Angry Scotland II

ISLAY McLEOD witnesses a sectarian disturbance which brings the historic heart of Glasgow to a standstill

Early closing

As Orange marches go, it was a small one and out of season. The low-key police presence consisted of a patrol car leading the procession and one forlorn bobby on foot. As they marched along George Street past the city chambers, there was a scattering of spectators. I took a few photographs, not expecting that I would ever use them. It was 6.15 on Saturday evening.
     A few minutes after the marchers disappeared out of sight, the distant drum-beat ceased abruptly and was replaced by the wail of sirens. Piercing and continuous, it could mean only one thing. I followed the sound a few hundred yards from the fashionable Merchant City into the historic and far from fashionable heart of Glasgow, the Trongate.
     The scene there was chaotic. The marchers were now tightly confined within a no-go area surrounded by solid lines of police blocking any progress along the Gallowgate into the east end. Traffic had been brought to a standstill and no-one was being allowed through the police cordon. The main route into the constituency of Glasgow East, won by Scotland's governing party just over a year ago, was now impassable. The clock on the Tolbooth showed 6.40. You had to remind yourself that this was Scotland's largest city on a high summer evening in the 21st century.
     
What had happened? It seems that when the marchers reached the Trongate, a group calling themselves the Celtic Casuals arrived on the scene, impeding their progress and throwing missiles across their path. I watched amazed as one of the busiest pubs drew down its shutters. When I asked the obviously terrified manager if they were closing, she replied: 'We cannae take the risk, darlin'. Several dozen punters were then effectively imprisoned inside.
     Meanwhile, in the streets, a victim of the attack – a man naked to the waist – was mopping blood from his face. A pregnant woman in an orange hoodie looked on horrified. Despite the heavy police reinforcements, the tense mood in the crowd turned ugly as cries and arms went up calling for the march to be allowed to continue.
     The police did an efficient job, rounding up suspected trouble-makers and escorting them to a side street a short distance from the blockade. There, police dogs barked and lunged. One of the bystanders told me: 'I'm trying to keep ma brither oot o' the jail.'
     Just after seven, it was considered safe enough to re-open the road. As the procession turned into Moir Street, buses and cars started to move freely again. The pub re-opened, too, and a young woman emerged shouting 'Hail, hail, the Pope'. She was arrested on the spot and taken away in a police van.
     A member of the Catholic community told me: 'These marches shouldn't be allowed. What they're doin' is legitimate, but if they want to demonstrate they should do it in some park and not through the streets. The guys who disrupted it were just a bunch of idiots.'
     By half past seven, everything was back to normal – whatever normal means in Glasgow.

For the authorities, however, two questions remain:
     Why did they sanction an Orange march through a notorious battleground of conflicting loyalties? Some assured me it was not the usual route.
     Why did they allow it to take place at the end of a Saturday afternoon of traditionally heavy pub drinking?
     The larger questions – of continuing, deep-seated tribal hatred – remain, of course, unanswered and seemingly incapable of solution.

George Street, 615: small march, no trouble

Few spectators: absolutely no sign of what is soon to come

The marchers include several young women

As well as several old men

They're moving out of sight now – towards the Trongate

The historic heart of Glasgow

Now the police are everywhere and a horrified crowd has gathered

The march has been brought to a halt by violent protest

The drum on the ground says it all

One of the victims

The onlookers include small children

A typical reaction

Too terrified to stay open – a pub draws down the shutters

Finally, the police decide to allow the march to continue. The marchers avoid the street sign thrown into their path

The pub re-opens

The suspected trouble-makers are rounded up and taken to a side street for questioning

The marchers have gone, but the aftermath continues

And the streets are still being patrolled

All photographs Copyright Institute of Contemporary Scotland, 2009