Roots and Rebellion: The Battle of Wood Green and a History of Resistance
The name Wood Green elicits a myriad of reactions. To some it's just a stop on the Piccadilly Line, to others a portal into the 2000s. An area of danger, a rejection of gentrification, a hub of diversity - Wood Green has come to symbolise many things. 49 years ago, Wood Green was the place where fascism in the UK took a crucial hit. The 1970s was a decade fraught with racial tension. As today, immigration dominated political debate, with Britain’s changing racial landscape becoming a flashpoint for public anxiety. Against the backdrop of economic crisis and rising unemployment, racist and fascist movements found increasingly fertile ground. The idea that immigration was the reason for these issues, that it was a direct threat to the lives and culture of Britons was a popular sentiment at the time. But on the 23rd of April 1977 North London fought back. Thousands descended upon Ducketts Common to thwart the threat of the National Front. Anti-racists and fascists went toe to toe and, nearly 50 years on, the Battle of Wood Green remains a critical moment in this country’s history. Living in similar times of divisiveness and hostility, it stands as a reminder of the importance of collective action and protest.
What was the Battle of Wood Green?
To understand the Battle of Wood Green, we first have to understand the mood of the time. Precluding Enoch Powell's infamous 1968 Rivers of Blood speech by a year was the formation of the National Front, a fascist political party that consisted of a merge between three far-right parties. Backlash against the perceived ‘excessive’ immigration was their main rhetoric and, similar to Powell, they enjoyed immense popularity and reach. From 1967 to 1972 their membership increased from 1,500 to 17,500 and as the years went by, they made many electoral gains. It was clear that their message was prevailing, subsumed by those who refused to accept a multicultural Britain. This was further exacerbated by the Immigration Act of 1971. Widely recognised as a piece of xenophobic, racist legislation it restricted immigration for Commonwealth citizens whilst simultaneously prioritising the citizens of white Commonwealth countries. This climate of racial hostility, and violence from the National Front, led to reverent anti-fascist and anti-racist backlash. Enter: The Battle of Wood Green.
Notorious for their street intimidation tactics, the National Front planned a St. Georges Day march from Turnpike Lane through Wood Green in Haringey, one of London’s most diverse boroughs. Local councillors, including a young Jeremy Corbyn, appealed to the police for a ban, but this was refused. As such, they worked together to show that the National Front was not welcome in Haringey. They were not alone – the people of Haringey, activists, anti-racist and anti-fascists and trade unionists too banded together to oppose the National Front. One important chief organiser was Bernie Grant, future Labour MP for Tottenham, one of the first Black British MPs. According to historian Keith Fleet, leading up the march, leaflets were handed out to the public and local Greek and Turkish cafes in order to try and mobilise as many people as possible. 1,200 National Front members met a 3,000-4,000 strong anti-fascist army, many who used flares, flour and eggs to scare off the National Front. A big clash emerged between the two, and the police, with the counter-protest managing to largely derail the National Front’s efforts.
What was its impact at the time?
In general, the 1970s were a transformative time for resistance and community led solidarity. The racism they faced from politicians, police and everyday citizens produced a resilient young movement unwilling to take it lying down.In the streets, in restaurants, in houses, they took any chance to commune and effectively organise.The Black British community alone yielded the Mangrove 9, the Black Power movement, the Organisation of Women of African and Asian Descent (OWAAD). Each of these movements represent the mood of the time for ethnic minorities in the UK - that they were tired of facing racism and inequality from the state, the police and the everyday person on the street. Liberation was the aim, and everyone was willing to play for it. The Battle of Wood Green was both timely and historic in that it sits at this intersection of this 70’s minority resistance, and a wider intolerance of fascism and hate. Labelled the “first major direct confrontation with the National Front” by Paul Holborow, organising secretary of the Anti-Nazi League in 1977, it established the model and mood for dealing with the hostile environment head on.
