The Israeli army is innocent, and anyone who says otherwise is an islamostalinotrotofascist. The IDF is the most moral army on earth, it's true it's true it's true.
The Graun also answers all your G20 questions, including how man Gs there are. Finally, have you got £300,000? Well, if you have lucky you, hang onto it. But, if you want a cheap thrill you can buy details of British MPs accounts.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Our wonderful, mysterious world
Think about it, you've never seen these people in the same room together.
Ted Hughes – Douglas Adams
Sid Little – John Major
Les Dennis – Bobby Davro – Keith Chegwin
Boris Johnson – Donald Trump
Gordon Brown – The Churchill Dog
Batman – Superman
Homer Simpson – Peter Griffin
Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall – Terrence Trent-Derby
Wurzel Gummidge – David Bowie
Chris Moyles – Jabba the Hut
Jeremy Irons – A plank of balsa wood
Keira Knightly – The alien
Grace Jones – A Corythosaurus
Jamie Oliver – Goebbels
The Edge – The Middle
You thought it. You can't unthink it.
Ted Hughes – Douglas Adams
Sid Little – John Major
Les Dennis – Bobby Davro – Keith Chegwin
Boris Johnson – Donald Trump
Gordon Brown – The Churchill Dog
Batman – Superman
Homer Simpson – Peter Griffin
Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall – Terrence Trent-Derby
Wurzel Gummidge – David Bowie
Chris Moyles – Jabba the Hut
Jeremy Irons – A plank of balsa wood
Keira Knightly – The alien
Grace Jones – A Corythosaurus
Jamie Oliver – Goebbels
The Edge – The Middle
You thought it. You can't unthink it.
Two More Tunes
Hey, were you feeling optimistic, were you looking forward to the future... why? You are wrong: Kingdom of Rust, Doves:
Tis good though. Better than that, Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs, Zero:
Luvlee!
Tis good though. Better than that, Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs, Zero:
Luvlee!
Friday, March 27, 2009
Dawn of the Dumb
Gordon Brown says he is steadfast in his unwavering determination to rectify the anomaly. He is committed to removing the barrier to Catholics becoming royalty.
Get back to work you no-talent bum (what, the Queen or Gordon Brown?). No easy set of answers, my arse. Find a big, sharp axe, take them to the Banqueting House on Whitehall... you'll pick it up as you go along. You never know, Gordon Brown might find it an anomaly that Britain has an hereditary head of state (to to mention upper legislative chamber). If a certain 65 people simultaneously, accidentally died then the Queen of England would be a tapas bar owner living in San Francisco.
Not stupid at all.
In an interview with the BBC, timed to coincide with a debate on a private member's bill on the issue today, Brown said: "There are clearly issues about the exclusion of people from the rights of succession and there are clearly issues that have got to be dealt with."
Brown said that there was not "an easy set of answers" to the problem. He went on: "But I think in the 21st century people do expect discrimination to be removed and they do expect us to be looking at these issues."
Get back to work you no-talent bum (what, the Queen or Gordon Brown?). No easy set of answers, my arse. Find a big, sharp axe, take them to the Banqueting House on Whitehall... you'll pick it up as you go along. You never know, Gordon Brown might find it an anomaly that Britain has an hereditary head of state (to to mention upper legislative chamber). If a certain 65 people simultaneously, accidentally died then the Queen of England would be a tapas bar owner living in San Francisco.
Not stupid at all.
Pure pleasure
Do you remember the glorious takedown of Hazel Blears by George Monbiot? How could you not. Well, this is as good, if not better (you won't believe just how shit Bono is... I thought I was fairly well versed in his biography). Veteran music journo Dave Marsh on Sir Bono: the knight who fled from his own debate.
I don't know quite what I like best about it. The piece has an embarrassment of polemical riches. The fact that he thinks "Larry Mullen, Adam Clayton and the Edge can still make fascinating music" must smart, but also:
Ooh, that's gotta hurt! However... since TtSD degenerated into a group blog of one (despite all the other contributors being alive, with fingers and brains and all the rest) the fact is we, the royal we, like U2... or at least their musical legacy. There is no need for a new U2 album. That sort of became clear, for me at least, after Pop, which was their first instant of treading water.
But there was a time when they weren't complete corporate whores. This is from that time. B-side to The Fly, Alex Descends Into Hell for a Bottle of Milk Korova:
I don't know quite what I like best about it. The piece has an embarrassment of polemical riches. The fact that he thinks "Larry Mullen, Adam Clayton and the Edge can still make fascinating music" must smart, but also:
“During the band's performance of ‘In The Name of Love [At Obama's inauguration celebration]... he described Martin Luther King's dream as ‘Not just an American dream--also an Irish dream, a European dream, an African dream, an Israeli dream . . .’ And then, following a long pause reminiscent of a man who'd just realized he'd left the gas on, he added, ‘. . . and also a Palestinian dream.’ This was his big shout out to the Palestinians… You can't help but marvel at this latest expression of Bono's Sesame Street view of the world. Hey Middle East, we just have to have a dream to get along.
“Just ignore the sound of those loud explosions and concentrate on Bono's voice.”
Ooh, that's gotta hurt! However... since TtSD degenerated into a group blog of one (despite all the other contributors being alive, with fingers and brains and all the rest) the fact is we, the royal we, like U2... or at least their musical legacy. There is no need for a new U2 album. That sort of became clear, for me at least, after Pop, which was their first instant of treading water.
But there was a time when they weren't complete corporate whores. This is from that time. B-side to The Fly, Alex Descends Into Hell for a Bottle of Milk Korova:
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Actually existing news
Here's a giggle. First up, god's not going to ride to the rescue. Yes, that's right, the Archbishop of Canterbury has called for urgent action to stop runaway climatechange as god gave people free will and would not guarantee a "happy ending".
Now, what is the point in an anthopomorphic embodiment of benign patriarchy if it doesn't come down from the clouds once in a while to put things right? God's got time to cause numerous wars, inspire rappers and appear in tacos and oil slicks. Climate change... nah, you're on your own there.
One in six therapists (roughly 17%) have admitted trying to get their patients to be a little less gay (which means that even more have actually tried but not owned up). Luckily only 4% have tried to change a patient's sexuality entirely... small mercies. Goodness me, where do these people train? Presumably at some college that still has departments of phrenology and alchemy.
Now, what is the point in an anthopomorphic embodiment of benign patriarchy if it doesn't come down from the clouds once in a while to put things right? God's got time to cause numerous wars, inspire rappers and appear in tacos and oil slicks. Climate change... nah, you're on your own there.
One in six therapists (roughly 17%) have admitted trying to get their patients to be a little less gay (which means that even more have actually tried but not owned up). Luckily only 4% have tried to change a patient's sexuality entirely... small mercies. Goodness me, where do these people train? Presumably at some college that still has departments of phrenology and alchemy.
You thought I'd forgotten, didn't you: Part 6
Autumn after the catastrophe it was decided. The Council of London Communes called the first meeting of all communal representatives. The news was broadcast up and down the radio system the following morning. That evening The Council printed a short manifesto calling on people to join the assembly. The manifesto was packed off in bundles and sent into the night, to every town and city in the land via the railway system.
The struggle was on to win the best and most energetic activists, the survivors, the broadest and deepest representation. The grand assembly was to draw on all that was good in the land in the fight to build a collective future.
The day after the manifesto was printed the United States government was overthrown by a military coup. Until that point international relations barely impacted on New Politics.
Old London was a city of roughly 300 languages. In the immediate days after the catastrophe there was very little formal communication with the outside world. News usually made its way into the city via the immigrant population, London’s contact with the outside world.
By the middle of the year the general picture was this:
North America: Word was the United States was undergoing a second civil war, fought between the central government (ironically based on the coasts) and various breakaway states in the central belt. The hottest battle was in the Republic of Texas, which had a large ‘enemy’, i.e. Latino population. Word was huge internment camps had been set up, tales of slave labour spread, stories of torture and death. The rebel state’s internal war soon spilled over into Mexico proper.
Texas’s chief rival was not the central government but the loyal state of California. At the beginning of the year California was hit by a general strike. The mainly Latino industrial working class (backed by the mainly black public sector workers) rose in response to the rebel republics. Though the Sunshine State was still officially the jurisdiction of the governor, real power lay with the strike committees, who had collectivised most industry and commerce, and the militia holding the line against the rebels across the Rockies while the regular army remained confined to base.
Continental Europe: Where the catastrophe hit hardest. There was a mixed bag of worker/student uprisings. Nowhere had reached the desperate depths plumbed in Britain, but nowhere had the old order been as completely destroyed. Most of Europe now lived in limbo.
France was a typical example. During the spring, after several days of street fighting the president fled his palace, but not before declaring that someone must form a sixth republic. France’s political class took up the task. A constituent assembly was called amid great turmoil and rancour. It was decided that the only way to save France was to give it to a postman.
The postman was one of the most popular figures in French politics, a hero to many. His tribune was the streets and the halls, the picket lines and barricades. But the republic offered was almost identical to the one prior. He declined the honour of president in deference to his people.
France had to survive for weeks and months without a new constitution. As the decline precipitated, inside and out, popular anger could not be contained. France’s old political class retired. A new constitution along the lines of Venezuela was written and ratified (at a mass meeting in the Stade De France). The postman took the mantle as President of the Sixth Republic.
Further east you encountered new regimes that would be politely referred to as ‘nationalist’. Awful tales of carnage and fury filtered out of places like Hungary, Serbia and Belarus. Though only sketchy at first the faintest idea began to express itself. A dread power was forming in the east.
Middle East: The Middle East was already striving toward a democratic future when the catastrophe hit. The sudden withdrawal of American support meant instant collapse of the puppet states, Israel, Egypt and Arab kingdoms. Universal democracy was declared. The Middle East enjoyed a late renaissance, a beautiful honeymoon. Only a few thought to ask what the new freedom meant, what this democracy consisted of.
Latin America and Africa: Little news came out of these two continents. The few tidings were good, or at least not so bad. Latin American societies were much less affected by the catastrophe. There were some unsubstantiated stories slum fires in Rio and Sao Paulo, but other than that… Large parts of Africa were already fairly decimated before the catastrophe. Beneath the Sahara many of the old states simply melted away.
Asia: Pakistan and India were hit hard by the crisis. Government still formally existed in India, although it was widely ignored. Having been chased out of three cities, martial law was declared. The government recruited a load of high-ranking officers and relocated to a military base under the Himalayas.
By this stage much of the old machine had disintegrated, as it had in Pakistan. The worrying thing was no one knew where the nuclear armaments were anymore, whose hands had they fallen into.
China was also a whistling kettle. Internal refugees fleeing a two-year drought in the centre of the country had packed the coastal cities to the rafters. The state initially resisted with brutal force but the numbers became overwhelming. Huge slums rapidly built up, surrounding the grand coastal metropoli.
With no practical limit to the migration, cities were eventually drowned in the human tide. In the midst of violent chaos the government disappeared. By the end of the year it still had not come back.
This was (very) roughly the situation, the broad outline known up until late autumn. Four days before the communal gathering in New London news arrived. The US government had been overthrown.
The rebel army seemed to be heading north in a feint to cut the country in two. Pittsburgh and Cincinnati were the expected targets, then, possibly, Chicago. Instead the rebels swung east and headed straight for Washington. Two armies from the north met the rebels. Two generals known to be ‘neutral’ now led their soldiers out against the government. On the day of the coup a warship and two destroyers appeared in the Potomac.
