How do you get into Who�s Who?
Get beaten up 500 times and tackle
Peter Tatchell | February 08, 2005
London — From the outside, my flat looks like a prison, with iron bars on the
windows and a thick steel-frame door with three giant bolts. But the
high-security isn't to keep me in; it's to keep my violent opponents
out. There are plenty of them.
In 1983, when I stood as the Labour candidate in the Bermondsey
by-election, the attacks came from local homophobic yobs and skinhead
supporters of far right groups: the National Front. In the mid-1990s,
the police uncovered a plot to kill me by the neo-Nazi terrorist
group, Combat 18. More recently, I have been targeted by Islamic
fundamentalists and agents of President Robert Mugabe�s regime in
Who else sleeps with a fire extinguisher for bed-time company? And
with a rope ladder, so they can make a fast escape out the upstairs
window? It is an extreme way to live, but my human rights causes often
arouse extreme reactions.
The last two decades have been like living through a civil war. My
home has been attacked a hundred times: mostly bricks through the
windows – until the bars went up. There have been three arson attempts
and a bullet through the letter-box.
I've been physically assaulted over 500 times; mostly by young thugs
laying in wait outside my south London council flat, but also by
organised Right-wing gangs. There have been a few attempted
stabbings, but most of the attacks have involved being punched, kicked
and bashed with a variety of weapons: bottles, iron bars, rocks and
sticks. Amazingly, I have never been seriously injured; largely thanks
to a combination of quick wits and fast legs. On the bright side, the
assaults are much less frequent than 10 years ago – only one a month
What motivates my human rights campaigns and makes me put up with
these death threats and violent attacks? Quite simple: I love other
people and loathe injustice. Seeing others suffer distresses me.
Amnesty International does wonderful work, but to maintain its
influence with governments it cannot run around ambushing and
arresting tyrannical Prime Ministers and Presidents. That is where my
direct action protests are useful. I can do things that Amnesty
When I fight injustice I go at it like a terrier. In 2001, I tried a
citizen's arrest of Mugabe. His bodyguards beat me unconscious;
permanently damaging my memory, concentration and eyesight. But
injuries are nothing compared to the terrible tortures inflicted on
Mugabe's critics inside Zimbabwe. In a way, my beating was a good
thing, because it helped alert the world to the brutality of the
When people said my bid to arrest Mugabe was brave, I winced with
embarrassment. Real bravery is the courage of Zimbabweans who defy
police whips, tear gas and bullets to vote for the democratic
opposition and to protest against Mugabe's curbs on press freedom and
trade union rights.
Do I ever get afraid? Of course. Every protest is nerve-wracking. I
fear being foiled or being arrested and beaten up. My stomach churns,
my heart pounds and my body temperature drops. I feel sick. But when
it is all over, and I am lying handcuffed in the back of a police van,
I feel serenely calm and relaxed.
Much of the inspiration for my campaigns comes from protest leaders
like Mahatma Gandhi, Sylvia Pankhurst and Martin Luther King. I have
adapted some of their ideas and methods – and invented a few of my
own, like challenging homophobic church leaders in their Cathedrals.
Together with my colleagues from the gay rights group OutRage!, in
1998 I interrupted the Easter Sermon of the then Archbishop of
Canterbury, Dr George Carey. I criticised his support for anti-gay
laws, including the discriminatory age of consent. The protest worked.
Shamed and embarrassed, Dr Carey toned down his opposition to gay
equality and agreed to meet the Lesbian and Gay Christian Movement,
after refusing to do so for eight years.
Although much of my campaigning has been for gay human rights, I care
equally passionately about all human rights abuses – against anyone
for any reason. Global poverty is a violation of human rights. Why do
we tolerate it? If every government cut its military spending by a
mere five percent and put the money saved into a global fund to fight
poverty, within 20 years we could completely eradicate malnutrition,
illiteracy, slum housing, and preventable diseases like dysentery,
cholera, malaria and TB.
In all my years of campaigning I have never been paid. To make ends
meet, in addition to the campaigns I do bits of research and
journalism. I live on around �7,000 a year – below the poverty line in
the UK, but luxury for most people in Africa and Asia. Over 1.2
billion people on our planet don't even have essentials like safe,
clean drinking water. I count myself lucky.
It is amazing what can be achieved on slim resources. I have no
office, staff or campaign funding - apart from occasional donations
from well-wishers to my human rights fund – www.tatchellrightsfund.org.
I work 12 to 14 hours a day, seven days a week. In the middle of a
campaign, I rush meals and average only four hours sleep a night. No
wonder I haven't got a boyfriend.
The daily routine is unrelenting. There are hundreds of phone calls,
letters and emails to be answered. Many involve advice and assistance
to individuals suffering victimisation. The rest of my day is spent
organising campaigns. I am currently planning a series of protests to
support genuine asylum seekers refused refugee status. These people
have been jailed, tortured and raped in countries like Iran, Zimbabwe,
Jamaica and Algeria – and still the Home Office wants to send them
I have had only four evenings off in the last six months. My campaign
successes give me great joy. But the long hours and constant pressure
leave me feeling perpetually tired and prone to illness. It is not a
good way to live. I wish a wealthy philanthropist would agree to help
out by funding an office and staff. Then I could have relaxed meals
and eight hours sleep a night.
I have my dark moments when the assaults, workload and vilification
become too much. Sometimes, I think about disappearing to a remote
Pacific island and doing something care-free like running a boat hire
business. These feelings never last long. On hearing the latest
campaign success, I bounce back full of enthusiasm.
This year, for the first time, I have been listed in Who's Who � in my
entry I put my hobby as �ambushing tyrants�. Although I never want to
be part of the establishment, I am glad to be included. It is an
acknowledgement of the validity of my human rights causes. It is
better to be appreciated than reviled.
Much to my surprise, I was invited to take part in the just-finished
series of Celebrity Big Brother. They offered a huge personal fee
(three times my annual income) and �30,000 to donate to one of my
favourite charities, Sight Savers International (every pound donated
helps save the sight of two people in the developing world who are at
risk of blindness from trachoma). But I turned it down. I would have
felt awkward. I don't regard myself as a celebrity and my involvement
would have demeaned and devalued my human rights work, probably
resulting in people taking my causes less seriously in the future.
Having seen the humiliation of Germaine Greer, I am glad I said No.
Looking back over my life of campaigning, I don't feel self-satisfied.
The idea of retiring is a non-starter. I can easily imagine myself
continuing to protest into my 90s. Watch out tyrants and torturers, I
will still be after you in the 2040s.
The veteran human rights activist is now part of the Establishment –
but he has vowed to keep �ambushing tyrants� even when he 90 – Issued by OutRage!
Activist Tatchell seeks Mugabe's arrest [04/01/2004]