Musings on the politics of youth work, community work and society at large – dedicated to the memory of Steve Waterhouse, Malcolm Ball and Sue Atkins, great youth workers, comrades and human beings
It’s been a couple of months since I posted here, which is indicative of something or other. I’ll settle my debts with this vacuity in the next few days. However, as a nod to May Day, find below a link to a fascinating post by one of my favourite American commentators, WD James.
It is not my contention that genuine American folk music is Communist in any sort of technical sense. It is my contention that the development of ‘folk’ as a genre was pretty explicitly a Communist project.
He continues:
For most of my life it has been pretty normal to associate folk music with the ‘left.’ We could just write off folk music as a Communist plot. That would be mostly wrong, but it would also miss an important development.
In the 19th century (when the first attempts to recognize and capture, by writing it down, the music of the folk took off) and early twentieth centuries, interest in folk music was considered reactionary or nationalist- sort of Blood and Soil stuff, at least some places.
So, when these lefties got interested in it the political winds were not with them. In fact, orthodox Marxist theory was very much opposed. Even though folk music was associated, well, with the folk, it was held to represent a perspective into traditional, pre-modern, and pre-industrial conditions and customs. From a classic Marxist position then it would be associated with what Marx and Engels termed ‘reactionary socialism’ or ‘utopian socialism,’ definitely not the shiny up-to-date ‘scientific socialism’ they formulated. Marxism was about the future, not the past.
He comments:
That’s another thing about those generations of American Commonists- they loved America! There was none of the national self-hatred that characterized much of the later left. Further, they actually respected ordinary people’s folk traditions, including the religious aspect of those.
Not to mention, folk was just fun. Remember mixing fun into one’s politics?
He concludes:
There was a time when everything cool was on the ‘left.’ Not because the left was that cool, but because it was open. Radicalism, localism, everything critical, Jungian psychology, folk music, spirituality, etc…. The current left is open to zero that is interesting. The right is only open to a quarter of what is interesting. So, they’re rightfully winning. Wake up folks. Whoever gets with ‘cool’ first wins the culture war. Go ahead; get cool.
As I try to keep my promise of sharing links to folk I find stimulating and provocative, I am taken aback by the number of posts I’d like to make. For example. I want to respond to my dear friend, Siyavash’s commentary on the crisis in Iran and I’d like to draw your attention to a challenging series of pieces on Autism.
As of today here is an article by Paul Kingsnorth, who describes himself as a writer, Orthodox Christian, reactionary radical, aspiring beekeeper. I came across him about seven years ago and found him eloquent and questioning. Back in 2021 I was at one in our refusal to accept the authoritarian, manufactured COVID narrative. I shared his rage against the Machine. I agreed that resistance needed a spiritual dimension. In the end I remain at odds with what feels like his increasing certainty that the way forward is to embrace the Christian God. He explains his conversion in a rich and compelling biographical account, The Cross and Machine. Whilst I remain a subscriber to his blog, I visit it erratically – a sign perhaps of my atheistic prejudice.
It is a powerful engagement with the threat to ‘being human’ posed by Artificial Intelligence. It should be read in full but here are a couple of extracts.
Maybe the book was the only technology I ever really fell in love with. It is a technology, of course; so are words. Language – languages, since we have so many of them, though fewer than we once did – are one of the key markers of our humanity. We speak, we tell stories, we write the stories down and thus we are able to share them with people we will never meet and who will never meet us, but who will know us in some way by our words. Humans are storytelling animals if we are anything at all. All of our religions begin with stories, and all of our nations and cultures. Our personal biographies are stories we construct. We tell stories by naming everything else that lives. We tell stories about progress and decline, good and evil, kings and peasants, fairies and ghosts, detectives and serial killers. We sing stories to music, and record them and play them back again and again. We fight over stories, and we send our sons out to die for them.
Stories will keep being told, of course. It’s just that their authors might no longer be human.
If AI doesn’t kill us, it will certainly render us incapable of understanding what reality is. Having outsourced our physical labour to machines (and poor people in poor countries, who we never have to meet or think about), we are now outsourcing our intellectual labour to them too.
If the machines can do our research and write our stories, and build our houses and think ‘smarter’ thoughts than we can and all the rest of it – what is our role? What is the point of humanity at all? For the subset of us who write and tell stories, another question emerges too: can we even find the space, away from the buzzing of the Machine, to incubate the stories we want to tell? Stories descend when you make the right space for them within you. Writers are vessels. How can we possibly tell real, human, stories if our heads are full of digital noise? Will the ‘writers’ of the future even know what stories are, away from the enabling, imprisoning Panopticon of the digital world?
Thinking about story-telling is likely to evoke a wry smile from Marilyn Taylor. Over the years she has sighed in frustration at my failure to embrace and reciprocate her deep love for fiction in all its diversity. Again it is to my detriment. Yet, in my own way, I would claim to tell stories.
The majority of my sporadic contributions over the years to journals of one kind or another draw explicitly upon my personal experience. Indeed I have been criticised for this tendency, frowned upon in some academic circles. This opening to a piece that appeared in Youth & Policy catches the flavour of my biographical approach.
‘The Decline of the Local Authority Youth Service in England: Reflections of an actor in its demise.‘
‘These assertive and tentative reflections cover the period from the genuine promise of a radical 1968 to the artificial optimism of a populist, authoritarian 2019. Across four decades I sold my labour to three different Local Authority Education [LEA] departments. Most recently, retired from the fray, I’ve sought to observe and comment upon the shifting landscape of contemporary youth work. For better or worse, however flawed and forgetful my memory, I’ve been party to the ups and downs of Local Authority [LA] Youth Services in England. In this spirit I will begin the story with two snapshots from my chequered career.
In the first I am to be found in the main hall of a rambling Wigan youth centre. A hirsute, profusely sweating part-time youth worker, I organise on two evenings a week a diversity of activities from weight training to basketball predominantly with young men, offset by a token last half hour of mixed volleyball. At first glance I appear to be the Positive Activities worker of New Labour’s late 1990’s dreams. Contrarily, I am seeing myself more and more as an informal educator, stimulated by the flux of my interaction with young people. I am intrigued by the infinite, if uncertain possibilities of association and conversation, the potential of relating without either imposed authority or a prescribed script.
More than a quarter of a century later I am to be found, besuited as befits a Chief Youth & Community Officer, in the Wigan Enterprise Centre surrounded by colleagues from the Planning Department. We are putting together a bid for time-limited funding aimed at ‘disadvantaged’ young people. The rules of the competition demand that we promise to deliver on a number of targets – percentage reductions in anti-social behaviour, drug use and teenage pregnancies. I try to argue that the introduction of these outcomes will distort the Youth Service’s relationship with young people. My misgivings are expressed to no avail. I leave, heavy of heart, having in the name of jobs rather than young people’s needs, been incorporated into a sham. A colleague attempts to persuade me I have been pragmatically principled. I am reduced to uttering dismissive expletives.