The loyalists were wrong footed. The government was now surrounded, at the mercy of the rebels. 30 hours into the coup the president appeared on national radio to make a speech. He and most of his senior officials had been captured. The President announced his immediate resignation. He advised calm, said for people to stay off the streets. People were not to resist the rebel forces. Enough blood had been spilt.
The president was replaced by another voice, a spokesman for the new Military Council of the United States. After a short preamble explaining the motives for the coup (corruption, chaos, the rise of communism, defending the American way from alien invaders etc) the spokesman got down to business. The Military Council was now the supreme executive body. Its laws were inviolable. Its first law was an immediate nighttime curfew. All weapons were to be handed over to forces loyal to the council (as the speech was read out other cities in the North East, New York, Buffalo, Baltimore etc were being occupied). All social and political organisations were henceforth disbanded.
Other decrees would be forthcoming. In the meantime the following people were to report to the authorities for arrest and questioning. The spokesman then read out a list of names, a long list. It took half an hour to finish.
The report ended. A second voice lit up over the airwaves. It made two short announcements. First, addressed to the loyalists in the West. You face a choice, surrender or face severe consequences. The loyalists were given 24 hours to respond. Second, the new government considered the NATO treaty to still be in effect. An attack on one nation was an attack on all. Any new governments that arose in the course of the crisis should consider themselves at war with the United States.
The airwaves went silent. 18 hours later there was an almighty thunder as the San Andreas Fault was blown apart with a nuclear bomb. The secret fear lurking behind the global crisis had come to pass and no superhero was on hand to save the day. The loyal state, along with its 55 million inhabitants, fell into the sea. The shockwave was felt over the other side of the Rocky range. A tsunami was sent billowing out across the Pacific, killing millions more over the coming hours.
Around about the same time the Council of London Communes received a delegation from the Bishop of Colchester, who had a proposition to make.
The struggle was on to win the best and most energetic activists, the survivors, the broadest and deepest representation. The grand assembly was to draw on all that was good in the land in the fight to build a collective future.
The day after the manifesto was printed the United States government was overthrown by a military coup. Until that point international relations barely impacted on New Politics.
Old London was a city of roughly 300 languages. In the immediate days after the catastrophe there was very little formal communication with the outside world. News usually made its way into the city via the immigrant population, London’s contact with the outside world.
By the middle of the year the general picture was this:
North America: Word was the United States was undergoing a second civil war, fought between the central government (ironically based on the coasts) and various breakaway states in the central belt. The hottest battle was in the Republic of Texas, which had a large ‘enemy’, i.e. Latino population. Word was huge internment camps had been set up, tales of slave labour spread, stories of torture and death. The rebel state’s internal war soon spilled over into Mexico proper.
Texas’s chief rival was not the central government but the loyal state of California. At the beginning of the year California was hit by a general strike. The mainly Latino industrial working class (backed by the mainly black public sector workers) rose in response to the rebel republics. Though the Sunshine State was still officially the jurisdiction of the governor, real power lay with the strike committees, who had collectivised most industry and commerce, and the militia holding the line against the rebels across the Rockies while the regular army remained confined to base.
Continental Europe: Where the catastrophe hit hardest. There was a mixed bag of worker/student uprisings. Nowhere had reached the desperate depths plumbed in Britain, but nowhere had the old order been as completely destroyed. Most of Europe now lived in limbo.
France was a typical example. During the spring, after several days of street fighting the president fled his palace, but not before declaring that someone must form a sixth republic. France’s political class took up the task. A constituent assembly was called amid great turmoil and rancour. It was decided that the only way to save France was to give it to a postman.
The postman was one of the most popular figures in French politics, a hero to many. His tribune was the streets and the halls, the picket lines and barricades. But the republic offered was almost identical to the one prior. He declined the honour of president in deference to his people.
France had to survive for weeks and months without a new constitution. As the decline precipitated, inside and out, popular anger could not be contained. France’s old political class retired. A new constitution along the lines of Venezuela was written and ratified (at a mass meeting in the Stade De France). The postman took the mantle as President of the Sixth Republic.
Further east you encountered new regimes that would be politely referred to as ‘nationalist’. Awful tales of carnage and fury filtered out of places like Hungary, Serbia and Belarus. Though only sketchy at first the faintest idea began to express itself. A dread power was forming in the east.
Middle East: The Middle East was already striving toward a democratic future when the catastrophe hit. The sudden withdrawal of American support meant instant collapse of the puppet states, Israel, Egypt and Arab kingdoms. Universal democracy was declared. The Middle East enjoyed a late renaissance, a beautiful honeymoon. Only a few thought to ask what the new freedom meant, what this democracy consisted of.
Latin America and Africa: Little news came out of these two continents. The few tidings were good, or at least not so bad. Latin American societies were much less affected by the catastrophe. There were some unsubstantiated stories slum fires in Rio and Sao Paulo, but other than that… Large parts of Africa were already fairly decimated before the catastrophe. Beneath the Sahara many of the old states simply melted away.
Asia: Pakistan and India were hit hard by the crisis. Government still formally existed in India, although it was widely ignored. Having been chased out of three cities, martial law was declared. The government recruited a load of high-ranking officers and relocated to a military base under the Himalayas.
By this stage much of the old machine had disintegrated, as it had in Pakistan. The worrying thing was no one knew where the nuclear armaments were anymore, whose hands had they fallen into.
China was also a whistling kettle. Internal refugees fleeing a two-year drought in the centre of the country had packed the coastal cities to the rafters. The state initially resisted with brutal force but the numbers became overwhelming. Huge slums rapidly built up, surrounding the grand coastal metropoli.
With no practical limit to the migration, cities were eventually drowned in the human tide. In the midst of violent chaos the government disappeared. By the end of the year it still had not come back.
This was (very) roughly the situation, the broad outline known up until late autumn. Four days before the communal gathering in New London news arrived. The US government had been overthrown.
The rebel army seemed to be heading north in a feint to cut the country in two. Pittsburgh and Cincinnati were the expected targets, then, possibly, Chicago. Instead the rebels swung east and headed straight for Washington. Two armies from the north met the rebels. Two generals known to be ‘neutral’ now led their soldiers out against the government. On the day of the coup a warship and two destroyers appeared in the Potomac.
The loyalists were wrong footed. The government was now surrounded, at the mercy of the rebels. 30 hours into the coup the president appeared on national radio to make a speech. He and most of his senior officials had been captured. The President announced his immediate resignation. He advised calm, said for people to stay off the streets. People were not to resist the rebel forces. Enough blood had been spilt.
The president was replaced by another voice, a spokesman for the new Military Council of the United States. After a short preamble explaining the motives for the coup (corruption, chaos, the rise of communism, defending the American way from alien invaders etc) the spokesman got down to business. The Military Council was now the supreme executive body. Its laws were inviolable. Its first law was an immediate nighttime curfew. All weapons were to be handed over to forces loyal to the council (as the speech was read out other cities in the North East, New York, Buffalo, Baltimore etc were being occupied). All social and political organisations were henceforth disbanded.
Other decrees would be forthcoming. In the meantime the following people were to report to the authorities for arrest and questioning. The spokesman then read out a list of names, a long list. It took half an hour to finish.
The report ended. A second voice lit up over the airwaves. It made two short announcements. First, addressed to the loyalists in the West. You face a choice, surrender or face severe consequences. The loyalists were given 24 hours to respond. Second, the new government considered the NATO treaty to still be in effect. An attack on one nation was an attack on all. Any new governments that arose in the course of the crisis should consider themselves at war with the United States.
The airwaves went silent. 18 hours later there was an almighty thunder as the San Andreas Fault was blown apart with a nuclear bomb. The secret fear lurking behind the global crisis had come to pass and no superhero was on hand to save the day. The loyal state, along with its 55 million inhabitants, fell into the sea. The shockwave was felt over the other side of the Rocky range. A tsunami was sent billowing out across the Pacific, killing millions more over the coming hours.
Around about the same time the Council of London Communes received a delegation from the Bishop of Colchester, who had a proposition to make.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
I may not agree with what you say, But i'll defend to the death your right to say it
OK, so, could the following people defend to the death (important clause) my right to say whatever I want:
Jack Straw
Mick Hucknall
Richard Littlejohn
George Osborne
Ricky Gervais
Anne Diamond
Kerry Wotsit from the Iceland Adverts
John Malkovic
Christopher Hitchens
Freddie Flintoff
Paulo Di Canio
The original line up of of Spandau Ballet
Melanie Philips
Johann Hari
Davina McCall
Justin from the Darkness
Whoever came up with the sitcom Not Going Out
Mark Kermode
Seth Freedman
Richard Curtis
Ben Elton
Joe Estehaus
Bobby O'Door
Tim O'Tay
Ian Continent... sorry we've strayed into pun names again
Guy Ritchie
Madonna
Connie Huq
Simon Cowell
Carol Thatcher
Jason Donovan
The cast of My Family
David Hasslehoff
Anyone who calls David Hasslehoff "The Hoff"
Anyone who thinks Boris Johnson is a legrnd OMG!
Boris Johnson
Nick Robinson
Mark Ronson
James Blunt
MGMT
Lilly Allen
The Prodigy
The Ting Tings
Chris Moyles
Jo Wylie
Gary Lineker
Steve Jobs
Richard Branson
Alan Sugar
Rush Limbaugh
Norm Coleman
Andy Newman
Johnny Vegas
Johnny Borell
Johnny Come-Lately
Bono
Iggy Pop
Tony Parsons
David Aaaaaaronovic
Whoever stopped booking Tom Paulin for Newsnight Review
"Barry Scott" from the Cillit Bang adverts
Brian Harvey
Pretend singer Ray Quinn
Pretend soldier Ross Kemp
Extreme fisher (and former pretend soldier) Robson Green
Is there more? There's always more.
Jack Straw
Mick Hucknall
Richard Littlejohn
George Osborne
Ricky Gervais
Anne Diamond
Kerry Wotsit from the Iceland Adverts
John Malkovic
Christopher Hitchens
Freddie Flintoff
Paulo Di Canio
The original line up of of Spandau Ballet
Melanie Philips
Johann Hari
Davina McCall
Justin from the Darkness
Whoever came up with the sitcom Not Going Out
Mark Kermode
Seth Freedman
Richard Curtis
Ben Elton
Joe Estehaus
Bobby O'Door
Tim O'Tay
Ian Continent... sorry we've strayed into pun names again
Guy Ritchie
Madonna
Connie Huq
Simon Cowell
Carol Thatcher
Jason Donovan
The cast of My Family
David Hasslehoff
Anyone who calls David Hasslehoff "The Hoff"
Anyone who thinks Boris Johnson is a legrnd OMG!
Boris Johnson
Nick Robinson
Mark Ronson
James Blunt
MGMT
Lilly Allen
The Prodigy
The Ting Tings
Chris Moyles
Jo Wylie
Gary Lineker
Steve Jobs
Richard Branson
Alan Sugar
Rush Limbaugh
Norm Coleman
Andy Newman
Johnny Vegas
Johnny Borell
Johnny Come-Lately
Bono
Iggy Pop
Tony Parsons
David Aaaaaaronovic
Whoever stopped booking Tom Paulin for Newsnight Review
"Barry Scott" from the Cillit Bang adverts
Brian Harvey
Pretend singer Ray Quinn
Pretend soldier Ross Kemp
Extreme fisher (and former pretend soldier) Robson Green
Is there more? There's always more.
