Campaign against Climate Change

A resident at the Wales neighbourhood at Climate Camp was bewailing the confiscation of their geodesic dome. "I suppose they thought the poles could be used to make a climbing frame to scale the fence at the power station, but honestly, there's no way I could have tucked it all under my arm and taken it there without getting noticed !"

Despite the loss of essential infrastructure items, the Climate Camp has erected a tent village of diversity, functionality and conviviality in the middle of an open field with absolutely minimal inputs, apart from a small group of transport vehicles, a regular delivery of local produce, and a water supply arranged with the Local Authority and the landowner.

This may be anarchy, but it's highly organised.

This is not the only thing I have learned at Climate Camp.

I have learned that George Monbiot has had his teeth whitened - at least - that's the view from the voting public who listened carefully to his pronouncements on Energy Policy on the second official evening of camp workshops.

I have learned that the Metropolitan Police are, in parts, ignorant. I was on "cop watch", sitting on a plank over a ditch, swinging my legs underneath me, and witnessed the following : as a Police Officer came back from his break in the van, he sidled up to one of his colleagues and whispered "It's locked." Five of the officers round him wanted to know where the key to the van was. "It's locked", he repeated. It transpired he had left the keys in the van, which had locked itself. Pure entertainment.

I have learned that the Kent Police have no idea about the basic principles of negotiation. Each day we discussed their evolving proposal for a police presence at the camp. And each day they failed to compromise, or respond helpfully to the camp position. And each day, each neighbourhood in the camp decided by consensus to reject the police letters, which we had the courtesy to read out loud so that everybody could learn the nature of the demands.

A child could teach the Kent Police how to conduct a diplomatic engagement. And a thuggish drunk could teach the Kent Police about how to back down gracefully when they'd dug themselves too deep into an unreasonable position.

I have refreshed my understanding that a self-organising collective settlement can be ultimately safe, welcoming and self-monitoring, even at night with no street lighting. Of course there were funnies. You can't live in a field full of diverse, smart people with minds of their own and access to alcohol without encountering humourous situations and genuine mistakes.

Example : it's not necessary to wash at a collective camp as nobody makes any judgements about the appearance or aroma of others, but I eventually resorted to having a "bucket bath" in the women's ecowash tent in the late evening. It was lovely. Naked under the stars on a balmy, fresh evening.

As I was getting down to business, a clearly inebriated fellow tripped over a guy rope, saying, "How do I get in ?" and then tripped over another guy rope. I raised my head over the barrier and said as firmly and graciously as I could for a naked wet person, "This is the Girls'. If you want the toilets, they're over there behind the trees." He bumbled an apology and stumbled off.

And one night I got woken in the early hours by finding a man climbing into my tent. I pushed him out again asking "What are you doing here ?" It transpired he had tried to climb into the wrong tent, thinking it belonged to a James he knows. He was wobbly, and very apologetic. "Sorry to frighten you." "I'm not scared." I said, "It's just that I was asleep and I wasn't expecting you."

I asked him to be a bit more careful in future, which I know is a hard thing to ask someone who has had a few beers, but anyway, it was peacefully handled as far as I could manage it, and I think he learned a lesson.