More broadly, if we are perusing the mass of sociological and political analysis served up to us, the authors, it would appear, see themselves as standing outside of the very social relations they are contemplating, the narratives of which they are so fond. There is no elevated vantage point from which the intellectual, the commentator speculates as if he or she is above it all. We are all, for better or worse, part of the story. Or perchance, we will let AI have the last word.
To the credit of the In Defence of Youth Work [IDYW] campaign, of which I was a coordinator for over a decade from 2009, it looked to story-telling as the way to illuminate the nature of a youth work process, which was uncertain, authentic and human. It did so in the face of authoritarian and behavioural prescriptions of what it ought to achieve. IDYW produced a book, This is Youth Work containing ten stories of practice, which was translated into Russian and Finnish. In addition we ran story-telling workshops across Europe, even reaching out to Japan
At the end of Writers against AI Paul argues,
“I have decided, as a writer, not to consciously engage with AI in any way in the course of my work, and I want to give other writers – and readers – who share these views a chance to demonstrate it, and band together in refusal of the machines and in celebration of raw human creativity and the power of stories. This essay, then, is the launch of a campaign of refusal and resistance. I have no funding and no plan, and I don’t intend to run anything – but I don’t need to. Like the Internet itself, resistance to AI is decentralised. Each of us is a campaign hub. Saying no to AI and yes to human stories can happen anywhere. It costs nothing. You can start right here, right now, if you haven’t started already.
In the war against stories, I am taking a side. If you take the same side, then we’re in it together. Let’s gang up. There’s strength in numbers.”
A Manifesto
I’m calling this the Writers Against AI campaign. It is built on a simple three-point manifesto. To support the campaign, a writer must make three pledges:
I will not use AI in my work as a writer.
I will not support writers who use AI in their work.
I will support writers, illustrators, editors and others in related fields whose work is entirely human-made.
The first of these points draws a line for our own creative work. We say, as storytellers: we will remain human. With the second, we refuse to lend our voices or our money to anyone who uses this technology to replace human creativity. Finally, we commit to doing something positive: supporting, financially and morally, other creators who are drawing the line too, and refusing to be dehumanised.
If you are a writer who agrees with these pledges and who wants to sign up to this campaign – well, that agreement is all it takes. You’re in, and there’s a very simple way to show it. Colorado craftsman Justin Clark has created a set of logos that can be downloaded and used by any writer who wants to adhere to these three points and resist the use of AI in writing and publishing. Justin is not a writer – or, indeed, a graphic designer – but he responded to my call for logos back in September, and I think his creations are striking and powerful. It’s not just writers this thing threatens, of course. All craftspeople are under attack. But we have an advantage: we have both hands and hearts.
You can find Justin’s campaign logos on this page. They are free to use and anti-copyright for any writer who supports the aims of this campaign. Put them on your website or blog, or print them in your books if you like. You don’t have to ask permission: you just have to commit to the three pledges, and use your words to support them.
‘But what about readers?’
But, I hear you cry, I am a reader, not a writer, and I hate AI too! What can I do? Never fear, because you are also catered for. Justin has also produced reader-themed versions of the campaign logos:
They can be found, and downloaded, in the same place. Print them out and stick them in your books, or on your website, or on the self-driving car windscreens of any AI developers who live in your neighbourhood.
What happens next? The answer is: you do. I have said my piece here, with this essay and manifesto, and Justin has done his work with these striking images. This is the firing of a starting gun. How far the race is run is now up to you. If you want to join the campaign, all you need to do it take this little manifesto and these images far and wide. Use them in your own work. Write about them. Badger others. Above all, continue to write stories with only your hand, your heart and your human brain.
Together, we can all take a stand. If we don’t, our children and grandchildren will not be visiting public libraries to seek out battered old paperbacks containing human-produced magic. They will be listening to AIs reading them AI-created stories through their neuralink brain chips.
Nothing is off limits now – unless we place limits around it. At the very least, we can all plant a seed. Isn’t that how we learned to love stories in the first place?
Across the years I have somewhat pompously but with good reason ignored Valentine’s Day. “I will decide when to celebrate my love for Marilyn; when to offer her a present or flowers” was my precious stance. Perhaps I’m softening in my dotage. Tonight we will go to hear Maria Manousaki and Apostolos Leventopoulos weave their improvisatory magic in a programme of jazz and soul. And, before setting off, I will sing ‘My Funny Valentine’ on our terrace accompanied by the migrating love birds from Africa.
Love as Resistance: The Radical History of Valentine’s Day The oligarchy does not want you to know the true history of Valentine’s Day.
I did not know this story and its alternative reading of the accepted narrative.
One of my very favourite singers, Thomas Quasthoff in lieder and now jazz.
Essay: Trump’s Triumph Or Tragedy
Might, overreach and war make work for idle hands
A powerful piece from a commentator it is difficult to pigeon-hole. Sometimes I am at odds. He disturbs the old Leftie in me, for whom old habits, ways of thinking die hard and are not lightly set aside. I’m grateful for his unsettling perspective.
The headlines should be full of contrition for the abuse of children. Instead the establishment media is doing its best to distract. It is a trans-Atlantic scandal that has exposed politicians and corporate leaders, under growing pressure to resign. The issue is not only abuse of children. It is the corruption of public morals that is a sign of societal decline, itself a symptom of the fall of the Western system built upon the exploitation of humans through empire.
I’ve touched on this possibility more than a few times. I’ve suggested that I might do a regular post, which draws attention to opinion, arguments and analysis that I find stimulating. Hopefully I will preface the link with an explanation of why I think it’s worth the time of day. This might be brief or extended, more likely the former.
Rest easy, I refuse to point you to the torrent of relieved attention to the minutiae of the lives of Epstein and his company, pursued by both the mainstream and alternative media. These individuals are no bad apples. They personify the continued evil existence of a corrupt and criminal ruling class, whose vision of the future bodes ill for the rest of us. Evil is not a word that comes easy to my lips but how else to describe its intention.
And so, as it happens, I’m linking firstly to an article that dropped on my desk this very morning. It is not directly about the present spectacle. It is the fourth in a series, in which Hugh McCarthy, the former Director of the Northern Ireland Council for Curriculum, Examinations and Assessment, explores the effects of COVID lockdowns on children and education. it seeks to:
Present the evidence of what has been done to our children — a compendium to remind people of the damage inflicted on a generation and for which no one has been held accountable.
Reject lockdowns as a valid public health strategy.
Reflect on the experiences, words, and feelings of the children and those trying to educate and care for them, and
Part 1 and Part 2 focused on the justification for lockdowns and examines the evidence and the data available at the time regarding the damage to children caused by the lockdowns and resulting school closures and sets it against what actually happened.
