Anti-war protesters gathered in towns and cities around the world to oppose the 2003 invasion of Iraq. In the UK, the movement became the biggest public protest the country had ever seen. Yet despite mass public opposition, the invasion went ahead a little over a month later.
Evidence in the Chilcot report, published on Wednesday, was vindication for all those who were passionately opposed to the war, specifically those against British involvement in the conflict.
In response to the report, Tony Blair expressed “sorrow, regret and apology” for some mistakes he made in planning the conflict, and that he accepted “full responsibility without exception or excuse” for the consequences of the war.
We spoke to some of those who took part in anti-war protests across the UK about how their lives were affected.
‘My hope is there will be, some day, a proper comeuppance for Bush and Blair’ – Anonymous, 50, London
I had known it was going to take place so, not knowing if I was going to join it, I went to central London to buy books, but could not resist joining. I was on my own, a couple of pints down, with my hefty backpack, I was drawn to Trafalgar Square. I didn’t really chat with the people around me, I just wanted to be part of it. I wanted the government and the media to know that there were so many of us.
I joined the march from Trafalgar Square heading to Hyde Park. It was packed, but I was glad to be there. The feeling was one of comradeship, not the drunken friendliness of Trafalgar Square on New Year’s Eve, but a sort of purposeful coming together.
I had hated the invasion of Afghanistan as it had seemed premature to me since they went in just as the government there agreed to cooperate and bring the local al-Qaeda groups to justice. That we were, without any real justification, following the US into an unnecessary war got my blood boiling.
I dropped out about halfway through. I should have stuck it out, gone to Hyde Park and cheered on the speakers. I felt I hadn’t done enough, but at least I had done something.
The worst feeling, the acid taste in the mouth and nose and heart and head, was knowing that we would not be listened to and the war was going ahead anyway. That was the most bitter feeling.
I have long believed that Bush and Blair are guilty, if not legally then morally. My hope is there will be, some day, a proper comeuppance for them. Unlikely, since Blair is slipperier than an oil covered Teflon eel. But one lives in hope.
‘It was an important first lesson for me in standing up for what you believe in’ – Dan, 27, Birmingham
I was 14 at the time and the war had been all the news was talking about. The march meant skipping school and heading into the city centre.
My history teacher said that it could be “the biggest disaster for world peace since the Iron Curtain”, which lit the touch paper for me and my friends who were semi-politically aware but, crucially, rebellious spirits. It was the first bit of international news I felt personally engaged with, so when the march in Birmingham city centre was announced, we resolved to go.
We were definitely the youngest there, but I was surprised at the diversity of the crowd. I’ll admit, I didn’t understand the issue in all it’s intricacy back then but the sheer number of people and amount of passion was infectious.
Needless to say, when I got back home my parents were furious. My school handed down punishments, but my form tutor and other teachers were individually quite supportive of what we did. Watching the news that night – mostly dominated by the yet more gigantic crowds in London – it felt great to know I’d been a small part of it all.
I’ll admit that I attended more out of pack mentality and rebelliousness than actual political activism at the time, but looking back I’m glad I did it. Understanding more about it now as an adult, I think I would have done exactly the same thing.
The most striking thing at the time was the passion of the other people in the crowd. They really believed in the cause, and even watching them was inspiring.
Even though it didn’t actually affect the outcome, it was an important first lesson for me in standing up for what you believe in.
‘We were ignored ... it obliterated political passion for my generation’ – Clare Burroughs, 30, London
I’m still so proud of being part of it but my passion, along with so many of my generation, died afterwards. I was 17 with a big, mixed group of mates from school. It was freezing cold but I felt so joyous, so righteous, so passionate.
But we were utterly ignored and we learned dangerously early, before we could even vote, that politicians don’t care what we think. They don’t care about our voice and that, no matter how loud you shout, how loud a million people shout together, you won’t be listened to. The word went round, apparently there’s a million people here, apparently it’s 2 million. It’s the biggest march in history. We’re part of the biggest march in history. How can they ignore us now? But they did.
