OPINION: Heywood: a silent victory?

BNP demonstrators and police in Heywood

I had to go into Heywood yesterday afternoon to buy a few bits and bats and do a few banking transactions. It was one of those lazy, sunny, late spring days. People were going about their normal business and all was as it should be. The only thing that was different was a large police presence. Groups of bobbies standing around in twos and threes chatting to themselves and occasionally talking into their radios. I did not find this alarming in any way but it did inject a note of caution.

It was then that I recalled that this small Lancashire town had been much in the news of late. I remembered that there had been angry demonstrations by shaven-headed men in black bomber jackets handing out leaflets to concerned local citizenry looking for answers. I recalled lurid stories in the media.

Much of this passed me by I’m afraid. I do not live in the town and my visits tend to be brief and sporadic. I am usually in the car and invariably just pass through the place on my way to somewhere else.

As I came out of the bank, I heard music of some sort blaring out of a loudspeaker. The tune was familiar and I recognised the strains of William Blake’s ‘Jerusalem’ getting louder and therefore closer. All at once, a white van hove into sight bearing the emblems of one of those far-right political parties that we hear about.

My first thought was to head back to the car park and head out of town with as much dignity and speed as I could muster. Then I suddenly saw some people in black garb walking purposefully up the pavements handing out fliers. It was then that Mr Hardcastle realised that he had stumbled upon something alarming and unwelcome. It was a protest of some description.

It was hard to typify the people handing out the leaflets. True, they all wore black clothing. Not the dignified black that you see mourners wear at a funeral but the sort of black that you tend to associate with anger and aggression in some way.

My determination to get to my car quickly suddenly moved up a gear until I noticed something. Above the clamour of the loudspeakers, the whirring blades of the GMP helicopter that I now spotted overhead together with the increasingly raucous cries of those distributing fliers and shouting out their hate, I heard something else that was somehow even louder.

Quite simply, it was the sound of silence... with due apologies to Messrs Simon and that other chap whose name I struggle to recall, let alone pronounce.

True, there were a few bemused shoppers looking at this piece of grotesque street theatre. Quite a few even took fliers, but it seemed as if this was an act of politeness rather stemming from for any thirst for knowledge.

There were no Heywood residents screaming ‘hang the paedos’ or ‘send them all home’. Conversely there was nobody shouting, ‘out with the racists’ or ‘love not hate’. There was just an air of quiet bemusement coupled somehow with a question that was largely left unspoken but somehow screamed at you silently. That question was, “What are you doing here? We don’t want you in our town.”

Suddenly, I no longer felt the urge to get to my car like a bat out of you-know-where. Somehow, despite this vile and unwelcome intrusion, I decided to be at one with the citizens of Heywood. I decided that I too was going to protest. And so, I squared my shoulders, carried on with the business that brought me here and did my bits of shopping. I politely took a flier if one was offered to me before disposing of it in the nearest bin. I felt fear no longer. It was not the presence of the police that made me feel safe. Nor was it the protective GMP helicopter ‘gunship’ flying overhead; armed with its cameras, radios and other technical wizardry. What made me feel safe was the fact that I was surrounded by ordinary, decent people who carried their private thoughts inside their heads and continued to get on with their lives and their shopping and who were out to enjoy this bright, spring day in their usual quiet fashion.

Someone once said that silence speaks louder than words. I forget who said it but I bet he came from Heywood.