Part 3 set out the feelings and experiences of the children and their parents.
In continuing to be deeply concerned about the manufactured COVID crisis, I know I am getting on people’s nerves. Indeed good friends have intimated that living on Crete meant that I was insulated from the COVID reality. I’m not sure. We couldn’t leave our homes without carrying notice of our intentions, which were narrowly prescribed. We couldn’t socialise publicly without proof of vaccination. The evidence-free imposition of masking and arbitrary distancing was a fait accompli….and so on. Having, to my shame, been vaccinated, I refused in solidarity with my principled non-vax friends to go where they couldn’t. And the death toll and incidence of serious illness, however painful, reflected the threat globally to those at risk. It was not extraordinary. It was not an existential threat to humanity at large.
The purpose of this article is to give voice to those who are trying to educate and care for children. To understand their feelings and experiences, I conducted primary and secondary research. The main method was by means of a questionnaire, after which there were follow-up interviews by telephone and messaging. I also wanted to assess whether experiences differed according to the type of school, the seniority of the teacher and the role played by the person in children’s education and well-being.
I contacted parents with children in primary school, in secondary school, at university, and with special needs. I contacted a range of educators, including teachers in nursery schools, primary schools, and selective and non-selective post-primary schools, classroom support teachers, university lecturers, and psychologists. I also contacted a range of teachers with varying degrees of experience, including headteachers.
Part 5 of this series, co-authored by McCarthy and Professor Diane Rasmussen, UK Column’s Commissioning Editor for Written Content, will present experiences of teaching and learning in the higher education sector during the Covid lockdown era. It will also explore the pedagogy of remote/online learning (does it exist?) and question whether it worked.
Secondly, here’s a link to one of my favourite American writers and commentators, WD James at Philosopher’s Holler.
To give you a glimpse of his eclectic exploration, at one point WD explores the relationship between Marxism and Catholic Social Teaching. If I had the wherewithall I’d like to respond with all manner of questions and criticisms but at heart his argument gives me hope for the necessary dialogue, which transcends the seemingly obligatory divide between the Left and Right.
I’m indebted as well to WD James for introducing me to the music of Appalachia and Kentucky. Here find the hauntingly pure voice of Jean Ritchie, a legendary figure, who gives me the courage to sing ‘a capella’.
My dear friend Siyavash Doostkhah’s latest heartfelt thoughts and proposals in the face of the crisis in Iran – what lies ahead and what might be done?
A Heavy Heart: Grief, Rage, and the Dangerous Moment Iran Faces
Iranians are no strangers to grief. Our history is marked by cycles of invasion, destruction, and survival. From the Arab conquests of the 7th century to the Mongol devastations, from Ottoman–Safavid wars to Roman occupations, Iran has endured repeated ruptures that scarred its land and its people. Entire cities were erased, populations slaughtered, cultures threatened. Yet through all of this, Iranians survived, rebuilt, and carried forward a civilisational memory rooted in language, poetry, and resilience.
But what unfolded on January 8 and 9 marks a different kind of rupture.
This time, the massacre did not come from an invading army. It came from the security forces of the Iranian state itself. Over the course of two days, tens of thousands of mostly unarmed protesters, overwhelmingly young people, were killed indiscriminately. Tens of thousands more were arrested. Many remain in detention. Some have already been executed in prison. Others were reportedly held, sexually assaulted over days, then killed, with families later told their children had died “during the protests.” Images of wounded protesters shot in the head, bleeding in the streets, have made their way beyond Iran’s borders despite internet shutdowns. Hospitals treating the injured were raided. Doctors and nurses were arrested and now face imprisonment or execution for providing care. Families were reportedly forced to pay what the regime cynically calls “bullet money” in order to retrieve the bodies of their children.
This is not crowd control. This is not law enforcement. This is state terror.
The Lie and the Evidence In parallel, the regime’s propaganda machine has pushed a familiar narrative: that the killings were carried out by foreign agents, Mossad, Western intelligence services, seeking to destabilise Iran. But the facts dismantle this claim. If foreign agents were responsible, why are families being charged by Iranian authorities to release bodies? Why were hospitals stormed by Iranian security forces? Why are Iranian doctors imprisoned for treating Iranian civilians? Why are security units filmed firing directly into crowds? The regime’s story collapses under the weight of its own actions.
A Nation Watching Its Dead As fragments of internet connectivity return, Iranians inside and outside the country are glued to screens, scrolling in dread. Many learn the fate of their loved ones not through official notification, but by recognising bloodied faces wrapped in black plastic bags circulating online. Grief has become continuous, cumulative, and collective. There is no return to “normal life” after this, not for anyone with a conscience. Only the most deeply indoctrinated supporters of the regime, or those who benefit materially from its violence, can pretend otherwise.
Grief Turning to Rage This grief is now fused with something far more volatile: rage. Anger is understandable. It is justified. Many Iranians, myself included, have carried anger for decades. The desire for revenge is not abstract; it is human. When a state blinds your children with pellet guns, when it rapes and kills them, when it lies to your face, rage is inevitable. But this is also where danger lies. Uncontained rage can topple a regime, but it can also destroy a country. History offers no shortage of examples where liberation collapses into cycles of vengeance: revolutionary justice mutating into revenge killings, summary executions replacing courts, mobs replacing law. Once violence becomes the dominant moral language, it rarely stops where people hope it will. As the saying goes: “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. Iran already has thousands of young people who have literally lost their eyes to state violence. We must not build the future with the same tools that destroyed the present.
The Hard Question We Must Face Now For years, many of us assumed that questions of justice, accountability, and reconciliation could wait until after the regime fell. Increasingly, I believe that is a dangerous illusion. We must start talking now about how violence will be contained after the collapse of the Islamic Republic. Let us be clear-eyed: peaceful protest alone is unlikely to dismantle a regime whose own leaders have openly declared that killing millions is justified to maintain power. Some degree of force may be unavoidable in stopping the regime’s machinery of violence. But what happens the day after matters just as much as what happens on the day of collapse. If revenge becomes policy, Iran risks becoming a permanent killing field, a nation of perpetrators and victims locked into generational trauma.
Learning from Wounded Societies Other societies have faced similar crossroads. After apartheid, South Africa chose the Truth and Reconciliation Commission over mass retribution. After decades of internal violence, countries across Latin America, Africa, and Asia experimented, imperfectly, unevenly, with mechanisms designed to document crimes, recognise victims, and prevent cycles of revenge. More than 40 countries have implemented some form of truth commission. Their success depends on conditions, but they are most effective when they include:
Independent legal foundations, not executive whim
Public, transparent hearings
Formal recognition of victims
Reparations and institutional reform
The purpose is not to erase crimes, nor to demand amnesia. It is to make the truth permanent and unerasable, while preventing the future from being consumed by the past. Forgiveness does not mean forgetting. Forgiveness means refusing to let murder reproduce itself endlessly.
