This film will be shot in a wide range of locations around the world.

We would like to hear from as many people from as wide a range of cities, town and villages as possible. In addition to helping us find the most inspiring and extraordinary stories, we are building up a global archive of the the protest on Feb 15 2003.

So please add your stories right now, or get in touch with us to share your memories, thoughts, opinions about the day, and your pictures and video footage. We may well include some of them in the film, but we will certainly add them to the permanent archive, with your name attached to your material.

Where were you on 15th February 2003? Who were you with? What moved you to take part? And how did the day feel for you, and how do you see it looking back? Tell us about your experiences, we'd like to include them on the website.

Iraq
Question
@@@
10 weeks 3 days ago

I was on my way to Iraq as a journalist, knowing that the marches, the efforts, were completely futile, that materiel and soldiers had been shipped over there, that soldiers had been mobilizing and preparing in the desert for at least a year. That knowledge made me feel very lonely, very sad. I couldn't go to the march in NYC knowing as much as I did, that it would make absolutely no difference, like a bug trying to spit at a giant.

Here's a question. Why do we continue to look at OUR experience of this war, to glorify and examine our suffering, our pain, our journey? Why not look at the Iraqi people? Why don't we raise money to help them, rather than look at ourselves in a mirror? They are the ones who have paid the price of that war, while we have watched from a safe distance.

I completely understand if you choose not to publish this message.

Thanks

London
The first of many
Jane
10 weeks 3 days ago

February 15 2003 was the first of many demonstrations for me and my what a first, as I joined 2 million people on the streets of London, and many millions more globally! I was 12 and had made a placard which said "Moody Pre-Teens Against the War!". My friend, who was 13, had a similar placard saying 'Moody Teens Against the War'.

I picked up so many leaflets that day it was unbelievable. I talked to anyone and everyone. The atmosphere was like a carnival full of so many different people of all ages and all backgrounds. There was chanting, music, amazing placards, even a papier-maché Bush riding a missile like a cowboy! We didn't know how many of us were there - its nigh on impossible to estimate the size of a crowd that big from its midst - but we knew that there was enough of us that the Government couldn't fail to listen. We were the people, we would be heard. It was so exhilerating!

But of course they didn't listen... and my childlike view of the world, which had already taken quite a battering with 9/11, Afghanistan and the mere suggestion of war in Iraq, was destroyed forever. I still never gave up hope though. My childish thoughts of peace, love and harmony erupting from nowhere were replaced with a thirst for politics. Since that day I have attended many different demonstrations. Some small battles have been won and many large battles continue to be fought.

We are many and one day we will win.

Botanical Gardens, Brisbane, Roma St
Brisbane march
Patricia Hovey
28 weeks 1 day ago

I was one of about 10,000 people who gathered to march through the Brisbane streets from Roma St to the Botanical Gardens to hear speakers and performers, all there to protest about another war to be waged in our name and without our consent. I walked with people who had never been to a demonstration of any sort before but felt strongly enough about this issue to join the protest, as well as old friends and comrades - felt like we'd been doing this all our lives. It was a wonderful thing to be part of, knowing we were among the millions around the world trying to stop this obscenity from starting.

atmosphere, placards, pride
Sanity Please
Lindsey C
28 weeks 1 day ago

I remember it was freezing. I took my youngest brother - he was only 15, small for his age, and I dreamt the night before the protest that he died - I killed him. My Granddad had sent us a letter saying how important peace was, how important it was to protest. I felt a strange mixture of pride and responsibility, anxiety and sadness, and all day that bitter winter chill.

The coach park we left from in Bristol was packed but it was well ordered and organised. At Reading, the services were swamped - people were peeing in the bushes in the flowerbeds round the car parks. It felt like a huge family picnic.

We got to London and met our older brother. It was nice to be together, as a family unit. As we walked up to join the throng, we saw a group of people kneeling on mats on the lawn by the Thames, praying. Then a crowd of cyclists in fancy dress caught our attention, and then we were drawn in to this vast, vast crowd.

The atmosphere was almost celebratory - it was impossible not to feel excited that so many people were united in this one cause, despite the seriousness of that cause. There was music from sound systems that were being wheeled along, chants to shout, outfits to enjoy, placards to read. 'Librarians for peace - and quiet', I especially liked. We walked and walked, making slow progress but enjoying ourselves, enjoying being with each other and the camaraderie of the crowd. I realised how unnecessary it had been to worry for Ben's safety - we were among friends.

My camera ran out before we got to Hyde Park, and I didn't get to capture my favourite image of the day. One man stood alone in that dreary greyness, his placard held high reading 'Sanity, please'. And it felt exactly right - thousands upon thousands of diverse, decent, peace-loving people had come together to ask the government they'd had so much faith in, and been so optimistic about, to stop all the nonsense and just behave in a sane, humane way - please.

Blair, Conference, Dundee, Glasgow, Labour, SECC
Dundee to Glasgow
Mike Arnott
28 weeks 1 day ago

On a glorious Saturday morning,we left Dundee for Glasgow on 15th February 2003 to surround Blair in the Scottish Exhibition & Conference Centre on the Clyde, where he was addressing the Labour Party Conference. I'd been at the Assembly of the Social Movements at the ESF in Florence in November 2002, where the call had gone out for a worldwide demonstration against war with Iraq on 15th Feb 2003.
13 coaches left Dundee that day; a phenomenal number and far more than for any demo I've been on, before or since. Students from one school even booked their own coach, having been involved in anti war activities in the lead up to the demo. They were spontaneously on the streets again when war broke out in March.
When we arrived we found that Blair, scheduled to speak in the afternoon, had sneaked in and out of the SECC in the morning so as to avoid us. Apparently the venue had refused the demo organisers access to a power supply for a PA system, due to the noise disturbance we might cause the conference delegates. An old open topped double decker bus was found and used both as speakers platform and PA power supply. Well over 100,000 on the demo, and when we got back we saw the amazing TV footage of events in London and around the world.

