A different kind of protest

In the light of last week’s riots in Dublin, I thought it might be worth posting an article I recently wrote. The idea was to take a stroll through Dublin’s city centre on a Saturday afternoon to seek out people engaged in protests. I asked them about their various causes, their motivations and if one-person protests can actually make a difference. Unlike last Saturday, all of the individuals I spoke to choose to make their point peacefully.

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As Ireland begins to rebound from its Post-Celtic Tiger slump, Dublin is once again awash with money. With this ubiquitous cash, comes fervent consumerism and as Alain de Botton rightly pointed out, status anxiety. Sunday, once the oasis of calm in a working week, has had its position usurped by spend crazy Saturday, where people perpetuate the work/spend/work/spend cycle. However, not everyone spends their Saturday afternoons worshipping at the altar of Visa. As shoppers throng the streets, most are unaware of lone men and women occupying various street corners of the city. Every week they hold vigils and stand resolute among the masses laden down with bags. These people, who have something to say and want to be heard, are protestors. Young, old, male, female, the array of people representing a cause on our streets trying to have their voices heard is broad ranging. So, on a wintry January Saturday afternoon, I set out to talk to the people who have brought their views into the public arena.

Weaving through a hectic city centre, my first encounter is with Pat, an older man, tenacious and cheery, holding aloft a wooden placard. Tucked in from the O’Connell Street breeze on the corner of Henry Street, he is here today to make the point that he is opposed to the opening of Peter Stringfellow’s first Irish-based lap-dancing club. He is reticent about his surname, age and if he has another occupation other than his Saturday protest, but he agrees to tell me why he has decided on this course of action. “I’m in sympathy with the residents of the area because of the nature of Peter Stringfellow’s business. Politicians should take note that there is great number of people in the country who don’t want these kinds of industries here. Our society has enough homegrown problems without importing any more, especially this sleazeâ€?. Pat goes on to say that he has heard stories about Stringfellow allegedly being involved in running brothels in the past but says he is working on clarifying this information to support his stance. Not a young man, I point out to him that it’s an extremely cold day and that he must be very committed to his views to brave the elements. “Well I am, I feel very strongly about this and about the general decline in morality in this country which is not necessarily a religious issue.â€?

On the day we spoke, Pat had been protesting for over a week (“except yesterday when rain stopped play!â€?) returning to the same spot, averaging four hours a day. The reaction has been mixed but mostly positive. “I’ve had a very good response. One thing that Peter Stringfellow should remember is that this isn’t just a Catholic issue. There are many Muslim families living here now who are concerned for their children being exposed to this kind of thing. My big concern is that there will be men with a few drinks on board at his club, who then leave the place after they’ve been around naked women all night. What’s to say that some men wouldn’t approach someone’s mother, sister or daughter and rape her after being psyched up by their experiences at Stringfellow’s club? Would he be accountable for that?â€? Mid-interview, a group of young Italian men stand either side of Pat, laughing, and getting their picture taken. Amid the distraction, I ask if he feels that one person can really make a lasting difference by protesting in this way. “Yes of course. There are thousands of people passing here every day, looking at the sign and coming over to ask me about it. Let me also say that this isn’t a bloodthirsty vendetta against Peter Stringfellow, it’s just that this kind of industry is harmful and I want to make my views on it heard.â€?

Another person concerned with a different kind of morality is Patrick McMullen, who generally occupies a spot in front of the Central Bank or just behind it, in Crown Alley. When I approach him, it’s difficult to hear him above a very off-key female busker who is ironically murdering the idealist anthem ‘Imagine’ beside him. Patrick comes here every Saturday for a few hours to tell people about his religious views on how Jesus died for the whole world. He believes that individuals have to have a personal relationship with Jesus to be a Christian and to be saved into eternity. To you and me, he’s a Born Again Christian. I hit him with the last question I asked of Pat and he is optimistic and jovial despite the afternoon chill.

“I really do think one person can have an impact. These days, a lot of people are teaching different gospels, be it sex, rock and roll or alcohol and as one Christian saying something in the street, I believe people can be challenged to ask themselves about the relevance of God in their lives and possibly be swayed into living a more Godly life.â€? A Nigerian woman hovers for a moment and asks about the sign Patrick is holding (John 3:7). When he explains that it is a reference to Jesus wanting us to be born again, she replies that she has already let God into her life. Are people always so receptive? “I generally get very different responses. Sometimes people will stand beside me, laughing and mocking, or perhaps they’ll throw something. They’ll even slap me on the back of the head if they think they can get away with it! Overall though, most people are genuinely interested, or at least curious.â€?

One of Patrick’s colleagues is responsible for the famous John 3:16 hoarding (’For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whosoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life’) often spotted in the crowd at Landsdowne Road football matches. This is a very visible, if silent, protest but Patrick is happy to keep things low key on Saturdays. “I just stand here on the street and people come up to me. They always have questions and I think it’s important to come out on to the street to make myself accessible. I feel that the gift of salvation is a free gift - but it will cost people everything and if God has revealed himself to me in such a profound way, I would be selfish to keep it to myself. In Ireland we have a saying that goes, ‘keep the faith’, but my attitude would be ’share it’.â€?