Oh, why not
As a connoisseur of cartoons and DVD movies, I am so pleased someone speared this little public service annoucement:
FU too
It turns out that, while the Retail Price Index is heading down the Consumer Price Index is heading... up, along with inflation. The CPI doesn't include house prices, it's sort of a current account index rather than capital account index, sort of.
The fact that house prices are tumbling is not generally good. People spent the good years borrowing against the value of their homes. Without significant change in the banking system, the recent government handouts will be chucked down an (almost) literal money pit.
Unemployment has gone through 2 million, it's likely to hit 3 million and some happy souls are now predicting 4 million unemployed.
Wages are standing still. Groups like the Birkbeck cleaners may have won pay rises. The general policy is for wage cuts or wage freezes (effective cuts), here's a recent example.
Effective demand is decreasing, while most prices are increasing. Ordinary people are being shot by both sides.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
The big FU
Do you remember the good old days? No, me neither, but I do remember when public sector pay had to be held in check as the last weapon in the fight against inflation. It seems like a lifetime ago, another world. Well, it was the world of 2007, when the Retail Price Index hit 5%.
Today the index is in danger of hitting zero and lower. We live in an effective monopoly economy, where large companies not only can but are compelled to raise prices in the teeth of a recession to recover their margins. This promotes stagflation, rising prices as well as a contracting economy. It was the key feature of the post-war recessions.
But not today. So much in history is contingent. Even so you can see how this recession is not just a standard cyclic slump but the turning of a new epoch. The system has become so clogged with lactic debt even the big corporations are in danger of falling. These will bust huge holes in the economy, not to mention ordinary life. We have to make do without Woolworths these days, but what about Boots, Asda, Tesco... ICI, BaE, Ford...?
As we always say recessions cannot be avoided under capitalism. They are built into the system. The question is who will pay for them and how. The Put People First march this Saturday is the first largescale attempt to mobilise on this issue.
Today the index is in danger of hitting zero and lower. We live in an effective monopoly economy, where large companies not only can but are compelled to raise prices in the teeth of a recession to recover their margins. This promotes stagflation, rising prices as well as a contracting economy. It was the key feature of the post-war recessions.
But not today. So much in history is contingent. Even so you can see how this recession is not just a standard cyclic slump but the turning of a new epoch. The system has become so clogged with lactic debt even the big corporations are in danger of falling. These will bust huge holes in the economy, not to mention ordinary life. We have to make do without Woolworths these days, but what about Boots, Asda, Tesco... ICI, BaE, Ford...?
As we always say recessions cannot be avoided under capitalism. They are built into the system. The question is who will pay for them and how. The Put People First march this Saturday is the first largescale attempt to mobilise on this issue.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Two new songs
Oh, wow.
Jack Penate, Tonight's Today... apparently
Twisted Wheel, We Are Us, which is true. It's not the most erudite lyric (probably why Oasis like them), but dig that chorus and the feedback on the guitar solo. Luvly.
Jack Penate, Tonight's Today... apparently
Twisted Wheel, We Are Us, which is true. It's not the most erudite lyric (probably why Oasis like them), but dig that chorus and the feedback on the guitar solo. Luvly.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Even more wit and wisdom
It turns out the police officers directly involved in the "serious, gratuitous and prolonged" assault on Babar Ahmad have had 60 allegations of assault made against them:
We've recently waded a slurry of ruling class argument trying to persuade us institutional racism is a thing of the past. This should shut them up (I doubt it somehow, but hey-ho).
They might just whip out the rotten apples defence. Never mind the fact that the Met has covered this up for years. Never mind that there must be more cases out there. Never mind that these assaults were presumably committed in front of other rank and file police officers.
Here are some examples:
The police are a legalised paramilitary organisation. They must be stopped.
According to documents submitted to the court, four of the officers who carried out the raid on Ahmad's home had 60 allegations of assault against them - of which at least 37 were made by black or Asian men. One of the officers had 26 separate allegations of assault against him - 17 against black or Asian men.
We've recently waded a slurry of ruling class argument trying to persuade us institutional racism is a thing of the past. This should shut them up (I doubt it somehow, but hey-ho).
They might just whip out the rotten apples defence. Never mind the fact that the Met has covered this up for years. Never mind that there must be more cases out there. Never mind that these assaults were presumably committed in front of other rank and file police officers.
The Met has confirmed that since 1992 all six officers involved in the Ahmad assault had been subject to at least 77 complaints. When lawyers for Ahmad asked for details of these allegations it emerged that the police had "lost" several large mail sacks detailing at least 30 of the complaints.
Here are some examples:
March 2007: one officer is accused of bundling a man into the back of a police van where he was told to "get on his knees". When he replied this was not Guantánamo Bay he claims the officer grabbed him round the neck and "discharged his CS gas while continuing to hold his throat" [Roobin's note: contempt of cop, the most heinous crime of all]. He says he was then thrown from the van, leaving him with eye, neck and head injuries. According to the document no action was taken because the complaint was either "incapable of proof" or there was "no case to answer".
• November 2005: two of the officers were accused by a "black male" of attacking him in the back of a police van. The document states that he was subjected to "constant kicking to his head and stomach (approx 12 kicks). Head lifted off the floor by grabbing his right ear and lifting head." The attack left the man with bruising and swelling to his face but the case was not pursued, the Met said, because of "non-cooperation" by the complainant.
• October 2005: the document stated that two of the officers were involved in another assault on a "black male". It read: "In van repeatedly assaulted - kicks to the face, stamps on his head whilst handcuffed." The victim said afterwards he "felt like he might die". Vomiting and blood coming out of his ears, black swollen eye, lip busted, hands very swollen.
• June 2003: two officers accused of beating a "black male" in the back of the TSG van. "The beating continued in the van and in a search room at the station."
The police are a legalised paramilitary organisation. They must be stopped.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Moar wit and wisdom
From our wuvly powice force.
Known activists are planning in an "unprecedented" way ahead of next month's G20 summit in London, the Metropolitan Police have warned.
Known activists known to be actively knowing actively retaining knowledge of their activism known for their activity... Do we know any of them? No.
World leaders, including US President Barack Obama, will begin to arrive in the UK on 31 March.
The next day campaigners are expected to target the City of London in a series of anti-globalisation and climate change demonstrations.
"Clearly there are some very innovative and clever people and they know our tactics," Cdr [Bob] Broadhurst said. ""They want to stop the City on the Wednesday - that is their avowed intention."
Thank you for letting us know, Bob. Now, answer me this, what officer would give away his tactics and knowledge of the opposition before the conflagration? I smell something fishy.
He said it was his aim to "facilitate lawful protest" and he revealed plans for a special demonstration pen near the Excel Centre to accommodate a few hundred protesters.
Oh, gee, thanks Bob.
But while police had worked closely with some campaigners, the plans of other groups were harder to ascertain.
"Anarchists by definition won't come and see us," he said.
Political insight and tactical nous. This man's a fucking genius. But, hang on, if you don't know what the anarchists are doing how'd you know they're going to block the City of London? [Roobin's extra note] Oh, here's how, he got it off t'internet. Well, if a website says it, it must be true.
Anyway, what's all this gibberish in aid of?
The operation will involve thousands of officers and cost an estimated £7.2m.
Now I get it. Expect a lot of this if you decide to exercise your right to unfacilitated political expression in the next few days.
For your own safety.
Jus facilitatin.
Nothing to see here, sir.
Part 5: the politics
In time things began to stabilise. The autumn harvest came in and the winter crops were sewn. It seemed like there would not be a complete collapse after all.
Option gathered; there had to be a meeting to order. Following on from a successful All-London communal census (headline: 1.1 million communards, 200,000 private citizens, 300,000 unaccounted for), demand was raised for a nationwide meeting of councils/social forum/constituent assembly… The problem was where to begin.
Both ends of the political spectrum pushed for a national meeting. Organised politics was formally very skeletal. In the aftermath of such devastation there was precious little means with which to form a party. In the first few months political associations were loose gatherings of people, personal remnants of old parties, odd names people could remember, friends and well-wishers. There was no political co-ordination between towns and cities until after the Knights rebellion. Many groups did not really unite until the movement for a national body began.
Broadly speaking there were two camps: the Root and Branch Party and the Constitutionalists. Both groups were badly named. Public members of both groups complained about their given banners. There were schisms in each group. Each group, of course, called the other by less flattering names, such as the Squatters and the Restoration Party.
Both groups were members of the communes. On the face of it the key difference was how they generally saw them. Both groups agreed some kind of recognised legal order had to be established.
The Root and Branch Party were so named because they wanted to dig up the old order in its entirety (nature was a common metaphor in the New Politics). The old order was a tall tree blocking the light and stealing the soil. It had to be chopped down and dug up so new life could be sewn. The Root and Branch Party was more or less founded out of the first uprising against the government. They lead the fight that day (against the government and it’s infernal legacy).
The Root and Branch Party saw the communes and an end in themselves. What was left was to acknowledge them, ratify them and have them lead the way in the Grand Reconstruction.
The Constitutionalists saw the communes as more of a means to an end, although they hotly denied it. Though the Constitutionalists were much slower to congeal they seemed to have better access to paper and printing works. They had many friends on the radio network. All the means of communication were collectively owned, yet the Constitutionalists seemed to be first among equals, which the Root and Branch members never failed to point out. They also had a greater number of recognised names from the Old Days.
This was a double-edged sword. As the nature of the catastrophe began to be discussed and argued over this became important. As facts were revealed and stories told, number of declared Constitutionalists became more and more implicated in the crisis, at least as far as the Root and Branch were concerned.
As the communes met more often, in London and across the country, the argument became more about the nature of the catastrophe itself.
Root and Branch members argued that the outbreak of violence was inextricably linked to the prior crisis in the commodity system. This was more or less true. The world was going through a colossal economic depression that, over the course of a few weeks gained an unprecedented, deadly momentum. The ultimate responsibility lay with the people who ran the system, who let society go to ruin, who preferred leave a trail of fire and rubble rather than make way for the people.
The Constitutionalists accepted most of this, although in the course of any argument would gradually try to claw back the Root and Branch assertions, as they saw it, one by one. The old system had many problems, but it also had many benefits. If people had understood this, instead of going off to fight the government, then perhaps the city, the country wouldn’t be in such dire straits. That’s why a constitution was so important. The job was to rebuild life again, but the good aspects of the old ways had to be integrated with the new. There were often as many solutions as there were Constitutionalists.
The two parties were founded in New London. Once declared, they found affiliates slowly but surely up and down the land.
The Root and Branch Party made its offices in the old Friends House on Euston Road. The House doubled as a meeting space. Once the organisers got fed up of hustling for precious paper and card to print on, it scored a hat trick with a printing press in the basement.
The Constitutionalists plumped for the Royal Horticultural Hall in Victoria, which they politely named the People’s Horticultural Hall. Many puzzled at first why they set up on the edge of the Westminster dead zone. It all became clear when they started radio and even TV broadcasts from the building using equipment plundered from the old BBC studios nearby. After much wrangling and bad noise the Constitutionalists agreed the equipment could be moved to the former Broadcast House with use on a strictly equitable, public, communal basis.
