This was the first Far Right rally in Hull since the riot on 3rd August in response to the Southport murders. It was partially organised by the same people: John Francis and his group, the Hull Patriotic Protesters. He was joined by Scott Pitts, from Lincolnshire, the two knowing each other through past involvement in the EDL. They called this ‘Stop the Boats’ protest for Saturday 5th October.

We heard about this rally, titled ‘Rise of the Footsoldier’ on their promo, in early September, giving weeks to organise. During this time, the coalition of Hull Against Hate met to begin planning. It had formed in response to the 3rd Aug counter-protest. Before we made promo for this action public, Hull and District Trades Council called a counter- protest. It was great to see such an active response from the Trades Council.

Public callout for the ‘Stop the Boats’ rally was at 12:30. The counter-protest had a public callout for 11:30. In anticipation, the organisers and stewards were meeting ahead of time at 10:30. As I was walking into town with a comrade, I saw a message that we were rendezvousing at Savile Street, due to the Far Right group already having already set up on the platform in Queen Victoria Square. We located the group and joined them. My friend agreed to steward and was handed a Trades Council hi-vis.

Beyond the end of Savile Street, the platform and monument was draped in English flags and a banner. However, it didn’t look like there were many figures on the platform. In a moment, a comrade joined us and confirmed there couldn’t be more than 10 of them there. There were already 20 of us. One person argued we could take the platform from them with force of numbers, but another pointed to the already large police presence. The police had already been spoken to: they knew Trades Council were due to hold a rally at 11:30, but the cops were determined to “protect [the Far Right’s] right to protest too”. I handed round a few bustcards and waited. By the time about 30 of us were gathered, it was announced that the organisers would request the police to escort us onto the platform – the traditional position of any Hull Trades Council demos – or we would get as close as we could, likely settling for the steps on the side of the platform.

We waited. The Far Right began speaking from a PA system, the sound of it drifting over to us but too broken to catch what they were saying. Another friend of mine joined, who had travelled into Hull to support us. A cop came back with the answer from a senior officer. They would not escort us to the platform. They would be holding us back from it instead.

We entered the Square. We fanned out. I took up position on the right and at the front. The men on the platform noticed us. I saw John Francis, microphone in hand. On the 3rd Aug, I’d glimpsed him from a distance but there had been hundreds in the crowd then. Now he had only a few others around him. I had an umbrella in hand in case they fancied showering us with eggs again.

We met on the steps. One man punched my friend who had travelled into Hull I held up
my forearms to defend against him shoving against us. A cop shoved me back. “They’re shoving me! They’re shoving me,” the man who punched my friend started shouting. “Assault!” He was rigged up with body cams and holding his phone. “Don’t forget to like and follow.” The police made a line on the edge of the platform, most of them facing out at us. I sometimes managed get closer, but the police would then intervene and get me to back away.

Behind the fence of cops, the fascists prowled. Some of them started asking my friend whether their mother knew they were there.
“Is that your girlfriend?” one asked, pointing at me.
A bald man, possibly Scott Pitts, called me a slut. I did a double-take. He seemed confused by my reaction. I met eyes with Francis and he strode to stand in front of me. He made kissing sounds. “My daughter would love to get her hands on you.” That was beyond unexpected.
“I don’t even know what that means.” It was the first time I spoke.
“Oh, you’re a guy! I thought you were a girl.”
“That’s a guy!” a few of them joined in. Now, the man who called me a slut did a double-take.

They kept asking me and my friend, in various ways, what gender we were (both of us being non-binary). Asking my name, then asking “A Jay or Jane” when I didn’t answer.
“You’re a funny-looking one,” Francis said to me at some point. A lot of this was into the microphone so played out over their PA. He kept falling into monologuing. “Some people have called me a homophobe, a transphobe, a racist,” he strode around the platform, without an audience around. “But I’m none of those things. My friend’s son used to be a girl. He’s a good lad. A happy lad.” He paced back to me and my friend. “But he’s honest about what he is. That’s what we’re asking for: honesty.”

