The release of the documentary film, Ultraviolence, is a timely one. The deaths of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor in early 2020 sparked worldwide protests and put a spotlight on the treatment of Black people at the hands of the police. Yet these killings and those that came before, in the US as well as the UK, are not new incidents. For the friends and families of the victims that have been murdered by the police it is a story that is familiar and sadly keeps on repeating.
Ken Fero speaks to me over a Zoom meeting, as is the custom in these coronavirus aware times: “I can see all the changes that are happening, I can see that obviously there are lots more schemes happening and mentoring schemes for Black people and equality in representation, decolonising the curriculum, all that stuff, that’s all good. It has to happen. But the issue around [deaths in] police custody, it’s almost like it’s been forgotten or ignored. That’s why the Black Lives Matter Movement started. So Ultraviolence is trying to remind people what this is all really about.”
Ultraviolence uses CCTV recordings and real footage to show us the cruel nature of the UK legal system that protects the police officers responsible for the deaths of the innocent. The film takes us through a number of murder cases and the legal processes surrounding them.
Christopher Alder, 37, an ex-paratrooper and computer skills student, was arrested on the night of the 1st of April 1998, for being aggressive toward hospital staff. Prior to this, on that same night, he received a severe blow to the head while at a nightclub, which is said to have caused his aggressiveness. After being arrested, he was hauled into the police station, handcuffed, and left on the floor, while police officers laughed and joked at the reception desk. Christopher died moments later on the floor of the station. This is all captured on CCTV.
Brian Douglas, 33, who on 2nd of May 1995, while driving through South London with his friend, was stopped and searched by police officers Mark Tuffey and Paul Harrison. During the incident both were assaulted by police officers using the then new long-handled baton. Brian’s friend, Stafford, received a broken wrist. Brian himself suffered a severe blow to the head giving him a fractured skull, injuries that led to his death in hospital shortly after.
The infamous case of Jean Charles da Silva e de Menezes, who, on 22nd of July 2005, was shot in the head at Stockwell Underground Station by police officers who mistook him for a terror suspect. His murder came at the height of increased tension due to the July 7th bombings (7/7) which had happened two weeks previously.

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Ultraviolence Janet Alder (L) sister of Christopher Alder with Ken Fero UV film director S

Other cases that this film touches upon include Paul Coker, who died in August 2005 in a cell at Plumstead Police Station after being restrained by 10 officers. At the time he was suffering from excited delirium/acute behavioural disorder. Rather than assessing him and deciding he needed medical attention, police arrested him instead for creating a disturbance. Roger Sylvester died on 11th of January 1999 in a psychiatric hospital after police officers handcuffed him and held him down for twenty minutes. As a result, he suffered a heart attack, lapsed into a coma and died a week later. The list of victims is not confined to one race either. On 22nd of September 1999, Harry Stanley, a white Scottish painter and decorator, was shot in the head by police marksmen after they were misinformed that Mr Stanley had a sawn-off shotgun.
What all these murders have in common is that, to this day, none of the police officers responsible have been charged, dismissed from duty or held accountable for these deaths.
This film doesn’t simply tell us what a tragedy these incidents are. It goes much further in order to expose a system that is devoid of justice for those families who have had a loved one murdered while in custody.
Director Ken Faro tells me: “It&#8217;s about saying the names of the police officers. And that&#8217;s a big difference between what we do in our films and what everybody else does in this country, because no other filmmaker will go as far as we have in terms of actually naming and showing [the] police officers [responsible]. What we&#8217;re interested in is what these officers have done, and how come they&#8217;ve got away with it.”
Ken adds that the media is not dealing with the roots of racism in the police force. “What we wanted to do with this film is to challenge.” In fact, he does just that and throws out a challenge. “I would challenge [the mainstream media] to show Ultraviolence. The time seems to be now. Nobody could have given them this kind of film at the most perfect moment. But they won’t go for it. For me, they are just as responsible.”