The two parties were small but influential. The London census showed they had around 20,000 active supporters each. Outside London they not so much had branches as franchises. But the two groups defined the parameters of the New Politics. As such other groups and individuals tended to merge or fall in behind them.
Nonetheless the unfolding rainbow of political opinion was amazing (appropriate then that the flag of the London communes was the rainbow flag). Only the eventual national meeting truly uncovered the great variety, the different ways people had managed to survive and organise. From straightforward ginger groups, such as the Maximalists or the True Restorationists to new and wild formations, such as the Cotswold-Malvern Clan Network or the Council of Democratic Aldermen of the Free City of Harwich.
Skegness was colonised by the Church of Blake, a congregation who took the texts of the poet William Blake as their founding document. They were particularly keen on nudism. Their delegate to the national meeting insisted in taking his seat in the raw. It was a cold day outside and he was eventually persuaded to wear a toga.
There was a little bit of East Anglia that was now joint Polish and Lithuanian. The new Bishop of Colchester, not wanting to take on the urban communes just yet, tried to expand his power north. His bands of soldiers, former policemen and farmers met unexpected resistance. During the catastrophe a group of East European farmhands escaped to the woods and fields. Falling back on their own resources, which to begin with were just farming tools, they formed a nomad army.
The army grew in strength, numbers and organisation. But the scope for nomad life soon shrank. At this point army was taken in and housed by the governing council in Cambridge. They were an odd but fearsome Praetorian Guard, bulwark against the Bishop.
As co-operative networks began to form people began to see the sense of bringing communal bodies together. London’s communes had a lion share of the initiative. Other cities deferred to London. Having contained the fiery demise of the old government, not to mention fought off the Knights Templar, London had earned the right to lead.
In the end the London communes chose to go with a national version of their local body, a permanent delegation, subject to instant recall, proportionally drawn from a biannual assembly called a 1-1,000 basis (groups with 999 or fewer members were granted a voice but not a vote) with presiding body elected by that delegation to steer the process. The permanent delegation wasn’t really given a name. People referred to it as The Council.
The call went out. All democratic bodies had six weeks to elect and send delegates to the Communal Assembly, where the Grand Communal Council would be elected. People worried about the overwrought names. The fact of the matter was the survivors would now decide what to do with their inheritance.
Option gathered; there had to be a meeting to order. Following on from a successful All-London communal census (headline: 1.1 million communards, 200,000 private citizens, 300,000 unaccounted for), demand was raised for a nationwide meeting of councils/social forum/constituent assembly… The problem was where to begin.
Both ends of the political spectrum pushed for a national meeting. Organised politics was formally very skeletal. In the aftermath of such devastation there was precious little means with which to form a party. In the first few months political associations were loose gatherings of people, personal remnants of old parties, odd names people could remember, friends and well-wishers. There was no political co-ordination between towns and cities until after the Knights rebellion. Many groups did not really unite until the movement for a national body began.
Broadly speaking there were two camps: the Root and Branch Party and the Constitutionalists. Both groups were badly named. Public members of both groups complained about their given banners. There were schisms in each group. Each group, of course, called the other by less flattering names, such as the Squatters and the Restoration Party.
Both groups were members of the communes. On the face of it the key difference was how they generally saw them. Both groups agreed some kind of recognised legal order had to be established.
The Root and Branch Party were so named because they wanted to dig up the old order in its entirety (nature was a common metaphor in the New Politics). The old order was a tall tree blocking the light and stealing the soil. It had to be chopped down and dug up so new life could be sewn. The Root and Branch Party was more or less founded out of the first uprising against the government. They lead the fight that day (against the government and it’s infernal legacy).
The Root and Branch Party saw the communes and an end in themselves. What was left was to acknowledge them, ratify them and have them lead the way in the Grand Reconstruction.
The Constitutionalists saw the communes as more of a means to an end, although they hotly denied it. Though the Constitutionalists were much slower to congeal they seemed to have better access to paper and printing works. They had many friends on the radio network. All the means of communication were collectively owned, yet the Constitutionalists seemed to be first among equals, which the Root and Branch members never failed to point out. They also had a greater number of recognised names from the Old Days.
This was a double-edged sword. As the nature of the catastrophe began to be discussed and argued over this became important. As facts were revealed and stories told, number of declared Constitutionalists became more and more implicated in the crisis, at least as far as the Root and Branch were concerned.
As the communes met more often, in London and across the country, the argument became more about the nature of the catastrophe itself.
Root and Branch members argued that the outbreak of violence was inextricably linked to the prior crisis in the commodity system. This was more or less true. The world was going through a colossal economic depression that, over the course of a few weeks gained an unprecedented, deadly momentum. The ultimate responsibility lay with the people who ran the system, who let society go to ruin, who preferred leave a trail of fire and rubble rather than make way for the people.
The Constitutionalists accepted most of this, although in the course of any argument would gradually try to claw back the Root and Branch assertions, as they saw it, one by one. The old system had many problems, but it also had many benefits. If people had understood this, instead of going off to fight the government, then perhaps the city, the country wouldn’t be in such dire straits. That’s why a constitution was so important. The job was to rebuild life again, but the good aspects of the old ways had to be integrated with the new. There were often as many solutions as there were Constitutionalists.
The two parties were founded in New London. Once declared, they found affiliates slowly but surely up and down the land.
The Root and Branch Party made its offices in the old Friends House on Euston Road. The House doubled as a meeting space. Once the organisers got fed up of hustling for precious paper and card to print on, it scored a hat trick with a printing press in the basement.
The Constitutionalists plumped for the Royal Horticultural Hall in Victoria, which they politely named the People’s Horticultural Hall. Many puzzled at first why they set up on the edge of the Westminster dead zone. It all became clear when they started radio and even TV broadcasts from the building using equipment plundered from the old BBC studios nearby. After much wrangling and bad noise the Constitutionalists agreed the equipment could be moved to the former Broadcast House with use on a strictly equitable, public, communal basis.
The two parties were small but influential. The London census showed they had around 20,000 active supporters each. Outside London they not so much had branches as franchises. But the two groups defined the parameters of the New Politics. As such other groups and individuals tended to merge or fall in behind them.
Nonetheless the unfolding rainbow of political opinion was amazing (appropriate then that the flag of the London communes was the rainbow flag). Only the eventual national meeting truly uncovered the great variety, the different ways people had managed to survive and organise. From straightforward ginger groups, such as the Maximalists or the True Restorationists to new and wild formations, such as the Cotswold-Malvern Clan Network or the Council of Democratic Aldermen of the Free City of Harwich.
Skegness was colonised by the Church of Blake, a congregation who took the texts of the poet William Blake as their founding document. They were particularly keen on nudism. Their delegate to the national meeting insisted in taking his seat in the raw. It was a cold day outside and he was eventually persuaded to wear a toga.
There was a little bit of East Anglia that was now joint Polish and Lithuanian. The new Bishop of Colchester, not wanting to take on the urban communes just yet, tried to expand his power north. His bands of soldiers, former policemen and farmers met unexpected resistance. During the catastrophe a group of East European farmhands escaped to the woods and fields. Falling back on their own resources, which to begin with were just farming tools, they formed a nomad army.
The army grew in strength, numbers and organisation. But the scope for nomad life soon shrank. At this point army was taken in and housed by the governing council in Cambridge. They were an odd but fearsome Praetorian Guard, bulwark against the Bishop.
As co-operative networks began to form people began to see the sense of bringing communal bodies together. London’s communes had a lion share of the initiative. Other cities deferred to London. Having contained the fiery demise of the old government, not to mention fought off the Knights Templar, London had earned the right to lead.
In the end the London communes chose to go with a national version of their local body, a permanent delegation, subject to instant recall, proportionally drawn from a biannual assembly called a 1-1,000 basis (groups with 999 or fewer members were granted a voice but not a vote) with presiding body elected by that delegation to steer the process. The permanent delegation wasn’t really given a name. People referred to it as The Council.
The call went out. All democratic bodies had six weeks to elect and send delegates to the Communal Assembly, where the Grand Communal Council would be elected. People worried about the overwrought names. The fact of the matter was the survivors would now decide what to do with their inheritance.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Complaining about complaints...
Sort of... There a well known gem of wisdom, communism works in theory but not in practice. It's a common enough observation and, granted, though most people don't arrive at that conclusion completely independently (when did that ever happen, anyway?) it's not a totally stupid and/or ignorant thing to say.
Some mildly interesting things spring to mind. First, if an idea (from a gut notion right up to a complete system) works in theory but not in practice then it doesn't work in theory either. Theory as an entity is separate from but dependent upon practice. Theory as a separate entity shows the existence surplus wealth. Human beings find time away from the struggle to survive and reproduce to reflect upon the world and their place within it.
Theory springs from practice and it, of course, informs practice, or at least it should do. A theory that doesn't work in practice cannot actually work in theory. There is no other yardstick by which to measure it.
What people usually mean when when they make the above observation is There Is No Alternative to capitalism. Its perfectly reasonable to say that capitalism works in theory but not in practice. Some might say "look at commodities X, Y and Z, all brought to you by capitalism". But (even if you leave aside the current tremendous, open-ended crisis in the commodity system) it comes down to what you mean by working. Who or what is capitalism working for? It's perfectly reasonable to say "not me".
We may leave aside for a moment the argument about the true nature of the stalinist regime. First of all it is no more, at least as a global alternative to traditional capitalism. Secondly, stalinism pure and true is hardly what most people who subscribed to the old CP aimed for, let alone all the other people who fought for their versions of communism.
'Communism' worked in the past. It certainly seemed that way to millions of capitalists around the world and their advocates, as Khruschev banged his shoe against the UN podium. It is now no more.
But, what were its defining characteristics? Bureaucracy, militarism, circumscribed formal democracy, concentrated ownership and direction of industry. Traditional capitalism has all these aspects. If they are not as bad as under the stalinist system they becoming an increasing part of our society. Modern society is drifting towards 'communism', which should put enough doubt in anybody's mind as to whether there was Actually Existing Socialism.
Always until victory
National strike en France, victory in Martinique.
I hope we join you soon (psst, Birkbeck Justice for Cleaners campaign has won the London Living Wage).
I hope we join you soon (psst, Birkbeck Justice for Cleaners campaign has won the London Living Wage).
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Actually existing news
This week's actually existing news: London Metropolitan Police Force is to pay Babar Ahmad £60,000 in damages and officers participating in his arrest are to face charges for his assault. With unbelieveable brass balls:
Babar was found to have 73 separate injuries following his initial arrest. His case is a particularly egregious example of post 9/11 state brutality, from the fact is MP was bugged, to the fact he is being held at the US government's request, despite having no prima facie evidence to hold him under British law.
Remember Babar Ahmad.
The Metropolitan police had denied the claims, saying officers used reasonable force during the arrest. The court heard earlier in the week that the force specifically denied that Ahmad had been punched, controlled with handcuffs, stamped on or put in a dangerous neck hold.
Babar was found to have 73 separate injuries following his initial arrest. His case is a particularly egregious example of post 9/11 state brutality, from the fact is MP was bugged, to the fact he is being held at the US government's request, despite having no prima facie evidence to hold him under British law.
Remember Babar Ahmad.
