NANCY, 33: “We would like to see the camp continue but in the event we get evicted I don’t plan on resisting. I will move peacefully to another location.”
DAVID, 20: “I don’t know yet. I’ll react as things evolve when the day comes.”
ANDREA, 40: “I’ve seen how things got really bad in Athens. I would not like to see that here and I don’t believe that’s going to be the case. I’m sure the police will be much nicer, but I’m planning on resisting peacefully.”
ROY, 28: “We have a working group in place to discuss logistics. It’s really important to try and save as much as we can from the equipment we have here [at St.Paul’s]. I would hate to see all this gone to waste.”
SIMON, 27: “I plan on staying here no matter what.”
PETRA, 21: “I’m not camping here, but I’ll keep myself updated and if the day comes I’ll be coming here to show my support in a peaceful way.”
SHAWN: “I come from Cardiff where our occupation got evicted pretty quick. With that in mind I’ll try to save as much as I can from the materials gathered here for past few months.”
NIRAJH: “I’ll be playing my banjo while this is happening. Someone needs to sing when the ship sinks.”
JENNY: “Prepare for the worst but hope for the best.”
By Mircea Barbu
What would be really interesting would be to invite (a large number of) people to witness the eviction as a silent vigil. I was part of a ‘flash mob’ of meditators at the British Museum last week, and it was a fascinating experience. Evictions are geared towards resistance – for example, the Dale Farm evictions last year. And the failure of resistance, in the face of superior force and organization, often adds to the humiliation of the experience. But here is an opportunity to reverse the humiliation – imagine bailiffs and police being watched by thousands of eyes, bringing awareness but no judgment, perhaps (assuming there is no wind) holding candles.