THE LATE ’50S saw the start of a series of mass protests, not only in Britain but throughout Europe and the rest of the world. Two controversial topics for demonstrations were the Vietnam War and nuclear disarmament.
In Britain, the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND) was formed in February 1958. Among its early leaders were the controversial philosopher Bertrand Russell, the Labour politician Michael Foot and John Collins, a canon of St Paul’s Cathedral. It always aimed to pursue its main objective of banning nuclear weapons through peaceful means and in this it was normally successful, although one of its annual ‘Aldermaston marches’ in 1963 was marred by violence caused by an anarchist minority. It is a phenomenon of large-scale demonstrations that extremists will frequently join the throng with the intention of causing disruption, thereby gaining cheap publicity for themselves and aggravation for their sworn enemy, the police. Special Branch devoted little time to covering the activities of the organisation or its individual members, but kept a watching brief on the Aldermaston marches, as the fringe elements were always likely to cause public order problems.
Of more concern were offshoots of the CND, such as the Committee of 100, which was not so constrained by legal niceties. This organisation was formally established in October 1960, with a committee headed by Bertrand Russell and an original membership of 100, mostly former members of the CND, who, like Russell, felt that the latter organisation’s embargo of any form of unlawful protest was ineffectual. Undoubtedly it was a clash of personalities between Russell and Canon Collins that accelerated the split. The Committee of 100 had similar aims as the CND, but it was their policy of non-violent direct action that distinguished the two organisations. From the start, conflicting views within the Committee about their conception of civil disobedience led to various factions emerging, from which, over the next two years, there developed an organisation with a pronounced anarchist philosophy.
Their first demonstration was held on 18 February 1961, outside the Ministry of Defence in Whitehall after a march from Marble Arch to Trafalgar Square. Several thousand people took part and generally complied with the organisers’ instructions that no slogans be displayed or shouted, that there should be no provocation and no resistance if arrested. In the event, no arrests were made, which was remarkable as Whitehall was blocked to traffic for nearly three hours while the sit-down in the road was allowed to take place.
At the second protest in Parliament Square on 29 April, the police changed their tactics and made 826 arrests; simultaneously protests were held outside the US and Soviet embassies in London and at the Polaris submarine base in Scotland. Before the third such protest on 17 September, in an attempt to pre-empt a further mass demonstration, the police resorted to an ancient and little-used piece of legislation, the Justices of the Peace Act 1381. The 100 members of the Committee were summoned to court and bound over to be of good behaviour for one year. Thirty-two, including Bertrand Russell, refused to do so and were sent to prison. Undeterred, a mass of supporters, variously reported to be between 12,000 and 15,000, turned up to block the approaches to Trafalgar Square; 1,314 arrests were made.
After this, the Committee selected new sites for its protests. No longer were their sit-downs to be confined to public thoroughfares in London and other cities; in future they proposed to conduct their protests at locations where nuclear weapons would actually be stored. Their next demonstrations were planned for 9 December within the towns of Ruislip, Brize Norton, Cardiff and Wethersfield. But as the protests assumed a more sinister complexion, so the police adopted tougher tactics. Information supplied by MPSB led to the arrests of six of the Committee’s principal organisers (Terry Chandler and others), who were charged with conspiracy to commit offences under the Official Secrets Acts and sentenced to terms of imprisonment ranging from twelve to eighteen months. Nevertheless, the Wethersfield demonstration went ahead, not entirely according to plan, as the original intention was to breach the perimeter fence and sit down on the runway but, in the light of intelligence received from Special Branch, the MoD hastily erected a barbed-wire barricade that kept the would-be invaders at bay. Estimates put the number of participants at 5,000, of whom 850 were arrested. They were confronted by some 3,000 civil and military police. The new tactic of targeting Royal Air Force bases was counter-productive, as the RAF joined forces with the civil police in sharing intelligence and defending MoD property – and they were not so inclined to wear kid gloves. There were also reports in the press that their civilian colleagues too were becoming more ‘positive’ in their treatment of the law breakers.
