The NPA - a model for Britain

The Nouveau Parti Anticapitaliste (NPA) was formed in Febuary 2009 to unify the radical left and youth in France. The founding of the party was a response to the urgent need for unity in the face of vicious government attacks. President Sarkozy’s social program of privatisation and bank bailouts meant that the NPA quickly attracted 10,000 members. The NPA’s opposition to the neo-liberal policies of the government resonated with workers and youth in struggle across France, and across France’s borders.

The NPA is different from the various socialist unity projects of recent years in Britain. Instead of being a temporary coalition of self-interested factions, it has grown out of the experience of workers’ and youth struggles in 450 local and regional action committees.

These action committees were set up for people to fight back against the crisis. Before the founding of the NPA, these “committees for a new party” were involved in grassroots political activity: they spearheaded local campaigns and organised resistance to the waves of public sector cuts and job losses sweeping across the country.

As demonstrated by its loudspeaker logo, the NPA is a call to action for committed anti-capitalists in France. Its success in mobilising anti-racists, anti-fascists and socialists in the European elections ensured 5% of the popular vote for the new group.

No2EU blamed their terrible European election result on the fact that they were a ‘new electoral front’. Well the NPA was just four months old on polling day, and managed to achieve a higher percentage than all the British so-called radical left put together.

The abysmal performance of the rest of the left in Britain exposes the criminal ineffectiveness of their strategy. This ‘performance’ has spurred some groups to make tentative noises about ‘unity’ and the need to ‘fight fascism’. But their idea of unity is not the unity that drew 10,000 activists together to found a fighting, democratic organisation. Their slogan of fighting fascism is a cover for the abandonment of the principles of workers solidarity and internationalism.

The NPA has proven that a mass party does not have to surrender to nationalism to steal the limelight from the fascists. It shows that sticking to and promoting a principled stance will reap the rewards of electoral success.

Without exaggerating this success, the example of the NPA is a model for building a unified, fighting, anti-capitalist group in Britain: a group that will be able to emulate the success of the NPA in the French student movement, where dozens of universities have been crippled by months of strike action by staff and students. A group that will be committed to fighting for internationalism in the struggles of workers and youth against capitalist exploitation.

In this time of crisis, only a new party rooted in local action committees can claim any legitimacy. After the French example, we know that these committees and eventually the national party organisation are invaluable tools of resistance. The French youth were instrumental in their local and regional committees to the founding of the fledgling NPA. And the NPA in turn is playing a vital role in supporting the fight of the French students and youth against job losses, university closures, and the systematic oppression of young people by capitalism.

NUT Strike at Haggerston School

Members of the National Union of Teachers (NUT) today took strike action over threats of job losses at Haggerston School in Hackney, east London. The action followed a ballot last month that saw a 100% turnout. With 36 out of 37 ballots in favour of discontinuous strike action, the determination of the teachers is clear.

This militancy was demonstrated by a lively morning picket attended by teachers and parents at the school gates.

Eleven teachers have been told that they could be made redundant, including teachers who have dedicated over twenty years to the serving the school and its community. Unsurprisingly, three part-time posts are threatened - highlighting the fact that employees on temporary contracts are always the first to be targetted when jobs are on the line.

The proposed cuts stem from a management plan put in place to recover a budget deficit. These "restructuring measures" concocted by the governors and the senior management are part of an industry-wide assault intended to make teachers and support staff pay the price for managerial incompetence.

However, angry teachers say that there was £1.3m left over in the school budget in June last year. This is a colossal sum for any school to fritter away - let alone a school in the heart of one of the most deprived areas of London. Where has this money gone?

One teacher spoke of the outrage of staff and parents over the behaviour of management towards teachers involved in the dispute. As reported in the Hackney Gazette, some teachers were given their notice of dismissal by courier. In one example a taxi was hired (at a cost of £80) to deliver notice of redundancy to a teacher in front of colleagues and students as she supervised a school Sports' Day.

The anger of teachers at Haggerston is compounded by allegations of petty and vindictive behaviour towards staff by a management secure in their employment prospects.