He goes further still to extend this responsibility. “I think the people have got responsibility as well. Everybody in this country has got responsibility to actually challenge the brutality that is being done in their name. One of the strongest slogans during the summer was ‘silence is violence’. That was just everywhere and that&#8217;s true. So what this film is trying to do is break the silence in any way possible.”
In Ultraviolence, we also see the struggle that siblings of the victims, Janet Alder and Brenda Weinberg, sisters of Christopher Alder and Brian Douglas respectively, are faced with as they talk to the CPS and IPCC. They demand to know why nothing has been done to convict their brothers’ murderers. Instead, they receive the message that the police are above the law.
“[We] got fed up with victim stories,” Ken states. “That’s all the media does. And we said no, that can&#8217;t happen. Because there&#8217;s always resistance. And that&#8217;s why we started <a href="https://vimeo.com/migrantmedia">Migrant Media</a> [his film company]. That&#8217;s why this film is about people that fight back.”
Ken believes there will always be resistance. The families who campaign for justice are heroes. But all too soon we forget them, we move on to the next issue, and the problem will be allowed to continue.
“Where we are now with deaths in police custody, the state I think will protect [police] officers at any cost,” Ken says. “I think we could be having 200 or 300 deaths in custody, and nothing would happen from the government’s point of view. And that&#8217;s what worries me. Where we are right now, especially with this <a href="https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/boris-johnson-intelligence-agents-crimes-undercover-b556205.html">Bill that Boris Johnson has just put through</a> [that will give new powers to public authorities, including the police and the Serious Fraud Office, to commit crimes while working undercover], which will allow anybody that works for the state to basically get away with murder.”
Director of human rights organisation Reprieve, Maya Foa, also <a href="https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/boris-johnson-intelligence-agents-crimes-undercover-b556205.html">comments on this Bill</a> stating: “Our intelligence agencies do a vital job in keeping the country safe, but there must be common sense limits to their agents’ activities, and we hope MPs will ensure these limits are written into the legislation.”
Sadly, it looks like we will be saying the names of even more victims in the not-so-distant future, but when we do, we should also say the names of the police officers that committed the crimes and repeat those names until the legal system finally holds them accountable.
Stay updated on upcoming Ultraviolence film screenings via the website at <a href="http://www.ultraviolencefilm.com/">www.ultraviolencefilm.com</a> or on Instagram <a href="https://www.instagram.com/migrantmedia/">@migrantmedia</a>.
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<pre>Photo Credit: Migrant Media</pre>

Ultraviolence by Ken Fero &#8211; Brenda Weinberg (R) sister of Brian Douglas

An interview with Ken Fero, director of a new documentary film that seeks to uncover the names behind deaths in UK police custody

An Interview with Ken Fero: Spotlight on UK Deaths in Police Custody in Ultraviolence

* Contains mild spoilers
BBC’s one-off drama <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episodes/p08g29ff/sitting-in-limbo">Sitting in Limbo</a>, directed by Stella Corradi, is a lesson in black British identity – and what it’s like to have that identity systematically stripped of you piece by piece by a government that is meant to establish justice and promote the general welfare of its citizens.
It follows the real-life story of Anthony Bryon (Patrick Robinson), a second generation West Indian who settled in the UK as a child more than 50 years ago and became one of the many victims of the Windrush Scandal. It is also about a familiar juxtaposition when it comes to race, namely, how we see ourselves positively as opposed to how we are viewed by others negatively. Indeed, how can we fight to protect our humanity when a more powerful external force, like the British state itself, seeks to remove us from our homes and take away our ability to provide for our families, receive care and treatment, and contribute to society? How do we remain British when it feels like Britain is rejecting us?
The government have thrown the lives of many people from the Windrush generation into turmoil by creating a “hostile environment” for people they categorised as illegal immigrants to the UK. In its focus on achieving a quota of reporting and detaining illegal immigrants, the government have also caused legal migrants and existing UK citizens to become victim to the hostile environment. As the then Home Secretary, <a href="https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/874022/6.5577_HO_Windrush_Lessons_Learned_Review_WEB_v2.pdf">Amber Rudd, stated</a>, while she stood down for the treatment that her own department had subjected the Windrush citizens to during this scandal: “[I’m] concerned that the Home Office has become too concerned with policy and strategy and sometimes loses sight of the individual.”
In Sitting in Limbo, Anthony is fired from his job after his employers receive a letter from the Home Office stating that he is not eligible to work in the UK. From that moment on, Anthony is forced to deal with government agencies questioning his identity at every turn. He has to keep proving who is. He is repeatedly asked by the Home Office to find evidence that “supports his claim that he’s lived here since 1965”. What they fail to tell him is that they have lost documents that prove he has right to remain in the UK. Furthermore, the Home Office has demanded entirely <a href="https://www.jcwi.org.uk/windrush-scandal-explained">unrealistic paperwork</a> from British nationals (one official document from every year that the person has lived in the UK), making it impossible for them to achieve. Naturally, Anthony’s efforts in proving his identity fail and he is almost one of the <a href="https://metro.co.uk/2020/06/08/sitting-limbo-who-anthony-bryan-what-windrush-scandal-12820348/">83 people who were wrongly deported</a> for being an illegal immigrant, at least 13 of whom died before the mistake was acknowledged. If it wasn’t for legal and media intervention, he would have been deported to a country that he didn’t know and had not been his home since the age of eight, like many others. This is made worse by paternity tests to prove that he is the father to his children, Gary and Eileen, playing right into the racist trope of a black man being a criminal and a serial adulterer. When these tropes are used to threaten your right to be in a country, they take on an even more sinister shape.