Choosing the Future Iran now stands at a terrifying threshold. One path leads to liberation followed by fragmentation, revenge, and endless bloodshed. The other leads to justice anchored in truth, accountability, and restraint, fragile, imperfect, but survivable. Choosing the second path will be one of the hardest acts Iranians have ever undertaken. It will require moral discipline at the very moment rage feels most justified. But if we fail to plan for peace while resisting tyranny, we risk replacing one horror with another.
Iran has buried enough children. We owe them more than revenge. We owe them a future.
AsTime Goes By – a song to be added to my repertoire. Time slips by so quickly too. I’m conscious of losing touch with friends and comrades. Not only physically, inevitable though it is, given my presence on Crete but also via all the other means of communication [for better or worse] available to us. I’m conscious of finding it evermore difficult to write anything worthwhile or indeed to write in the absence of a culture of give and take, in a vacuum wherein speculative thoughts are treated as one’s final indelible word; within which forgiveness is forbidden.
However I am reading voraciously – as usual, to my detriment and to the disbelief of Marilyn, not fiction but article after limitless article of all manner of ideological persuasion. It might well be suggested that this promiscuity is at the heart of my political impotence, my failure to articulate much about anything. I don’t think so. It’s hardly insightful but we live in an increasingly explicit authoritarian world, where the compulsion to censor any expression of opposition to the imposition of varied forms of ideological certitude is rampant. Perchance I exaggerate. Yet, in my lifetime. I do not feel I have experienced such a level of intolerance to dissent or disagreement. And this hostility to heresy infects both the Left and Right with honorable exceptions on both sides of this increasingly redundant binary.
There are contemporary issues I ought to address, simply to share and check out my thinking, whatever its insights, whatever its flaws. I feel anxious, not such a parlous state, given the unbearable fear running through the lives of the people of Palestine, Iran and many places beyond. And, to be contrary, I would be granted permission by the Left to voice my solidarity in this regard, especially as my own political history of support, for example, for the Palestine Liberation Organisation [PLO] goes back to the 1970s. Yet, on other matters, I am advised to be silent. To voice any concern about transgender ideology or the climate change agenda is evidently beyond the pale. To do so is to ask for trouble, to risk excommunication from the ranks of the political righteous. In this instance my past political activism in support of the Gay and Lesbian Movement or my scathing critique of the capitalist imperative, ‘perpetual production, ceaseless consumption’ is irrelevant, not worth a sideways glance.
I am likely to be found guilty by association. After all, isn’t the Trump regime hostile to trans women and men, not to mention enthusiastic about fossil fuels? Case closed, contradictions seemingly not allowed as evidence. Utterances are never placed in context, grounded in the circumstances of their uttering. Biographies, histories are not a source of memories to be both treasured and measured, respected and scrutinised for their past, present and future significance or otherwise. They are to be interrogated for unpardonable sins as defined by today’s Thought Police.
Musing about all of this messy reality is accompanied by a feeling of oft-times hopelessness, which never quite admits defeat. I will continue, even if I fail to say anything useful myself, to point people to commentators I find stimulating from across the ideological spectrum. More than ever I endeavour to read and hear what is actually being said rather than assume to know what is being said on the basis of knee-jerk prejudice, bias and stereotype. I start from the content, not the source. I favour not just freedom of speech but what the Athenians called parrhesia, frank and fearless speech. Foucault revived the concept in his later work – https://foucault.info/parrhesia/
To begin with, what is the general meaning of the word ” parrhesia”? Etymologically, “parrhesiazesthai” means ” to say everything –from ” pan” πάυ and ” rhema” [δήμα] (that which is said). The one who uses parrhesia, the parrhesiastes, is someone who says everything he has in mind : he does not hide anything, but opens his heart and mind completely to other people through his discourse. In parrhesia, the speaker is supposed to give a complete and exact account of what he has in mind so that the audience is able to comprehend exactly what the speaker thinks. The word ” parrhesia” then, refers to a type of relationship between the speaker and what he says. For in parrhesia, the speaker makes it manifestly clear and obvious that what he says is his own opinion. And he does this by avoiding any kind of rhetorical form which would veil what he thinks. Instead, the parrhesiastes uses the most direct words and forms of expression he can find. Whereas rhetoric provides the speaker with technical devices to help him prevail upon the minds of his audience (regardless of the rhetorician’s own opinion concerning what he says), in parrhesia, the parrhesiastes acts on other people’s mind by showing them as directly as possible what he actually believes.
Whether any of this comes to pass, hardly matters, and depends on 2026 being less turbulent personally than this past year. For the first time in my life I’ve been dogged by a variety of health problems, culminating in being rushed into hospital for fear of a stroke. Thankfully a series of scans and tests revealed no visible problems, apart from hinting that I am possessed by a hidden, troubled mind! Given my age, continuing problems with my sight and what Les Dawson with a knowing glance downwards to the prostate would dub a ‘man’s problem’ are hardly unique.
It’s tempting to seek refuge in my beautiful surroundings, walking and cycling as best I can. Sadly I am no longer accompanied on my rambles by dearest, sweetest Glyka, our 17 year old dog and loving companion , who died before Christmas. I was distraught as was Marilyn. Over the years Glyka taught me to appreciate herself, her fellow creatures and indeed Nature itself. She taught me to take my time and take in my surroundings; to acknowledge the cats, which she never chased, the dogs, towards whom she was a bit stand-offish, to chat to the sheep and goats, who sometimes replied imploringly, to be quiet so as to catch the birdsong and to gaze across the olive groves to the splendour of the towering White Mountains. As for herself she watched and listened, ever by my side, but never barked. We were free spirits or so we believed.
My dearest companion, Glyka
From my contact since the beginning of the COVID melodrama with dissidents of all colours I have been struck by how many are of a religious persuasion. Those to whom I’ve warmed have not been of an evangelical bent. However the conversations have often taken a spiritual turn. Over the years I’ve been quietly frustrated by what I see as religion’s appropriation of spirituality as its own. I’ve tried to be true to a spirit of human creativity, of cooperation, of justice and love. These past years closer to Nature, guided by Glyka, Leo, our aristocratic rescue horse, by the playful bin cats I feed, by Stelios’s adventurous goats, amazed by the way our brick-strewn barren garden has blossomed, I have sensed another level of spiritual awareness. Nevertheless I remain an atheist. I feel no need for a deity to give purpose to my existence. I remain a revolutionary humanist, a steadfast universalist, who has come to cherish the Earth in all its glory.