My next encounter with someone keen to share their views with the public is Laura Broxton. At just 16, she is the youngest of the protesters and incredibly shrewd. As a member of the Coalition to Abolish the Fur Trade (CAFT), she is very ardent about the cause she supports. “I protest because the fur trade is a barbaric and unnecessary industry. 40 million animals, kept in appalling, cramped conditions, are killed each year for their fur. They’re anally electrocuted, their throats’ are cut and most of the time they’re skinned alive. In Ireland there are currently six operational fur farms and I think we’ve moved on from being cavemen when we were forced to use animal fur for clothing and warmth.â€? Many of us will probably share this view, but what motivates an individual to take their protest on to the street? “People still need to be made aware of what really goes on because they’ve become very indifferent to animal rights. We protest outside shops that sell fur like Brown Thomas and Barnardo Furriers on Grafton Street every week. I feel that if enough pressure is put on fur retailers, this can lead to them closing or changing their policy on stocking fur. Some people join in our protest and seeing our organisation on the street motivates people to examine the issue of killing animals so inhumanely for their fur.â€?

While some causes gain an affirmative response, not all protesters’ views are welcomed by Saturday afternoon passers-by. In terms of positive and negative feedback, Laura gauges it at about 50:50. “A lot of people are very sympathetic but we’ve also encountered a good deal of harassment, from being spit at to being assaulted, but for the most part people are very kind.â€? In spite of this, and like Pat and Patrick, Laura is adamant that one person, or a small group of protesters, can inspire change. “I really feel that we can. We’ve got audiences paying attention to us every week, signing our petitions, taking leaflets from us and offering to help out so I really believe that what we’re doing here actually does make a difference.â€?

In speaking to Laura, who is informed and articulate, it is a genuine revelation to find that not all young people are apathetic and unconcerned about world issues. As we stand chatting on Westmoreland Street, many young women her age pass by intent solely on completing the retail trail from Henry Street to Grafton Street. This spot, beside the Bank of Ireland at College Green has long been a magnet for protest groups and Laura hopes that more young people will get involved in issues by seeing their contemporaries on the street highlighting a cause. “More people should get active from an early age. I’m 16 not but I started a couple of years ago and it’s my passion to make people aware of the horrors of the fur trade, as well as other animal issues like circuses, hunting, the greyhound industry. As we often say ‘tears are nothing, action is everything’â€?.

The example of Laura’s youth and enthusiasm adds credence to the idea that one-person democracy is alive and well on the streets of Dublin. Add this to the fact that back in December more than 100,000 people around the country protested back in support of workers at Irish Ferries and it’s possible to believe that people will still take to Ireland’s urban thoroughfares in support of the things they believe in.

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5 Responses to “A different kind of protest”

  1. The Dubliner Says:

    Isn’t asking protesters if they think they can make a difference by protesting a redundant question, since they wouldn’t be protesting if they didn’t? In reality, the chap protesting against the opening of Peter Stringfellow’s strip club is serving as a walking billboard to promote that which he opposes.

    Dublin seems to be a more colourful city than when I left it. I recall only one eccentric fixture: a female evangelist nicknamed “Mad Mary,” who occupied the island on the centre of O’Connell Street (at Henry Street junction) and bellowed verses of the bible at passers-by, who gave her a wide berth. She was there for years; and then, one day, she just disappeared. I suspect she was carted off to Grange Gorman.

  2. Sinead Says:

    What I actually asked them was if a one-person protest - a lone voice - can ever make a difference, which is a relevant question.

    I remember that old lady. She always wore black and used to carry a two foot wooden crucifix that had tricolour ribbons wrapped around it.

    They don’t make protestors like that anymore…

  3. The Dubliner Says:

    I know, but I like to include a little bait with a post. ;)The ‘why’ is what makes the eccentrics interesting to those of us who are people-watchers. I liked the idea of “one-person democracy.” I tend to cynically dismiss lone activists as attention-seekers, clinically insane, or hopelessly naive. But that attitude, of course, dismisses Jesus. (Okay, there has been one Jesus in about a billion crackpots and 2000 years, so that logic isn’t going anywhere.)

    There was another character who came to mind, who was affectionately known as “Me Ol’ Flower.” He was a very colourful, well-known, and well-liked tramp who wandered around the inner north of Dublin and addressed passers-by as “Me Ol’ Flower.” He didn’t protest against anything (to the best of a child’s recollection). But for a long time he slept in a lane at the rear of a row of houses where I lived on North Circular Road. I used to make him sandwiches from whatever was in the press at the time. He was always gratful until I made him a sandwich with brown sauce in it (it was all that was available on that day). Sadly, “Me Ol’ Flower decided he was better of dead and jumped off a railway bridge that run parallel to the Grand Canal. Nothing whatsoever to do with my brwon sauce sandwich.

  4. Sinead Says:

    Never heard of Me Ol’ Flower but it sounds like someone should write a book about these Dublin characters. My mam used to tell me all about Bang Bang, when I was a kid.

    I haven’t had a brown sauce sandwich since I was about 10. Back then they were tasty, but I’m not sure how it’d go down now.

  5. ainelivia Says:

    Good piece, and to know that freedom of speech is alive on the streets of the Fair City. “tears are nothing, action is everything”. I like that Laura.

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