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Sitting In Limbo

Immigration has historically been a political football used to strike fear in the hearts of the UK electorate. Rhetoric suggesting loss of jobs, strain on public services and racial mixing have all been used to <a href="https://www.versobooks.com/books/3064-hostile-environment">incite fear, hate and often violence</a> towards migrants. Such rhetoric was expressed when British subjects from Commonwealth countries arrived in the UK like the Empire Windrush generation, just as they have been used in Brexit and other debates more recently.
As stated in an <a href="https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/874022/6.5577_HO_Windrush_Lessons_Learned_Review_WEB_v2.pdf">independent review</a> to the House of Commons (March 2020): “The causes of the Windrush Scandal can be traced back through successive rounds of policy and legislation about immigration and nationality from the 1960s onwards, the aim of which was to restrict the eligibility of certain groups to live in the UK.”
Theresa May who came up with the “hostile environment” immigration bill while Home Secretary <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2013/oct/10/immigration-bill-theresa-may-hostile-environment">said in 2013</a>: “What we don&#8217;t want is a situation where people think that they can come here and overstay because they&#8217;re able to access everything they need.” She continued in this vein stating in <a href="https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/theresa-may-immigration-policies-speech-conference-2015-tory-conservative-party-views-a7209931.html">her 2015 speech</a> at the Conservative Party conference that immigration was of no benefit to the UK. She said: “While there are benefits of selective and controlled immigration, at best the net economic and fiscal effect of high immigration is close to zero.” She added that “mass immigration” was the reason for the housing crisis, high unemployment and the lack of investment in schools, creating a perception that has been contested by many. Inevitably, we later found that May’s policies affected the lives of British citizens, their families and <a href="https://www.publicfinance.co.uk/opinion/2018/12/assessing-theresa-mays-immigration-legacy">public sector workers</a>, who were forced to become whistleblowers.
This hostile environment policy effectively turned employers, landlords, hospital workers, bank staff, social services staff and others into immigration officers by getting them to check immigration statuses. However, the most damaging act of Theresa May’s Home Office was to wrongly categorise hundreds of British subjects from Commonwealth countries, and <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2019/dec/18/three-generations-of-windrush-family-struggling-to-prove-they-are-british">in many cases</a> their UK-born children, as illegal immigrants who had to prove that they were eligible to remain in the country that they called their home for most, if not all, of their lives.
What Sitting in Limbo successfully conveys is the failure of the government to treat people with dignity. Anthony, like many others, was wrongly targeted and repeatedly detained as an illegal immigrant. Anthony and his wife were treated like criminals. The trauma and lack of trust took its toll on him. Every government official he met failed to give him any explanation or offer any support.
As the <a href="https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/874022/6.5577_HO_Windrush_Lessons_Learned_Review_WEB_v2.pdf">independent review</a> to the House of Commons recommends, the Home Office needs to improve in a number of areas to stop this from happening again. It states: “it must change its culture to recognise that migration and wider Home Office policy is about people and, whatever its objective, should be rooted in humanity.”
The scandal is far from over, as it was recently revealed that only a small fraction of those affected by the Windrush scandal have <a href="https://www.voice-online.co.uk/windrush/news-windrush/2020/05/28/windrush-scandal-just-60-people-have-received-compensation/">received compensation</a>. As of May 2020, only 60 of the 1,275 people who have made claims, have received payment, which has been slammed by opposition MPs. Former Shadow Home Secretary <a href="https://twitter.com/HackneyAbbott/status/1266051697601896448">Diane Abbot said in a tweet</a>: “Government ministers shed crocodile tears about #Windrush scandal. But the pathetically small number of people who have got any compensation, tells you how much they really cared.” The backlog of outstanding cases with Home Secretary Priti Patel and the Windrush taskforce are in the <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2020/apr/30/windrush-case-backlog-remains-at-3700-home-office-reveals">thousands</a>.
Watch BBC&#8217;s Sitting in Limbo <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/p08g29ff/sitting-in-limbo">here</a>.
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<pre>Photo Credit: BBC / Ludovic Robert</pre>

Sitting in Limbo BBC Windrush Large Option

On Windrush Day, Stella Corradi’s television drama is a good opportunity for audiences to understand the failures of British government immigration policy.

