Summer of Blood

I suppose this was inevitable. Here is my op-ed piece from today’s Evening Standard, in which I consider the events of the London riots of August 2011 with those of the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381.

I suppose it would also have made sense to mention Richard II’s words to the vanquished Essex rebels in 1381. “Villeins ye are, and villeins ye shall remain, not in bondage as before, but incomparably harsher”. It seems to reflect the hang ‘em high attitude which will likely prevail upon those identified as looters and rioters this week.

Exactly 630 summers ago, London burned at the hands of violent mobs. Angry men and women, drawn from the lower orders of society, rampaged the streets for nights on end - looting, setting fire to property, attacking other Londoners and paralysing the limited policing resources of an unpopular government.

Clouds of thick smoke filled the air as buildings were sacked and burned. Rioters communicated with messages composed in cryptic language and sent by covert means. Soon after the London riots began, copycat attacks followed in other English cities.

The upheaval scarred the city and the psyche of the well-meaning majority, who watched with horror as an underclass ran amok, seemingly delighted by the meaningless violence in which they indulged.

Two years ago I wrote a book: Summer of Blood: the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381 (Harper Press), which charts the events of that rising. This week, during what has been dubbed the Chavs’ Revolt, it feels a bit like a warning from history.

Our city is no longer much like medieval London. And yet, when the capital riots, it does so in familiar fashion. The causes may be different but the methods and composition of the crowds don’t change much.

Mass riots do not happen solely because cities contain bad people. There is always a catalyst, and usually a set of acute underlying grievances. In 1381 a poll tax sparked violence against a political class who were seen as corrupt and self-interested. This week, the fatal shooting of Mark Duggan caused tensions between the police and disenfranchised young people who have never known discipline to spill over into violence.

But now, as then, the character of the riots has morphed quickly from principled protest to mindless destruction. The composition of a riot transcends history. It goes through stages. Shortly after a riot begins, those people who have a specific cause are joined by others who have a panoply of other grievances. Anger becomes general, directed at a whole government, system or way of life.

Then comes a dull thud of boots, heralding the arrival of the rent-a-mob: the herds of rough-necked scrotes who like trouble for its own sake. This is when a riot really hits its straps. In 1381, Londoners with scant connection to the original causes of the revolt massacred Flemish merchants and piled their bodies in the streets. This year, their dullard descendants burned furniture stores and nicked tellies out of betting shops.

Rioters have always found ways to organise in such a way that they will elude the authorities, too. BBM and Twitter are new mediums for a very old message. In the Middle Ages, strange letters were circulated by organisers, calling on rioters to “chastise well Hob the Robber and take with you John Trueman”. A very loose modern translation: “let’s fuk up da feds, bruv!”

And there are two more historical notes to add. First: it was the Mayor of London, William Walworth, who saved the day in 1381, when he stabbed to death the rebel leader Wat Tyler during negotiations with the king. Second: another rioter was tried and executed in East Anglia for the crime of saying “he was a messenger of the great society”.

There’s a message there for Boris - and for Dave, too, I fancy.