The behaviour of the manangement and the governors in this dispute should be monitered closely by unions. A vote of no confidence by three unions recently forced the sacking of a headteacher at a flagship Academy in Cumbria. This tactic should be considered by all teachers fighting against profit-minded managements determined to run our schools for the benefit of private individuals rather than in the best interests of the students and staff.

Education is not a place for the government to turn when it needs to raise quick funds. Working people and the youth have no affinity with foreign wars, nuclear weapons or pan-handling bankers. If the government persists in keeping it's wretched free-market on life support, then it can find the money elsewhere.

This government must wake up to the fact that only a massive investment in education will secure an acceptable post-recession future for the youth of Britain. Gordon Brown may take tea with Thatcher, but he must learn from the mistakes of the '80's when an entire generation was condemned to long-term unemployment as a result of the pillaging of education during the recession.

For a massive program of investment in education and public works, to provide socially useful labour and employment.

For key industries to be under the control of those who work in and use them- clearly the capitalists will stop at nothing to satisfy their craven greed. In insisting on imposing their free market on our young people, they show us nothing but the depths of their contempt.

We must similarly demonstrate our contempt for their determination to run our entire educational system into the ground.

My Radio

rhythms hiss within a brushed chrome
casing, feels more like a casket,
branded nearly departed.
it’s a fickle and contrary machine, the
circuit board is one big,
glorious design fault and
the aerial is
at best temperamental with
a reception that shrieks
a hormonal staccato,
A fiend resembling nothing so much
as a clockwork sibling, that emits
-Rat Pack Hits-
in rose-tinted glasses of course, Chanel I think
or Steve McQueen I fancy once charmed
with their vintage pedigree.
Now by means of an arcane tuning system
-no dial, why no dial-
My radio has connived with commercial
platforms, to wind me up by degrees, it
persists
in enlightening me:
Seems you can tune an ear, to a tasteless
bandwidth, eloquent in its irony – unashamed
it wallows, baiting your patience,
meandering through the tracklist;
Oh the mindless indulgence.
More music – less talk is very well and that,
and I don’t want to bring up quality quantity
that canard
but Roy Orbison lilts on and presently
I’m tired of DAB and digital and FM and
-what the fuck is going on-
decades since California dreamed, that
band plays on – unaware
that I’m still waiting for my favourite song.

Wendy Running Guns

Wendy put to sea and took to running guns with
a fiddler and a fugitive. They shared their passage in
care of illicit liqueur and a ransom in lace fringed with
a threadbare caress. At length the fugitive would tire
of his fantastic stories relayed in the reverie of
an accomplished liar. From dusk the seas would long to embrace
the heavens – the stars a candelabra on the watery canvas.
The fiddler was by turns tragic with romance, or flush with
dispassion; he’d play a dolorous address to the unfeeling tide.
The confines of their derelict coracle necessarily subdued
the devil in Wendy’s flounce, but the fugitive had affected –
around the 49th parallel – a trilby à la Dick Turpin in which he'd vainly
flaunt a tricolour cockade, though in truth he knew not from whence it came.

Wendy awoke dockside to her rendezvous – sporting a
caftan. Her careworn valise is tailored with a
nimble flourish, once intended, no doubt, to accessorize
a proud debutante; now marred by the casual
embrace of a weary world. The polished asphalt
echoed the tattoo of her impractical shoes. The rhythm is
offbeat and her stride is skewed. Habit slips her
innocuously into a speakeasy, frequented by dapper lapels
whiling away other men’s time at baccarat with
guileless smiles. Fancy that – a dandy with symmetry in
his cravat and sleight of hand deploys a glance that fidgets
Wendy’s nerves and unsettles her poise. His voice commands
a tequila sunrise swiftly delivered, in hushed undertone he said:

I’m Clyde. With a practised flourish he manoeuvred Wendy
through to a private parlour. The eyes are fatigued by the tasteless
décor and sallow walls which purvey a stale scent of foreign
cologne and cheap cigarettes. Wanted across the six counties, his
manner impassive. In a sibilant drawl –his back all the while to Wendy–
‘Well luscious lips, they’d said you were back in business’
Wendy considered, and offhand-feigned she countered: -Naturally,
this business is selfish, it leaves no room for altruism.-
-Verily- intoned the dandy -and yet you imagine this to be?- Bejeweled,
a hand motioned the crate of matériel. The gun-runner acknowledged
the white elephant with -It is not my place to justify expedience or means-

