Trade Justice Parade 2001: A personal account
"The people that stand outside and say they work in the interests of the poorest
people make me want to vomit"
Michael Moore, Head of the World Trade Organisation
Fortunately for him, Michael Moore was not in London on 3rd November. Had he
been though, he may very well have turned himself inside-out in disgust at the
sight of the several thousand protesters marching through the capital as part
of the Trade Justice Parade. Orchestrated by the Trade Justice Movement, a new
collective of organisations including Friends of the Earth, Christian Aid, the
Fair Trade Foundation, People and Planet and Oxfam, the parade was an exuberant
procession of floats, giant puppets, samba bands and street performers, drawing
bemused onlookers and vocal support all along its meandering route.
And just what, you may ask, was all this unseemly hullabaloo in aid of? November
2001 may or may not be remembered for the World Trade Organisation's fourth Ministerial
Conference where a disreputable cabal of politicians and corporate lobbyists
met to further their conspiracy (there's no other word for it) to exclude ordinary
mortals like us from political and economic decision-making in favour of ever
more liberal trade rules. In light of Mr Moore's delicate constitution, the obscure
Middle Eastern state of Qatar, whose authorities take a dim view of peaceful
dissent, played host to the five-day conference. Here, the world's most powerful
people could launch a new round of unfair and unethical trade in peace, safe
from intimidatingly loud whistles, samba drums, pointy placards and the general
discomfort that arises from being called to account by a boisterous rabble.
Not that the absence of our old foes dented anyone's enthusiasm. Protesters from
around the country convened in Mary Harmsworth Park, outside the Imperial(ist)
War Museum, and set off in the direction of Trafalgar Square. Some of the more
conspicuous contributions included Traidcraft's giant inflatable globe, Christian
Aid's pirate ship and People & Planet's huge, murderously fanged 'fat cat', complete
with suit, cigar and book of trade rules. In contrast, FOE's presence I would
best describe as understated, consisting as it did mainly of a forest of green
and white flags, although a few of the more obviously home-made banners added
a personal touch to our section of the march. One in particular depicting the
"World Trade Octopus" caught my attention.
Making my way up Westminster Bridge Road I came upon a 10-12m long "GATS Monster" hovering
eerily above the procession, operated from beneath by fat- cat-suited demonstrators
calling attention to the agenda of forced privatisation represented by the General
Agreement on Trade in Services. Crossing the Thames, I passed members of Oxfam
dressed in white laboratory coats and distributing boxes of medicines (mint imperials)
labelled "keep out of reach of poor people", referring to the drug patent system
exploited by pharmaceutical giants to the detriment of AIDS victims in developing
countries.
Moving up Whitehall through a multitude of green Catholic Agency for Overseas
Development (CAFOD) balloons, I reached the lorry floats at the head of the march.
The most striking of these depicted world trade as a "Wheel of Fortune" where only
the rich nations ever strike it lucky. Also represented at this end of the parade
were Banana Link, Save the Children and the World Development Movement.
Upon arriving in Trafalgar Square, we assembled before the ridiculously ostentatious
Nelson's Column to hear the speakers. Naomi Klein, author of the seminal 'No Logo',
was visibly moved by the size of the gathering. "I keep hearing that our movement
is dead" she said, an irony not lost on the vast crowd. Sergio Cobo of Fomento,
a Mexican NGO working with small farmers and indigenous people, said "people who
live in rich countries count for only 20% of the world's population, yet they
get most of the fruits of globalisation. The world's poor, who count for 80%,
receive nothing". He then called on the assembly to "globalise the struggle, globalise
hope [and] make trade work for all". Finally, Ed Sweeney, UNIFI General Secretary
and Chair of TUC International Development Group warned "the WTO cannot carry
on business as usual without undermining fundamental human rights".
Following a minute's silence for the victims of injustice everywhere, a huge banner
reading "Make global trade work for the whole world" was unfurled over the heads
of the congregation. A blown-up image of this was subsequently presented to Patricia
Hewitt, in case she was still in any doubt about what we were demanding. Writing
to MPs at Westminster can sometimes feel a bit like writing to Santa Claus at
the North Pole, so it was gratifying to hear that Trade Justice Movement postcards
had been landing on the Department of Trade and Industry's welcome mat at a rate
of 1000 per day throughout October, reaffirming my faith in the power of postage
stamp democracy.
Later however, with the day drawing to a close, an all-too-familiar sense of
deflation attended me as I watched the revellers disperse. Just how much, if
anything, had all this achieved? George Monbiot, writing in the Guardian earlier
this year noted that "one of the services delivered to the world by anti-globalisation
protesters is that . . . ministers and trade officials are now forced to justify
some of their negotiating positions". And that would appear to be about as far
as it goes. Our movement may not be dying, it may even be big, but it is still
only as big as the concessions it wrings out of the establishment and the media
coverage it receives. But as I mingled with the last of the protesters in Trafalgar
Square, a four hour trip back to Lichfield ahead of me, and contemplated the
prospect of this overwhelmingly positive event being relegated in the evening
news behind stalemate in Northern Ireland or the latest impasse in America's futile
"war on terrorism", I spotted what was for me, t he defining image of the day.
It was a large orange banner at rest against the perimeter of the square. Its
slogan, emblazoned in silver letters, simply read " celebrate resistance ".
James Botham