All night long, for hour after hour, in my dreams, I have been witnessing riots breaking out in cities all over the country. Running and shouting, scuffles and tear gas. Over the faces of the police, visors – over the faces of the rioters, expressions of desperation, delight, anger, fear, fury, and sometimes masks or scarves. I see banners bearing slogans and symbols – Kill the Bill, Women First, Tax the Rich, and more enigmatically, Out, Out, Out, and the raised fist of protest, rebellion and international uprising. I see disciplined rows of dark uniforms sheltering behind long, plastic riot shields, armed with long, swinging batons, advancing on a disorganised rabble armed with howls of distress and indignation, and a couple of cardboard placards that announce a fervent policy behind which all humanity may stand – those who retain their humanity, a dwindling proportion, I fear, as fascism rises again – No More.
[The photograph of rioting in Athens in December 2008, sourced from flickr.com, was taken by Murplejane, and is used under the terms of the Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic license.]