It's the anniversary of the Poll Tax riot that took place in London's Trafalgar Square on Saturday 31 March, 1990. I thought it would be fitting to republish this post that was originally up on the now archived South Essex Heckler blog. The only changes that have been made to the piece is to the number of years since this now infamous riot. A lot has changed in the intervening thirty four years which is dealt with in the post. What also needs to be noted is that a lot has changed in the five years since this piece was first published, most notably, the Covid 'crisis' lockdowns of 2020 and 2021. Changes that to be honest, we're still trying to get our heads around. Anyway, read and have a little trip down memory lane and also, feel free to share your thoughts and if you were there, your memories...
Well remembered. Those were the days. I have an enduring image, a photo on someone's wall actually, of a bunch of us outside someone's house waiting for the bailiffs. The family that lived there weren't part of our scene, they´d just called the bailiff support phone tree number that was stuck on telegraph poles all over the place. As with the miner's strike, there was a level of community support whose absence of expression brings nostalgia closer to neuralgia. As you say, it's curious that the technological increase in networking capacity since then hasn´t resulted in an increase in actual community networking, instead the opposite it seems. Reminds me of a cartoon I saw of a woman and a priest alone at a graveside funeral, with the woman saying "I don´t understand it, he had hundreds of friends on Facebook¨. And I second that emotion about phones at actions. Few seem to be aware of the IMSI-catcher/¨Stingrays" parked at a distance surveilling via all those phones. Celldar was disturbing enough, never mind the phone data poncing tech in those vehicles.
Well remembered. Those were the days. I have an enduring image, a photo on someone's wall actually, of a bunch of us outside someone's house waiting for the bailiffs. The family that lived there weren't part of our scene, they´d just called the bailiff support phone tree number that was stuck on telegraph poles all over the place. As with the miner's strike, there was a level of community support whose absence of expression brings nostalgia closer to neuralgia. As you say, it's curious that the technological increase in networking capacity since then hasn´t resulted in an increase in actual community networking, instead the opposite it seems. Reminds me of a cartoon I saw of a woman and a priest alone at a graveside funeral, with the woman saying "I don´t understand it, he had hundreds of friends on Facebook¨. And I second that emotion about phones at actions. Few seem to be aware of the IMSI-catcher/¨Stingrays" parked at a distance surveilling via all those phones. Celldar was disturbing enough, never mind the phone data poncing tech in those vehicles.