The spirit of direct action which reached from the Middle East to the council chamber at Leeds Civic Hall was in the air throughout the year. The Occupy movement which began in New York City in September, inspired by the Arab Spring protests and by the Spanish Indignants who have held their fort in central Madrid since the early summer, spread across the world. Under the slogan "We are the 99%", the movement came to Leeds in November.

Hidden away on City Square, the Leeds movement amounts to barely a dozen tents and the occasional banner. Protestors say the site has attracted up to twenty different people on any given night, with many more stopping to find out more or in some cases to hurl drunken abuse. Even Billy Bragg came along to lead the protestors in song.

Though their banners proclaim familiar slogans about government cuts, inequality, or public services, few among their number would claim to offer a firm political vision. The Occupy Leeds 'mission statement' calls for "significant, radical change", and for "normal people to stand up and demand a fair and sustainable system". But again, it is yet another protest, another expression of disaffection and dissatisfaction.

In spite of the winter winds across the West Riding this month – especially harsh when funneled into City Square – the Occupy tents remain pitched.

And on November 30th they were joined on the city streets by as many as 7,000 union members and supporters, marching from Woodhouse Moor into the city centre to challenge government reforms requiring public sector workers to pay more towards their pensions and to work for longer before they retire.

How often before has the city of Leeds seen so many local people take to the streets within the space of a mere twelve months?

Yet for all the anger and the dismay, for all the debate and disagreement, the heart of Leeds was remarkably quiet when the streets of other cities were abuzz with the noise of violence, of police sirens and crying voices.

For that brief spell in August, a frenzy gripped major cities: random, casual looting from high street shops by teenagers who arranged plans with their friends using their BlackBerry phones. Those scenes – fed live into our front rooms and offices – were met with hostility from many who described the events as mindless thuggery; and yet with something akin to understanding and sympathy from others who saw it as a kind of protest, albeit one which even those responsible would struggle to articulate with the kind of neat slogans to be seen on the picket lines and around the Occupy tents.

In Leeds, as in the rest of the country, local police stepped up their presence, ready for the worst. As looting broke out in Manchester and the West Midlands, businesses in central Leeds were encouraged to close early, as authorities feared trouble – especially as fierce local rivals Bradford City were heading to Elland Road for a rare League Cup clash with Leeds United that very evening. High-end shops on Briggate even blacked out their windows and removed stock from their showrooms.

Whilst pockets of disturbance were reported, nothing on the scale witnessed elsewhere was seen in Leeds. One satirical YouTube video headlined "Leeds Riots – Out of Hand" opens at a bus stop on an otherwise silent suburban street. A hooded youth ambles along, pauses, and theatrically hurls an empty packet to the ground, littering the roadside, before walking nonchalantly away.

There are many possible explanations. The geography of Leeds is dissimilar to that of London, Birmingham and Manchester: whilst the West Riding is a kind of conurbation, its constituent parts do not feed into a central point as they do in those other cities. Moreover, rich and poor, black and white do not necessarily live cheek by jowl as they do to a greater degree in the capital. The city's communities may well be more self-contained: what happens in Chapeltown or in Beeston or in Kirkstall perhaps stays there.

Yet in those parts of Leeds like Chapeltown and Harehills where racial harmony, social exclusion and community engagement truly matter – just as in Tottenham – something remarkable did in fact happen back in August.

After reports of youths gathering on the streets of Chapeltown and confronting police emerged, local residents and community leaders arranged a march through the area calling for peace. Around seventy locals gathered together, having hastily called people together through social media. And whilst they too quietly called attention to abiding social problems throughout the ward, and to the poor dialogue between local people and the police, they were adamant: rioting was no solution.

It would be wishful thinking to suggest that Leeds avoided the worst of the summer's rioting because of its community strength and civic pride. Nonetheless these are the key to a different narrative of the city's year and to its future prosperity.

Part 3 tomorrow: the power of local pride

You can read Part 1 of Mark's look-back here.