I do not know what I would do without music to soothe my spirits. Last week I sang ‘a capella’ in our village hall. I began with Dowland’s desire, ‘Music, music for a while, shall all your cares beguile’- somewhat truncated and hardly as beautiful as the wonderful Alfred Deller.
My generous neighbour, Ken Carpenter filmed some of the concert I gave to a small audience in our village hall. If I have the courage I will post a link to these videos soon. Listening and encouraging my effort, even entranced [!] were my very dearest friends, Maria and Linda Manousaki. Maria is an inspiration, not only as violin virtuoso but also as the driving force behind the diverse groupings of musicians she brings together here on Crete – for example, two very different string quartets, the Melos Ensemble play arrangements from the classical and jazz repertoires, whilst Tetracho improvise upon the indigenous Cretan tradition . In the next few weeks Linda at the piano and I will be rehearsing songs from American musicals. She will engage with my musical myopia, symbolised by the worried, ‘what key are we in?’ Who knows I might even sing accompanied sometime in the future!? We will see.
Privileged to be singing with Maria and the Swinging Strings
This piece is silent on the impact of Artificial Intelligence on our lives. It does not speak directly to the killings on the streets of Gaza, Teheran and Minneapolis. The silence is not by chance. I will break it but doing so is haunted by the knowledge that increasingly words, sounds and images tease, alarm as to their authenticity. It has always been necessary to be critical of what we read, hear and see. Today it is an unceasing and tiring obligation. And through the fog enveloping the truth I am inspired by the sight of ordinary people acting courageously in unison, striving against the odds to be agents of their own destinies. I refuse the concerted attempts across the ideological divide to deny them their autonomy, to cast them as mere pawns in the clutches of the oligarchs, the intelligence agencies, the corporations, the technocrats, the media, right or left-wing agitators or whomever.
Solidarity from an armchair radical, who needs to get on his bike.
Love & struggle,
Tony
On reading afresh this New Year’s ramble I’m afraid to say it’s more of the same navel-gazing as previous years – the same doubts and the same themes. Somewhat wearying, I fear. At the same time it indicates that the social and political situation isn’t getting better. Indeed it’s getting worse.
In an interview on Bad Faith, Gabor Mate suggests he has never experienced such darkness.
It is almost five years since we made one of our last references to the enduring legacy of the Great Miners’ Strike in this post, Women and Resistance – The Miners’ Strike 84/85. Within it can be found the following vital concern. The crucial question is to ponder how we resist collectively the conscious closing down by the powerful of our relationships with each other in the personal, social and political sphere? To be melodramatic how do we fight back against an assault on our very humanity? We closed by emphasising that the passionate, unselfish struggle waged by the women and men of the Strike remains an inspiration.
With this in mind we welcome with arms spread wide notice that the pioneering film company, Shut Out the Light has made a new documentary, Iron Ladies – a celebration of the iron willed women who maintained the 1984/85 Miners’ Strike as they fought for the future of their communities. The film is about to hit the streets. Here is a list of the showings and a trailer. We urge you to support this vital venture and indeed look forward to receiving your very own reviews of its content. Spread the word.
Siyavash Doostkhah, an Iranian refugee himself, sends this thoughtful and provocative piece from Australia, which seeks both to engage with contradiction and to peer beneath the surface of things.
Pro-Palestine demo, Sydney, 2025. Thanks to sydneycriminallawyers.com.au
In recent months, Australia has witnessed an unprecedented rise in both impassioned pro-Palestinian activism and deeply troubling anti-Semitic incidents. Tens of thousands have marched through the streets of Sydney, Melbourne, and Brisbane, voicing legitimate grief and fury over the ongoing humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza. At the same time, Jewish schools have been defaced, community centres targeted, and Jewish Australians report growing fear and isolation.
This dual reality, empathy for Palestinians and anxiety within Jewish communities, demands careful and principled reflection. But equally important is this: Why is the Israeli government, self-proclaimed protector of the Jewish people, not doing more to counter this rising tide of antisemitism?
The silence, or, at best, tepid response, from Netanyahu’s administration isn’t just puzzling. It may be strategic.
There is a long, uncomfortable history in which fear has been used not only as a political tool but as an engine of migration. The Israeli state’s Zionist foundations have always relied, in part, on Aliyah, the migration of Jews to Israel, as both a demographic imperative and a spiritual calling. Throughout the 20th century, waves of migration were often triggered or accelerated by persecution: from Nazi Germany and post-war Europe to crises in Arab countries, Ethiopia, and the former Soviet Union. Often under the banner of rescue, but always with a demographic calculus in mind. Fear has long been a midwife to the Zionist project. In this vision, a swelling Jewish population is not merely a response to antisemitism, it is a geopolitical lever.
In the current moment, with the concept of Eretz Yisrael HaShlema “Greater Israel” driving Israeli policy and settlement expansion, we must ask: is fear again being used to accelerate Aliyah? Could the Israeli state be tolerating, or even quietly capitalising on, a global climate of antisemitism to encourage Jews to migrate “home”?
The Aliyah narrative has become more than a cultural call; it is a lever of statecraft. If Jews in Paris, New York, or Sydney no longer feel safe, Israel presents itself as refuge. But if Israel actively stokes the conflict that fuels that fear, through disproportionate violence, provocative incursions, and refusal to engage in diplomatic solutions, then we must ask: Is it still acting in the interest of Jewish safety, or in the interest of a nationalistic expansion project?
For progressive Australians, particularly those committed to Palestinian justice, the challenge is delicate. Solidarity must not slide into complicity. There is a fine but vital line between opposing the Israeli occupation and inadvertently legitimising oppressive actors such as Hamas or the Islamic Republic of Iran, both of whom exploit Palestinian suffering while offering no vision of human rights or freedom. Hamas’s violent tactics and Iran’s authoritarian repression cannot be sanitised simply because they oppose Israel.
Just yesterday, a protestor in Sydney was seen holding a poster of Ayatollah Khamenei, the brutal dictator of Iran, at the pro-Palestinian rally across the Harbour Bridge. That image, with thousands of Australians in the background, will no doubt be used by the Iranian regime and its supporters to manufacture legitimacy. This is how protests are hijacked.
I first encountered this tactic in the 80’s, when I was a refugee in India. On a crowded train platform, I witnessed a man tossing handfuls of coins into the air. Predictably, a crowd quickly gathered. Then, suddenly, placards bearing the image of Rajavi, the leader of the MEK organisation, were raised in the crowd, and someone began photographing the scene. These photos would later be used to suggest mass support for the MEK among Iranian dissidents in exile, an illusion created with a bag of coins and a camera.