BBC’s Sitting in Limbo: One Man Trapped in the Windrush Scandal

In the spring of 1963, Guy Bailey applied for a job at the Bristol Omnibus Company. There were plenty of vacancies advertised only the day before, however, when he arrived he was told they were not hiring. It was not a big leap to assume that he would have been offered a job if it wasn’t for the colour of his skin.
Most black people at the time were fully aware of the existence of a colour bar, which excluded black people from employment, housing, social venues and other places where white people congregated. Even when they got together in groups to discuss their mistreatment, socialise and express their culture peacefully, the law treated them with suspicion and they were regularly harassed by law enforcement (see the Mangrove Nine case).
Guy too knew that the colour bar existed within the Bristol Omnibus Company itself. He, along with Roy Hackett, Owen Henry, Audley Evans, Prince Brown and Paul Stephenson, formed a group called the West Indian Development Council (WIDC), an action group that fought against discrimination in the work place. They endeavoured to find hard evidence that the colour bar, a clear act of discrimination, existed in the Bristol Omnibus Company – and that’s when he applied for a job.
With the rejection of Guy’s application, they had their proof. In April 1963, Paul Stephenson got the WIDC to <a href="https://www.bristolmuseums.org.uk/stories/bristol-bus-boycott/">call for a boycott of Bristol buses</a>. The boycott, which lasted three months was supported by both black and white people, who saw the overt injustice of the colour bar.
But how did Britain get to this point? At the end of the Second World War, Britain was financially depleted due to six years of warfare and <a href="https://www.bl.uk/windrush/articles/how-caribbean-migrants-rebuilt-britain">it was in need of rebuilding</a>. The working population in Britain had reduced drastically; the total workforce was said to have <a href="https://www.bl.uk/windrush/articles/how-caribbean-migrants-rebuilt-britain">dropped by 1.38 million</a> between 1945 and 1946. This was due to a number of factors, including the retirement of an ageing workforce and the migration of workers to Australia, New Zealand and Canada, countries that were also actively trying to rebuild their economies following the war. Britain needed workers.
In 1948, The Empire Windrush, a boat on its way from Australia to the UK, docked in Kingston, Jamaica. While the boat was docked, an advert placed in a Jamaican newspaper offered migrants cheap fares for anyone who wanted to work in Britain. As such, the first wave of migrants arrived in Tilbury Essex in June 1948 and included <a href="https://www.thehistorypress.co.uk/articles/windrush-a-landmark-in-the-history-of-modern-britain/">not only Caribbean’s</a>, but also members of the RAF, Polish nationals displaced by World War Two, and people from Mexico, Gibraltar and Burma. Caribbean immigrants thought that they were coming to a country that wanted them, that needed them, and that could provide them with the opportunities that they lacked in their own country.

