On Saturday morning, I was sat by the waterfront in Liverpool. My wife had just finished swimming in the docks, my child was asleep in the pram next to me, and I was recovering from my morning bike ride. We were joined by a friend, who, after a few minutes noted “there’s an EDL rally on the Strand later” (5 minute walk from where we were seated). This would normally be shocking, but following the brutal murder of children in Southport (a coastal town 25mins up the road) days before, and the emergence of insidious riots in cities and towns across the country in the days that followed, it was not surprising. I cycled home along the Strand as I normally do. I passed through space where only hours later a policeman would be assaulted and knocked off his bike by rioters.
So what the hell is going on? How has day-to-day life suddenly become juxtaposed with such violence and disorder? Are we, as Elon Musk has suggested descending inevitably into civil war? I think he’s being utterly irresponsible saying this – if I owned a social media platform, I hope I would use it substantially differently – nonetheless, something serious is going on. First and foremost is the fact that children have been murdered. We cannot lose sight of that. Their yoga teacher and passers-by became human shields. I see astonishing heroism in the face of utter evil. The response in Southport as a town has been powerful too. Flowers line the streets and people are gathering to sing, as well as to reflect on the personal and collective loss. New MP Patrick Hurley has been on twitter calling community leaders together to listen to what needs to be done. Recovery will take a long time. Second, there are what appear to be organised and coordinated acts of violence against people and communities that have done nothing wrong! There have been multiple examples in Liverpool.
Walton is down the road from where I live. Over the weekend, it was attacked as part of the disorder. We could hear sirens from our house and saw a helicopter overhead, as rioters roamed the streets. They burned down the Spallow Hub, which only last year received seven figure council investment to support people in the community. They also looted a local newsagents – it could’ve been the one across the road from us run by Kala and Kumar – thankfully it wasn’t. This isn’t the worst violence that has taken place, but from what I can see it is an astonishing act of self harm. Walton is a community characterised by deep poverty. The life expectancy here is 12 years less than Woolton, which is another Liverpool Ward 3 miles away. Interviews I conducted with leaders across the city last year make clear these differences are signalled by the colours of peoples clothes – more impoverished communities wear dark colours. Respondents described the experience in the city as “grinding poverty” and “like a poor family within a poor family”. City leaders told me this has been compounded over generations within a city rooted in sectarian divisions and built on the backs of enslaved people. These are not the only issues in play, but all of this complexity needs to be acknowledged, as it does in every town and city that has experienced riots, before we can take on the the seemingly impossible task of finding hope for the future in these places.
On my cycle home from the waterfront on Saturday, I passed the oldest mosque in the United Kingdom – Abdullah Quilliam Mosque. There was no sign of the disorder that had taken place the night before triggered by discrimination. The emerging narrative gives an indication of why this might be. What had begun as violent disorder, took a turn to spaces of hope as tentative engagement and listening took place. The response to clear aggression and anger was based not on social media misinformation or political tactics or even the steer of the Westminster policy collectives. The response was rooted in moments of hope characterised by food, dialogue and recognition of the other. Wounds were not healed, bridges were not rebuilt. But in those moments, violence stopped, connections were made, and the [im]possibility of hope was overcome.
It will take a generation of time to turn the tide on the crises that have catalysed the violence and disorder taking place on our doorsteps. However, this work has already begun and as long as it continues, one conversation and one meal at a time, there is hope.
Dr Matthew Barber-Rowell FRSA is a resident of Liverpool, an Honorary Fellow at Liverpool Hope University, a Research Fellow at the William Temple Foundation and Founder of Spaces of Hope.
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