The Wethersfield event was a watershed in the history of the Committee of 100; support began to wane and, in March of the following year, Bertrand Russell found it difficult to persuade supporters to stage a sit-down in Parliament Square to protest against the imprisonment of Terry Chandler, Michael Randle, Patrick Pottle and their friends. All those who did attend, 1,172 in total, were arrested. Russell resigned from the organisation shortly afterwards and thereafter the Committee struggled to survive. It was decided to decentralise and thirteen regional committees were set up, of which the London Committee was by far the most active. The original theme of ‘Ban the Bomb’ was virtually abandoned as supporters turned their attention to more current issues, particularly the question of human rights in Greece, where the MP and peace activist Gregoris Lambrakis had been murdered in a climate of political unrest.
The visit to the UK in July 1963 of King Paul and Queen Frederica of the Hellenes was marked by violent demonstrations inspired by the anarchist fringe of the London Committee of 100, many of whom were arrested and sentenced to lengthy terms of imprisonment. Political tension in Greece again provoked a response from the Committee, when a military coup there in 1967 was followed by a ‘peaceful invasion’ of the Greek embassy in London on 28 April by a group of (mainly) Committee of 100 supporters, who barricaded themselves in the building before being ejected by the police. Forty-two were arrested and, in October, were dealt with at the Central Criminal Court for unlawful assembly, the sentences ranging from conditional discharge to, in the case of Terry Chandler, who had a string of convictions, fifteen months’ imprisonment.
This was the Committee of 100’s swan song and, in October 1968, the organisation was disbanded. During its comparatively brief lifetime, it had confronted the police with a rash of novel situations, not least of which was dealing appropriately with a mass of lifeless humanity and framing suitable charges for a mass invasion of an embassy. Special Branch, too, faced new challenges. Mass demonstrations, even if ostensibly peaceful, like the Aldermaston processions, always had the potential for violence, and it was the responsibility of Special Branch to furnish the Home Office with a faithful report of proceedings, including details of participating groups, inflammatory speeches and arrests. This would be expected by 10 a.m. on the day following the event, a formidable task when the report, including appendices, would frequently run into more than sixty pages. Particularly time-consuming was the task of compiling an accurate record, including previous convictions, of those arrested. It was fortunate that typists were extremely tolerant and efficient; they were regarded as an integral part of the reporting team.
A contributory factor in the demise of the Committee of 100 was the rapid growth of popular protest against the war in Vietnam and the inevitable appeal of such a cause to ‘Ban the Bomb’ activists. They now threw in their lot with the Maoists, anarchists and Trotskyist organisations who, during the late ’60s, as the Vietnam Solidarity Campaign (VSC), staged a series of mass protest demonstrations targeting the US embassy in Grosvenor Square. Their first large-scale demonstration took place in October 1967 and, although some 20,000, mainly young, individuals took part, it passed off comparatively peacefully. The same could not be said of the second demonstration organised by the charismatic Tariq Ali and his henchmen, which was held on 17 March 1968. On this occasion, approximately 30,000 demonstrators, which included some 100 members of the German SDS (an extreme youth movement), took part in events that were markedly more violent. Marbles were catapulted at the police horses and poles holding banners were used to batter policemen. The press reported instances of undisciplined retaliation by the police, who suffered numerous casualties, including one mounted inspector who was crippled when thrown from his horse. A total of eighty-six people were injured, of whom fifty (including twenty-five police) received hospital treatment. Eight police horses were also injured and almost 300 demonstrators were arrested.2
The VSC’s next venture was planned for 27 October, and every indication was that it would be even bigger; widespread violence was predicted. The Commissioner was understandably concerned and on the day over 1,000 police paraded for duty. The march itself, via the Embankment, Fleet Street, Victoria Street, Whitehall, Oxford Street to Hyde Park, was reasonably peaceful. An amusing spectacle, which only a few SB observers could appreciate, was the sight of a senior SB officer mingling with the demonstrators, raising his fist as Scotland Yard was passed and joining his temporary comrades in a tirade of abuse. The anticipated violence occurred when a group of about 1,000 hardcore Maoists and anarchists broke away as the march passed Selfridges and rushed towards Grosvenor Square, where they encountered serried ranks of foot police reinforced by their mounted colleagues. Bottles, banners and other missiles were thrown at the police, but the human shield stood firm and, after about half an hour of violence, the militants rejoined their comrades in Hyde Park, licking their wounds – of which there were surprisingly few.
