This Arms Fair has been looking for a home in the Midlands for several years. Having tried Malvern and Telford it has this year turned up at the National Exhibition Centre. The NEC is half-way between Birmingham and Coventry.
It’s a Convention for a different class of arms-dealers. You won’t find many big hitters here. But the gathering of small companies would no doubt have gladdened the hearts of politicians looking for economic growth. I suppose the firms saw a chance to get noticed by the big hitters and, who knows, bought up for a fortume. The participants would probably deny they were, in fact, arms-dealers. Well, they would have, if we could have got close enough to talk. As it was, there was a great gulf of fifty yards fixed between us. I’m betting they’ll want the NEC to be their permanent home. Security was tight. Protesters were allowed toilet visits, but only if accompanied by trained staff.
The protesters were in two groups, as it happened. Roughly speaking, Quakers (who had done most of the organising) and Birmingham Stop the War (who just turned up). I still have a soft spot for StW, which is one of those rare statements, and I’d never been to a Quaker-led gathering. It has surprised me to learn that the chanting of the one group and the silence of the other actually perform the same functions, in large part. Identity and purpose.
Which brings me to my final thought. How to communicate? I had brought a placard saying DON’T WORK FOR DEATH AND DESTRUCTION. Not catchy, I know, but I thought it was a message I could suitably direct at the attendees. We were too far away for them to read it, I think. Making a lot of noise is one way round this problem, and some tried it. Some others tried street theatre.
How effective was it all? Hard to tell and not to worry. “We played music and you wouldn’t dance. We sang dirges and you wouldn’t weep.”
Paul McGowan
