Sian goes to Climate Camp

I wonder how many people have decided this week that, actually, they don’t think expanding airports

I joined the Camp for Climate Action near Heathrow on Sunday, a few hours before the start of the 24 hours of ‘mass action’. As I walked up from the A4, chased by the dreadful roar of planes landing behind me every 30 seconds, I wondered if I was heading in the right direction. Where were the posters and stickers on every lamppost – the typical signs of being in the area of a demonstration? Around me an ordinary west London morning was happening, with people picking up papers and catching buses as usual.

Then I remembered. The people I knew were at the climate camp were real greens; not into careless vandalism, but practising what they preached; literally ‘being the change’ they wanted to see; building a camp based on self-reliance and low-impact living. I bet myself right then that there wouldn’t be single piece of non-biodegradable litter left in that field at the end of this.

I finally got confirmation I was on the right road when a police roadblock came into view, followed by the camp itself. I went in, past the Met photographers and a press enclosure worthy of a Big Brother eviction (but with much longer lenses).

The atmosphere was satirical, serious, determined and friendly. I got my bearings, bumped into plenty of people I knew - some I hadn’t seen for ages - and everyone I spoke to was excited at the attention created by the camp. The compost toilets were excellent and, after a short visit, and joining up with some fellow (capital G) Greens, I discovered the range of ‘actions’ I could take part in.

I decided to go for whatever the biggest group was doing, which was a press photo followed by a ‘family-friendly’ march. Joining a large group preparing for the press call under a banner with the best slogan I’ve seen in ages: ‘We are armed – only with peer-reviewed science’. We all took copies of the executive summary of a Tyndall Centre report to attach to our hands (“Without swift action to curtail aviation growth, all the other UK sectors will have to almost completely decarbonise by 2050 to compensate” - quite).

After brandishing our scientific reasons for protesting at the press, we set off for the village of Sipson – along with nearby Harlington, set to be subsumed under the planned third runway and new flightpath. Other, smaller, groups took a range of routes to the headquarters of BAA, of which several made it. They are still dug in there as I write, while others have reached the British Airways cargo terminal.

At Sipson we were joined by protesting locals and marched – very slowly thanks to the police halting things regularly for no reason – along the route of the proposed runway, accompanied by music from the Rinky Dink pedal-powered sound system.

The self-discipline and seriousness of the camp has wrongfooted most of the press pack. Earlier in day, I was sent to review the Sunday papers on Radio 4, so had to read almost every word of the coverage – of which there was a huge amount. On its own, getting so much attention for a neglected, yet massive, failing in government policy is a real achievement. But I also noticed how the nature of the coverage had changed over the week.

Every paper had sent in undercover reporters in an attempt to root out any shred of trouble or hypocrisy they could find. But their attempts to paint the protestors as a fringe outfit failed by their own admission. Again and again these journalists brought up caricatures of the green movement, but all were forced to qualify their reports with phrases such as ‘of course the protestors are right’ and ‘I found it hard to find anyone without a PhD’.

The thing is, this is no longer the 1990s, and protest camping is no longer something only a tiny minority can conceive of. The policy changes the campers want to ram home with this week’s actions are now desired by a majority, and there are now many, many people with first-hand experience of direct action who make up the constituency the camp emerges from.

These might include people whose first experience of marching was in February 2003, who then joined the World Development Movement or got on a coach to Edinburgh with Oxfam for the G8 in 2005. Not flying and holidaying in the UK also means that, for many more, camping holds no fear.

Will the camp succeed? I wonder how many people have decided this week that, actually, they don’t think expanding airports and ruining all our other efforts to stop climate change is a good idea. Whatever the other achievements of this week’s camp, whole pages seriously questioning the government’s aviation policy – including in the Mail on Sunday – can only help.

Sian Berry lives in Kentish Town and was previously a principal speaker and campaigns co-ordinator for the Green Party. She was also their London mayoral candidate in 2008. She works as a writer and is a founder of the Alliance Against Urban 4x4s
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"We repealed, then forgot": the long shadow of Section 28 homophobia

Why are deeply conservative views about the "promotion" of homosexuality still being reiterated to Scottish school pupils? 