Presently, arrived the fugitive with the fiddler in tow
and for fear of pursuit, a hasty retreat was enjoined thro'
valleys estranged over years by the tramp of harried feet.
Inevitably the relentless dawn broke with false sympathy
- stifling the vain ambitions of their deceived optimism.
Nine miles shy of the border, the premature stir of hope was
stillborn on the cusp of our fugitives’ souls, as a clinical
ambush waylaid and triumphed over a swindled ideal.
To ease the gun-runner, the dying fiddler bathed her brow with
two drops of diamonds, along with: 'Maybe the change of scene
will furnish the relief you seek’ – he meant that candour
of thought delivered on a rifled wind, which presents
the void of redemption, tempered by a concealed fatigue.
They say at the departing of the soul, it was the contempt of belief
that prompted our lonesome romantic to insist:

–it must be better than Wyoming-

Baby, Walk On

You show no mercy
When you say that we
That we ain't lovers;
Oh, what can you mean?

I'm a patient man,
Sittin' on impatient dreams,
But see where I stand;
Sheltered in my vanities.

I suffer with patience,
‘Til you come on by.
And tomorrows don’t matter-
No need to justify,
A knee jerk reaction;
This feeling’s not quite
Fickle winds of affection;
Since yesterday's alright.

I said easy, mister;
‘Cause I’ll tell it you true-
‘Bout when all your friends laugh;
And they call you a fool.

We’ve got no need to talk;
Why talk round the answer.
So farewell baby, walk on;
'Cause tomorrow don’t matter

2 Kinds of Fool

Seems each Tuesday we meet
With shrapnel in our jeans
At the same storefront
With no better place to be
Than idling on a dream
Disappointed that we
Weren’t so hard done by
Yet evermore ill-at-ease
Why does a man like me
Have to be convinced
That I’m not the man
You promised I’d be
- If I could meet myself
I’d tell him the truth
There are two kinds of fool;
Me and You.

Chance would be a fine thing
But I don’t have the means
To harness my soul
On a desire to succeed
Granted, I’ve quietly
Nurtured this guilt to breed
A crisis of faith
To crush a wayward esteem
Why does a man like me
Have no sympathy
For another man
Though brothers we’d seem
- If I could see myself
I would recognise
There are two kinds of fool;
You and Me.

All Quiet On Easy Street

I've worn down my nails; I’ve been playing real tame,
To support your talk of a middle way;
Out in some foreign field, but I’ve been thinking,
Get your head out the sand, ‘cause honestly.
As I write the debris is swept from sight
Mister, I can’t swallow your crooked smiles.

In sound-bites that roll off your tongue
For what it’s worth, in hollow words
You tell me that this war is won
Well one time I saw your winners

And it was all quiet on easy street

Treasure a lie close to your chest
‘Til the winds of change blow you free
And lay your head in shelter, ‘til
It’s all quiet on easy street

While you kick your heels in acclimatised breeze
Have yourself the trappings of rank, and please
Don't trouble your conscience with the human tab
'Cause fortune's wheel runs on spokes of broken backs
Watch it in Technicolor vision
And you’ll find belief behind the reason

From reel-to-reel of glut and greed
No-one shy to the warning signs
As lament brought me to my knees
I watched them with their winning smiles

And it was all quiet on easy street

Give each promise an escape clause
Spin by sin, start sowing the seeds
And soon you’ll find there’s no more talk
It’s all quiet on easy street

Whatever happened to Ian Tomlinson?

Remember this?

Ian Tomlinson died from internal injuries after he was assaulted by police officers during the G20 protests in London, in April this year.

The police originally stated that he had had no contact with police officers before his collapse. Sadly for the Met, footage obtained by the Guardian emerged a few days later, showed Ian Tomlinson being hit with a baton and thrown to the ground by a masked officer from the Territorial Support Group.

Footage also emerged putting the lie to the police claim that medics were attacked by protestors as they went to his assistance.

