There’s the inevitable breakaway marches, heading in the direction of Oxford Street, the City of London, or any other bastion of capitalism, where a dangerous cocktail of stupid, idealistic violence-junkies will meet a no-nonsense response from the Met.

That leads to a third ritual – the complaints about the media coverage, when a few dozen anarchists, smashing stuff up, will dominate the TV pictures, while the thousands of nurses, teachers and families with children marching along the official route are ignored. Underpinning all of this, is the greatest ritual of all – the debate about whether it makes any difference.

Simon Jenkins in the Guardian this morning runs through a list of demonstrations, from the Gordon Riots to Stop the War, pointing out that they had no impact. Not a bomb was banned, nor was hunting legalised, regardless of how many millions took to the street, writes the chairman of the National Trust.

Over at the Times, Phil Collins argues not only that demos are pointless, but also that they reinforce the impotence of opposition, a state, he argues, the Labour movement secretly enjoys. He reckons ‘it will be clear from every speech that the Labour movement hates the cuts. Almost as much as it loves them.’

Such professionalism cynicism should not drown out the enthusiasm and anger tomorrow. Unlike my friend Phil Collins, I cannot see into the hearts of every marcher and discern their true motives; but talking to many friends, mostly non-political ones, I detect a real anger and desire to stand up and be counted. It’s genuine, not synthetic, and it reaches well beyond the usual suspects, paper-sellers and political hacks. There’ll be quite a few coppers in plain clothes, not undercover, but joining in. There’s even a coach coming from Eastbourne, for heaven’s sake.

A demonstration reminds Labour that we are a movement not just a party, that we exist beyond the gothic walls of Westminster. It connects us to a wider public mood, and shows that politicians can articulate the views of ordinary people. There’s a sense of euphoria and exhilaration triggered by being part of a crowd of tens of thousands all heading in the same direction for the same purpose, like a cup final. I feel sorry for those that will stand on the other side of the crash-barriers, sneering, but unable to share in the solidarity. For many of us, who haven’t marched for a decade or more, there may be a twinge of nostalgia for the days of Scrap the Section, anti-apartheid and ‘grants not loans’.

Will it make a difference? Not in the immediate term. The government will not fall, nor the cuts be reversed. A demonstration must be part of a campaign, not an angry spasm. The route must lead, of course, not into to Hyde Park, but beyond to the ballot box, and the campaign to elect a Labour government.


Photo: Dafne Cholet