By 1960, in Bristol alone, there were about 1,000 African-Caribbean migrants and <a href="https://www.bristolmuseums.org.uk/stories/bristol-bus-boycott/">this tripled to 3,000 in 1962</a>. Almost half of the immigrants were highly skilled workers and had excellent qualifications. Yet they were <a href="https://www.bl.uk/windrush/articles/how-caribbean-migrants-rebuilt-britain">forced to take jobs</a> that the local population considered undesirable and demeaning, or jobs that demanded they worked anti-social hours. Even though they were abused and treated poorly, they were still willing to take these jobs.
In the 1986 book <a href="https://www.victoriacountyhistory.ac.uk/explore/sites/explore/files/explore_assets/2010/03/22/bri_ide_BandWOnTheBuses6.pdf">Black and White on the Buses</a>, Jessie Hood wrote: “Fear of increasing unemployment has made many English people more conscious of the presence of coloured people. Many white people who had a ‘live and let live’ attitude to coloured people (earlier) are now asking why coloured people should be allowed to come into this country and are showing hostility when speaking about coloured people although not necessarily when speaking to coloured people.”
Racial discrimination grew. Stories of the number of attacks and abuse based on the colour of someone’s skin became rife within the black and Asian communities. The correlation between racism and the economic downturn had never been so obvious. As a result of public opinion, and fearing the mass influx of non-white immigrants to Britain, the government attempted to revoke the commitments made in the Act of 1948 and <a href="https://www.museumoflondon.org.uk/discover/how-did-empire-windrush-change-london-docklands">passed the Commonwealth Immigrants Act 1962</a>, which tried to stop the future rights of entry to Commonwealth citizens. Many considered that a direct bar – an attack in fact – on people of colour. The Windrush generation were, therefore, rejected by the country that promised to welcome them as Commonwealth citizens.
Ian Patey, the general manager of the Bristol Omnibus Company, <a href="http://archive.teachfind.com/ttv/static.teachers.tv/shared/files/13043.pdf">attempted to justify his company’s enforcement of a colour bar</a> by stating, “We don’t employ a mixed labour force as bus crews, because we found from observing other bus companies that the labour supply gets worse if the labour force is mixed.”
He continued: “A company may gain 15 coloured persons and lose through prejudice 30 white people who decide they would sooner not work with coloured people.”
Of course there were no such observations in other bus companies and his arguments were unfounded, but this fear of the black worker replacing white workers was prevalent amongst white English people at the time and was used to justify the colour bar.
The boycott by Guy Bailey and the WIDC ended on 28 August 1963 when, after lengthy negotiations, Bristol Omnibus Company agreed to employ black workers. Three weeks later, <a href="https://www.blackhistorymonth.org.uk/article/section/bhm-heroes/the-bristol-bus-boycott-of-1963/">Raghbir Singh became the first non-white bus conductor</a> employed by the Bristol Omnibus Company.
A few years later, the United Kingdom passed the <a href="https://www.the-platform.org.uk/2015/08/30/we-need-to-talk-about-claudia-jones/">Race Relations Act of 1965</a> which finally made it illegal to discriminate against black people in the workplace. The role of the Bristol Bus Boycott in helping achieve this should not be forgotten.
Although the colour bar was removed, obstacles for black people working in the UK still remain. The Racism at Work Survey, <a href="https://pearnkandola.com/app/uploads/2018/03/RaceSurveyReportFNLNewBrand.pdf">published in March 2018</a>, states that of the 500 people surveyed, 70% of ethnic minority workers have experienced some racial discrimination at work, while 60% have experienced unfair treatment at work related to their race.
The Windrush generation are also still feeling the rejection of a nation that feigned acceptance and inclusion to get them here in the ‘40s, ‘50s and ‘60s. In 2010, arrivals from Caribbean countries were threatened with deportation due to the <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2018/apr/17/home-office-destroyed-windrush-landing-cards-says-ex-staffer">Home Office destroying thousands of landing cards</a>, which recorded their arrival to Britain. Although the British government have said that the Windrush generation has a right to remain, this is another brutal blow to the black people who helped rebuild a nation in one of its darkest hours. Rather than threaten them with deportation, the government should be doing everything they can to make amends for the abuse, prejudice, violence and degradation that they have suffered since arriving on these shores. And we, as individuals, must never forget the impact that the Bristol Boycott and the power of collective action can make when we feel the injustices of our situation.

Bristol-Bus-Boycott-plaque-wide

The Bristol Bus Boycott should be remembered as a pivotal campaign that challenged racial discrimination in Britain, as we witness the Windrush generation face renewed challenges.

