Mass Movement
Sit-ins. Walkouts. Boycotts. Rallies. Nonesuch meets the Bristol alumni at the vanguard of fifty years of student activism.
When several hundred student protestors occupied Senate House in December 1968, the Western Daily Press called for tear gas to be deployed. Fortunately, the authorities settled on a more conciliatory approach.
Dr Sue Tate (BA 1970) was among those inside. ‘The police refused to evict us,’ she recalls. ‘The electricity got turned off, but the fire brigade were worried that we would continue to use candles. When we promised not to, they made the University switch the power back on. And when there was a bomb scare, we agreed to evacuate the building only on the understanding that we’d be let back in.’
It’s a far cry from that year’s riots in Paris’s Latin Quarter, where students ripped up cobblestones to throw at riot squads, and commentators predicted the downfall of the French government. But the impact of Bristol activism is not to be underestimated. For over half a century, students at the University have sought to change the world around them with sit-ins, marches, rent strikes, boycotts and rallies. The ripples made by the tipping of Edward Colston’s statue into Bristol Harbour, during a protest supported by many Bristol students, have circled the world.
‘This is an activist city and an activist university,’ says Dr Oscar Berglund (MSc 2011, MSc 2014, PhD 2017), Lecturer in International Public and Social Policy in the School for Policy Studies. ‘Bristol has always been tolerant of protest. When there have been sit-ins and occupations, they haven’t been followed by evictions, like at other universities. I think that shows the ethos of the place.’
Senate House in 1968, during a sit-in involving students from the University of Bristol and surrounding colleges
Senate House in 1968, during a sit-in involving students from the University of Bristol and surrounding colleges
"Civil disobedience wasn't just about disruption, but about giving people a platform who don't normally get heard."
Hillary Gyebi-Ababio (BSc 2019)
Bridging the educational divide
The occupations of 1968 are where the story begins in earnest, though there had been notable demonstrations before. Earlier in the decade, students and lecturers had marched against the Bristol Omnibus Company’s ‘whites only’ hiring policy, to jeers from busmen. This time, campaigners had the University in their sights, and the perceived unfairness of the ‘Binary Divide’ – the gulf between the privileged, well-funded universities and the less prestigious colleges, polytechnics and other institutions of higher education.
Taking their lead from an initiative at the University of Cambridge, activists started a ‘Free University’, promoting open discussion of radical ideas. In June, a late session at the Union turned into an overnight sit-in, when porters were prevented from locking up for the evening. Recognising that occupying their own building was unlikely to garner much publicity, the students decided on a more disruptive action.
Sue Tate, now a freelance art historian and author, says: ‘We had two main objectives in occupying Senate House. We wanted greater democracy within the University, and to offer the use of our new Union building to all students in Bristol, not just the lucky few at the University. We’d tried to push this through official channels, with vibrant and very well-attended Union meetings, but they thought we’d get bored and go away, which was naive given what was going on internationally. We came to believe that if we made enough noise, people would see the justice of our claims.’
More than 500 students from the University, art and technology colleges and other Bristol establishments started the sit-in, with those inside estimating attendances of 1,000-plus at the protest’s peak. Contingents from Birmingham, Hull, Cardiff and Swansea arrived to lend their support. The protest ended after 11 days, when the University served writs for trespass against eight occupiers. ‘A thousand of us signed a document sharing responsibility with them,’ says Sue. ‘There was tremendous camaraderie. There were disciplinary hearings afterwards, but there would have been a backlash if any of us had been sent down. In the end, it was a classic British fudge – quite unlike the sort of violent response you were seeing to student protest in America.’
Students in the Winston Theatre in the Students’ Union during the June 1968 sit in.
Students in the Winston Theatre in the Students’ Union during the June 1968 sit in.
To platform or not to platform
While arguments about Free Universities and the Binary Divide seem to speak from a very different age, other topics for dissent have never gone away. In the mid-1980s, as in the 2020s, the question of whether there should be limits to free speech on campus was fiercely contested. The University of Bristol became known as one of the most active fronts in this culture war.
Visiting speakers from the hard right, such as the pro-Apartheid Conservative MP John Carlisle, faced noisy picketing from hundreds of students. In October 1986, Enoch Powell was forced to abandon his address to the University’s Conservative Association when around 30 protestors – ‘anarchists from outside the university’, according to student newspaper Bacus – stormed the stage, letting off smoke bombs and throwing a ham sandwich in the politician’s face. But it was one of Bristol’s own, the History professor John Vincent, who proved the greatest catalyst for action.
Now Chief Executive of Shelter, Polly Neate CBE (BA 1988, Hon LLD 2022) was among those opposed to Vincent’s sideline in writing polemics for the tabloid press. She says: ‘He was publishing what we considered seriously racist columns in The Sun, and at the bottom it would say “John Vincent is Professor of History at Bristol University”. We argued that he shouldn’t be allowed to use the University’s name to justify these comments. It was bringing Bristol into disrepute.’
This was a charge levelled at the students themselves, after more than 300 demonstrators disrupted Vincent’s lectures. The University decided to act, starting disciplinary action against a group that became known as the Vincent Fifteen – including Polly Neate. She says: ‘I absolutely agreed with the aims of the demonstrations, though I had no part in organising them. We think the authorities just picked out people they could recognise from photos. We agreed on total solidarity: we would stick together and wouldn’t negotiate individually with the authorities. Ultimately all the cases were dropped, but it was scary to be threatened with being kicked out in your first year, and to have The Sun calling you a menace to society.’
