A midlands activist personal blog. I deal with all the weighty issues of the day: unwisdom, transmogrification, the corporate panopticon, and oafs.
Systems of power react to popular ideas that challenge them in a very interesting way – they construct and promote a narrative where the problem might even be acknowledged, but the solution is something that will strengthen, rather than disassemble, the power structure. Let’s exchange anecdotal history, shall we?
Continue reading “The subversion of “social justice” movements”
James Matthews, a British man who has fought against ISIS with the Syrian Democratic Forces has just been charged with terror offences by our government. He’s not done anything wrong in the two years he’s been back in the UK, and he was fighting on the side of progressive Syrian Muslims allied to the United States against some of the most sadistic and depraved enemies imaginable, but the home office is suddenly extremely concerned that he might have learned violent habits.
This stands in stark contrast to the treatment of Salman Abedi. This was a guy who Theresa May sent out of the county to fight alongside extremists in Libya, who were armed by the British Government after the fall of Gadaffi a few years back. When he’d finished helping his new friends set up their open air slave markets, he returned to the UK and despite five different community leaders and relatives contacting the police about his alarming behaviour, he was left to his own devices right up until he blew up over twenty people outside the Ariana Grande concert in Manchester.
This isn’t an isolated case, either – it happens on an international scale. The latest chapter of the war in Syria is a dark one – with ISIS on the verge of defeat, president Erdogan of Turkey has shaved the beards off some of the jihadi fighters who fled across his border, and is now using them to invade Afrin in North Syria. These are people who, keeping their old habits, have released videos of them torturing, mutilating and beheading people they’ve captured, while openly announcing their intention to commit a genocide in the region and settle there. Their targets, on the other hand, were the guys that with the help of the United States drove ISIS from the country, have sheltered hundreds of thousands of refugees from the war in the south and were setting up a progressive, socialist and feminist regional government until they started getting bombed last month with the best weaponry NATO can buy.
Protests against this obviously illegal war of aggression are banned in Germany. Theresa May cannot send the Turks enough weapons, and when it was suggested to her that we condemn them for openly sponsoring ISIS 2.0, she pulled that grimace where she looks like someone stuffed a lemon up a dog’s asshole, and changed the subject. Trump and his friends have indicated that they’re going to abandon their former allies and allow Turkey to crush them. Why?
Don’t worry, friends, I’ll tell you fuckin’ why.
Continue reading “Terrorism, Imperialism and “Permissible” forms of government”
Not long ago our little group met with two British volunteers who had spent several months at work in the Democratic Society Movement (TEV-DEM), in a territory in northern Syria also known as Rojava. They are members of Plan C, a group of comrades who have been providing practical support and solidarity to the leftist revolution growing in that region. I’m going to write up what I learned from them – please bear in mind that this is my perception of the salient points of their talk, but I’ve given a lot of my own context which I’ve tried to cite where possible.
In spite of the dramatic and extremely serious situation currently developing because of the Turkish invasion of Afrin, the focus of our meeting was to discuss the way society is organized in Rojava, and attempt to dispel some common misconceptions about the region. For me certainly, accurate information about Syria has been difficult to come by. Our speakers had tried to be conscious of their own biases, and emphasized that people tended to see what they wanted over there. I suspect this is because of a repressed leftist political will in places like the UK; as soon as we see something resembling our ideas of justice and equality being realized anywhere in the world, our energy and fervent longing for something new causes us to project like a goddamn IMAX, obscuring the reality of what is happening on the ground.
A side-effect of this phenomenon that amused our speakers was that (for example) anarchist volunteers would arrive in Syria and be shocked to find that a centralized state exists in Rojava, or that people still use money there, or that there are some private industries still. I’m going to give you the straight dope, imperceptibly mingled with my own biases. Fortunately, I only use facts for my opinions and therefore I am only biased towards reality. I recommend that you open your mind completely and accept my second-hand account as the literal truth, and that you regard my perceptions as both authoritative and popular. If by any chance you have reason not to do so, contact me.
A little old lady in a woolly sweater shows up to the Trump Taj Mahal with approximately ten million dollars worth of chips. She plays conservatively on the craps table for a bit, but her massive stash attracts interest from the clientele, and The Donald himself descends the elevator and goes to talk to her.
“Well there, little old lady, I like how you have a lot of money! I’m an extremely rich man myself! Did you read my book on how to become extremely rich?”
“No Mr. President, I got it by betting.”
Trump is incredulous. “Folks, this girl cracks me up. You won ten million on craps?”
“No, I bet on people. Tell you what, I’ll make a bet right now. I bet you a hundred grand that in a week’s time your bollocks will be square.”
Trump glows. “I like your style, but more to the point, I cannot resist such a deal!” and he sticks out his hand. She shakes it with a wry look. “You may regret this, Mr. President.” Beaming, Trump ignores her and goes back up the elevator to boast to his son in law about his ability to spot an opportunity, and finish off the rest of his hamburgers.
An appointment is duly made and the next week, the lady and her solicitor ride the golden escalator to the top of Trump Tower. Trump is sitting at his golden desk and turns off the television as his guests are shown into his office.
“Well now, glad to see you again, you spicy minx! I see you’ve brought a witness, and he’s about to learn how I get a hundred thousand dollars richer!”
The lawyer raises an eyebrow as the woman’s frowns. “I don’t believe it,” she says gently.
“You’d better believe it!” blares Trump.
“No, I don’t. You’ll have to show me.”
Trump needs little encouragement. He marches to the other side of his desk, drops his trousers and belches as he bends over. The woman leans back and reaches out her arm, and after a second of rustling she says “Alright, fine. You win.”
“Folks, this is great!” says Trump as he stands back up, but a thumping noise distracts him and he turns to see the lawyer bashing his head against one of the golden pillars in Trump’s office. “Wow,” he says, “What’s with that guy?”
“Oh, I bet him a million dollars that in a week’s time I’d have Donald Trump by the balls.”