Immigration, the Colour Bar and the Bristol Bus Boycott

The trial of the “Mangrove Nine” was one of the first successful court cases for the black community in British legal history. This landmark case represented a victory against a police force that had repeatedly targeted them.
The nine were Frank Crichlow, Darcus Howe, Barbara Beese, Rupert Boyce, Rhodan Gordon, Anthony Innis, Althea Lecointe Jones, Rothwell Kentish and Godfrey Millett. They were arrested during peaceful demonstration that had got out of control due to the heavy-handed behaviour of the police.
One member of the Mangrove Nine, Frank Crichlow (13 July 1932 – 27 September 2010), was a Trinidadian-born activist who arrived in London in his early-20s on the SS Colombie. This was 1953, just five years after <a href="http://gal-dem.com/tag/windrush/">Empire Windrush</a> carried the first Caribbean passengers to the UK.
“It was the early days, and West Indians were still coming over,” Crichlow told writer Hassan Mahamdallie in a <a href="http://socialistreview.org.uk/352/frank-crichlow-standing-tall-against-racism">1995 interview</a>. “When they came over they had no means of contacting other West Indians – which was very important at the time. Some people who came used to stay with friends, but after they were here for a few days, they wanted to go where they could meet people and socialise.”
Crichlow could see the importance of safe spaces for the black community. He continued: “There was a lot of socialising among West Indians in basement clubs. One of the most beautiful things about that was there were people from the different Caribbean islands. It was a sort of ‘getting to know you’ time.”
After forming a band called the Starlight Four, Crichlow enjoyed some music success and media attention, using the money he saved to buy the El Rio Cafe in Notting Hill. In 1968, he opened The Mangrove at 8 All Saints Road, also in Notting Hill.
Both venues were popular among black scholars, creatives and political activists of the day, who met to discuss various social issues from racism to slum housing. It was frequented by some of the top black performing artists at the time, including stars Bob Marley, Marvin Gaye, Jimi Hendrix, Nina Simone, Diana Ross and the Supremes.
These cafes were also popular destinations for the police, who persistently raided them accusing the staunchly anti-drugs Crichlow of selling heroin. On 27th June 1969, after another unsuccessful raid by the police, Crichlow lost his licence to run the all-night cafe. He was also charged with assault following another raid by the police, in which they found nothing.
Crichlow made several complaints about his treatment by the police. In a complaint of unlawful discrimination made on 23 November 1969, he said, “I know it is because I am a black citizen of Britain that I am discriminated against.”
Between 1948 and 1971, Commonwealth immigration to Britain had risen due to economic downturn, mostly as a result of World War II. Britain was in need of cheap labour and these immigrants were seen as an ideal solution to the economic problem. As immigration from the Commonwealth increased, so did unease and anger among the white working class. It was clear that Britain was struggling to come to terms with immigration of this scale.
Such tension was escalated by Enoch Powell&#8217;s &#8220;Rivers of Blood&#8221; speech in April 1968 which criticised the influx of immigrants, claiming they would &#8220;take Britain over&#8221; in 20 years. As such, black people were seen in a suspicious light, and places where black people congregated were subjected to constant police raids. <a href="http://socialistreview.org.uk/352/frank-crichlow-standing-tall-against-racism">Crichlow recalled incidents</a> of people coming into his cafe and telling him stories of police harassment. He said: “One chap said he was in a nearby road and two police rushed up to him and said, ‘We just saw you trying car doors.’”
“You must be joking,” he replied. But the police insisted that they saw him doing this and arrested him, and he went to court and was found guilty.
In response to this harassment, Crichlow organised a demonstration on 9 August 1970. The demonstrators planned to visit three local police stations: Notting Hill, Sirdar Road and Harrow Road. <a href="https://blog.nationalarchives.gov.uk/rights-resistance-racism-story-mangrove-nine/">In an open letter</a> sent to the prime minister, barrister Anthony Mohipp and others stated:
We, the black people of London have called this demonstration in protest against constant police harassment which is being carried out against us, and which is condoned by the legal system. 
[In response to persistent police raids in black community spaces] we feel this protest is necessary, as all other methods have failed to bring about any change in the manner the police have chosen to deal with Black People. 
We shall continue to protest until Black People are treated with justice by the police and the law courts.
The peaceful march was met by an unjustified police presence, as they tried to <a href="https://www.theundergroundmap.com/wp/the-mangrove/">divert people from Harrow Road Police Station</a>. A riot ensued, which led to violence and multiple arrests. As they did with the constant raids of the Mangrove and El Rio, the police reacted without provocation when faced with a large contingent of black people.
The <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/law/2010/nov/29/mangrove-nine-40th-anniversary">Home Office</a> later put their hands up to this, claiming that the constant raids and arrests were an attempt to cut the head off the emerging black power movement. It was revealed that several civil servants had discussed legal options with the then Home Secretary before deciding on this course of action.
As warned by Powell in his scare-mongering speech, white British society was worried that black people would mobilise and take over, when in fact the black power movement was simply an expression of a desire to live without fear and violence. Those in power, including the government and the police, were increasingly seen as the main players in black oppression. It was not hard to see why this was – and still is – the case.
The <a href="http://socialistreview.org.uk/352/frank-crichlow-standing-tall-against-racism">trial of the Mangrove Nine</a> took place nearly a year later in 1971. Ian McDonald, defence lawyer in the trial, stated that: “[the case] seems clearly to be an attempt by the state to prevent the growth of organised resistance within the black community, which had an independent leadership. And that seems, to me to be the real point of the case, and it follows a whole series of other attempts whenever black people have tried to organise independently, to smash that organisation before it got really solid firm roots within the community.”
After 55 days, the judge acquitted all nine of the most serious charge of exciting a riot and stated that this case had shown evidence of “<a href="https://www.blackpast.org/global-african-history/mangrove-nine-trial-1970-1972/">racial hatred on both sides</a>”. This was the first time that a British court judge blamed the London Met Police of racial bigotry.
Crichlow said: “It was a turning point for black people. It put on trial the attitudes of the police, the Home Office, of everyone towards the black community. We took a stand and I am proud of what we achieved – we forced them to sit down and re-think harassment. It was decided there must be more law centres and more places to help people with their problems.”
Crichlow and the Nine’s success did not stop police raids on the Mangrove. The antagonism between the police and the black community continued. The Mangrove, however, became a symbol for the black community representing the sentiment that it was possible to fight state oppression.
In the 1970s, just after the trial, Crichlow set up the Mangrove Community Association where he would organise demonstrations against institutional racism in Britain. This association was set up in solidarity with movements across the globe where minorities were being subjected to oppression, including the campaign to protest apartheid in South Africa. Crichlow was also instrumental in the establishing of the <a href="https://platformonline.uk/articles/we-need-to-talk-about-claudia-jones/">Notting Hill Carnival</a>, something he was still involved with in his later life.
Frank Crichlow died on 15 September 2010. He said of his legacy, in a <a href="http://socialistreview.org.uk/352/frank-crichlow-standing-tall-against-racism">1995 interview</a>: “I don&#8217;t see myself as a leader. I never saw myself that way. As I see it I stood up for my rights, and a lot of people identified with that. We fought and we shouted. We weren&#8217;t going to put our tails between our legs.”
<img loading="lazy" class="size-full wp-image-13729 aligncenter" src="https://admin.platformonline.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/frank_crichlow_mangrove-larger-e1578186555313.jpg" alt="Frank Crichlow - Mangrove Nine" width="241" height="267" />
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<pre>Featured photo: National Archives</pre>