Francis continued to swap between monologuing and insults. He focused on the trade unions. “Cancel your union membership,” he called out to the square, more or less empty except for our two groups. “My son has cancelled his. This right here is what your fees pay for.” “I’m not a bigot,” he continued. “My daughter became a lesbian. I have a step-grandson who’s half-Arabic. My daughter-in-law is from Thailand. I’m not a racist. But we are calling for no more illegals. No more terrorists. No more pedos predating on girls.” The diversity of his family was a topic he kept returning to throughout the whole thing. The members of his family tree seemed to grow each time.

“You’re a bunch of pedophile-protectors. All nonces,” Pitts was yelling. Each time I looked behind me, more of us were gathered. A small forest of Stand Up to Racism placards grew. Beside me, another comrade arrived. When she drew the ire of Francis, he subjected her to horrendous abuse on his PA system, calling her a “nutcase” and referencing her personal mental health history extensively. To the average passer-by, surely this would clearly show him for what he is. It did highlight – as awful as it is – the possible benefit to antagonising fascists with our presence. As my friend beside me said, “they incriminate themselves.” The facade drops.

I can remember the last focused interaction Francis had with me. It went something like this. “I don’t care what happens to me. I could die today for all I care. I spent four years unable to move. Unable to speak. After a stroke. I’ve been stabbed. I’ve been threatened. The police came to me only last week, to tell me my life is under threat. I’m unafraid.” I watched him.
“I don’t threaten,” he stepped slowly back from me. “I don’t make threats. I take action. And I know your face now.” I made a curt nod. He stepped away from me to focus on someone else.

The Trades Council were setting up speakers on the steps to the left of me. Our rally began. The crowd had likely reached a hundred and a few more of my friends had joined. As the Trades Council organisers welcomed people from our PA, a siren noise began. Pitts stood right above, leaning between the cops, to play his megaphone over the speakers. Thankfully our speakers were powerful enough that we could hear, but the megaphone was annoying.

The next altercation began as they started their rally and speakers around 12:30. It became clear they were holding theirs from another side of the platform. We began moving round. This was when the police began getting aggressive. There was one particular police liaison officer who started shouting at me for being too close to him. I gestured towards the Trades Council steward beside me. “I’m with the others.” “Don’t speak back to me,” he yelled, reddening. “This is not a conversation. I am telling you to move back.” I stepped back and the steward moved in front of me.

As they started their rally, we moved our speakers to the edge of the frontline and started playing songs. Both them and the police were irritated by this, but the Trades Council stewards stepped in and pointed out they had been allowed by the cops to subject our rally to noise disruption. This continued for awhile, then all of a sudden there was a tussel over the fascist’s banner. The fascists were screaming, cops ran at a group of protesters from ourside, who were dragging the banner away. In the end it was the police who grabbed the banner, and one of our protesters!

“Legal observer!” Many of us began shouting. I started filming the police as a particularly aggressive liaison officer shouted at the protesters, and someone from the Independent Legal Observers Network (ILON) tooko notes. Thankfully, my they ended up with an unofficial warning and weren’t arrested. A member of SUTR noted to the liaison officer that they’d had placards and banners destroyed by the Far Right for years and they’ve never received this kind of police response.
After this, the fascists packed up and headed away, although once out of Queen Vic Square, one of them, Antonio Leeming, was arrested on the grounds of a racially aggravated public order offence.

Afterwards, one other person in the organiser group described this counter-protest as a partial success and I agree that describes it well. Turnout on both sides was lower than I expected, but we did notably outnumber them. During the height of their rally, they had perhaps 30-40 in a crowd, whereas for most of the whole event there were only about a dozen of them. Meanwhile, there were around a hundred of us. I wish that we could have taken the platform, but we would have needed a higher number of people able to be on the frontline. We may have had the numbers, but many people were not prepared and ready to risk attacks from the fascists and the police.

The police response was unlike what I’ve experienced personally in Hull before. This change in behaviour has to be in reaction to the riot on 3rd August. They were far more aggressive and heavily moderated our behaviour, whereas usually in Hull they let a lot more happen, short of physical altercation. They break apart fights, but – for example – they allow both sides to go for flags and banners of the other side. One friend who is experienced at protesting in London said their behaviour today was more like that of the Met

As always, we fight on. Hull will not be defined by the Far Right. We will continue to face them whenever they emerge to publicise themselves.

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This Saturday, October 26th, ‘Tommy Robinson’ is organising a large hate rally in London, and opposition is encouraged: