The Forest of Dean Miners' Riot of 1831 - Chris Fisher

 THE FOREST OF DEAN MINERS' RIOT OF 1831 -

CHRIS FISHER

No historian I and no academic either. Me? I left school at age 16 and never went to University. Not that I claim this as a virtue or that I plead ignorance as I'm actually pretty well read, if I might say so myself. 'Libraries gave us power' as the Manic Street Preachers once sang and it's a truism that working people have always been great readers and subsequently self-educators. Autodidacts, in other words.

'We will bargain but we won't beg' as RMT General Secretary Mick Lynch recently said in regard to the train strikes and in a similar fashion working people won't be denied what is theirs, meaning when it comes to education if they're not given a decent one then they will educate themselves. Likewise with their history, as in they won't live their lives between the parameters of what others have set, nor will they be defined by the accumulation and interpretation of past lives and events that have nothing to do with them. Working people will have their own history and they will not only read of it on their own terms but will also write it, which rather neatly brings us to the Bristol Radical History Group and their series of books, number 50 being The Forest Of Dean Miners' Strike Of 1831 by Chris Fisher.

In June of 1831, the free miners and commoners of the Forest of Dean rioted and according to the scant accounts available the rioters were 'silly, deluded, mistaken and misled'. Those accounts, however, were written by newspaper correspondents and magistrates so hardly indicative of an unbiased appraisal. Unless there is an on-the-spot reporter to witness such events, to this day and even more so back then, information is always supplied by the police or officialdom so it's always one-sided. This is how 'official' history is written and recorded but as with everything there are always two sides to every story.

Fisher tells us of a stand-off between the miners of the Forest led by a miner called Warren James and the Forest resident officers of the Crown led by the Deputy Surveyor of the Forest and magistrate Edward Machen. For years whole sections of the Forest had been locked up behind gates and fences and claimed as Crown property but come the summer of 1831 these enclosures were challenged and started to be destroyed, with Warren James posting notices around the Forest announcing the opening up of the enclosures and the right of common ownership.

On meeting with Warren James, Machen demanded to know under what authority would the miners open up the Forest? James declined to engage with Machen and instead produced an enormous pick-axe and along with 80 other miners began to break down the fences. This was the only voucher of privilege James and his fellow miners required and in the British history of those governed and governed-by it was a decisive and historic moment.

Machen read the Riot Act but was studiously ignored as the miners set about - in a very peaceful and methodical manner, it must be said - pulling down the fences. Humiliated, Machen had no other option but to leave, abandoning the Forest to the so-called 'mob' who as word spread was quickly joined by others in the liberation. Machen returned the next day with a makeshift group of soldiers only to be met by jeers and derision. Popular support for the opening up of the Forest was evident so once again Machen beat a retreat only to return again two days later with a much more considerable force of men in the form of a squadron of heavily armed Dragoons accompanied by 'every magistrate and gentleman of influence in the neighbourhood'. Under threat of massive violence, this time it was the turn of the miners and commoners to flee with Warren James being arrested and though spared the death penalty, being transported for life to Tasmania as a lesson and warning to others.

All in all it's a little known but interesting story that is actually an echo of other events throughout British history, even of the most recent kind. It's remindful, for example, of the 1980 St Paul's riot in Bristol where that area of the city was abandoned by the police after them being chased out by the mob, only for the police to return in much greater force to take it back. It's remindful of the 1985 so-called Battle of the Beanfield at Stonehenge where police used massive violence against ordinary men, women and children in a bid to prevent that year's free festival taking place. Even more recently, it's remindful of the 2021 Kill The Bill occupations and protests outside of Bristol's Bridewell Police Station and on Bristol's College Green where police violently ejected protestors, leading to excessive jail sentences for riot. There's an obvious pattern here.

My only criticism of Chris Fisher's book - though it's more of an observation, really - is in regard to when and how a riot is defined as such? As Fisher points out, 'the rioters worked in an orderly and disciplined manner' and 'offered no personal violence and indeed confined themselves wholly to the destruction of the fences', working 'in the same way as they would have worked at anything else'. So what, why, how and by whom was it defined and declared as a riot? The answer is by the magistrate Edward Machen through his reading out of the Riot Act, done so in a bid to disperse the miners.