More significant than the tabloid furore framing the actions as ‘mob rule’ and a ‘campaign of hate’, and even the broadsheet opinion pieces calling for expulsions, was the reaction in Margaret Thatcher’s Cabinet. Education Secretary Sir Keith Joseph branded the students ‘new barbarians’ who had ‘relapsed into the Dark Ages’, and promised legislation to guarantee unfettered speech on campus.
After the protests, Professor Vincent took unpaid leave, and Bristol students voted overwhelmingly against a ‘no platform’ policy in a Union referendum. ‘But the most positive thing to come out of that was nothing to do with John Vincent,’ says Polly. ‘Afterwards, there was a far bigger rally defending our right to demonstrate, attracting hundreds of students. It gave me an understanding that if you want things to change, you have to know when to mobilise people.’
"It gave me an understanding that if you want things to change, you have to know when to mobilise people."
Polly Neate CBE (BA 1988, Hon LLD 2022)
Paying the price for university
Throughout the 1990s, student finance became a focus for protest, with the phasing-in of loans to replace the maintenance grant, and the introduction of tuition fees. As editor of Epigram, Michael Shaw (BA 1999) both reported and supported the protests, including the by-now expected blockade of Senate House. He recalls: ‘We had dramatic photographs of students up close with security staff, and our headline was “UNDER SIEGE” in big letters. In reality, it wasn’t on the scale of the 1960s. I could compare notes with my dad, who was one of the ones who stormed the Senate House in ’68, and my mum, who’s American and had marched against the Vietnam War. And when I went on to join the Bristol Evening Post, there were very mixed views about the demonstrations. There was this idea that it was all about middle-class students whingeing that middle-class students shouldn’t be paying more money.’
The mood was more militant in late 2010, after the new Coalition Government announced plans to cut university funding and raise the cap on tuition fees to £9,000. Violent protests in Central London were mirrored around the country – including Bristol, where 2,000 marchers clashed with police, and activists from outside the University tried to smash their way into the Union building. Having worked to raise awareness of the issue before becoming Union president, James Ashton-Bell (BSc 2010) spent much of his term in office trying to moderate protest against it. He says: ‘Our position was that there was a choice: continue to oppose something that was going through anyway, because it was in the coalition agreement, or focus on the current student experience. It ended up in a very public fight over what were the right priorities for the Union. There were shouting matches between those of us who were trying to be pragmatic and build a consensus around Bristol issues, and students who saw this as a straightforward issue of activism.’
One faction pushed for James to be sacked as president; a subsequent referendum showed they had less than 5% support. But for a Union that had become unused to mass action, it was a wake-up call. He says: ‘We didn’t know how to engage with sit-ins and protests, and deal with them getting ugly. Of course, we’d read about collective activism in the ‘60s and ‘70s, but we’d never seen it. I don’t think the University or the Union really knew what to do.’
The front cover of Nonesuch, then the University of Bristol's student newspaper, from 24 January 1969. Images of the Senate House sit in are shown on the right side of the page.
The front cover of Nonesuch, then the University of Bristol's student newspaper, from 24 January 1969. Images of the Senate House sit in are shown on the right side of the page.
A splash heard around the world
Hillary Gyebi-Ababio (BSc 2019) served as the Union’s Undergraduate Education Officer before taking on a national role as NUS Vice-President of Higher Education. Her time at Bristol coincided with an uptick in visible protest, with campaigners marching to demand better mental-health support, joining picket lines to support striking lecturers, boycotting student surveys and calling for decolonisation of the curriculum.
She says: ‘By the time I was a Union officer, we were in a comfortable place with activism and felt we were in a good place to get things done. There was a strong feeling that civil disobedience wasn’t just about disruption, but about giving people a platform who don’t normally get heard. I think that’s one of the things about Bristol. People understand the power of direct action, and that it’s not about violence. When there have been occupations in University buildings, they didn’t trash the place.’
It’s a debate that rocketed to the top of the national agenda, after one event during the Black Lives Matter protests sparked by the police killing of George Floyd in the United States. Reactions to the toppling of slave-trader Edward Colston’s statue showed a close alignment between the University community and the city, Hillary believes.
She says: ‘Everyone came into sync in a way that didn’t need planning or negotiating. Students were discussing the University’s historic links to slavery, and the people of Bristol were talking about race in bigger and bolder ways. It wasn’t official: we didn’t bring people together and say, let’s go along with this in the name of the Union. Students wanted to take part, and they did.’
If the militancy of Bristol students has ebbed and flowed throughout the years, it’s arguable that the current generation is among the more politicised. Oscar Berglund points to the rent strikes by students confined to quarters during COVID lockdowns, and the 2022 occupation of the Wills Memorial Building in solidarity with striking academics.
He says: ‘Refusing to pay is a kind of direct action and it can be very effective. Sit-ins may be an age-old tactic, but a few committed people can achieve more than lots of people signing a petition. From the video, it seems as few as 15 people were involved in the Wills occupation.’
And irrespective of whether it changes the world, activism often has a profound and lasting effect on those taking part. ‘I remember the tremendous optimism,’ says Sue Tate. ‘We felt we could really make a fairer, more egalitarian world if we put our shoulders to the wheel. I learned something about participatory democracy, and felt heartened that so many people got involved and had their eyes and minds opened.’
Polly Neate would agree. ‘Bristol was part of my politicisation journey,’ she says. ‘Later on, one of my biggest political moments was speaking to a quarter of a million people at the London women’s march. Would I have become that person without my experience at Bristol? You can never say for sure, but when you look over your life, there are milestones that are important. That was definitely one of mine.’
"We felt we could really make a fairer, more egalitarian world if we put our shoulders to the wheel."
Dr Sue Tate (BA 1970)
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