Not only this, it set the stage for the Battle of Lewisham in August of the same year, a critical demonstration in Black British, anti-racist and anti-fascist history. Like its predecessor, Lewisham involved direct confrontation with the National Front but this time they succeeded in completely stopping their march.Together these two demonstrations were crucial in breaking the National Front’s momentum; in Wood Green alone, the National Front’s vote share dropped from 8.0% to 2.8% between the 1974 and 1979 General Elections. In neighbouring Tottenham, Bernie Grant was elected Labour councillor in 1978, showing the changing politics of the area.
The desire to mobilise more efficiently was borne from Wood Green; it was a direct catalyst in the journey toward left-wing campaigners organizing a serious, anti-fascist network (the Anti-Nazi League) later on. The left had seen what their power could do and were determined to not let the moment pass. In the words of Corbyn, “by standing there that day… to say they shall not pass, the tide turned against the rise…intolerance and racism they were promoting”. This decade fundamentally changed the landscape in Britain, pioneering a new age of British activism, justice and power. Wood Green was an intrinsic part of it all.
Have we learned from this?
In 2017, crowds gathered around Ducketts Common to commemorate the march’s 40th anniversary. Reminiscing on the past and pondering the present, Jeremy Corbyn (at the time Labour party leader) remarked on the renewed “atmosphere [in] so many communities across this country…, the growth of xenophobia, the rise of the far right all across Europe, the antisemitism, the Islamophobia, the hatred that has developed” that meant that the Battle of Wood Green still needed to be loudly remembered. Nearly 10 years later, not much has changed. It is almost eerie how similar the present is to the 1970s. As parties and politicians stoke the flames of hatred it feels like we have been transported back in time. The summer of 2024 is a pertinent example. Ethnic minorities up and down the country faced the threat of violence due to misinformation and hate spread in the wake of the Southport murders. From Sheffield to Liverpool and beyond, people (encouraged by far-right figures) torched asylum seeker hotels, attacked non-white people on the streets at random, and looted from businesses run by ethnic minorities.The Race Quality Foundation outlined “a climate of escalating racialised hate…anti-migrant rhetoric, economic marginalisation…and institutional failures” as key factors that led to these events. Once again, we land at the same place with the same outcome, with those active in the 1970s saying it evoked memories of the time. Adding social media to the mix has created even higher heights of fear-mongering and division.
But just like then, the recent resurgence of the far-right has caused a counter-showing of solidarity and challenge. Demonstrations have remained one of the most prevalent forms of resistance in the U.K, something deeply embedded in British political practice. The meeting spaces and pamphlets have been swapped for social media sites and stories, the petitions now online, but the sentiment remains the same. Commune, connect, challenge. People in London, Newcastle, Bristol, Birmingham and more mobilised, forming anti-far right counter-protests almost immediately. As we enter a similar climate of racial hostility, fear and anti-immigration sentiment, these counter-protests are a clear indicator that, like the Battle of Wood Green, people will not allow their streets to be marred with messages of hate and intimidation. This is an impulse we should continue to cultivate if we intend to continue the fight in the same vein, and to the same degree of success, as our predecessors.
The panic felt by those before us at the National Front’s rising electoral success is undoubtedly what many felt upon Reform’s success at the recent local elections. A cycle of desperation, political manipulation and ignorance once again fuelling hate. When we step back and look at it all it is easy to see why the Battle of Wood Green is so important even now. It offers us more than just a history lesson - it gives us a guideline on how the fires of hate can be put out. By shows of solidarity, community defence, resistance. By combatting harmful rhetorics as loudly as we can. In Wood Green the essence is still apparent if you look closely; from bus stops to lampposts, flyers, posters and graffiti calling for people to gather, to resist, to discuss, to fight the power adorn the area. To fight just as fiercely against the return of hate. With the template they gave us, it is our duty to adapt it to our time. We can not only ensure that we carry on the mission our predecessors started but move it even further beyond.