Part the Fourth: the persistence of nature
As New London took shape, interesting things sprang up. Many of them centred on the areas deemed ‘dead’.
Through late spring, summer and into autumn plant life began to conquer the dead parts of the city. Weeds and shrubs began poking up through the ash and rubble. One very common plant was the buddleia, which used to grow only in the aggregate by railway tracks. Other new floral features included Rose willow herb and Canadian fleabane. They were given the nickname “fire flowers”.
London’s various parks became overgrown. In many cases sheep were imported. Some parks had shepherds. Others let the sheep roam free. The larger parks, such as Richmond Park and Wimbledon Common, were almost impossible to maintain, and further reverted to grassland. There was a semi-serious suggestion of bringing in elephants, but the problem of transport scuppered that idea long before the general dearth of pachyderms arose.
In the early maelstrom domestic animals were usually abandoned. This mostly meant pets. Feral swarms of cats, multiform packs of dogs began to congregate. This made it very difficult for those who decided to stay with their pets. Many pets were eaten or mauled. Nightmare stories did the rounds of people being attacked and killed. The beast clouds were hunted and hounded out of most neighbourhoods.
By autumn of the first year the last three remaining hound packs were known to be taking refuge in the Central London dead zone. Even so London was haunted by the nightly lupine howl.
Not all domestic animals were pets. There were, of course, city farms, zoos and private collections. Some people held onto their animals, many were consumed. Some animals set free survived. Strange animals, such as the flock of ostriches seen around the plains of former Camberwell, Burgess Park and sometimes on up to Herne Hill and beyond. Regents Park and Hyde Park were known to hold families of Tapirs.
When a group of communards tried to reclaim Earls Court they found it occupied by several dozen chimpanzees. Birds of prey were frequently seen around high-rise buildings. Despite this, the already escaped flock of parakeets (in the old days seen across South London) were now found as far north as Enfield and Stanmore. Rumours flew around about big cats. The strongest conjecture placed a leopard in Richmond Park (it was tempted there by the wild horses), although it sometimes was found ferreting around dustbins in Battersea, walking rooftops in Crouch End and basking by London Fields lido.
Most surprising of all was the day when the riverside communes began building a wave machine to tap the river’s energy. A line of paddles was being laid out when, from over the side, a seven-foot log was spotted swimming rapidly toward the boat. The Thames had crocodiles… or were they alligators? No one in the boat stopped to find out. They paddled quickly for shore. After several exhaustive (and careful searches) only one crocodile was found.
No one could figure out how it got there. The best explanation was it escaped into the river via the sewer system. But how did it get into the sewers? The crocodile was brightly tagged instead of killed, as it was unlikely to survive the coming winter. Nevertheless, from then on, Londoners looked at the river with a different eye.
Water was one New London’s biggest assets, as well as one of its biggest burdens. London had two major reservoir networks. London was able to produce enough clean water to export (other main exports were electricity, recycled metal, paper and building materials). Having suffered the least damage most of the suburbs and outskirts were still connected to a water supply. Effort was made to reconnect the inner city wards, but progress was slow.
It was just as well. The water supply could no longer be trusted, certainly not drunk straight from the tap. Many neighbourhoods sank their own wells. Groups began building collective distilleries. Where wells could not be built communes began redistributing surplus water. It was brought to communities in need by horse and trap.
The sewerage system seemed to have stood up to the crisis pretty well. By September of the first year it had been swept of all blockages (and potential crocodiles).
The underground system was harder to maintain. Much of it was damaged and flooded out. About half the trains were missing or destroyed. By the middle of the year some of the over ground sections were attached to generators and brought back to life. There were even plans to build new stations around these lines. During an August rainstorm there was a spectacular moment when the river Fleet surfaced for the first time in centuries, passing through old Farringdon tube station.
The re-emergence of the old river spurred a fresh round of building and maintenance. Londoners were made aware just how vulnerable, how mortal their city was, built on an old marsh. The new regime of reduce, reuse, recycle went into overdrive. London’s new, mostly solar powered, industries were increasingly turned toward churning out raw material to prop up sagging, slouching architecture. Those buildings that could not stand were allowed to fall, taken apart and reused elsewhere. Though the city remade contact with the wider world, the days of accumulation and waste were gone.
Through late spring, summer and into autumn plant life began to conquer the dead parts of the city. Weeds and shrubs began poking up through the ash and rubble. One very common plant was the buddleia, which used to grow only in the aggregate by railway tracks. Other new floral features included Rose willow herb and Canadian fleabane. They were given the nickname “fire flowers”.
London’s various parks became overgrown. In many cases sheep were imported. Some parks had shepherds. Others let the sheep roam free. The larger parks, such as Richmond Park and Wimbledon Common, were almost impossible to maintain, and further reverted to grassland. There was a semi-serious suggestion of bringing in elephants, but the problem of transport scuppered that idea long before the general dearth of pachyderms arose.
In the early maelstrom domestic animals were usually abandoned. This mostly meant pets. Feral swarms of cats, multiform packs of dogs began to congregate. This made it very difficult for those who decided to stay with their pets. Many pets were eaten or mauled. Nightmare stories did the rounds of people being attacked and killed. The beast clouds were hunted and hounded out of most neighbourhoods.
By autumn of the first year the last three remaining hound packs were known to be taking refuge in the Central London dead zone. Even so London was haunted by the nightly lupine howl.
Not all domestic animals were pets. There were, of course, city farms, zoos and private collections. Some people held onto their animals, many were consumed. Some animals set free survived. Strange animals, such as the flock of ostriches seen around the plains of former Camberwell, Burgess Park and sometimes on up to Herne Hill and beyond. Regents Park and Hyde Park were known to hold families of Tapirs.
When a group of communards tried to reclaim Earls Court they found it occupied by several dozen chimpanzees. Birds of prey were frequently seen around high-rise buildings. Despite this, the already escaped flock of parakeets (in the old days seen across South London) were now found as far north as Enfield and Stanmore. Rumours flew around about big cats. The strongest conjecture placed a leopard in Richmond Park (it was tempted there by the wild horses), although it sometimes was found ferreting around dustbins in Battersea, walking rooftops in Crouch End and basking by London Fields lido.
Most surprising of all was the day when the riverside communes began building a wave machine to tap the river’s energy. A line of paddles was being laid out when, from over the side, a seven-foot log was spotted swimming rapidly toward the boat. The Thames had crocodiles… or were they alligators? No one in the boat stopped to find out. They paddled quickly for shore. After several exhaustive (and careful searches) only one crocodile was found.
No one could figure out how it got there. The best explanation was it escaped into the river via the sewer system. But how did it get into the sewers? The crocodile was brightly tagged instead of killed, as it was unlikely to survive the coming winter. Nevertheless, from then on, Londoners looked at the river with a different eye.
Water was one New London’s biggest assets, as well as one of its biggest burdens. London had two major reservoir networks. London was able to produce enough clean water to export (other main exports were electricity, recycled metal, paper and building materials). Having suffered the least damage most of the suburbs and outskirts were still connected to a water supply. Effort was made to reconnect the inner city wards, but progress was slow.
It was just as well. The water supply could no longer be trusted, certainly not drunk straight from the tap. Many neighbourhoods sank their own wells. Groups began building collective distilleries. Where wells could not be built communes began redistributing surplus water. It was brought to communities in need by horse and trap.
The sewerage system seemed to have stood up to the crisis pretty well. By September of the first year it had been swept of all blockages (and potential crocodiles).
The underground system was harder to maintain. Much of it was damaged and flooded out. About half the trains were missing or destroyed. By the middle of the year some of the over ground sections were attached to generators and brought back to life. There were even plans to build new stations around these lines. During an August rainstorm there was a spectacular moment when the river Fleet surfaced for the first time in centuries, passing through old Farringdon tube station.
The re-emergence of the old river spurred a fresh round of building and maintenance. Londoners were made aware just how vulnerable, how mortal their city was, built on an old marsh. The new regime of reduce, reuse, recycle went into overdrive. London’s new, mostly solar powered, industries were increasingly turned toward churning out raw material to prop up sagging, slouching architecture. Those buildings that could not stand were allowed to fall, taken apart and reused elsewhere. Though the city remade contact with the wider world, the days of accumulation and waste were gone.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Part the third: dead zones and the persistence of fire
Despite its mystery a number of things stood out about the catastrophe in people’s minds. High up there was fire.
A great city is dependant upon timing, from hours to minutes to seconds. Seen from above, the daily movement of people in and out of the city looked like the pulse of a heartbeat.
But when the brutal carnival came to town the beat stopped. Time was disrupted. The city’s metabolism broke down. Previously such things such as market shelves and factory warehouses were planned on a 12-24 hour basis. The means of subsistence ran out quickly.
People at first turned on each other, but this was taking lack for lack. Once the realisation filtered through the people turned on the identifiable sources of wealth, shops, offices, banks and so on. This is where clashes with the police began, where Peel’s thin blue line disintegrated under the swell of the crisis.
Within days the swarms of people became raiding parties; organised, thinking mobs. About a week into the crisis that attention shifted from symbols of wealth to the people represented in those symbols. Where were the rich, the well to do? Since the crisis hit the streets it seemed, at least as far as London went, that the old bourgeois had been scoured from the face of the earth. There were only people and soldiers left, and even they were beginning to merge.
What were the rich doing, in their mansions and fortified penthouses? They seemed to be doing pretty well through it all? What were they hiding?
People were determined to confront power. A fortnight into the crisis the government still claimed to exist, parliament still met under military guard. The Royal Family had long since gone. The Queen and her family were evacuated to a secret location, and there were very few people left to take orders from her government.
The government still gave out orders. It put curfews in place, but there was no one to enforce them (and plenty to ignore them). It sent out for help from the provinces but none came. It tried secretly calling in air strikes from RAF Northolt, all it got was a mutiny and a series of huge explosions that rocked the evening sky.
The government even brought in rationing. It sent the men it had left to take control of food supplies, the shops, the warehouses, the city farms, right down down to the allotments. This was the last straw for many. Rationing wasn’t the answer as there was nothing left to ration. The government was prolonging the crisis, provoking the people. For many people it was the crisis incarnate. The government had to go.
The new communes and their even newer leaders (more of which later) put out a joint call to march on parliament. Posters and leaflets went up across the suburbs and inner city wards. Handy public speakers were sent to spread the message on street corners. The message was simple: party tonight, bring your own weapon.
It was only as ranks of communards started marching through the streets, into the city proper that they discovered how weak the government actually was (compared to men an women armed with small sticks of dynamite, pistols, crossbows, slingshots, the odd rifle). The plan was broad and very simple, northern and eastern communards would take the city and the Bank of England (money still had meaning in those days), southern and western communards would take the Bridges, Whitehall and Parliament.
The southern communards made their way across the bridges to Trafalgar Square, they faced a few pot shots from buildings on the Embankment, but these soon ceased once the groups had crossed the river and placed guards. The western communards had to bulk up as they were travelling through Kensington and Chelsea, dangerous territory.
But, to their surprise, they met no opposition. What was up? Small squads were sent to search various houses. All but a few were found empty. Most occupied houses were actually being squatted.
The attack had to be co-ordinated. The communard leaders usually communicated through the remnants of the mobile phone system. These were left behind for the big day. Everyone used the system, you didn't know who'd be listening. The idea was to communicate through bicycle couriers, but this, unsurprisingly, wasn’t working too well. People began to speculate. They soon found out why.
