On 27 September, the heart of Newcastle upon Tyne beat with renewed purpose. Thousands gathered in the city centre not just to march, but to stand united. Beneath the shadow of Grey’s Monument, people from every walk of life came together to say: enough is enough. Enough division. Enough hate. Enough fear.
The atmosphere was one of strength, but also of deep reflection. Few present, will forget the powerful and troubling account shared by the Fire Brigades Union (FBU) regional secretary, who described the moment his crew responded to a car fire in Middlesbrough during the riots last year Firefighters – public servants, risking their lives – the embodiment of public service attending scenes of crisis to protect the vulnerable.
His words struck a chord. They weren’t just a warning – they were a call to action. A reminder of what happens when trust breaks down, when people feel abandoned, and when solidarity gives way to suspicion.
Equally moving was the speech by a primary teacher from Northumberland, speaking on behalf of the National Education Union (NEU). He spoke not of politics or policy, but of children – and the world they naturally build. “They play together, they learn together, and they care for one another,” blind to the barriers adults later learn to create.
For anyone connected to primary education, this rings deeply true. As Chair of Governors at Byker Primary School, in the heart of Newcastle’s East End, I see this every day. Children from all backgrounds – different languages, faiths, cultures growing and thriving together. No suspicion. No division. Just friendship, kindness, and curiosity.
It’s in those classrooms and playgrounds that the foundations of unity are laid. And it’s no accident that teachers, like firefighters, are among those at the forefront of this movement. They know what’s at stake. They see it in their pupils’ eyes.
This moment is powerful – but it is not new.
To understand its full meaning, we must look back at the movements and values that built this city’s long tradition of protest and solidarity.
Forged in fire: Newcastle’s 19th-century roots
Newcastle’s spirit of protest is forged in the fires of industry and injustice. In the 1800s, the city was a vital centre of coal mining, shipbuilding, and engineering trades that powered the British Empire, but left many workers in poverty, danger, and exploitation.
It was in these harsh conditions that Newcastle’s working class began to organise.
In 1831, the city joined national demonstrations calling for political reform and voting rights. The pressure helped lead to the Great Reform Act of 1832, which, while limited, marked the start of greater political inclusion.
To honour the man who helped pass the Act, the city erected Grey’s Monument in 1838 – now one of its most iconic landmarks and the symbolic heart of protest in the North East. Charles Grey, the 2nd Earl Grey, also oversaw the passing of the Slavery Abolition Act of 1833, ending slavery across much of the British Empire.
The Monument stands for more than architectural pride. It has become a living symbol of resistance and democracy – a rallying point for working-class voices, from 19th-century reformers to today’s campaigners.
One of the era’s most influential local figures was Joseph Cowen, radical MP, newspaper editor, and tireless champion of workers’ rights, democratic reform, and international solidarity. Under his leadership, Newcastle gained a reputation as one of the most progressive cities in Britain.
Votes, strikes, and standing firm: the early 20th century
The early 20th century saw Newcastle’s defiant spirit continue.
The women’s suffrage movement had a strong base in the region. Members of the Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU) held rallies at Grey’s Monument and marched through the streets, demanding the vote and facing arrests and abuse for their bravery.
In 1926, during the General Strike, Newcastle stood firmly with its mining communities. Over a million workers joined the nationwide strike to oppose wage cuts and worsening conditions. The North East was a stronghold of resistance, where solidarity meant survival.
During the rise of fascism in the 1930s, the city’s anti-fascist tradition took form. Locals joined the International Brigades to fight in the Spanish Civil War, while organising at home against Oswald Mosley’s British fascists.
From coalfields to classrooms: post-war protest and people power
In the decades that followed, Newcastle continued to resist injustice and stand up for its people.
In the 1980s, during the bitter and politically charged Miners’ Strike, the North East rallied behind its communities. Picket lines, solidarity centres, and food banks sprang up in working-class neighbourhoods – proof that unity was more than a slogan.
In more recent years, Newcastle has stood firm against racism, war, and austerity. It has declared itself a City of Sanctuary, supporting refugees and asylum seekers. It has seen mass mobilisations against the Iraq War, against public service cuts, and in support of climate justice and LGBTQ+ rights.
Throughout it all, one thing has remained constant: when injustice rises, so does Newcastle.
The events of 27 September are not a one-off. They are part of a proud, unbroken tradition.
From Joseph Cowen to Newcastle United, from suffragettes to schoolteachers, from firefighters to food bank volunteers – Newcastle has always known what side it’s on.
Today, as chants echo down Grey Street and hope rises in the heart of the city, we send a message far beyond the Tyne:
We are not divided. We are not afraid. We are united.
Newcastle upon Tyne is, and always has been, a city of protest. A city of unity. And a city that stands its ground.
