Sheffield ≠ BNP heartland

I arrived back in Sheffield yesterday from a week away. I had watched the European election from a distance, and was dismayed when the voting figures for BNP in the Sheffield area were released. Nearly 17% in Barnsley, 15% in Rotherham, and 12% in Doncaster (though over 20% voted for either the BNP or the English Democrats, which may be relevent). I suppose the city of Sheffield came off rather well at "only" 10% supporting the BNP. Of course, we shouldn't think ourselves any better with that level of support, with that many people in the city who believe the BNP's message.

It was this 10% figure I was thinking about as I left the train and started the long walk up the hill to the city centre. I had thought Sheffield was a fairly well integrated place, comfortable with different cultures and different races. Perhaps even somehow special, like out of all the places in the north with a diverse population, we had managed to be especially tolerant and accepting. But I was wrong, and feel not only stupid for being wrong, but also ashamed for not taking those who said this could happen more seriously, and working to prevent it.

As I lugged my case up Surrey Street, along the side of the Town Hall, I thought to myself, 'Where are these people? Do they live isolated out on an estate or in a suburb, in an enclave where they can ignore the reality of the people and the city around them?' I just hadn't seen that much racism in Sheffield ever, even though I guessed there must be some somewhere. Perhaps there were whole areas I didn't frequent where racism was the norm. But 10%? As I entered the top of Fargate I thought, a little foolishly, that one out of every ten people I see is a racist. I knew it wasn't true, at least because the turnout meant that maybe two thirds of people hadn't voted, but it was enough to make me want to be among the other nine.

It was at that moment I heard a number of people clapping, and turned to see a rally gathered outside the Town Hall. The placards clearly laid out that the rally was against the BNP, but it probably would have been obvious anyway. I crossed the road with my luggage and joined the crowd. There was a couple of hundred people, from all different backgrounds I suppose; though I only recognised some queer people and some students, but that probably says more about me than anything else. I think like me, many who were there just wanted to get out and make a point that not only do they oppose the BNP, but that for the sake of the 90% we must be seen to do so. (Some fotos of the rally are here.)

I'll admit right now that I couldn't hear the speakers at first. When I arrived the speaker on the steps was Paul Blomfield, and unfortunately he was very quiet. I clapped along with the crowd, not through mindlessness, but because I knew that being public in my support was most important. Later I got a little closer, and the speakers a little louder, especially the local leader of Unite Against Fascism (UAF), who was quite forthright on the BNP, but I agreed nonetheless.

Near the end, somebody came up behind the crowd and shouted something, which sadly I didn't catch. The police ran him down Fargate, and a couple dozen of the crowd followed. I wanted to know what was happening, but was hampered by my luggage. Once the rally was over, I dropped my case off at my flat, and returned to the Town Hall, where some people were still milling about, and two drummers had turned up to provide rhythms...