My life after that was marked by a total dearth of political passion, and I don’t think that’s a coincidence. It’s tragic that the decisions of a small number of people obliterated political passion for my generation and it’s something I’ll never forgive them for. I still don’t trust any of them.
Since hearing Tony Blair’s pathetic comments that liberals were marching to defend a tyrant, I’ve felt a rush of emotions similar to that day, a moment that hasn’t happened before. I can’t understand how he misunderstood and dismissed so many people coming together like that. It’s repugnant.
It was, without a doubt, one of the most amazing days of my life. A rush of feeling of oneness with humanity that’s never been matched since.
‘I was hugely optimistic that we could avert the war ... nobody seemed to want it apart from Bush and Blair’ – Aiden, 59, Sweden
I was on a long holiday in India at the time and I felt so strongly about it that I flew back for the demonstration. I felt that if people marched maybe it would make a difference, and in that case every person could make a difference.
I remember the Labour party doing everything to make the London march difficult, with Tessa Jowell objecting to it ending in Hyde Park because she wanted to protect the grass. I remember thinking how odd it was to worry about grass but not the millions of lives that were going to be affected by the war.
I remember feeling optimistic that if this many people had made the effort to come to London, and all the other cities around the world, maybe the war would not happen. There was a huge outpouring of anger against the war and I thought that surely the government had to listen to all these voices. It was a strange feeling – on the one hand I was hugely angry that we were going to war and on the other hugely optimistic that just maybe we could avert a war that nobody seemed to want apart from Bush and Blair.
By the time we arrived in Hyde Park, the speeches were already under way and my friends had to make their way to the coach to return to Manchester. We spent a little bit of time catching up, but I think we realised the war was going to happen, they were too far down the road for it not to.
Forty-eight hours later I was back lying on a beach in Goa away from the grey skies and depressing mood of England.
‘I thought then and think now that the legal basis for war was very obviously not made’ – Nick, 47, London
My then wife and I took our 18-month-old daughter in her pushchair – when the report came out yesterday this was something I reminded her of. I remember huge numbers of people and an optimistic sense that we were marching with the tide of history. I remember fabulous banners, my favourite read: “Make tea not war.” I remember stopping off for tea and cake in the Royal Academy with all the other middle-class marchers and their babies!
I’m a lawyer, and I think the rule of law is important particularly in terms of maintaining our standing in the world. I thought then and think now that the legal basis for war was very obviously not made out, so I marched on a “rule of law” ticket.
We were right then to have marched, this was an unlawful war. I am proud to have been there. Chilcot is the first judgment of history on Tony Blair and I hope the report defines the way history will forever see his invasion of Iraq.
While I feel vindicated by the report, I am hugely sad that those prophets in the wilderness, Robin Cook, Charles Kennedy and Elizabeth Wilmshurst, who spoke the truth even at the time, were ignored as the Blair government pressed ahead regardless.
‘It’s definitely helped how politicians view these things since’ – Ceri, 29, London
I travelled up to the demonstration with my parents and my boyfriend at the time. It was maybe the third Iraq demonstration I’d been on so I could tell right away that this one was different. It was huge. To this day I’ve never seen so many people in one place.
The mood was defiant, but pretty sombre, especially compared with the September 2002 demonstration where things seemed a bit more up for grabs in terms of changing MPs’ minds. I think by the time of the big demo we knew the game was probably up, but it was a last ditch attempt to truly show how many of us were opposed to the government’s actions. I remember thinking for every one of us there on that grey day, there must have been 10 or so people who felt the same way but couldn’t be there.
It mattered a lot to young people like me. It set the tone for that era of politics: that democracy and views of ordinary people didn’t matter to most of our MPs at the time.
I feel vindicated by Chilcot, still proud of myself for going, and pleased that I had parents who were engaged enough to support me. It didn’t achieve the change of heart we wanted at the time, but it’s definitely affected how politicians view these things since, the Syria vote in 2013 being a prime example.
My only concern is that the distrust that was created all those years ago has never truly been addressed, not least by the Labour party. Jeremy Corbyn’s election as leader – which I didn’t support – was very much chickens coming home to roost for Blair.
