When Michael Ashcroft’s biography of David Cameron hit the news, I read up on the culture of dining societies, which the prime minister is said to have been part of. Forget pigs. To me the real obscenity was the Bullingdon Club’s apparent initiation rite of burning a £50 note in front of a homeless person.
I work with homeless young people and have been dealing with the consequences of cut upon cut in support services, along with benefit sanctions that leave people destitute, tear families apart and push those with fragile mental health towards suicide. It got to the stage where shouting at the TV wasn’t enough. I decided to use my annual leave to go to Manchester and become part of the protests against austerity outside of the Conservative party conference.
I was angry, but I didn’t want my anger to turn to hatred. I am a peaceful person who always tries to listen to other people’s points of view, and I admire Jeremy Corbyn’s refusal to stoop to personal insult. I didn’t want to attack the Tories – what I wanted was for them to think about the consequences of their policies.
The 60,000-strong TUC march last Sunday was full of positive energy and hope for a fairer future, but it got reduced to an egg and some spit by most of the mainstream media. Walking across Manchester on my way, with a banner saying “Decent people do not belong in the Tory party” over my shoulder, I got lost on a council estate. “You’re right there,” the people who gave me directions said. I got beeps from motorists, thumbs up from people on the bus, nods from policemen.
On Monday there were many smaller protests. I chose to join the Disabled People Against Cuts near the conference entrance. I stood at the edge of the protesters as I didn’t want to steal the limelight from the amazing people who had overcome so many obstacles to get there and tell their personal stories. There were a few anarchists around the edges of the protest, but they were a minority.
As I watched people reading my banner, I quickly realised that not everyone going to the conference was Conservative. The difference was in their eyes. Journalists and campaign group representatives read the message, then gave me a thoughtful look, a hint of a smile in acknowledgement, or even a whispered “I’m not a Tory”. In contrast, an overwhelming majority of party members avoided eye contact and a few were abusive – one man told me to “fuck off”, others said “that’s not true” and walked on. When I asked them why they thought not, only a few stopped and allowed me to explain why my banner said what it did.
I am very grateful to the four Conservative party members who did talk to me. Through my conversations with them I found a wing of the party that does care but is perhaps cocooned from seeing that real poverty exists. One explained how he has met benefit cheats feigning disability in his line of work. If I had been more eloquent in the heat of the moment, I could have explained that not all disabilities are visible or consistent.
I did share the story of a man I’d met who was recovering from major cancer surgery and suffering from debilitating back pain, as well as a serious industrial injury and depression. After taking the work capability assessment, he was deemed fit for work and his benefits were sanctioned. I didn’t get round to saying that, because of the stress of living together in a high-rise flat with no income, his teenage son had ended up sleeping on the streets.
One Conservative party member who took the trouble to engage with me talked about people who want a “benefits lifestyle”. I have never met a young person who aspires to this. When I ask young people where they would like to be in 10 years’ time, the answer invariably includes work – even if they can’t see how they will get there.
To the few caring Conservatives who took the time to speak to me, I’d like to say thank you. I think you are in the Tory party because, politically, that is your ancestral home. But if your voices are too few to change Tory policy, perhaps you need to find your spiritual home somewhere else.
