I often say that I didn’t choose photography, it chose me. At 20 I left the RAF where I had failed my vocational exam to become a photographer (I was never good at exams – I even failed my 11 plus). I had a camera that I had bought in Nairobi and I never used it properly until I happened to get a job at the Observer in 1959.
Two years later, the newspaper put me on hold for two days a week. I earned very little money—15 guineas a week—but I gained a great deal of knowledge about England. I was sent to every corner, to cover coal strikes, by-elections, anti-fascist rallies, nuclear protests. I learned how to follow the action. You know one event comes after another. Sooner or later someone will become too unpleasant. You kept your eyes open, looking for the next move: arrest, fight. It became a natural way of thinking, working and moving. I was very quick on my feet in those days – quick as a hound.
I had this drive to follow world events very closely. Although I am a poor reader and suffer from dyslexia, I took it upon myself – and still do – to buy the papers every day. I would go over every word looking for trouble at home and abroad. Then I would try to go there.
Over time, I came to see my photography as a form of protest—specifically against the feast of evil that is war, because I’ve spent so much of my career documenting conflict. But this was not always the case. Photography is very exciting. If you feel like you have that photo—that you got the composition and exposure right—that’s a reward in itself. The most rewarding thing for me has always been seeing my name under a photo in print.
Saffiyah Khan fights with EDL demonstrator Ian Crossland in Birmingham in 2017. Picture: Joe Giddens/PA
But my work was not easy mentally. You never know what effect seeing pain and suffering might have on you – but you just hope your images have an effect on the public and spur people to demonstrate against the terrible things in the world. I don’t take comfort in that because I wish the pictures weren’t taken, that we didn’t have to be reminded of the random ugliness of man – and it’s always men. Women don’t cause these wars.
My picture of the man in Whitehall was for the Observer. I was sent to cover an anti-nuclear demonstration in Trafalgar Square during the Cuban Missile Crisis. The man had separated himself from the crowd and made his way down Whitehall, the seat of power. The police threw a line across the road very quickly, knowing that other protesters would follow.
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Looking at the image now, I find it amusing. You see all these pretty serious policemen, but one or two are slightly smirking. The guy I never got around to talking to looks pretty lonely sitting with his poster. In those days – at least here – there was still a civil approach to demonstrations. Today the person can get a cracked head or be sprayed with CS gas. Demonstrations around the world become violent: people are gassed and shot. The police are not particularly well-liked and for good reason – think of the vigil for Sarah Everard in 2021 on Clapham Common and the way the women were handcuffed and pinned to the ground. This is shameful.
I wonder if seeing what is happening helps or changes anything. But I still find it tragic that we don’t see as many depictions of these events in the media anymore. I worry that they are denying us the truth. We must continue to pay attention and protest for a better world. As told to Gabriel Schwartz
Patrick Hutchinson carries a counter-protester to safety, 2020
Photo: Dylan Martinez/Reuters
“It was instantaneous,” Hutchinson says of the day he carried a drunken right-wing protester to safety at a Black Lives Matter protest in London. “I thought the worst that could happen to him, but I also thought the BLM movement would be derailed by something like this tarnishing its name.” The young BLM protesters “would have been vilified” if they had hurt Bryn Male, the retired transport policeman. Little did Hutchinson realize at the time that his act would be shared around the world. “I didn’t think of that at all. I’m a little older than a lot of people who were there, I don’t pull out my phone and record everything I see. But then, when the photo was published, he realized, “Oh yeah, it’s going to go everywhere.”
It was a strange experience, but not a bad one. “It felt really good,” Hutchinson says. “I’ve had messages from all over the world, from thousands of people saying it gives them hope.” He’s even received messages from people associated with the far right saying his actions have made them think about their own beliefs and “the people they hang around with”. He became a celebrity: an interview with GQ, a book deal and a meeting with Prince Harry followed.
