Remembering the battle of Cable Street

by Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah

Three days ago, on October 4th, it was the 70th anniversary of what became known as ‘The Battle of Cable Street’, when thousands of people crowded the streets of East London, determined to ensure that the fascist politician, Oswald Mosley, and his brigade of 3,000 ‘black shirts’, would ‘not pass’. Although the police mounted on horses attempted to escort the fascists through the area, they were prevented from marching by improvised barricades, made up of sundry items – like pieces of furniture – and swarms of people – including local shopkeepers, householders and Dockers – armed with bottles, hot water, rotten fruit, eggs, the contents of chamber pots, and other improvised weapons.


No one knew what the exact route would be; the four areas the fascists were to meet in were Leman Street, Gardiner’s Corner at Aldgate, Cable Street, and St George’s Street (which is now known as The Highway). At Gardiner’s Corner, a tram was overturned by its driver to stop the fascists getting through. Leman Street was also blocked by protesters – despite the attempts of the police to clear it. The ‘black shirts’ didn’t want to march along St George’s Street, because Wapping was a Catholic area. Finally, unable to pass down Cable Street, the Metropolitan Police Commissioner, Sir Philip Game, ordered the fascists to abandon the march, and so they turned back and marched instead through the deserted streets of the City of London. By the time the confrontation had ended, dozens had been injured and arrested, but no-one had been killed. (See:www.untoldlondon.org.uk; www.eastendtalking.org.uk).


The stunning victory against fascism that day was later overshadowed by the rise of the Nazi regime in Germany, the subsequent Nazi conquest of much of the continent of Europe, and the enslavement and mass killing of so-called ‘non-Aryans’, in particular, the murder of six million of our people. In the context of twelve long years of terror, the events of one day may seem fairly insignificant. But it is important for us to remember that although the triumph on the streets of the East End of London was eclipsed by later horrors, the Battle of Cable Street was a wonderful testament, not only to ‘people power’, but to the ideals of social justice and equality, as well as ‘old fashioned’ values, like ‘decency’ and ‘tolerance’ and ‘good neighbourliness’.

So, what was the background to that unique day? Inspired, in particular, by Mussolini in Italy, Mosley set up the British Union of Fascists in 1932 – a year before Hitler came to power in Germany. A virulent anti-Semite, the march through the centre of the Jewish East End, had been planned for months. Mosley was banking on the support of the white working class in an area, which had become home over the years to many different immigrant groups – especially the Irish, Chinese, and, at that time, to around 110,000 Jews. But although Mosley did recruit large numbers to his cause, the Battle of Cable Street sent out the message that many thousands not only rejected his politics of Jew-hatred and fascism, they were prepared to resist – and, gradually, the British Movement of Fascists became a spent force. The authorities also endeavoured to make sure that such a confrontation could not be repeated with the passing of the Public Order Act of 1936, which made it illegal for members of a political party to march in uniform (www.untoldlondon.org.uk; www.eastendtalking.org.uk).

The Battle of Cable Street was an exceptional event – but it also had a very important context. That same year, Civil War had broken out in Spain, and people from across Europe joined the ‘International Brigade’ in an effort to overthrow Franco’s fascist dictatorship. In her account of the events of October 4th 1936, Kate Smith points out that, ‘The rallying cry of the anti-Franco forces was “No Pasaran!” – they shall not pass’, and that ‘[i]n the days before the Battle of Cable Street, the Spanish civil war slogan "No Pasaran!" was written on walls and pavements around Cable Street.’ (‘Seventy Years Since The Battle of Cable Street’, www.untoldlondon.org.uk)

The streets of the East End were filled on that October day seventy years ago, with local people, but also with others, who came to the aid of the East-Enders. Interestingly, the connection between the events in Spain and in the Battle of Cable Street was even more tangible than the telling Spanish slogan, ‘No Pasaran!’ That very same day, the Communist Party were due to hold a political demonstration in Trafalgar Square to show support for the people of Spain in their struggle against Fascism. But the organisers of the march, together with members of the Labour Party, who were also involved, thought it was wrong to demonstrate against Fascism in Spain, while allowing fascists to march in London, so the demonstration was cancelled, and everyone went to the East End to stop Moseley instead (www.eastendtalking.org.uk).

When I became a socialist in my late teens, while studying for an ‘A’ Level in Sociology, my mother, Zichronah Livrachah – May Her Memory be for Blessing – told me about how she first became a socialist herself – in the 1930s. Just thirteen years old when the Spanish Civil War broke out in 1936, she joined the Labour League of Youth, and would go from house to house, in the area where she lived, around Clissold Park, North East London, collecting blankets and warm clothes to be sent to the young men and women, who were fighting Franco’s fascists. My mother’s story reminds me, not only that personal testimony is so important, but also that there are good historical precedents for people living in one place, taking action on behalf of other people, living somewhere else – even when those other people live a very long way away.