Grim stories of LGBTI children being bullied in school are all too common. But one which emerged over the weekend garnered particular attention - because of the echoes of the infamous Section 28, nearly two decades after it was scrapped.

A 16-year-old pupil of a West Lothian school, who does not wish to be named, told Pink News that staff asked him to remove his small rainbow pride badge because, though they had "no problem" with his sexuality, it was not appropriate to "promote it" in school. It's a blast from the past - the rules against "promoting" homosexuality were repealed in 2000 in Scotland, but the long legacy of Section 28 seems hard to shake off. 

The local authority responsible said in a statement that non-school related badges are not permitted on uniforms, and says it is "committed to equal rights for LGBT people". 

The small badge depicted a rainbow-striped heart, which the pupil said he had brought back from the Edinburgh Pride march the previous weekend. He reportedly "no longer feels comfortable going to school", and said homophobia from staff members felt "much more scar[y] than when I encountered the same from other pupils". 

At a time when four Scottish party leaders are gay, and the new Westminster parliament included a record number of LGBTQ MPs, the political world is making progress in promoting equality. But education, it seems, has not kept up. According to research from LGBT rights campaigners Stonewall, 40 per cent of LGBT pupils across the UK reported being taught nothing about LGBT issues at school. Among trans students, 44 per cent said school staff didn’t know what "trans" even means.

The need for teacher training and curriculum reform is at the top of campaigners' agendas. "We're disappointed but not surprised by this example," says Jordan Daly, the co-founder of Time for Inclusive Education [TIE]. His grassroots campaign focuses on making politicians and wider society aware of the reality LGBTI school students in Scotland face. "We're in schools on a monthly basis, so we know this is by no means an isolated incident." 

Studies have repeatedly shown a startling level of self-harm and mental illness reported by LGBTI school students. Trans students are particularly at risk. In 2015, Daly and colleagues began a tour of schools. Shocking stories included one in which a teacher singled out a trans pupils for ridicule in front of the class. More commonly, though, staff told them the same story: we just don't know what we're allowed to say about gay relationships. 

This is the point, according to Daly - retraining, or rather the lack of it. For some of those teachers trained during the 1980s and 1990s, when Section 28 prevented local authorities from "promoting homosexuality", confusion still reigns about what they can and cannot teach - or even mention in front of their pupils. 

The infamous clause was specific in its homophobia: the "acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship" could not be mentioned in schools. But it's been 17 years since the clause was repealed in Scotland - indeed, it was one of the very first acts of the new Scottish Parliament (the rest of the UK followed suit three years later). Why are we still hearing this archaic language? 

"We repealed, we clapped and cheered, and then we just forgot," Daly says. After the bitter campaign in Scotland, in which an alliance of churches led by millionaire businessman Brian Souter poured money into "Keeping the Clause", the government was pleased with its victory, which seemed to establish Holyrood as a progressive political space early on in the life of the parliament. But without updating the curriculum or retraining teaching staff, Daly argues, it left a "massive vacuum" of uncertainty. 

The Stonewall research suggests a similar confusion is likely across the UK. Daly doesn't believe the situation in Scotland is notably worse than in England, and disputes the oft-cited allegation that the issue is somehow worse in Scotland's denominational schools. Homophobia may be "wrapped up in the language of religious belief" in certain schools, he says, but it's "just as much of a problem elsewhere. The TIE campaign doesn't have different strategies for different schools." 

After initial disappointments - their thousands-strong petition to change the curriculum was thrown out by parliament in 2016 - the campaign has won the support of leaders such as Nicola Sturgeon and Kezia Dugdale, and recently, the backing of a majority of MSPs. The Scottish government has set up a working group, and promised a national strategy. 

But for Daly, who himself struggled at a young age with his sexuality and society's failure to accept it, the matter remains an urgent one.  At just 21, he can reel off countless painful stories of young LGBTI students - some of which end in tragedy. One of the saddest elements of the story from St Kentigern's is that the pupil claimed his school was the safest place he had to express his identity, because he was not out at home. Perhaps for a gay pupil in ten years time, that will be a guarantee. 

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