The day dragged on until both groups came to the conclusion that they had to be either side of the government by now. It was only when the two groups had reached the edges of Parliament Square and Downing Street that they realised they were walking into a trap.
Huge explosions, three, four, five, how many more went off? Followed by whirls of machine gun fire from every conceivable direction. Both Downing Street and the MPs buildings were four storey infernos. Everyone scattered for cover. This was serious. This wasn’t just the Household Cavalry at work.
Similar things were happening in the City of London. Whole buildings were packed with dynamite and petrol. Flaming nightmare burst up all around, buildings crashing to the ground.
Human conflict is an explosion of energy. It is supposed to be wrought on people. But, as they say, it takes 1,000 bullets to kill a man. Usually that energy is wrecked on buildings. As the battle unfolded structures chipped, twisted and warped. Electrical lines were broken, gas mains went up, fire leapt across the city.
Despite the maelstrom it looked like the Houses of Parliament would finally fall, when fire began flicking up from inside. Over in the City groups of men and women managed to get ladders and climb to the unfortified level of the bank. Finally on top, they were about to fight their way down into the building, when a huge explosion ripped the bank apart, scattering bodies and masonry over a ¼ mile area.
The survivors had to retreat. Commune members spent the rest of the night, and the following three days and nights, making sure the fires didn’t spread. The outward appearance of the old government had gone, apparently immolating itself. The class it represented seemed to have vanished too. Yet the assault was a disaster. Thousands had been killed and no clear victory had been achieved.
Large swathes of London were declared “dead zones”, lethal areas of blocked roads, smoking wreckage and tottering buildings. Over the days and weeks there’d occasionally be an odd rumble as a building collapsed. People got used to that. Fear of fire remained.
It was decided each commune had to draw up plans for fire emergencies, train people to deal with disasters, large and small. There was another dead zone declared after Heathrow airport was consumed, though the fire was nowhere near as big as could have been expected. Even after all planes were grounded the airport had been guarded by its workers as the only large source of fuel in the city.
Fear might have lessened after the gas and electricity ran out but the great fire of Canary Wharf changed all that. Another huge explosion, this time the whole city heard, and a million pairs of eyes turned to see flames jumping up the tower. Then another tower, another, and another went up. There were people inside; only a few weeks before it had been successfully reclaimed.
Another dead zone was declared. Fire was now a form of sabotage.
A great city is dependant upon timing, from hours to minutes to seconds. Seen from above, the daily movement of people in and out of the city looked like the pulse of a heartbeat.
But when the brutal carnival came to town the beat stopped. Time was disrupted. The city’s metabolism broke down. Previously such things such as market shelves and factory warehouses were planned on a 12-24 hour basis. The means of subsistence ran out quickly.
People at first turned on each other, but this was taking lack for lack. Once the realisation filtered through the people turned on the identifiable sources of wealth, shops, offices, banks and so on. This is where clashes with the police began, where Peel’s thin blue line disintegrated under the swell of the crisis.
Within days the swarms of people became raiding parties; organised, thinking mobs. About a week into the crisis that attention shifted from symbols of wealth to the people represented in those symbols. Where were the rich, the well to do? Since the crisis hit the streets it seemed, at least as far as London went, that the old bourgeois had been scoured from the face of the earth. There were only people and soldiers left, and even they were beginning to merge.
What were the rich doing, in their mansions and fortified penthouses? They seemed to be doing pretty well through it all? What were they hiding?
People were determined to confront power. A fortnight into the crisis the government still claimed to exist, parliament still met under military guard. The Royal Family had long since gone. The Queen and her family were evacuated to a secret location, and there were very few people left to take orders from her government.
The government still gave out orders. It put curfews in place, but there was no one to enforce them (and plenty to ignore them). It sent out for help from the provinces but none came. It tried secretly calling in air strikes from RAF Northolt, all it got was a mutiny and a series of huge explosions that rocked the evening sky.
The government even brought in rationing. It sent the men it had left to take control of food supplies, the shops, the warehouses, the city farms, right down down to the allotments. This was the last straw for many. Rationing wasn’t the answer as there was nothing left to ration. The government was prolonging the crisis, provoking the people. For many people it was the crisis incarnate. The government had to go.
The new communes and their even newer leaders (more of which later) put out a joint call to march on parliament. Posters and leaflets went up across the suburbs and inner city wards. Handy public speakers were sent to spread the message on street corners. The message was simple: party tonight, bring your own weapon.
It was only as ranks of communards started marching through the streets, into the city proper that they discovered how weak the government actually was (compared to men an women armed with small sticks of dynamite, pistols, crossbows, slingshots, the odd rifle). The plan was broad and very simple, northern and eastern communards would take the city and the Bank of England (money still had meaning in those days), southern and western communards would take the Bridges, Whitehall and Parliament.
The southern communards made their way across the bridges to Trafalgar Square, they faced a few pot shots from buildings on the Embankment, but these soon ceased once the groups had crossed the river and placed guards. The western communards had to bulk up as they were travelling through Kensington and Chelsea, dangerous territory.
But, to their surprise, they met no opposition. What was up? Small squads were sent to search various houses. All but a few were found empty. Most occupied houses were actually being squatted.
The attack had to be co-ordinated. The communard leaders usually communicated through the remnants of the mobile phone system. These were left behind for the big day. Everyone used the system, you didn't know who'd be listening. The idea was to communicate through bicycle couriers, but this, unsurprisingly, wasn’t working too well. People began to speculate. They soon found out why.
The day dragged on until both groups came to the conclusion that they had to be either side of the government by now. It was only when the two groups had reached the edges of Parliament Square and Downing Street that they realised they were walking into a trap.
Huge explosions, three, four, five, how many more went off? Followed by whirls of machine gun fire from every conceivable direction. Both Downing Street and the MPs buildings were four storey infernos. Everyone scattered for cover. This was serious. This wasn’t just the Household Cavalry at work.
Similar things were happening in the City of London. Whole buildings were packed with dynamite and petrol. Flaming nightmare burst up all around, buildings crashing to the ground.
Human conflict is an explosion of energy. It is supposed to be wrought on people. But, as they say, it takes 1,000 bullets to kill a man. Usually that energy is wrecked on buildings. As the battle unfolded structures chipped, twisted and warped. Electrical lines were broken, gas mains went up, fire leapt across the city.
Despite the maelstrom it looked like the Houses of Parliament would finally fall, when fire began flicking up from inside. Over in the City groups of men and women managed to get ladders and climb to the unfortified level of the bank. Finally on top, they were about to fight their way down into the building, when a huge explosion ripped the bank apart, scattering bodies and masonry over a ¼ mile area.
The survivors had to retreat. Commune members spent the rest of the night, and the following three days and nights, making sure the fires didn’t spread. The outward appearance of the old government had gone, apparently immolating itself. The class it represented seemed to have vanished too. Yet the assault was a disaster. Thousands had been killed and no clear victory had been achieved.
Large swathes of London were declared “dead zones”, lethal areas of blocked roads, smoking wreckage and tottering buildings. Over the days and weeks there’d occasionally be an odd rumble as a building collapsed. People got used to that. Fear of fire remained.
It was decided each commune had to draw up plans for fire emergencies, train people to deal with disasters, large and small. There was another dead zone declared after Heathrow airport was consumed, though the fire was nowhere near as big as could have been expected. Even after all planes were grounded the airport had been guarded by its workers as the only large source of fuel in the city.
Fear might have lessened after the gas and electricity ran out but the great fire of Canary Wharf changed all that. Another huge explosion, this time the whole city heard, and a million pairs of eyes turned to see flames jumping up the tower. Then another tower, another, and another went up. There were people inside; only a few weeks before it had been successfully reclaimed.
Another dead zone was declared. Fire was now a form of sabotage.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Damn Right!
Sacked Sony France workers this morning freed the chief executive they had been holding hostage, on the condition that he was escorted directly to talks with trade unionists.
Yes!
If it was in any way up to me I'd have the students and cleaning staff at SOAS do the same to the unionbusting principal Paul Webley.
But that's just what I think.
Yes!
If it was in any way up to me I'd have the students and cleaning staff at SOAS do the same to the unionbusting principal Paul Webley.
But that's just what I think.
Moar fiction: why Antonio, why?
Because... I have amnesia. Spot that quote if you dare. Here's the words, now:
Clearing the dead was one of the first things that had to be done after the catastrophe. With bodies littering the streets carrion and putrefaction began to take its toll. Fear soon mounted; the city was on the point of an epidemic. Small groups, the early communes took the initiative and began removing the bodies. At first many tried to collect and move the bodies to a safer place. Some tried to bury them. This only shifted the problem and, in a city without certain supplies of soap and water, made it very difficult for the ad hoc undertakers to keep clean, which was the point of the exercise.
After long and passionate argument it was agreed the bodies would be piled and burned. This would cost a lot in terms of solid fuel but would be better than cholera. As the days passed and evenings rose, small bonfires began springing up all over London.
Petrol, diesel, various types of fuel ran out quickly. Reserves were prized. The electrical grid lasted longer. Over the weeks it broke down slowly eventually grinding to a halt across London one spring morning.
But that wasn’t the end of electricity. People had already begun building windmills, large and small. Some smart bods cobbled together leftover items and began installing solar panels to buildings. There were even plans drawn up by some of the riverside communes to tap the Thames’ tide. Groups of headhunters were dispatched to look for engineers willing and able to design a barrage.
With a dash of ingenuity old engines were transformed into generators, powered by new fuels, such as super-vodka, sugar-petrol and a strange substance called liquid coal, which dribbled into London from Wales (more later). As the city recovered the generators (new and old) were fixed to abandoned factories as the communes began to take on some of the old industry.
The end of electricity had other consequences. London at night was bathed in darkness. Darkness breeds fear of the unknown. This was less of a problem in the inhabited areas, run by the communes. Large parts of London were deemed “dead zones” (more of which later). These places were dangerous and insurmountable by day, lethal by night. Only the stupid, the unfortunate or the desperate spent nighttime in a dead zone.
Time, of course, was largely electronic. Time began to slip and become elastic. Without a clock face as reference days became difficult to organise. Time devices became collective utilities, centralising objects. People would gather round a local clock or a watch or a sundial regularly, every day. Add to this the numerous impassable roads, depleted transport and shattered communication, the survivors grasp of time changed quickly.
After the catastrophe food and medicine were soon in short supply. The situation was made worse by the decline in electricity. London’s survivors held on through various lashed up schemes, such as fortified allotments and reclaimed public ground. In places like old Kilburn, Camberwell and Lewisham groups of people began digging up the roads in search of good soil. A number of communes sent members out into the surrounding countryside to forage for food and hunt for animals.
Many, many people had already fled the city. Roughly 3/5 of London’s population fled the city on the first wave of panic and destruction. Most were consumed by the catastrophe, adding to its scale. The remainder of refugees were left to huddle or wander in the hellish rural limbo.
Some tried to steal cattle and crops. An ambitious few tried to herd their booty, live like Native Americans. They almost all failed. Herds of cows and sheep were scattered across the land.
Many refugees tried to beg shelter on farms; the farmers, who were generally armed, fearful and determined, resisted them fiercely. In time raw numbers overwhelmed the farms, hamlets and villages surrounding city. Often they were plundered.
