The fight, in 1995 in Newbury, to prevent the felling of 350 acres of pristine ancient woodland to make a motorway bypass is one of the most iconic, and largest, battlegrounds in the British environmental movement’s living memory. That Autumn, fresh from documenting a similar campaign at the Stanworth Valley on the M65 motorway, I set up home in the tree canopy. On and off for six months of that freezing winter lived side-by-side with the protestors. My treehouse was 50-foot up, in an old oak, reached by a single rope.
I chronicled every element of the protestors’ daily lives; from the everyday such as making tea and food-runs; to frightening aerial confrontations with the police; to exquisitely beautiful moments of tenderness, fear, camaraderie and celebration. These were exceptional people: to see, live with, and photograph them as they put their lives and liberty on the line to defend those 10,000 ash, beech and oak trees, to act as human shields for nature. It was indescribably exhilarating to witness the aerial battles between protestor and state and incomparably moving to see the lengths individuals would go to in order to save these ancient trees.
25 years ago, the choice to the protestors was already clear: either cut down trees to pave the way for more roads and carbon-emitting cars; or, maintain a planet that could sustain life. As shocking as it is unbelievable, half of all CO2 emissions released since the dawn of time have been emitted since these courageous individuals made their stand at Newbury—leaving the future of all species on this irreplaceable planet hanging so precariously in the balance. If only we’d listened then.
While the battle for Newbury and it’s trees was lost, the cost of policing the site prompted ministers to reverse plans to build 77 other bypasses in the UK, so with their dedication the protesters altered the course of history. And while the experience of being there transformed every one of us, the protests captured the imaginations and changed the lives of many, many more. Newbury’s legacy ripples down the decades. There’s time to listen yet. Newbury happened at the peak of a highly-charged, and hugely important social moment in British history, in which the counterculture grew massively in numbers, bravado, visibility, illegality and fun.
Environmental protests and illegal raves were probably the two greatest expressions of this era: and there was a dynamic interplay between the two. It was at raves that many were for the first time exposed to, and open enough to receive, environmental or activist ideas. The Criminal Justice Bill of 1994, which outlawed free parties politicised many who had previously only wanted to dance their socks off. With that Bill the Conservative Government of the day had unintentionally created a hybrid opposition: huge environmental protests totally turbocharged with the energy, soundtrack and spirit of the free party circuit.
In the mid to late 90's the two movements that best embodied this hutzpah were Reclaim the Streets and Critical Mass. Each regularly shut down British city streets, with massive dance parties and cycle-protests respectively, to protest pollution, globalisation and to fly the flag for environmentalism. Reclaim the Streets was particularly unforgettable: the first movement in history to actually close a motorway, blocking roads with sound-systems and literally thousands erupting in a sudden carnival of bacchanalian revelry, and shutting down Trafalgar Square and Liverpool Street Stations with their muscular celebrations of mayhem.
These hugely celebratory, deeply political happenings proved pivotal in many people’s lives. Their heady, joyful mix of politics, environment, fellowship and music are etched forever in the memories of any of us there, and it was a movement that sent shockwaves reverberating through Middle England and one whose influence is felt across a myriad of environmental activist movements today.
