We live in a country currently seeking to control, criminalise and demonise the act of protesting while simultaneously promoting itself as a bastion of democracy and freedom of speech.
Brexit is allowing an erosion of regulations and protections of our human rights, our environment and the food we eat. Even our membership of the European Convention on Human Rights is under threat.
We must remember that peaceful protest has been the main cause of monumental change for the better across the world: women’s rights and votes, police reforms, anti-discrimination laws, workers’ rights, trade unions, civil rights and the ending of the war in Vietnam, to name just a few.
Campaigning on the climate crisis and environmental issues has also been a catalyst to force change at a government-policy level. However, campaigners have to remain vigilant to try to ensure that these policies are not watered down and green-washed as a result of the pressures put on our governments by corporate influence and corruption.
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Rishi Sunak has recently announced that, soon, you could face prison time and a fine if you wear a mask while protesting, or for being too loud. The Metropolitan Police Service has come into conflict with the current government, flagging its concern on the right to protest and, thus, on the infringement of human rights.
Human-rights organisations unanimously agree these policies are an attack on all of our civil liberties. Civil liberties are a precious cornerstone of any democracy. When they are removed, democracy perishes with them.
When the climate reaches a point where protest against something you believe to be fundamentally wrong places you at risk of being arrested, do you continue to suffer in silence? Or does the risk of arrest no longer hold any fear for you?
All too often, people don’t realise something has been taken away until the day they need it and discover it’s not there any more.
I went to my first protest in 2003, against the imminent war in Iraq, alongside my mother, father, family and friends, marching with over a million people. It is known as the largest UK protest in history to date and also took place in 600 cities as an ongoing series of events opposing the invasion, war and occupation in Iraq.
Tony Blair’s legacy is that he will be remembered for ignoring the people and going into the disastrous war in Iraq anyway. Activism is something that I feel brings individuals together around a common purpose or goal. It can also be a catalyst to promote intellectual ideas and thoughts through conversation and learning. Fundamentally, I believe activism to be a way for humanity to show that it is caring for our environment and fellow human beings. Being caring is a really important human quality. Activism is a way to express it. Not caring is selfish. Selfishness is an ugly part of humanity.
My dad, Joseph, says I’ve been the same since I was a little girl; I’ve always cared for others. I like to think that we are all a constant work in progress, as like-minded individuals. Learning and building throughout life only shapes us to be a better version of ourselves.
My grandmother, Vivienne [Westwood], led a relentless fight for justice, as has my father. I remember my father’s work, alongside Clive Stafford Smith, to achieve freedom for those wrongly convicted and imprisoned in Guantanamo Bay. I remember feeling shocked when I discovered the hard reality that, even when the prisoners had been proven innocent and cleared for release, they still remained imprisoned for years, because of the completely corrupt justice system. My childish innocence was lost when I understood that the words ‘free man’ had no meaning.
I think we have to reflect on the immense privilege we hold just through simply having a voice. That voice should be utilised to shed light on issues crucial to our collective moral compass. Often the detachment created through a person’s safety and warmth in their own home plays to the belief that we are separate and bear no responsibility to one another and gives the idea we are disconnected if they are far away from us. Our shared compassion and empathy must be consistently mirrored and reflected or the whole idea of morality and principles don’t exist at all.
It can be so hard to remain optimistic. The death and destruction around us seems to worsen by the day and the natural disasters caused by climate change are multiplying. However, when reflecting upon history, the protests and movements that have evolved to challenge injustice, unfairness and the destruction of our habitats have succeeded in many instances, although there is still much to be done.
I think we live in a time where younger generations are passionate about wanting change and a future that they can believe in. There’s nothing else worth fighting for. So why would anyone seek to take something away from us that has only contributed positively to humanity?
Throughout my family, a passion for democracy and justice is one that rings clear. Activism has always been a cornerstone of my life, even before I understood it in all its entirety. Vivienne was very much a teacher for me, alongside my close family – she spoke to me about things in an amazing way, like an adult; on an equal level, regardless of age.
Although I very much look up to my elders and the pools of knowledge loved ones can share, it allowed me the space to have open conversations, ask questions and grow. This was because it went both ways. We built on each other and she was always open to hearing what I had to say. I was very fortunate to have the opportunity to be surrounded by love, which was transcended through the open conversations to promote ideas and thought that have shaped me to be who I am today.
I have lots of memories [of her activism], but not any one in particular that stands out. It has been more like a continuous positive conversation about the injustice in the world and the way we can participate in making things better.
I’m often asked who Vivienne is to me. First and foremost, she is grandma. I was lucky enough to have two grandmas; strongwomen, who have made their mark on the world and my family.
My maternal grandmother, Bridget, will forever be on a pedestal and an icon for me, too. She grew up in south London and was supported by the government to go to Cambridge University when not many women studied, and those who did were from a very different background to her. We used to spend half terms together; we’d roam the streets of London talking about her vast knowledge of history and of executions that had taken place on various corners of Clerkenwell (where I grew up in my younger years), which would lead to a discussion of fairness and, looking back, a grounding lesson in love and the need to question injustice.
My mother, Serena Rees, took me everywhere while she worked, so I spent time from a newborn in my parents’ shop. My parents founded Agent Provocateur, a lingerie business, in 1994, at a time whenthere was nothing like it. It was far from the oversaturated retail concepts that exist today. What they created was totally pioneering and new, but what was the most beautiful example for me was watching a man and woman develop a lingerie brand together. I heard open, collaborative conversations about female empowerment. The fact these conversations were had through the prism of lingerie was pretty subversive. Seeing my father support female empowerment was inspirational. Not only did I see my mum as this incredible force, I also saw a man supporting a woman.
My family embodies protest, in all the ways that they can. My parents’ activism permeated through their work: Agent Provocateur was known for its political shop windows, and they famously put ‘The only Bush I trust is my own’ on their underwear. Or the time my grandmother arrived to David Cameron’s house in an army tank, as part of her and my father’s day-to-day campaigning on anti-fracking. They used their platform with meaning. I believe that is why Vivienne retained her relevance. There was always a message behind everything she did; one from the heart. Having a heart as an anchor is what I truly believe brings us together.
I am very aware of my privilege, and the opportunities that I’ve had. All of us, in any line of work where we have any ounce of platform, power or opportunity to have an open conversation, must do so. We have a moral obligation to our shared humanity and love.
My grandma was inspired to do her work for future generations. And I’m sure that stemmed, in part, from seeing a little Cora running around and my cousin, too, in more recent years. And not just us, but for the millions of people who will grow to be adults as well. She fought for the future, through the art of protest and unpopular ideas. This is something I will now carry forward.
This article appears in the May issue of ELLE UK, out now.
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