There was no way people could be incorporated, at least not under the old way of life. After a fortnight or so people began setting up shelter on open ground or in woodland. The rural natives again resisted. They regarded the refugees as squatters. But these squatters were tenacious survivors, newly bonded tribes who had stood out against weeks of ultra violence. They would not be moved.
Once a band made the decision to settle down they would take what they had, find a defendable patch of land and cling to it with all their might. When the urban communes sent organised parties out into the countryside they found a war of all against all.
The countryside had settled into a strange pattern of jurisdiction, clan network, mini-kingdoms, neo-peasant republics and so on. Each body of people lived in desperate fear of its neighbours, guarding what it had. The terrain was swept by variously armed, ever diminishing (but still dangerous) groups of nomads and bandits.
Some groups had managed to hold together market and garrison towns. One notable example was Colchester, where a resourceful and charismatic vicar persuaded the christian soldiers to follow his lead. Six months down the line he had established an effective military-bishopric across large swathes of former Essex. He used his new, temporal power to subject the local population, holding them down with tales of evil rising from the city and (if that failed) the gun.
Delegations from the urban communes were not welcome to begin with. One thing the new rural folk feared more than each other was another wave of violence emanating from the city. The delegations were turned away.
The delegations came back, though, with gifts, products of the new micro industries. Clothes, generators, basic medicine, clean water, recycled paper and such like, along with lots and lots of reconstituted scrap metal. They were not turned away again.
The communes managed to establish relations of trade with some of the more democratic survivors. Supplies started working their way into London. Around about the time of the Knights rising the debate amongst ordinary communards how to best use the new wealth; wood, wool, coal, some oil, some ore, a small amount of meat and fish, some vegetables, some seeds and grains.
The coming of the urban delegations also calmed the rural war. Most of the rural groups had settled around some stolen booty and whatever the land held, sheep, cows, trees, turnip fields, milk silos etc. While they were holding on to what they had in the teeth of all others they ran out of they needed. Another bout of fighting was primed to break out.
As the town and countryside made contact the town started to organise life. As time when on relations improved to the extent different communes would send out lists of needs. Each group began to anticipate and plan for each other’s needs.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Majority of voters support renationalisation
According to the poll launched by the new People's Charter for Change. 87% also want to see investment in protecting jobs. Good news.
The two other things of note is (1) the charter group is broad, in terms of named support. It seems the united front against the recession tactic will be put into practice after all. Let's (all of us) do our best to make it popular. (2) According to the Grauniad article:
This doesn't mean views are set in stone. Imagine taking the same poll 10-15 years ago. The figures show, however, that there is a generational bottleneck. Young adults have grown up under TINA regime Thatcher/Major/Blair. They know nothing else and have trouble even imagining anything else.
A world to win, as they say.
The two other things of note is (1) the charter group is broad, in terms of named support. It seems the united front against the recession tactic will be put into practice after all. Let's (all of us) do our best to make it popular. (2) According to the Grauniad article:
Some 31% strongly supported the renationalisation of electricity, gas, water, the railways and telecommunications industry – while another 36% slightly supported renationalisation. But the over-35s were much more likely to support renationationalisation. Just 12% of 16-24 year-olds strongly supported the idea, whereas 41% of 55-64 year-olds were in favour.
Similarly, older people were more likely to agree that politicians were out of touch with the problems faced by ordinary people during the economic crisis. One in four 16-25-year-olds believed this, in contrast to 58% of 55-64 year-olds.
This doesn't mean views are set in stone. Imagine taking the same poll 10-15 years ago. The figures show, however, that there is a generational bottleneck. Young adults have grown up under TINA regime Thatcher/Major/Blair. They know nothing else and have trouble even imagining anything else.
A world to win, as they say.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Comedy - block notes
“I said ‘you’re just that close to being a preacher’. He said ‘I am a preacher, Momma’”. Mary Hicks on her son, Bill.
The basic staring part for all such investigations is at the dawn of human culture all the different arts, sciences and superstitions were effectively one. Culture is a clear sign of surplus wealth. Surplus wealth is the foundation of class division and struggle. Since the dawn of human culture art, science and religion have been drawing apart.
This process reaches it’s outermost limits under capitalism, where each discipline, each genre, each sect is sharply defined and commodified, and sent out onto the market.
Stand up comedy boiled down is verbal/visual performance (verbal dominant) in front of a live audience. Stand up comedy, as we know it today is a capitalist art form. It depends upon the monopoly of public space.
You can see the pre-capitalist basis for stand up comedy in pre-capitalist spaces. Precursors of the comedian include the jester, who performed in royal or noble courts. The jester, or fool, played primarily to his patron: the ruler of the house. His job was mostly to flatter and amuse. He had licence to offer witty forms of council. In the process he could gently play on the host’s foibles and flaws. This dual role still exists in modern comedy.
Another proto comedian was the preacher, in particular the radical preacher. Established religions need homogeneity, clarity and repeatability in their message. They are crucial pillars of civil society, of organising consent for rule. In line with the state that sponsors them, their rituals are much more founded in text than performance. Think of a church or an empire without script, it’s not possible.
Breakaway religions do not have prestige and wealth. They are not plugged into networks of power. They are normally founded on revisions, combinations or alternative interpretations of prior religions. The rituals of the breakaway religion are more attention catching, performance based. This is the difference between a preacher and a vicar. A preacher has to win and hold an audience in the same way as a comedian.
The last precursor we’re going to pick on is the theatre. If we’re being accurate the theatre is more proto than pre capitalist. The word ‘comedy’ used to be a concrete noun, referring to plays where the principle characters survived. A generally upbeat framework allowed comedy, in the modern sense, to develop.
Instead of the epic, deadly sweep of tragedies, where the fate of nations would rest on the shoulders of lonely individuals, in comedies you had a focus on day-to-day life. Comedies would rest on bawdy humour, scandal, satire, Twelfth Night and Mardi Gras. A common theme was the clash of middle class and aristocratic culture (also a tragic device) and the potential comic turmoil and overturn therein.
Once you get things like vaudeville and music hall you find the direct ancestors of stand up comedians taking the stage. In time the music and dance separated from the comedy routine. All human inventions take time to find their niche. Either they separate quickly and have to refer back to the objects they have separated from, for example the wireless or the horseless carriage, or they spend time as an adjunct to some other form: the internet is a good example of this.
The basic staring part for all such investigations is at the dawn of human culture all the different arts, sciences and superstitions were effectively one. Culture is a clear sign of surplus wealth. Surplus wealth is the foundation of class division and struggle. Since the dawn of human culture art, science and religion have been drawing apart.
This process reaches it’s outermost limits under capitalism, where each discipline, each genre, each sect is sharply defined and commodified, and sent out onto the market.
Stand up comedy boiled down is verbal/visual performance (verbal dominant) in front of a live audience. Stand up comedy, as we know it today is a capitalist art form. It depends upon the monopoly of public space.
You can see the pre-capitalist basis for stand up comedy in pre-capitalist spaces. Precursors of the comedian include the jester, who performed in royal or noble courts. The jester, or fool, played primarily to his patron: the ruler of the house. His job was mostly to flatter and amuse. He had licence to offer witty forms of council. In the process he could gently play on the host’s foibles and flaws. This dual role still exists in modern comedy.
Another proto comedian was the preacher, in particular the radical preacher. Established religions need homogeneity, clarity and repeatability in their message. They are crucial pillars of civil society, of organising consent for rule. In line with the state that sponsors them, their rituals are much more founded in text than performance. Think of a church or an empire without script, it’s not possible.
Breakaway religions do not have prestige and wealth. They are not plugged into networks of power. They are normally founded on revisions, combinations or alternative interpretations of prior religions. The rituals of the breakaway religion are more attention catching, performance based. This is the difference between a preacher and a vicar. A preacher has to win and hold an audience in the same way as a comedian.
The last precursor we’re going to pick on is the theatre. If we’re being accurate the theatre is more proto than pre capitalist. The word ‘comedy’ used to be a concrete noun, referring to plays where the principle characters survived. A generally upbeat framework allowed comedy, in the modern sense, to develop.
Instead of the epic, deadly sweep of tragedies, where the fate of nations would rest on the shoulders of lonely individuals, in comedies you had a focus on day-to-day life. Comedies would rest on bawdy humour, scandal, satire, Twelfth Night and Mardi Gras. A common theme was the clash of middle class and aristocratic culture (also a tragic device) and the potential comic turmoil and overturn therein.
Once you get things like vaudeville and music hall you find the direct ancestors of stand up comedians taking the stage. In time the music and dance separated from the comedy routine. All human inventions take time to find their niche. Either they separate quickly and have to refer back to the objects they have separated from, for example the wireless or the horseless carriage, or they spend time as an adjunct to some other form: the internet is a good example of this.
Monday, March 09, 2009
Friday, March 06, 2009
Oh noes, I has been creative...
Here's part one (you mean there's more?1?) of what would happen if London fell apart:
A deer was spotted in Parliament Square. News spread quickly. Everyone was surprised.
There it was, a stag, standing atop the degraded remains of Winston Churchill’s statue. Hungry eyes that normally wouldn’t have hesitated to bring down such a prize watched in awe as it stood there.
An impatient noise, the whistle of a crossbow, or was it a bullet, as someone tried to shoot the deer. In a flash of antlers it was gone. The deer galloped down the road toward old Milbank. No one had seen anything move so fast, at least not that they could remember.
It had been just over a year since the catastrophe. Despite the vivid whirl of gore, limbs, shattered teeth and bones, the event was already passing into legend. How did it happen? Where did it start? Who, if anyone, started it? The catastrophe was so sudden, so intense that no one stopped to think, let alone reflect. As time went by, though, people came up with explanations.
Life in the city beat a hasty retreat. The powerful and the well to do got out quickly. Areas like Holland Park, Belgravia, Kensington and Chelsea were soon virtual ghost towns.
There were rumours of a government in waiting. Some said groups of civil servants, senior officers, MPs and Lords had hidden themselves down the old tunnels underneath Whitehall. Some who kept faith with the government made dangerous pilgrimages to Whitehall. They searched the corridors of power for signs of life. They found nothing except empty silence and firmly bolted doors.
One of the first things to go was the police. They were established to protect private property. As the property system fell apart they held to their posts. In doing so they became the chief obstacle to survival. 30,000 police officers stood no chance against 6 million people determined to be citizens.
The breakdown of the police force was crucial to the establishment of New London. Though they were lightly armed, as the police were chased away or dispatched their ordinance was passed around. In the molten chaos of the transforming city these weapons became the basis of a new order.
The new order began to form around a number of communes. The old council estates and tower blocks were built like prisons for the poor. Under the new order they were transformed into fortresses. The old courtyards became meeting grounds, the gardens common soil.
As the communes became established and known to one another they formed networks of power around the city. Even so a number of communes stood out from the rest; the Ocean Estate in Stepney Green, Broadwater Farm in Tottenham, De Beauvoir and Dog Kennel Hill for example. Two months after the catastrophe there was a meeting of communes from old Hackney and old Waltham Forest where they agreed to divide up the marshes and ration the water from the reservoirs.
In between these networks grew a rival power. The serious ordinance lay in the hands of the army. The Thames was too small, the bridges too low for the navy to intervene and RAF Northolt was grounded once fuel began to run out. The army divisions still remained.