We cannot afford to be naive. In Australia, outrage at Israeli state violence must not drift into antisemitism, overt or coded. When Jewish businesses are attacked in Melbourne, when graffiti defiles synagogues in Sydney, or when Jewish Australians feel compelled to hide symbols of their identity, it does not weaken the occupation, it strengthens it. It reinforces the Israeli narrative that the diaspora is unsafe and that Aliyah is the only answer.
There is an old strategy at play: If Jews feel unwelcome elsewhere, the Zionist project gains strength. If Palestinians are framed as irredeemable threats, then Israeli expansionism proceeds unchecked. The answer, for those of us who reject both antisemitism and colonialism, is to break this cycle, not feed it.
We must hold the Israeli government to account, yes, but we must also call out those who hijack solidarity for their own bigotry. We must demand justice for Palestinians, but not by echoing the authoritarian rhetoric of Hamas or Tehran. And we must ensure Jewish Australians are not collateral damage in a geopolitical game they did not consent to play.
True solidarity is principled. It condemns ethnic cleansing and occupation without resorting to hate. It recognises that antisemitism, even when disguised as anti-Zionism, serves no liberation. And it sees clearly how fear, if left unchecked, can become a weapon in the hands of those who seek to redraw borders, not build bridges.
If we are to help build a future where both Palestinians and Israelis can live with dignity and peace, then progressive Australia must sharpen its lens, and its conscience.
With their permission I attach the dialogue between Siyavash and Rasheed, which unfolded on Facebook following the appearance of Siyavash’s original. I do so because such a healthy exchange of opinion is all too rare in the intolerant and suffocating atmosphere dominant today.
Rasheed Abu Hamda responds to Siyavash:
In Brisbane where the protests took place in the last two years there were many jewish voices who spoke against the Israeli occupation of Palestine. And no one made them feel unwelcome otherwise they would’ve stopped attending the protests.
Anecdotally, at least in Brisbane I don’t think that antisemitism is disguising as anti-Zionism.
There was a shop in Paddington that was named and shamed because they were very open about supporting Israeli practices in occupied Palestine. This was an example where an Australian Jewish were overtly in support of Israeli terrorism. I haven’t heard of a single account in Brisbane where Australian Jewish were targeted because of their faith. Targeted because they sided with the apartheid state? Yes, especially the ones who went to Israel to serve in the IDF. My other take on the article is Iranian regime and HAMAS painted with a similar brush is not tactful. HAMAS was a direct produce of 50 years of occupation. It’s like a foster kid who was removed from a violent home and continued to move from family to another. A foster kid that was failed by the system – the international community that let Israel go on and on ( for decades) in their barabric attacks on Palestinians. And when the foster kid grown up and have more power to cause damage to the system, what do we do? We incarcerate the kid. Without taking responsibility (as international community) to acknowledge the systematic failure. The latter continue as we speak 77 years and counting. Addressing the symptoms is less effective than addressing the root cause of this chronic problem.
Siyavash replies:
Hey Rasheed, I really appreciate you taking the time to reflect and share your thoughts, there’s clearly deep care in your words and I totally respect that. I just want to clarify a few things, not defensively, but to continue the dialogue with honesty.
Firstly, I never said Jewish people were being targeted at the protests themselves. In fact, I fully acknowledge and celebrate the many Jewish voices who stand in solidarity with Palestinians, those voices are powerful and necessary. But outside of those protest spaces, there have been disturbing incidents across Australia with many families reporting feeling unsafe just for being visibly or knowingly Jewish.
As someone who’s been part of anti-Zionist activism in Brisbane since the early days, when it was just a small handful of us, I’ve observed a real shift in recent years. There’s been a creeping conflation of “Israeli” and “Jew,” even in educated circles. I get where it’s coming from, people are angry, traumatised, and rightly horrified by what’s happening to Palestinians. But I think it’s dangerous when that anger is redirected, intentionally or not, at Jewish people more broadly.
You mentioned that Hamas is a result of decades of occupation. I hear that analogy, and yes, the international community absolutely bears responsibility for abandoning Palestinians. But I still think it’s important to be honest about how Hamas came to power. Its rise wasn’t entirely organic. Israel once saw Hamas as a counterweight to the PLO, helping it grow in the 80s to weaken secular Palestinian nationalism.
That’s what I was getting at when I grouped Hamas and the Iranian regime together, not because they’re the same, but because both have been propped up in various ways by external powers (including the West and Israel) when it suited their strategic interests. And now they serve as convenient “boogeymen” to justify continued military aggression and repression.
I also worry when I see some on the Western left romanticising these authoritarian groups simply because they oppose Israel. I’ve lived through this myself, as a refugee from Iran, I watched the left in my country get crushed by the very theocracy they once helped empower. The Iranian left thought they could ally with religious fundamentalists to bring down the Shah, and they were the first ones the regime turned on after the revolution.
It’s a tough, messy landscape. But I think we owe it to ourselves, and to the Palestinian people, to stay sharp, to question all forms of power, and to be wary of letting righteous anger cloud our ethics. We can (and must) be anti-occupation, anti-colonial, and still protect Jewish communities from harm and fear. The two things are not mutually exclusive.
Let’s keep talking.
Over to Rasheed
Thank you Siyavash for sharing your thoughts – I do appreciate you and your thoughts. The Jewish people participating in protests was just an example to demonstrate that tolerance exist providing they are not pro-zionism – sorry I should have clarified that in the first place, a room for improvement. And to hear there are Jewish families who are not pro Zionism are being harassed, it doesn’t sets well with me. As this is what Palestinians are been subjected to and this is what we are protesting against. Except what Palestinians are enduring is more than harassment. As a Palestinian who lived as a refugee for most of my life and lost family members and farming lands to the occupation forces, the question remain in front of mind is do we focus our efforts to expose and hopfully remove the Apartheid system – the main cause of disease, get distracted with addressing the by products of the occupation, or address both while lives are lost on a daily bases in Gaza, West Bank and more Palestinians inside Israel are further marginalised? I personally belive that we need to stop the fire first and stop the one who caused it in the first place prior to get the house back in shape. I’d love to hear your views in that regards especially the ones that are different from what I just shared. After all, I don’t know what I don’t know and multiple perspectives helps us to see the picture better. P.S. I do admire Jewish people who can see right through the fake face of Zionism considering the fears and traumas of many generations while living in Europe. It takes a huge amount of courage to do so.
All of which prompts Siyavash to respond:
Thank you for your heartfelt and grounded message. If I were to sum up my response in a spirit you might relate to, given your deep love for dance, I’d offer the quote often attributed to Emma Goldman: “If I can’t dance, I don’t want to be part of your revolution.”
It speaks to the kind of liberation we both long for, one where joy, dignity, and humanity are not sacrificed in the process of resistance.