Likewise in regard to the St Paul's riot of 1980, known and classed as a riot though if you were to ask the actual residents of St Paul's they would tell you it wasn't a riot but an uprising. The Battle of the Beanfield in 1985 on the other hand wasn't actually a battle in the slightest - it was a police riot though it's never called out as such. And then the Kill The Bill protests of 2021 in Bristol where those arrested are still being charged with 'Riot' and being handed lengthy prison sentences. Was it a riot or a protest and when does one become another anyway?  In this instance it would have been the police who arrested people under the Public Order Act but then charged them with 'Riot' but unlike magistrate Edward Machen they didn't at the time read out the Riot Act. So, protesters were arrested on one thing and then charged on another all on the whim of the police, their decision being more than likely influenced and informed by political pressure with the sentences meted out serving as lessons and warnings to others - just like Warren James being transported for life to Tasmania.

History it would seem repeats itself. And those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

John Serpico

Hey Nostradamus! - Douglas Coupland

 HEY NOSTRADAMUS! - DOUGLAS COUPLAND

I saw Douglas Coupland years ago at a book launch and found him reassuringly weird, like a cross between Talking Heads' David Byrne and Hannibal Lector. He was also unexpectedly witty, charming and self-effacing. Rather than simply talking about his latest book and reading extracts from it he instead conducted an interview with himself, answering a series of questions he thought it might be interesting to ask of himself. He was a funny guy. Very stiff, very composed, very paranoid.

An interesting thing about Coupland and indeed an almost unusual thing about him as a writer is how steeped he is in modern day pop culture, evidenced for example in the way he has used a Smiths song title - Girlfriend In A Coma - as a title for one of his books and even this one - Hey Nostradamus! - which is an echo of The Fall song Hey Luciani. However, whilst The Fall song concerns itself with the death of Pope John Paul I, Coupland's book is about a high school shooting.

It's divided into four parts, each part being voiced by a different narrator and by the time you're half-way into the first, you've realised just how good a book this is as it dawns upon you that the narrator is actually dead, a victim of the shooting. Weaving between the tale of her secret Las Vegas wedding at aged seventeen, her school life, and a description of the massacre, the narrator questions the point of there being a God if such events happen and so catapults the story into a whole other sphere. It's brilliantly done, with an honesty and deftness of touch that is rare.

The second narrator is the husband of the first, talking from the vantage point of being a widower and expressing himself in the form of a letter addressed to the children of his dead brother's wife. Not only does he describe what he witnessed on the day of the shooting and the trauma of cradling his dead wife's bloodied body but also the background to his relationship with her, his relationship with his religiously fanatical father and in the weeks following the massacre how he himself was suspected of being the mastermind behind it, fuelled by gossip and insinuation from the bible study group his wife once belonged to. It's not a pretty picture and religion doesn't come out of it well at all. There is also a totally unexpected twist to the narration when he reveals the children of his dead brother to whom he's addressing his letter are actually his.

The third narrator is the new partner of the second narrator whom he's ended up in a relationship with a few years after the massacre has taken place. She's also going through personal trauma as her partner has suddenly gone missing, believed to be dead. It's made the news because of who he is - the husband of one of the high school shooting victims who at one point had been suspected of masterminding the whole thing. It's a convoluted story involving loneliness, analogues and psychic messages but it makes sense, and it works.

The fourth and final narrator is the aforementioned religiously fanatical father who addresses his missing son in the form of a letter to him which he nails copies of to trees - like Luther nailing his 95 Theses to the doors of a church - in the hope a copy might one day be read by him when Sasquatch-like he emerges from hiding in the woods. Of all the narrators, and what with him being supposedly the closest to God, the father is the loneliest, the most wretched and the most desperate. God, as Douglas Coupland seems to be confirming, is merely a concept by which we measure our pain.

Ultimately, Hey Nostradamus! is about loss in a godless world. It's a riff on the modern age where randomness and atomisation are the grist to the mill and trying to make sense of the senselessness is akin to a ticking timebomb that mostly fizzles out in a sad, silent whimper but that sometimes explodes in wanton and inexplicable violence whose ripples course through society leaving some slightly wet and others drowned. Hey Nostradamus! is a worthwhile read and though it doesn't offer any answers and nor does it pretend or even attempt to, it poses plenty of questions.

John Serpico