off the main city centre thoroughfare of Market Street.

Corporation Street - closed off at Exchange Square - was at the centre of the city’s IRA blast. A postbox which survived the 1996 bombing stood in the foreground while officers stood guard, police tape fluttering around cordoned-off spaces.

It’s true that the streets of Manchester have known horror before, but not like this.

I spoke to students Beth and Melissa who were in the bustling centre when they saw people running from two different directions.

They vanished and ducked into River Island, when an alert came over the tannoy, and a staff member herded them through the back door onto the street.

“There were so many police stood outside the Arndale, it was so frightening,” Melissa told me.

“We thought it will be fine, it’ll be safe after last night. There were police everywhere walking in, and we felt like it would be fine.”

Beth said that they had planned a day of shopping, and weren’t put off by the attack.

“We heard about the arena this morning but we decided to come into the city, we were watching it all these morning, but you can’t let this stop you.”

They remembered the 1996 Arndale bombing, but added: “we were too young to really understand”.

And even now they’re older, they still did not really understand what had happened to the city.

“Theres nowhere to go, where’s safe? I just want to go home,” Melissa said. “I just want to be anywhere that’s not Manchester.”

Manchester has seen this sort of thing before - but so long ago that the stunned city dwellers are at a loss. In a city which feels under siege, no one is quite sure how anyone can keep us safe from an unknown threat

“We saw armed police on the streets - there were loads just then," Melissa said. "I trust them to keep us safe.”

But other observers were less comforted by the sign of firearms.

Ben, who I encountered standing outside an office block on Corporation Street watching the police, was not too forthcoming, except to say “They don’t know what they’re looking for, do they?” as I passed.

The spirit of the city is often invoked, and ahead of a vigil tonight in Albert Square, there will be solidarity and strength from the capital of the North.

But the community values which Mancunians hold dear are shaken to the core by what has happened here.

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