You asked an important question about whether we should focus our energy on the system of apartheid or deal with its toxic by-products too. I think the two are deeply linked. From my experience in Iran, I saw firsthand what happens when we think the “enemy of my enemy could be our friend.” We threw our lot in with religious fundamentalists just because they opposed the Shah. That miscalculation cost us deeply. We didn’t realise that by fighting one form of oppression, we were handing power to something even more repressive. That enemy of our enemy quickly became our jailer.
In Persian we say: “از چاله به چاه افتادن” — “to fall from a pothole into a well.” And another saying: “اول چاه را بکن بعد مناره را بدزد” — “Dig the well before you steal the minaret.”
They’re old phrases, but they feel painfully relevant now.
I worry deeply that the incredible sacrifice and resistance of the Palestinian people might one day be co-opted or hijacked by forces that do not represent their dreams for freedom and dignity. I say this not from afar, but from the lessons carved into the Iranian soul over the last 45 years. I look at what Hamas has become, and who benefits from its existence, and I sincerely hope that the secular and nationalist movements can once again take the reins and chart a course for true liberation, free of both occupation and authoritarianism.
Your personal story touches me. Losing land, family, and a sense of home is a grief I cannot claim to fully understand, but I see its depth and weight in your words. Your clarity and refusal to let that grief turn into hate or tunnel vision is powerful. That’s the kind of strength that builds bridges, not just in politics, but between hearts.
I truly hope that in our lifetimes, we’ll sit together in a café in a free Gaza, maybe even during a Waziz reunion concert, and look back on these conversations with gratitude, for having spoken honestly, and for having listened with open hearts.
Much love and respect
And Rasheed closes the conversation:
Thank you Siyavash for your kind and sweet response. I must say your writing style beyond being objective is charming and engaging. How did you do that?
I grew up in a working class household where music was the means of escape from the ordinariness of life. My father sang and played the drums. He adored Al Jolson and Gene Krupka. My mother loved opera. She had heard Beniamino Gigli live. She adored Renata Tebaldi, hated Maria Callas. My dad and I sang in the church choir, where I, being blessed with a pleasant treble voice, did my best with solos from Mozart and Mendelssohn. I loved to sing.
And in 1964, quite by chance, I discovered the amazing voice of Cleo Laine, sensual and acrobatic, covering, it was said, four octaves. At that very moment I was involved in a perhaps foolhardy initiative led by our gentle and inspiring English teacher, Mr Harrison to perform the Seven Ages of Man, a Shakespearean medley created by the legendary actor. John Gielgud. There were four of us Grammar School boys covering the various speeches and sonnets. One of my contributions was the heart-rending piece from Act Four of the bizarre play, Cymbeline, ”Fear no more the heat of the sun’. I tried again to do my declamatory best, earning the praise of one of the school’s cleaners at a particular rehearsal in our impressive assembly hall. Clapping politely as I finished, she declared I had a lovely chocolate voice. A compliment I’ve treasured over the years.
At about that time I had started a record collection of almost entirely classical music. Being romantically inclined, Brahms and Dvorak were favourites. I could only afford the budget labels, Ace of Clubs and Golden Guinea and had to travel on the number 26 bus into Manchester to find a classical-minded store. The hour’s journey through the suburbs, some even leafy, was well worth it. The joy of rifling through the stacked LPs in alphabetical order under the brotherly eye of an enthusiast, only too willing to discuss the ins and outs of interpretations of great masterpieces. I didn’t always understand what he was going on about but he showered sophistication upon me. And, then, one day there in my clutches was the stereo Fontana LP, ‘Shakespeare and all that Jazz’ featuring Cleo Laine and Johnny Dankworth and one track leapt off the cover, ‘Fear No More’. Thanks to the kindly owner I bought the record on instalments. I played it to death. She did possess the most wondrous of voices from contralto to coloratura. To me, she was to jazz what Callas was to opera. I lent the LP never to see it again. As best I know it was never released on CD.
Moving forward half a century and more, I renewed my desire to sing under the guidance of Ian Brothwood. Through our love for English art song we found Gerald Finzi’s moving setting of ‘Fear No More’. I did my best to do its beauty justice at a number of private soirees. To my shame I’d forgotten Dankworth’s version and Cleo’s interpretation. Such is age.
Thus sadly I have rediscovered Cleo with her death. I hope she will have ‘quiet consummation’ and know that ‘renowned will be her grave’. Much joy and sorrow awaits me as I journey afresh through her amazing career.
Fear no more the heat o’ the sun; Nor the furious winter’s rages, Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages; Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney sweepers come to dust.
Fear no more the frown of the great, Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke: Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning-flash, Nor the all-dread thunder-stone; Fear not slander, censure rash; Thou hast finished joy and moan; All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee, and come to dust.
No exorciser harm thee! Nor no witchcraft charm thee! Ghost unlaid forbear thee! Nothing ill come near thee! Quiet consummation have; And renowned be thy grave!
And isn’t this a wonderful rendition of ‘Killing Me Softly’
I started to put this hardly controversial post together yesterday morning and it’s already been overtaken by numerous pieces despairing at Labour’s proscription of Palestine Action. A direct action group seeking to raise awareness of the obscene genocide in Gaza, of the war crimes of a terrorist State is without any due process defined as a terrorist organisation. Even the Guardian is forced to descend from the fence in an article, ‘It’s a complete assault on free speech’: how Palestine Action was targeted for proscription as terrorists’
The article notes, if the group is proscribed next week, as is expected, being a member of or inviting support for Palestine Action will carry a maximum penalty of 14 years. Wearing clothing or publishing a logo that arouses reasonable suspicion that someone supports Palestine Action will carry a sentence of up to six months.
In a week’s time we wait to applaud the Guardian’s recovery of its liberal tradition, whereby the paper explicitly backs the right of Palestine Action [PA] to exist and resist.
The arrogant and ignorant authoritarianism at the heart of today’s Labour Party is exemplified by the Home Secretary’s condemnation of PA’s militant tactics. In 2018 she spoke in the House of Commons, expressing her admiration for the suffragette movement, and celebrated its herstory by wearing a rosette in the suffragette colours of purple, white and green.
It seems to have slipped her mind that the suffragettes were not shy when it came to attacking the patriarchal state that denied them even a voice. Thus, at 6.10am on the 19 February 1913, a bomb exploded at the summer house that was being built for Chancellor of the Exchequer, David Lloyd George, at Walton-on-the-Hill, causing damage estimated at £500 (modern equivalent nearly £55,000 in today’s money).On the evening of the incident Emmeline Pankhurst, one of the leaders of the Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU), claimed responsibility for the bomb at a meeting at Cory Hall, Cardiff, where she admits that they have “blown up the Chancellor of the Exchequer’s house”. Pankhurst was willing to be arrested for the incident saying “I have advised, I have incited, I have conspired”; and that if she is arrested for the incident she shall prove that the “punishment unjustly imposed upon women who have no voice in making the laws cannot be carried out”. We presume the Home Secretary might well retrospectively need to proscribe the WSPU as a terrorist organisation.
