A Sea of Voices

This Saturday, 28th March 2026, I found myself among what can only be described as a tidal wave of people in London, hundreds of thousands gathering with a shared sense of urgency, anger, and hope.

There were, in fact, two major protests unfolding that day. One, organised with the support of the Palestine Solidarity Campaign, called for an end to the ongoing devastation in Gaza and voiced opposition to the escalating conflict involving Iran. It began in Exhibition Road, just outside the Natural History Museum, before moving through the city towards Trafalgar Square. The atmosphere was already electric, placards raised high, chants echoing through the streets, and a collective determination that was impossible to ignore.

Fascists we will run you out of every town

Speaker on Exhibition Road

Partway along the route, the march encountered a counter-protest, one expressing support for Israeli and US military actions in Iran. There were attempts to provoke and inflame tensions, but what stood out most was the restraint. The overwhelming majority chose not to engage. The focus remained firmly on solidarity, not division.

At the same time, another enormous demonstration was taking place: an anti–far-right march. As the day unfolded, these two vast crowds converged, merging into a single, powerful movement. Together, they continued towards Trafalgar Square, which quickly became so densely packed that many, myself included, had to redirect. I made my way towards Downing Street instead, where speakers addressed the crowd with passion and conviction.

Estimates placed the turnout at over half a million people, a staggering number, yet entirely believable when you were standing in the middle of it. Everywhere you looked, there were people: chanting, singing, dancing, beating drums. It wasn’t just a protest; it felt like a living, breathing expression of collective humanity.

And that’s what struck me most. Despite the heavy subject matter, war, injustice, political extremism, the atmosphere was not one of hatred. It was one of unity. Of people coming together not just to resist, but to imagine something better. There was tolerance, empathy, and a shared understanding that voices matter when they are raised together.

Protester along Downing Street

Smash the Fast

What was equally striking, however, was the silence that followed, at least from certain corners. For an event of this scale, this significance, the lack of coverage from major outlets like the BBC felt glaring. When so many take to the streets, demanding to be heard, the absence of acknowledgement raises difficult questions about who is being listened to, and who is not.

For me, though, the lasting memory isn’t the silence of institutions. It’s the sound of the crowd. The rhythm of drums, the chorus of chants, the laughter and conversations between strangers. It was a reminder of what people can be when they come together with purpose.

If this is any indication of what’s to come, then perhaps there is reason to feel hopeful. Long may this spirit continue to rise.

House Against Hate in Trafalgar Square