mangrove-nine-demonstrations

Frank Crichlow created safe spaces for black people in London including the biggest performers of his day, but he was compelled to stand up to state targeting and police harassment.

Frank Crichlow and the Mangrove

<h5>Challenging bullies in the police force </h5>
On 15 November 1969, Olive Morris confronted two racist police officers as they dragged a black man out of his car and began to beat him. The man happened to be a Nigerian diplomat, and his supposed crime was a parking offence, meanwhile his wife and children bore witness to the assault from the inside of the car. Aged just 17 years old, Olive’s determination to challenge bullies was no more evident than this moment – standing at five feet and two inches, valiantly trying to stop the officers, she herself was violently abused and arrested.
Olive states that her abusive treatment and humiliation at the hands of the police did not stop there. When in police custody, she recalls: &#8220;They all made me take off my jumper and my bra in front of them to show I was a girl.” Olive’s brother also states that this incident left her so bruised from the police beatings at the time, that she was unrecognisable.
Olive was fined £10 and given a suspended sentence on charges of assault on the police, threatening behaviour and possession of a dangerous weapon. Even when her own safety was at risk, Olive did not back down.
<h5>Challenging the establishment amid the housing crisis </h5>
Due to an affordable housing crisis in Lambeth, squatting in Brixton in the late ‘50s was particularly prevalent. Olive and her friend Liz (Obi) Turnbull found themselves with nowhere to live in 1973, and eventually, decided to squat in a private property at <a href="https://rememberolivemorris.wordpress.com/category/squatting/">121 Railton Road, Lambeth</a>.
The owners and property agents made several attempts to evict them, and the police arrested them many times. But Olive and Obi always returned to the property. The most well known occasion was when Obi was forcibly arrested by the police, and Olive returned to the property that same day where the police tried to arrest her too. She then resisted and climbed onto the roof of the building where she protested her treatment by the police and property owners. Photos of this incident appeared in several newspapers and, years later, famously adorned the <a href="https://libcom.org/history/121-railton-road-lambeth">front of the Squatters Handbook</a>, 1979 edition.
Even when threatened with homelessness and legal action, Olive did not back down. Being the first to successfully squat in a private property in Lambeth, she was a pioneer in her own way, opening up the conversation about homelessness in the area.
The squat at 121 Railton Road became a hub of political activity, with Olive and Obi running various community groups through it, as well as the first black community bookshop. The property remained a social hub and base for the squatters’ movement until 1999.
<h5>Challenging radical movements in Britain</h5>
Olive Morris was a radical black feminist, whose everyday actions were a reflection of her values.
While studying in Manchester University, Moss Side, Olive successfully campaigned with black parents to establish a school that provided a better standard of education for their children. She seemed to resonate with people who were being taught that they had less rights than everyone else and communities who felt isolated from a world in which they were lied to – where their submissive position was reinforced day after day.
Olive not only challenged class oppression, but also the fractures within class movements. After trying to work with trade unionists, <a href="https://rememberolivemorris.wordpress.com/2009/10/29/the-morning-star-olive-morris-forgotten-activist-hero/">she said</a>:
“We have used the great British tradition of trade unionism to try and further our cause for equality and justice, but on countless occasions we have found that the movement does one thing for white workers and another for black workers.”
“White workers have time and time again refused to give our unions recognition, they have crossed our picket lines for racist reasons, they have organised against our organisation in the trade unions.”
When Stella Dadzie met Olive in 1977 as part of black women’s organising, they instantly got on. She states that Olive was intelligent but relatable:
“Olive was different, Olive was the sort of woman I felt, yeah, you could be one of those people I was raving with last week, in this club, sort of thing, in a shabeen [an unlicensed bar] even!&#8221;
She continues: &#8220;I always remember her at events speaking out, always having a contribution to make in her own way and always challenging the men.&#8221;
Danny DaCosta, a photographer with the Black Panthers in the early 1970s and a friend of Olive, calls Olive a “talawa”. He explains what he means by this term: “[Someone who is] well-grounded and firm and strong, and that&#8217;s my definition of “talawa”. Olive, to me, always suggested somebody who was strong within themselves, was well-grounded, could hold her own.”
