EYEWITNESS ACCOUNT:CLARENCE ROAD in Hackney, London, was in a state of near lawlessness for over an hour on Monday night.
When I arrived at 7.45pm the area surrounding the high-rise complex was thronged with police and civilians. Scores of teenagers and young adults were throwing bottles and rubble at police. Many others were encouraging violence and shouting abuse at officers. It became increasingly difficult to distinguish onlookers from those intent on disruption.
As the atmosphere became increasingly hostile I pocketed my smartphone that I had been using to take notes and photographs. I was worried it may provoke those around me. I took out my notepad and began taking notes.
A group in their late teens were loitering in the garden next to me. One youth wearing a balaclava began shouting in my direction. I neither looked at him nor ran away, fearing it would trigger a chase. Instead I turned my bike and steadily retreated.
Suddenly he and another youth sprinted towards me. As they struck my rear wheel, I lost control of the bike and collapsed on to the street. “Give me the notes, the notes!” one demanded. I threw my hands in the air, shouting, “I didn’t do anything, I didn’t do anything”. The two hesitated, glancing at riot police 60 yards away. Leaving my bike, I rose with my hands in the air and continued my retreat. I heard them trashing my bike. They didn’t pursue me.
As I descended several hundred yards down Clarence Road I passed numerous burned cars and hundreds of locals milling about aimlessly. Some were taking pictures. Others were drinking. There was no police presence in sight.
By 9pm the commotion had abated and I returned up Clarence Road. My bike was near where I had been attacked, the back wheel buckled and burning in a small fire. I picked it up and dragged it through the sparse crowd. The riot had moved on.
As I headed towards the train station, packs of young people flurried past, asking where the riots were.
Many were giddy, some were drinking. I told them it was unsafe and advised them to turn back. I was ignored.
I noticed the streets getting quieter as I advanced northwestwards across London. Most shops were boarded up, the police presence grew faint and there was a strained atmosphere.
Two opposing realisations were evident: one that violently triumphed an empowerment among the disaffected, the other that feared an end to a sense of communal security long taken for granted by everyone else.