Buses-South Wales - Fred - huge - two million
What a day that was wasn't it
Helen Hintjens
10 weeks 3 days ago

Fred could just not believe it. From Swansea he'd planned about 4 or 8 buses. But there were 40. No kidding. Or was that from South Wales. It was like Convoy, the movie, along the motorway, with the buses heading down for the centre of London. I must be dreaming, or making this up. Please, Fred, tell me I am not inventing the amazing events of that day. 15 Feb 2003. The buses were lined up along the main road, outside the Art Gallery and the library, and everyone got on board. Everyone. Friends and enemies, husbands and wives, estranged or not. Kids and their parents. Even teenagers out with mum and dad for once. Just ourselves, and yet changed, charged with an energy that came from knowing there were no more coaches - even school buses had been hauled out to make the trip. It was interesting. The day had its drama, as I got soundly slapped in the face with a 'thwack' by the angry and jealous wife of some socialist plonker who'd been after my ass (pardon the expression). But even my dressing down did not spoil the peace, for me. I told her something stupid like I wanted to be her friend, and smiled. 'And stop bloody smiling at me' she screamed. But I could not 'wipe that smile off my face', no matter how I tried. The day was so fine, so free, that NOTHING could spoil it. Not then, not now. Not even the war itself, later, killing killing for nothing but bucks, could spoil that day we marched. Seen from here, the day, all the people in it, all of them, without exception, remain beautiful, as if in a glowy light. We were right, all of us, the woman who slapped me, her stupid husband, their wonderful kids, me, the students carrying posters that made me cry with laughter - make tea not war, Tony Blair a teapot on his head. Life went on, petty things, do I have to shout this three word chant, can I skip ahead to the hippy drummers and dancers in pink? Hey this march includes absolutely everybody. I had been on so many marches, including a march of a million for the end of the miner's strike, but this was completely different. It was much, much bigger. It took a long time to get into Hyde Park, or whichever park was it, and I felt I knew the trendy wrought iron gates as one knows the shape of a friend's hand. Whenever I see them now I say - ah that home of ours that day; we'd sanctified the park by our presence and the bodily visits of Bianca Jagger, believe it or not, Jesse Jackson. Huge figures, towering puppets, singers (I can't remember which was which). God what had we done to deserve this wonderful day? Our roaring and clapping. We'd all turned up. Just got on the bus. And went. That's all we'd had to do to deserve that day. Wasn't it?

Love (and no fear)
Nell xx

baby, first
My daughter's first demonstration
Amy Crane
29 weeks 10 hours ago

Having grown up as the daughter of a revolutionary socialist, I am no stranger to marching around with placards, in fact, my brother and I used to make a game of it in the garage where we often stored them for the SWP.

However, my daughter was new to the game when February 15th came around, having only been born in October. It was a cold cold day as I remember, but undeterred I snuggled her up in a snow suit and strapped her onto me, armed myself with a few nappies, and caught the train from St. Neots to Kings Cross. By some miracle involving a phone box (no, I didn't have a mobile phone), I managed to meet up with my parents who had come down on a coach full of demonstrators from West Yorkshire and off we went. We definitely made one stop before we really got into the main part of the march for a feed and a very chilly nappy change on a bench somewhere, and then I don't really remember a whole lot after that. Aside from thousands and thousands of people.

Oh yes! - I kept worrying that all the whistles that people were blowing would wake Eleanor up. They certainly gave her a start a couple of times, but she soon snuggled up again in her sling which by now was accessorised with a Not In My Name sticker. I didn't make it all the way to the end of the march as there came a point when the crush looked like it might become a little worrying for a woman with a baby strapped onto her chest, and I couldn't see any obvious way that I was going to be able to get to a sit-down point to feed again, so I ducked out when I could, having said goodbye to my parents.

I have, of course, been on a fair few demonstrations since then, some with daughter, some without. But that one sticks in my mind for many reasons.

Berlin, documentary, film festival, London, We Are Many
My Story
Amir
29 weeks 1 day ago

My own involvement in this project began, unsurprisingly, on 15th February 2003, in Berlin. I was attending the Berlin Film Festival, as part of the first Berlinale Talent Campus, where I was, where I was making a short documentary film.

I duly made the film and was lucky enough to win the runner up prize that year in the Talent Campus film competition.

But in fact, an even more memorable part of that trip came at the end of my stay. On a very cold Saturday, I joined a huge crowd of people in a protest against the impending war on Iraq. The organizers estimate that 500,000 people marched in Berlin. It was certainly the biggest group of people, let alone protest, that I had ever been a part of. Even at that time, I had no idea how large the worldwide protest was on that day.

When I returned to London, friends who had marched in London told me about the size of the protest there. The Stop The War Coalition estimated that around 2 million people marched in London.

Two years later, I realized that I needed and wanted to make a film to document this historic event. And now here we are, on the verge of getting this made.

Please tell us your stories. My dream is that as many voices of the voices of the millions of people who marched around the world on 15 February 2003, will join this site, share their memories and stories, their pictures, to meet each other, to talk to each other, forge an online movement, to create a digital monument to 15 February 2003, and to keep that campaigning spirit alive.