I went on to do a degree in Sociology at LSE, and relished the opportunity it gave me to learn in greater depth about Marxism, the development of the various socialist movements, and the rise of Fascism in Europe in the 1930s. But it was the recollections of my then father-in-law, Stanley Galloway, Zichrono Livrachah – May His Memory be for Blessing – who died thirty years ago last month, recalling his youth in the East End in 1930s, that left the deepest impression on me. A teenager at the time, just five foot, two inches tall, but brave as a lion, Stanley, who lived with his family in Brick Lane, was one of the thousands, who filled the streets on the East End that day and made sure that the fascists could not pass. He later went on to join a local band of anti-fascists, who continued to challenge fascist individuals and groups, throughout the succeeding four decades of his life.

Checking the Internet for information about The Battle of Cable Street yesterday morning, I was very struck by the snippets of personal testimony recorded. A certain Charlie Goodman recalls (‘The Battle of Cable Street’, 1936, untoldlondon.org.uk):
And it was not just a question of Jews being there on 4th October, the most amazing thing was to see a silk-coated Orthodox Jew standing next to an Irish docker with a grappling iron. This was absolutely unbelievable. Because it is not a question of... a punch-up between the Jews and fascists, it was a question of the people who understood what fascism was. And in my case it meant the continuation of the struggle in Spain.

The comments of another East-Ender, Joyce Goodman, also tell us about how people continued to carry the memory of that day inside them, and the extent to which it became part of their personal histories (‘The Battle of Cable Street’, 1936, www.untoldlondon.org.uk):


Now a few years later I met Charlie, my husband. And one of the first questions he asked me was ‘Where were you on October 4th?’ Everybody laughs at this, but this is what East Enders asked themselves in those days. And I said ‘I was at Gardiner’s’ and he said ‘I was there too’. And I said ‘I might have missed you, there were a few thousand there’. And he said, ‘You might have seen me. Can you remember a young fellow climbing up a lamp-post and calling to the crowd?’ And I clearly remembered it. Because we were being pushed back, the police were shoving us back, and suddenly this young man got up on a lamp-post and shouted: ‘Come on you yellow bellies, don't let them push you back, come forward!’ And that, of course, was Charlie.

The Battle of Cable Street on October 4th 1936 is history. But history is not just a chronicle of the facts about the past. And it is not just the preserve of historians, who study the past, and make sense of it in their different ways. And it s not just a subject we learn about in school. We, of all people, know that history is also about memory, and about the way in which we are shaped by our memories and shape our memories in turn. Individuals do this all the time. And so do communities and peoples. At Sukkot we return to the story of the Exodus from Egypt, and remember how our ancestors dwelt in the wilderness for forty years. That well-known story, an epic adventure told in three chapters – at Pesach, Shavuot, and Sukkot – is also the story we recall every Shabbat, when we speak of the seventh day as a ‘memorial of the Exodus from Egypt’ – zeicher litzi’at Mitzrayim – and for those who pray on a daily basis, the Exodus is also remembered two times every day, when the G’ulah, the blessing of ‘liberation’ is recited after the Sh’ma. It is also the story which forms the centre-piece of the Torah, the Five Books of Moses, which we read in an annual cycle, year after year.

The particular story that our people returns to again and again in all these different ways is not only the story of our people; and it is not only the story for our people. The African slaves of North America who sang ‘When Israel was in Egypt’s land’ were inspired by the Exodus. And as Michael Walzer demonstrates in his excellent study, Exodus and Revolution (Basic Books, New York, 1985), the Exodus has left its imprint on political thought and action throughout the ages. But that’s not all: Wherever in the world today, there is oppression and genocide, wherever people are forced to flee persecution, wherever people are denied their human rights, the story of the Exodus continues to defy the narrative of the oppressors and tyrants everywhere and proclaims, not only that Injustice is wrong, but that Justice will prevail in the end. The Battle of Cable Street lasted just one day – but the events of that single day trumpeted the defiant message of the Exodus with every shout of ‘They shall not pass’. Today, on Sukkot, when we wave the lulav and the etrog in all the directions of the compass, to the East, to the South, to the North, and to the West, as well as towards the sky above and the earth beneath, let us, too, proclaim the eternal truth we find in our prayers for the Yamim Nora’im, the Days of Awe: ‘The rule of tyranny shall pass away from the earth’. And let us say: Amen.


Rabbi Elizabeth Tikvah Sarah
Brighton & Hove Progressive Synagogue – Adat Shalom Verei’ut, Sukkot 5767 – 2006