The officers of the Household Cavalry and Royal Marines tried to drill their men and women as before. Many soldiers just upped and left, taking their weapons with them into the communes. Too many of the officers remained. Bitter at their abandonment amid anarchy, they marched their remaining followers off into hideaways, little corners of Old London, where they would mark time.
People began to worry. In the middle of this collapse what were the soldiers up to? Some ventured up to the new barracks to ask but were usually shown the mean end of a gun. New London soon found out.
One summer’s day columns of men and suspiciously well stocked tanks moved on the ruins of St Paul’s cathedral. Groups of men in uniform passed around the city, distributing leaflets, holding impromptu meeting. A group calling itself the Knights Templar had risen to claim it’s old jurisdiction and impose order. They left a deadline. All weapons were to be turned over to the Knights. Anyone found on the streets by sundown would be arrested. Anyone found with a weapon of any kind would be executed.
The word needn’t have gone out. People knew already. The Knight’s plan had been leaked onto the emergency radio system. News was passed around. People assembled wherever the Knights went to make their proclamation, and drove them out of the neighbourhood.
The day wore on and people came slowly to St Paul’s cathedral, with their weapons but without a mind to hand them over. As crowd's gathered there was a standoff. The people were almost curious. Who were these upstarts, these Knights Templar, claiming power all of a sudden?
Fights began as the soldiers tried to carry out their orders. Individuals and small groups stood no chance against the Knights. As the communes sent more and more people to St Paul’s the soldiers were slowly but surely overwhelmed, swallowed by the throng. The surging crowd was about to take the cathedral itself, bring the culprits out into the light, when an amazing thing happened.
From somewhere within the ruins a helicopter took off. Londoners, normally used to loud flying machines, were astonished that something so big and complicated could actually work. People in the crowd tried to shoot it down. The ringleaders were inside! Some tried to follow it as it zipped across the skyline. Most there just rejoiced. The Knights had been beaten! New London was free!
People swarmed across the once contested streets, arm in arm, late into the night. Not a single supporter of the Knights could be found. The struggle had made brothers and sisters of everyone. A new and weird life was beginning.
A deer was spotted in Parliament Square. News spread quickly. Everyone was surprised.
There it was, a stag, standing atop the degraded remains of Winston Churchill’s statue. Hungry eyes that normally wouldn’t have hesitated to bring down such a prize watched in awe as it stood there.
An impatient noise, the whistle of a crossbow, or was it a bullet, as someone tried to shoot the deer. In a flash of antlers it was gone. The deer galloped down the road toward old Milbank. No one had seen anything move so fast, at least not that they could remember.
It had been just over a year since the catastrophe. Despite the vivid whirl of gore, limbs, shattered teeth and bones, the event was already passing into legend. How did it happen? Where did it start? Who, if anyone, started it? The catastrophe was so sudden, so intense that no one stopped to think, let alone reflect. As time went by, though, people came up with explanations.
Life in the city beat a hasty retreat. The powerful and the well to do got out quickly. Areas like Holland Park, Belgravia, Kensington and Chelsea were soon virtual ghost towns.
There were rumours of a government in waiting. Some said groups of civil servants, senior officers, MPs and Lords had hidden themselves down the old tunnels underneath Whitehall. Some who kept faith with the government made dangerous pilgrimages to Whitehall. They searched the corridors of power for signs of life. They found nothing except empty silence and firmly bolted doors.
One of the first things to go was the police. They were established to protect private property. As the property system fell apart they held to their posts. In doing so they became the chief obstacle to survival. 30,000 police officers stood no chance against 6 million people determined to be citizens.
The breakdown of the police force was crucial to the establishment of New London. Though they were lightly armed, as the police were chased away or dispatched their ordinance was passed around. In the molten chaos of the transforming city these weapons became the basis of a new order.
The new order began to form around a number of communes. The old council estates and tower blocks were built like prisons for the poor. Under the new order they were transformed into fortresses. The old courtyards became meeting grounds, the gardens common soil.
As the communes became established and known to one another they formed networks of power around the city. Even so a number of communes stood out from the rest; the Ocean Estate in Stepney Green, Broadwater Farm in Tottenham, De Beauvoir and Dog Kennel Hill for example. Two months after the catastrophe there was a meeting of communes from old Hackney and old Waltham Forest where they agreed to divide up the marshes and ration the water from the reservoirs.
In between these networks grew a rival power. The serious ordinance lay in the hands of the army. The Thames was too small, the bridges too low for the navy to intervene and RAF Northolt was grounded once fuel began to run out. The army divisions still remained.
The officers of the Household Cavalry and Royal Marines tried to drill their men and women as before. Many soldiers just upped and left, taking their weapons with them into the communes. Too many of the officers remained. Bitter at their abandonment amid anarchy, they marched their remaining followers off into hideaways, little corners of Old London, where they would mark time.
People began to worry. In the middle of this collapse what were the soldiers up to? Some ventured up to the new barracks to ask but were usually shown the mean end of a gun. New London soon found out.
One summer’s day columns of men and suspiciously well stocked tanks moved on the ruins of St Paul’s cathedral. Groups of men in uniform passed around the city, distributing leaflets, holding impromptu meeting. A group calling itself the Knights Templar had risen to claim it’s old jurisdiction and impose order. They left a deadline. All weapons were to be turned over to the Knights. Anyone found on the streets by sundown would be arrested. Anyone found with a weapon of any kind would be executed.
The word needn’t have gone out. People knew already. The Knight’s plan had been leaked onto the emergency radio system. News was passed around. People assembled wherever the Knights went to make their proclamation, and drove them out of the neighbourhood.
The day wore on and people came slowly to St Paul’s cathedral, with their weapons but without a mind to hand them over. As crowd's gathered there was a standoff. The people were almost curious. Who were these upstarts, these Knights Templar, claiming power all of a sudden?
Fights began as the soldiers tried to carry out their orders. Individuals and small groups stood no chance against the Knights. As the communes sent more and more people to St Paul’s the soldiers were slowly but surely overwhelmed, swallowed by the throng. The surging crowd was about to take the cathedral itself, bring the culprits out into the light, when an amazing thing happened.
From somewhere within the ruins a helicopter took off. Londoners, normally used to loud flying machines, were astonished that something so big and complicated could actually work. People in the crowd tried to shoot it down. The ringleaders were inside! Some tried to follow it as it zipped across the skyline. Most there just rejoiced. The Knights had been beaten! New London was free!
People swarmed across the once contested streets, arm in arm, late into the night. Not a single supporter of the Knights could be found. The struggle had made brothers and sisters of everyone. A new and weird life was beginning.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
More good news
The British government is, apparently, ready for talks with Hezbollah. The downside is, as the linked article in the Graun hints, that this has only happened because there's a new man in the whitehouse:
One of the big problems of the war on terror is it accellerated and exposed the drain of Britain's democracy into American power. There is no reason why the British government should not have links with Hezbollah. It is the most popular party in Lebanon today. It holds the key to power, despite not being able to take it via the confessional system. Hezbollah are reformists with guns. The Lebanese state is weak. Every party has an armed wing. Hezbollah have only been deemed a terrorist organisation based on US expendiency.
On a slightly more flippant note:
How are they going to select said contacts? Presumably round one is the bikini contest, followed by the musical round...
The move, urged privately by British diplomats for some time, may be partially intended to encourage the US to follow suit as Barack Obama's administration pursues a fresh approach of engagement with parties shunned by George Bush.
One of the big problems of the war on terror is it accellerated and exposed the drain of Britain's democracy into American power. There is no reason why the British government should not have links with Hezbollah. It is the most popular party in Lebanon today. It holds the key to power, despite not being able to take it via the confessional system. Hezbollah are reformists with guns. The Lebanese state is weak. Every party has an armed wing. Hezbollah have only been deemed a terrorist organisation based on US expendiency.
On a slightly more flippant note:
Bill Rammell, the Foreign Office minister, told MPs the government would authorise "carefully selected" contacts with the political wing of Hezbollah, which is represented in the Lebanese parliament.
How are they going to select said contacts? Presumably round one is the bikini contest, followed by the musical round...
Monday, March 02, 2009
Bill Hicks - windy stuff
I was busy writing last weekend. I started my intro to a Bill Hicks piece and, like the Grateful Dead playing Roadrunner, it just went on and on. Here is part one, big up to Sean, who came up with the basic observation. I will refine further:
“Hicks is a real name, I assure you – and a most extraordinary man, if he still be living.”
A real assessment of the comedian Bill Hicks, perhaps? Well, no, it’s a paraphrase of Charles Lamb’s remark to Bernard Barton regarding William Blake.
Though separated by centuries these two men have a lot in common, apart from the same name.
They are both known radicals. Blake was a plebeian radical, inspired by the French revolution (during the revolutionary wars he was seen walking the streets of London wearing a French tri-corner hat). Hicks described himself as “Noam Chomsky with dick jokes”. This was an honest description from a man whose political ideas revolved around concepts of freedom and individual self-determination.
There is a secret political link between the two men. The English revolution of the 1640s was expressed in religious terms. Its motivation was not so much democracy as we know it today (although the idea was raised) but personal and religious freedom. The transformation of the state and law from an aristocratic to bourgeois context began then. The true radicals were defeated but not destroyed. Instead they exported their revolution to the colonies.
In his intro to Revelations, Hicks described how he “tracked the remnants of the American Dream”: the dream being founded on the principles of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Though he would criticise manifestations of capitalism (even mentioning the word during the 80s and 90s seemed odd) he never really tried to transcend the system except in vague Hippie/New-Left terms. This is in keeping with his honesty. It’s also a moot point whether his politics would have developed over more time.
Both men held idiosyncratic faiths. Blake was an egalitarian Christian who stood out against orthodoxies held by the Church of England and of Rome. Hicks was brought up a Christian and used Christian ideas and imagery in an apostate manner.
One clearly common trait was diabolism. Blake was obsessed with the fall of mankind. Why did god allow it? The role of the devil, the leader of the first insurrection, in creating the world as we know it, fascinated him. Though it appears through his known work, this trend is most pronounced in the Proverbs of Heaven and Hell, where Blake tries to invert the whole of reality to remake it afresh.
A contemporary of Hicks described him as “Christ at his angriest”. Over the years he increasingly saw himself as a bearer of enlightenment. A heckler once told him “we don’t come to comedy to think”. His response was “well, where do you go to think? I’ll meet you there”. For him words had import. His self-expression was a fundamental, almost holy principle. The compliment to his christlike pose was Goatboy. Goatboy was at times a personification of evil and at time recognition of true desire.
The final comparison I'd like to make is between their madnesses or, more precise, their visions. Blake saw things. He saw them from an early age. He was once beaten by his father for claiming an angel was sat at the bottom of the garden.
There is, of course, no difference between divine inspiration and insane hallucination, except that the former is sanctioned by religion. It is speculated that much of early christianity was inspired by the psychedelic experience. The theory certainly explains a lot, burning bushes, parting waves, booming voices coming from the sky... the book of revelations.
Hicks was well known for his psychedelic evangelism. An example, he combined this with a mixture of Terrence McKenna and 2001 - a space odyssey to create his personal theory of evolution (and why god had to invent republicans). LSD in particular is a controlled dose of madness. Bill repeatedly spoke of his acid based revelations about the alien origin of mankind. We should take is claims as seriously as real and vivid, at least to him.
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