<h5>Challenging the UK black power movement</h5>
Black organisations in the UK in the 1970s, like the British Black Panther Movement, would address issues that faced the black community broadly. But women within these movements did not feel that their voices were being heard.
Olive saw this injustice and moved away from these organisations. She became one of the founding members of the <a href="https://www.bl.uk/learning/histcitizen/sisterhood/clips/race-place-and-nation/civil-rights/143178.html">Organisation of Women of Asian and African Descent (OWAAD)</a>, the first black women’s organisation at the time. She also co-founded the Brixton Black Women&#8217;s Group.
Olive, along with other members, actively challenged organisations that were about empowering black people. It was not good enough to empower only the black men in these organisations, women – all women of colour – had to be worth fighting for.
<h5>Challenging established cultures and ways of life</h5>
Olive was a role model. When everyone went right, she would go left. In her ever so short life of 27 years she travelled as much as possible. She visited China to observe how a socialist society was being built. She would later convey that information when she returned to Britain, believing the resources of the world should be spread evenly amongst everyone. She also travelled to Morocco, Algeria, Spain, France and Hong Kong, experiencing different cultures. Olive embraced every culture and tried to answer important questions about how we can truly achieve equality.
<h5>Challenging social expectations </h5>
Olive was not afraid of being herself. She had a white boyfriend, a relationship that, at the time, other black radicals might have frowned upon or hidden. Not Olive, a talawa. She was upfront and open about being in a mixed race relationship. She was a role model for those in a similar situation, afraid of “coming out” and a role model for mixed race people who regularly had their “blackness” questioned.
Olive and her partner Mike McColgan wrote a piece in 1978 titled ‘Has the Anti-Nazi League got it right on racism?’ where they looked at institutional racism within the police force and education system, and ways of dealing with fascism. Remember, this was 21 years before the <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2019/feb/22/macpherson-report-what-was-it-and-what-impact-did-it-have">MacPherson Report</a>, which detailed the extent of institutional racism following the murder of Stephen Lawrence. Olive was not seduced by the cry of anti-Nazi groups to “unite and fight”. She commented that this was doomed to failure stating “there is no sound basis on which such unity could be built”.
<h5>Challenger to the very end</h5>
Olive died at a brutally young age of 27 from lymphoma, a type of cancer. The situation was tragic, but Olive displayed a dignity which was ever present in her life. Stella Dadzie comments on her final moments:
“Olive sat up in bed and called to the nurse – remember most of the nurses were black in those days, still are, really – called to the nurse and said ‘I’m thirsty. Can I have a glass of water?’ And the nurse brought her the water and she drank it, and laid back on her pillow and breathed her last. And I kind of liked that story, I don’t know why, there’s nothing particularly heroic about it, but it was just so matter of fact, such a mundane thing to do.”
“There was no, ‘Please sit with me. I think I’m dying’, although she must’ve known. I’m sure we all have an instinctive feeling when we’re about to go. A strong, brave, grounded woman right up to the last moment.”
Olive’s legacy, in my mind, is that of local activism. Through her political stance, her fighting spirit and her ability to connect with people, Olive challenged racism, social norms, the establishment, the police and education systems. She stood up and empowered herself and her community – and fought until the day she died.
Talawa ‘til the end.
References: 
Danny DaCosta, Date of Interview: 06 July 2009 
Judith Lockhart, Date of Interview: 15 July 2009 
Stella Dadzie, Date of Interview: 29 May 2009 
All interviews from the ‘Do you remember Olive Morris? Oral History Project’ at the Olive Morris Collection at Lambeth Archives
Learn more about Olive Morris through the <a href="https://rememberolivemorris.wordpress.com/)">Remembering Olive Collective website</a>, the Olive Morris Collection of archival materials housed at <a href="https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/c/F77894">Lambeth Archives</a>, or the <a href="https://olivemorris.org/">new ROC 2.0 website</a>. Photo via Fawcett Society website.

Olive Morris

Olive Morris (26 June 1952 – 12 July 1979) was a political activist in Brixton, London, and in Moss Side, Manchester, described as a “challenger”. On her birthday this week, we remember her legacy.

Andrew Myrie