The police justifiably regarded their efforts to preserve the peace with some satisfaction, and some credit for this success is attributable to the advance intelligence supplied by Special Branch. After the lawlessness accompanying the demonstration in March, the Home Office, in consultation with the Commissioner, decided that better prior intelligence as to the likely course of events on that chaotic afternoon would probably have prevented many of the worst incidents. It was apparent that the comparatively small number of troublemakers had come prepared for a violent confrontation, the nature and severity of which had not been anticipated by the police. The Commissioner directed that a special section within MPSB should be created with the specific role of assimilating themselves with potential protesters and gathering intelligence on their likely tactics, the numbers expected on demonstrations and the identities of core militants. This initiative was supported by the Home Office, who provided direct and dedicated funding.
And so it was that, a few days after the Home Office had decided on the course of action to be taken, twelve bemused SB officers of various ranks (constable to chief inspector) were paraded by their chief, Commander ‘Fergie’ Smith, before the Assistant Commissioner for Crime, Peter Brodie. His message was simple: ‘Find out what these people are planning for 27 October.’ Back in his office, Fergie was unable to elaborate, except to warn his officers against acting as agents provocateurs and to take care not to become elected to office in any of the organisations they succeeded in joining. Detective Chief Inspector Conrad Dixon, a maverick and multi-talented officer, was appointed to take charge of the section, the Special Operations Squad (SOS), which later became officially known as the Special Demonstration Squad (SDS) and, unofficially, as ‘the hairies’. In 1999, to reflect the widening scope of its remit, it was renamed the Special Duties Section, but those people ‘in the know’ continued to refer to it as the Special Demonstration Squad. The SDS functioned for two more years after the demise of Special Branch in 2006, but subsequent events dragged it out of its retirement and into the limelight when a former member of the SDS, Peter Francis, went public with a series of allegations about its activities. The matter was referred to the Independent Police Complaints Commission (IPCC), who directed that an investigation be carried out, codenamed Operation Herne. Some reference has been made to that operation in the following brief account of the SDS – brief because the true history of the section remains shrouded in secrecy.
The efficiency with which, in 1968, the newly formed unit fulfilled their role in the comparatively short time at their disposal went some way towards ensuring that, on 27 October, the front-line troops had a better appreciation of the probable tactics that the ‘opposition’ might employ and could react accordingly. After the protest, it was decided that the SDS should remain in existence, at least for the time being, and with the threat of violent mass demonstrations temporarily abated, Conrad Dixon had the opportunity to consolidate what had already been achieved.
By now, some members of the team had successfully infiltrated some of the more militant groupings on the left, while other members were obviously not suited to this type of work and were transferred to other duties. Over time, an office was allocated away from the Yard and ‘safe houses’ were acquired where members could relax and where supervising officers could visit them. Welfare was seen as of paramount importance, for it was appreciated that, to become accepted into an alien culture, an officer must adopt a totally different lifestyle from that of his choice, and family life would inevitably be subjected to unaccustomed stress. Senior officers paid frequent visits to ‘the hairies’ in safe houses and were always available for consultation; frequently one-to-one meetings took place out of ordinary office hours, at night, at weekends and on public holidays (SDS officers never knew such luxuries).3
As time went on, so the scope of SDS interests widened, for, as Operation Herne acknowledges, ‘world political events dictated that the unit included groups covering the extreme right-wing and Animal Rights. [However] there was a continued focus towards all public disorder incidents.’4 Over the forty years of its existence, both MI5 and the Home Office had cause to be grateful for the intelligence provided by the section and, again quoting Operation Herne:
There is little doubt that the ability of police and public order commanders to deal with large scale disorder and protest was enhanced by the use of intelligence from undercover officers. Deployment of officers able to report upon such events was a key element in the protection of the public and subsequent prosecution of offenders.5
There is equally little doubt that the nature of the work performed by SDS officers exposed them to the risk of considerable personal danger in the event of their cover ‘being blown’, a fact that the public whom they were protecting could not appreciate because of the secrecy which, of necessity, surrounded the whole operation.