On the 5th September 1981, the Welsh group “Women for Life on Earth” arrived on Greenham Common, Berkshire, England. They marched from Cardiff with the intention of challenging, by debate, the decision to site 96 Cruise nuclear missiles there. On arrival they delivered a letter to the Base Commander which among other things stated ‘We fear for the future of all our children and for the future of the living world which is the basis of all life’.
When their request for a debate was ignored they set up a Peace Camp just outside the fence surrounding RAF Greenham Common Airbase. They took the authorities by surprise and set the tone for a most audacious and lengthy protest that lasted 19 years. Within 6 months the camp became known as the Women’s Peace Camp and gained recognition both nationally and internationally by drawing attention to the base with well publicised imaginative gatherings.This unique initiative threw a spotlight on ‘Cruise’ making it a national and international political issue throughout the 80s and early 90s.
The presence of women living outside an operational nuclear base 24 hours a day, brought a new perspective to the peace movement – giving it leadership and a continuous focus. At a time when the USA and the USSR were competing for nuclear superiority in Europe, the Women’s Peace Camp on Greenham Common was seen as an edifying influence. The commitment to non-violence and non-alignment gave the protest an authority that was difficult to dismiss – journalists from almost every corner of the globe found their way to the camp and reported on the happenings and events taking place there.
Living conditions were primitive. Living outside in all kinds of weather especially in the winter and rainy seasons was testing. Without electricity, telephone, running water etc, frequent evictions and vigilante attacks, life was difficult. In spite of the conditions women, from many parts of the UK and abroad, came to spend time at the camp to be part of the resistance to nuclear weapons. It was a case of giving up comfort for commitment.
The protest, committed to disrupting the exercises of the USAF, was highly effective. Nuclear convoys leaving the base to practice nuclear war, were blockaded, tracked to their practice area and disrupted.Taking non-violent direct action meant that women were arrested, taken to court and sent to prison.
The conduct and integrity of the protest mounted by the Women’s Peace Camp was instrumental in the decision to remove the Cruise Missiles from Greenham Common. Under the Intermediate Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty, the missiles were flown back to the USA along with the USAF personnel in 91/92. The Treaty signed by the USA and the USSR in 1987, is in accord with the stated position held by women, in defence of their actions on arrest, when it states :
“Conscious that nuclear weapons would have devastating consequences for all mankind”
A number of initiatives were made by women in Court testing the legality of nuclear weapons. Also, challenges to the conduct and stewardship of the Ministry of Defence as landlords of Greenham Common. In 1992 Lord Taylor, Lord Chief Justice, delivering the Richard Dimbleby Lecture for the BBC, referring to the Bylaws case ( won by Greenham women in the House of Lords in 1990) said ‘…it would be difficult to suggest a group whose cause and lifestyle were less likely to excite the sympathies and approval of five elderly judges. Yet it was five Law Lords who allowed the Appeal and held that the Minister had exceeded his powers in framing the byelaws so as to prevent access to common land’.
The Camp was brought to a close in 2000 to make way for the Commemorative and Historic Site on the land that housed the original Women’s Peace Camp at Yellow Gate Greenham Common between the years 1981 – 2000.
Sarah Hipperson
This remarkable book tells how the women of the Yellow Gate peace camp at Greenham Common took on the law – and in some instances won.
They challenged the laws under which they were arrested and as Judge Hague said said in the County Court “…they are no strangers to litigation, both criminal and civil. In the courts they have sometimes had a considerable measure of success, and indeed they are immortalised in the Law Reports in connection with two of their successes in the higher courts.”
This book offers inspiration and encouragement to all who take part in non-violent direct action or want to challenge the powers of the state or large institutions. In its detailed descriptions of each case, it suggests how this can be done successfully.
The last chapter tells the story of the Commemorative and Historic Site, a garden of peace where once the women of Yellow Gate camp lived and confronted the Cruise Missiles – and the powers of the state.
To buy a copy of this book, send a cheque for £9.98 (+ £1.00 p & p) payable to ‘Greenham Publications’ to 15 Sydney Road, London E11 2JW or order one from your bookseller (ISBN 0-9550122-0-1)
The biggest expansion of the UK’s nuclear deterrent in a generation will put the nation on the “nuclear frontline” and mobilise a new generation of anti-nuclear weapons protesters, campaign groups have warned.
Anti-nuclear and anti-arms campaign groups are planning mass protests against nuclear weapons – of a kind not seen since the days of the Greenham Common peace camp in the 80s – in response to government plans to significantly expand its nuclear deterrent by buying a squadron of American fighter jets capable of carrying nuclear weapons.
The Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND) protested on Saturday, June 28th at RAF Marham in Norfolk, which is used by the US air force.
Campaign groups said the decision to buy 12 F-35A jets, which are capable of carrying conventional arms, and also the US B61-12 gravity bomb, a variant of which has more than three times the explosive power of the weapon dropped on Hiroshima, had been taken without parliamentary debate and undermined democracy.
Returning to Iran, Siya Vash, reports that within the convulsions inside the country suppression of dissent deepens.
The paranoid and humiliated Revolutionary Guards in Iran have been sending the following text messages to people’s mobile numbers:
Warning Following or joining pages affiliated with the Zionist regime constitutes a criminal act and is subject to legal prosecution. Therefore, given the recorded activity of this number on virtual pages of the Zionist regime, you are hereby warned to immediately remove supportive comments and likes, and exit these pages without delay. Failure to do so will result in legal action in accordance with Article 8 of the Law on Confronting Hostile Actions of the Zionist Regime. Deputy for Social Affairs and Crime Prevention, Judiciary of the Islamic Republic of Iran Honourable People of Iran
In recent days, your exemplary cooperation and solidarity with your servants in the IRGC Intelligence Organisation—through public reporting—has not only altered the enemy’s calculations but has also led to their defeat on the battlefield. Therefore, we kindly ask you to continue this valuable approach and report any suspicious activity by contacting 110, 113, or 114, or through available channels on domestic messaging platforms. IRGC Intelligence Organisation
In a philosophical atmosphere, all of the above would be open to criticism, agreement and disagreement. However the creeping authoritarianism I have sought to address since the ascent of neoliberalism in the 1980’s, its fetish of individualism and its hatred of autonomous collectivity has gathered pace across the decades, not least during the manufactured COVID pandemic. Central to the shift into an era of technocratic capitalism is the Expert, who takes different forms and cannot be questioned. To do so is to be beyond the pale. This demand for conformity and obedience is profoundly anti-democratic. And its prophets and disciples come from both the traditional Left and Right. If I get my act together I will try to put flesh on these bare bones.
CHATTING CRITICALLY 