I was in a riot once. No, it wasn’t the TopShop summer sale, nor was I part of a marauding mob. I was actually behind the police riot line – facing the surging, angry, baying crowd. 

I was 24, and it was New Year’s Eve at a crowded New Zealand tourist beach called Mt Maunganui, in the Bay of Plenty, south-east of Auckland. I was researching a photo-documentary book on the many different faces of the New Zealand police, and my photographer friend and I had wangled official permission to spend the night shadowing the Riot Squad. 

We weren’t sure if anything was going to happen, and for a long time nothing did. The crowd of surfer dudes, tourists and suntanned teens was jolly and easygoing. The members of the riot squad patrolled the beach, chatting and laughing with partygoers. 

As midnight struck everyone began to cheer and sing. The vibe was fantastic. 

Then it neared 1am – when the beach closed for the night. The police officers stretched out in a wide line and began to herd the revellers up the road and away from the beach. At first they moved willingly, but then one or two people decided to be difficult. They’d stop short, moving only when the officers came within inches of them. Then they stood there until the police had to nudge them forward. It was like a ridiculous game of chicken. 

The mood in the air began to shift. People went from laughing and singing, to shouting and complaining. Egging each other on, more and more people began to stop in their tracks. Then, in defiance, they turned around to face the police officers. Now we were at a standoff. The police holding the line, the jeering crowd about 10 feet ahead.

‘Keep back here,’ the squad leader ordered us, his jovial tone gone. 

The atmosphere was electric. I remember the energy between the two groups literally crackling, and all the hair on my body standing on end.

We stood there for at least five minutes, neither side prepared to move first, not quite tipping over into violence. Then, from somewhere in the crowd, a glass beer bottle was lobbed high in the air. 

‘Heads up,’ the squad leader yelled. The bottle smashed on the ground, and it was as if someone had sounded a starter gun. The mob erupted, yelling and hurling abuse. The faces of the revellers were twisted with hatred, spit flying as they screamed obscenities – the same people who, just half an hour earlier, had been screaming ‘Happy New Year!’. 

Glass bottles began to fly through the air like missiles, exploding everywhere. 

The riot squad went into position, shields and batons raised. ‘Hold the line, hold the line,’ the squad leader bellowed. Like an armoured snake, they ploughed forward into the crowd, striking decisively with their batons until the crowd yielded, and began to retreat. 

I hobbled furiously behind (did I mention that I was on crutches? I’d just had an ankle operation on my right ankle and my lower leg was in a cast) in utter disbelief about how quickly the night had turned. 

It took maybe 45 minutes to drive the crowd back up toward the town centre, and then disperse them.

I witnessed rioting from a perspective most ‘civilians’ will never see, and I tell you what – from that evening on, I’ve had the utmost respect for the job carried out by police, and very little sympathy for the way rioters are treated. 

I’m not talking civilised protests where police or government troops have waded in and used brutal and unnecessary force. I’m talking about situations where, like we’ve just seen, violent and destructive crowds have to be quickly quelled. Mob mentality is dangerous – it can turn reasonable people into mindless barbarians in a split second.

From the news reports I’ve seen and read there’s been a lot of anger about the levels of policing in certain areas over the past few days, and I can totally understand why people would have felt terrified, let down, and vulnerable. But I hope people remember also that the individual officers have been doing their jobs as best as they can, while following the orders they are given. Don’t let politics overshadow the amazing bravery they’ve shown.

So to them, and every one of the ambulance and fire officers also caught up in this week’s riots, I just want to say – thank you.