Today, Hutchinson runs his fitness and martial arts business and engages in activism and community service with the organization he founded with the friends who were with him that day, United to Change and Inspire. And he still likes the image. “I’m actually very proud of it. When I’m long gone, my grandkids will be able to point to him and say, “That’s my grandpa.” FB
Activists occupy trees to protest the Newbury Bypass, 1996
Photo: Andrew Testa/Panos
In the 1990s, environmental protests swept Britain. Here, activists are protesting the construction of the Newbury Ring Road in Berkshire – hundreds of acres of forest were cleared for it. Activist Swampy, aka Dan Hooper, quickly became the face of the movement. He was the object of fascination for the tabloids, who reported on everything from his love life to his possession of magic mushrooms and his relationship with his parents. “It made my life a little weird for a while,” he recalls, so much so that he began refusing all interviews and disappeared from the public eye. Now, however, he thinks “we need the media a bit.” The whole country would then follow the drama as Swampy was driven out of tunnels or trees, and environmental issues found a wider (though often hostile) audience as a result. “Now I look back on it and think, wow, if it made any difference, it was worth it.” FB
Taking down the statue of Edward Colston, 2020
Photo: Ben Birchall/Pennsylvania
“The people we put on pedestals should be inspirational, people to literally and figuratively look up to,” says Rhian Graham. She is one of four defendants who were charged with criminal damage for their roles in toppling a statue of slave trader Edward Colston in Bristol during an anti-racism protest on 7 June 2020.
It wasn’t the only statue targeted this summer. The killing of George Floyd sparked a wave of anti-racist protests around the world, and demonstrators often targeted monuments honoring colonial figures. But this image had a particularly strong impact. As Graham recalls: “It was a moment of victory when people said, ‘Colston and people like him don’t represent Bristol today and don’t deserve to be on a pedestal.’
The four were acquitted of the charges by a jury earlier this year. Unused funds raised for the trial are distributed to anti-racism charities in Bristol. “Being found not guilty gave me faith in humanity again,” says Graham. But the Attorney General has since made the controversial decision to refer the case to the Court of Appeal for legal clarification. The new police bill has a section that raises the maximum penalty for defacing a statue to 10 years in prison – a move Graham said “illuminates the priorities of our government and who the laws are meant to protect”. GS
Embrace the Base, Greenham Common, 1982
Photo: PA Archive/PA Images
The Greenham Common Women’s Peace Camp, an anti-nuclear camp that ran from 1981 to 2000, was the largest protest movement led by women since the suffragettes. The camp’s most famous event was Embrace the Base: a protest marking the first anniversary of NATO’s decision to store nuclear missiles at the RAF airfield in Berkshire. On December 12 and 13, 1982, more than 30,000 women gathered to join hands and surround the nine-mile perimeter of Greenham.
“It was a really powerful moment because there were so many of us from all different walks of life,” recalls Angie Zelter, an environmental and human rights activist who attended Embrace the Base. The fact that they were all women was important, Zelter says, because it allowed them “a space to speak and act in their own way without being dominated by men who tend to take the limelight in a mixed group. Women felt safe to engage in non-violent direct action – they could cry freely, hold hands, show their vulnerability.
There was an increased police presence on Greenham Common, with frequent raids, evictions and arrests. At Embrace the Base, Zelter says, horses were brought in to try to disperse the women: “I was pretty scared. At one point I cried, but there were other women there who were used to the horses and were trying to calm them down. Today, she continues to campaign against nuclear weapons: “No matter what the so-called protest law says, we have the right to protest and we will continue to protest.” GS
Bloody Sunday, 1972
Photo: Fulvio Grimaldi/courtesy of Museum of Free Derry
Fulvio Grimaldi was one of the few journalists present when British soldiers opened fire on protesters in Derry, killing 13 people. His image of panicked civilians carrying the body of teenage girl Jackie Duddy became an iconic image of the massacre. FB
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