This post has been a while coming, and I apologise for its lateness. Last week was quite a hectic week for me (some of which will be explained imminently) and it seems I have had to spend most of this past week recovering! Because I’m now approaching things with a moderate degree of retrospect, I’m uncertain just how substantive this post will be, but I hope it will at least convey in part the extent of my feelings.

Monday 1st October 2007 was the date of the “big blockade” at a place called Faslane in Scotland, home to the UK’s main nuclear weapons base. This event had been advertised as “a carnival of resistance,” which I suppose wasn’t entirely far from the truth. There must have been between 500 and 700 protesters present, all gathering to celebrate the end of a year of on-and-off protests under the name of “Faslane 365.”

It also happened to be the date I spent my first time in a police detention cell.
I travelled up with a large group of people from Bradford, some known to me and some unfamiliar, not quite knowing what to expect. I’m not entirely sure what even drew me to participate in the event, except that it seemed a stand was being made and I wanted to be part of it.

After a very long Sunday of travelling and settling down (we were housed within a church), we broke off into smaller groups and discussed “strategies.” My own attitude toward the whole thing while we were travelling was that I knew there was a possibility of being arrested and detained. It became clearer to me, however, that only those blockading (that is, obstructing the entrance to the base) would be arrested, for breaching the peace of all things.

The small “affinity group” into which I integrated had the strategy of supergluing themselves. That is, we would lie on the ground, lock our arms around each other, and then superglue our own hands together. The idea was that this would make us difficult to move.

So the question is, why did I put myself forward for blockading rather than protesting on the side of the road, knowing full well that I would be arrested and detained for this civil offence? I suppose my answer would be similar to at least most of the other 170 who were arrested that day; that I am utterly opposed to the notion of any nation, especially Britain, having possession of nuclear weapons and thus wished to take a stand of direct action as a statement to the authorities that I, along with many of the public, will not allow the potential threat of violence on a mass scale to go unopposed.

On a more personal note, however (and I’m sure I was not the only one who shared this sentiment), I volunteered to get myself arrested because I have faith in a God of scandalous grace. The Jesus I worship proclaimed a love so passionate, so all encompassing, that it fell upon all people with neither condition nor discrimination. This is the God who, though He held the universe in His hand, was willing to make Himself into the form of a lowly carpenter to be with the poorest, most voiceless of society; this God who taught us to resist not the evildoer, and to make disciples of all nations in the name of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

How do we view this calling to “all nations” today when we understand that our governing authorities stand stockpiled with the threat of violence against one another? I was happy to be arrested and detained because some of the apostles themselves spent much of their time in prison for preaching the Gospel of peace under an empire which relied on the sword. Being detained for a day and then released is quite obviously small potatoes compared to what much of the early church had to go through for offering an alternative way of life to that which imperialism had to offer, but I was very happy to receive even only a taster.

On the morning of October 1st, everything happened so quickly. We were meant to have a signal for when we would lock and lie down together, but everyone seemed to dash onto the ground immediately, and I followed suit. After a few moments of disorientation, I superglued my hands together after locking them around one of my peer’s arms (unfortunately, part of my hand also caught onto her coat as I did this, and the surfaces must not have reacted well as this resulted in a little wound from which I’m still in the process of healing). As expected, the police warned us we would be arrested if we didn’t move. When it came to their realisation we were superglued together and couldn’t move, we were forced apart and escorted away from the base.

This happened after about five minutes, which seemed liked it should have been an utter failure; however, as two officers escorted me away, I couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of pride and accomplishment. Chris, a friend of mine who happens to be a vicar (and who himself was also arrested later that day), smiled at me as it was happening, saying “God bless you, Adam.” I’d like to think, of course, that my sense of peace came from God rather than simply seeing a man of the cloth approve of my actions. Although I admit it certainly helped.

God’s peace didn’t leave me all throughout that day, and I learned a lot from the experience. For one thing, the attitude from the police who dealt with me was consistently friendly, polite, and welcoming, which made for a stark contrast with how I’d perceived the actions of police at Climate Camp earlier this year, who had felt the need to engage in full riot mode against peaceful protest. Conversely, Faslane’s police exercised great gentleness for the most part (the only exception being when the officers who confronted us forced our hands apart), and far from being an annoyance I actually felt privileged to be detained under their authority for the day.

I took the opportunity to write a letter to the station while I was in my cell, conveying my gratitude and explaining in part why I had been there that day. I affirmed the officers’ integrity and dedication to serving the public (which I perceived as a God-given compassion), and, as a testimony to the Gospel, expanded on my faith in a God of love who abhors the use and threat of violence. I confessed that I pledge my allegiance to the One Kingdom, and said that I felt it was a shame that their sincerity in serving the public had to be wrapped up in such heavy institutionalisation; in closing, I expressed my hope that one day these police officers and I could stand together in the love and peace of God. I handed them my letter upon being released, and I’ll never know how they took it or even if anyone might have read it, but in the greater scheme of things it tends not to matter that much. I truly believe that those things we do for the glory of God are never done in vain, even if the results aren’t immediately perceivable.
I wasn’t alone in my cell throughout the day, being with another young protester, and later on an older protester who also turned out to be a Christian. It was a great day for me in quite a few senses, but mostly for being of the unshakable feeling that God’s work had somehow been done, and was continuing to be done throughout that day. I would probably have been quite bored in my cell if I wasn’t so sure that God was with me, as well as being active through the protest itself.

After I was released, Chris told me that the efforts of the earlier blockaders provided later groups with greater opportunities while some police were distracted, which was a sense of confirmation for me. The next day, some more from our group took Faslane by surprise by forming another small blockade while the rest of us stood by the side to offer our support (as well as play some wicked samba drums). Chris and I took to kneeling in prayer as police guarded the entrance and employees drove into work. Those two days, all in all, were quite a spiritual experience for me.

Of course, Faslane isn’t shut down quite yet. The UK still has nuclear weapons. The general public probably thought of us as an annoyance at very best. While the change of all these things is of course desirable for me, for now it was enough that so many like-minded people were making a stand, to say to the authorities that though they may go ahead and do as they wish, there will always be some who are not willing to sit back without taking a stand for what they believe in. From my perspective, it was one of those times when I just have the deep faith that somehow, somewhere, in a bizarre and mysterious way, God’s will was done.

And that’s good enough for me. For now, at least.