Words: Stella Small (she/her)
every protest stands on the shoulders of ones prior.
Outside this year’s Labour Party conference in Liverpool, dozens of protesters held placards which read: ‘I oppose genocide, I support Palestine Action.’ Police officers quickly descended on them, scooping up one protester after another and bundling them into vans. Images of the arrests were plastered across newspapers, but it was pensioners in anoraks and flat caps gracing the front pages – not blue-haired students wearing keffiyehs. The oldest person arrested in Liverpool that day was 84 years old. The following month, at a Defend Our Juries protest in London, the oldest arrestee was 89 years old. These moments remind us that defending democracy has never been solely a youth movement – resistance is intergenerational.
So, why is it that political protests are often seen as a young person’s game?
Whether it be the May ‘68 movement or the student intifada, radical political action is too often dismissed as a symptom of rebellious adolescence. The notion that you shift from communist to conservative when you hit 30 only deepens this perception, severing our connections with those who came before us. Each generation becomes burdened with the myth that they’re starting from scratch, making the opposition seem insurmountable. In reality, every protest stands on the shoulders of ones prior.
Keith Stoddart, a trade unionist and Communist Party member, found his footing in the early 70s Clydeside shipyard “work-ins”. Threatened with unemployment, workers took control of the shipyards, preventing the loss of thousands of jobs and subsequent devastation to local communities.
‘Solidarity was everything,’ Keith told me. ‘If the shipyards closed, other local businesses would go under, too.’ The workers had allies everywhere: ‘One day, someone announced, ‘Lennon’s sent us 1000 red roses and 5,000 pounds!’’ Keith recalled. ‘Another worker replied, ‘Don’t be stupid; Lenin’s dead!”
Companionship was so ingrained in Glasgow in the 70s because, according to Keith, ‘For every person who lost their job, four others would lose theirs, too.’ Now, this sense of solidarity feels lost. This is no accident. Since 1979, union density in UK workplaces has halved. Hyper-individualised politics and single-issue thinking have eroded collective struggle. We are detached from the people around us and those who came before us.
Fifty years after the “work-ins”, industrial action has returned to Clydeside. I met Keith on the picket line at Govan’s Village Hotel, where hospitality staff became the first UK hotel workers to strike since 1979. I saw him again at a commemoration for the Calton Weavers, the first Scottish workers to go on strike in 1787, and some of the first to die for it. Keith continues to honour his forebears by standing alongside those fighting today. Watching him, I realised how rarely we take stock of the legacy we inherit.
We talk about “activist fatigue” as though caring about the world is a phase. Growing up in the 1960s, Keith also lived through an age of global precarity. ‘You felt a bit like the world was going to end,’ he told me. Today, many young people would sympathise with Keith’s sentiment, but he did not abandon the struggle. The world may have felt like it was on the brink of collapse, but this never excused apathy.
Another experienced activist who we can learn from is Jan Goodey. A lifelong environmentalist, Goodey was the first person convicted under the Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Act 2022. At a recent event in Glasgow, Goodey said he didn’t regret his jail time for blocking motorways. He now focuses on grassroots organising. With the far-right rising as fast as global temperatures, solidarity is more important than ever, and it’s a coalition that must be intergenerational.
Greta Thunberg, who joined the Freedom Flotilla alongside several older activists (including Scotland’s own Margaret Pacetta and Yvonne Ridley) to bring aid to Gaza, was once the face of the climate movement. Her absence from headlines tells its own story: she fell out of media favour when they recognised that her activism aligned with movements of intersectional justice. Greta has never been a lone voice – she stands among hundreds of seasoned activists whose wisdom sustains the movement. It suits those most responsible for climate collapse to claim that change lies solely with youth. Doing so fractures our collective potential and absolves the powerful in charge.
When I spoke to Keith, he expressed remorse. ‘Look at the world we’ve left you with,’ he said. I agreed, but for a different reason.
Keith, Jan, Margaret, and Yvonne have each fought for liberation for decades. To act as though political action began the moment our generation attended their first protest is to forget years of prior hard work. From shipyards to soup kitchens, the world Keith and others have left us is one stitched by resistance. It’s time we honour them by picking up their thread.