Further damaging revelations emerged in the following days, including the fact that police routinely concealed their numbers and insignia on their shoulders. More footage came to light showing further violence meted out by baton-happy pigs at the expense of protestors' exposed limbs and heads.

The details of the cover-up into Ian Tomlinson's death are now well known, including the deliberate misinformation (read: lies) fed by the Met's media laison in the immediate aftermath of his death, and the bent pathologist they used to conclude that he had died of a heart attack.

A second inquiry ordered by the IPCC in the face of a public outcry concluded that he had, in fact, died of internal bleeding. The balaclava-clad cop shown in the unprovoked assault on Tomlinson 'gave himself up' after he realised it was not going to just blow over, and was questioned under caution on suspicion of manslaughter.

Crucially the Daily Telegraph then came to the timely defence of the beleagured Met with their publication of the sordid details of our honourable MP's expenses.

And the rest, or so the Met must be hoping, is history.

What we have here is a display of the power of the media to direct the public's consciousness according to the whims of the media kingpins. It is in the nature of the mass media to search out ever greater scandals - doubtless in their drive to sate the public's desire for a free press that keeps a balanced scrutiny of the government - but it is inexcusable, though not surprising that stories like the death of Ian Tomlinson are ditched without compunction, in order to cash in on the latest drama courtesy of our ruling class.

So what happened to the Ian Tomlinson story?

Well, in the Guardian - the paper that broke the video of Tomlinson's death, though he has been mentioned in passing several times in articles related to police repression, the last full piece devoted to him appears to have been on May 15th - the announcement that the IPCC was to investigate whether the police deliberately misled the media.

The situation is the same at the BBC, with their coverage of the IPCC's statement here.

The sad truth is that, like Blair Peach, the full story of what happened to Ian Tomlinson will be buried by the police, and, just two months after the event, abandoned by the media.

The extent of the public's rapidly diminishing interest in the issue of police repression raised by the G20 protests was highlighted at a protest organised by the United Campaign Against Police Violence at Scotland Yard on 23rd May.

The intention being for the protestors to "kettle" Scotland Yard - forming a human chain around it. The abysmal level of public interest was revealed by the fact that there were only just enough people to complete the chain.

With the obstinacy of the police, the government and the IPCC when it comes to the hundreds of police-related deaths and especially the experience of the execution of Jean Charles de Menezes at Stockwell Tube Station, it is clear that all those with a stake in fighting the encroaching militarisation of the police and the increasing state-sponsered surveillance and repression must form the vanguard of the fight for justice for Tomlinson, Peach and the less-celebrated, though no less deserving others.

The tragic death of Ian Tomlinson was a setback for the Met's much-vaunted methods of crowd-control. But as we have seen, the increasing and disproportionate level of police repression towards demonstrations is part of a trend, since the anti-Bush demonstration in Parliament Sq in June 2008.

The pressure of the public response to the bungled shooting of Jean-Charles de Menezes forced - if only after several years - the government and the police to reveal the extent of incompetence, lies, misinformation and cover-ups enacted by a police force intent on acting as a law unto itself.

Truth is gonna come, but it is up to us whether we deliver justice now, when it matters, or in 3 decades time at the conveniance of a new generation of honourable MP's.

Prostitute

A virgin canvas: Sullied
Now through transaction -
Of market forces: compelled
To curtail Passion
- And surrender your sympathies

By right of culture: Lauded
And yet, dilemma -
By way of ambition: Led
To acknowledge favour
- And Prostitute your sympathies

And the internet rumour mill goes into overdrive...

MJ taken to hospital after cardiac arrest. He was treated with CPR by paramedics, and thus Tinseltown powers up the grapevine's generators:

I've heard he's dead, in a coma, in the pub, addicted to peanut butter sandwiches...

Listening to the news now, a hysterical American women is imploring us to all "light a candle" and assuring us that it "will be worse than when Elvis died."

According to city law enforcement officials Los Angeles times has just reported that MJ died at 3:15pm at the UCLA hospital at the age of 50.

Demonstrate in support of the Iranian people

Join the rally in London to show solidiarity with the Iranian people oppressed by the brutal Islamic republic.

Friday 26th June

Assemble @ 12:30-1:30pm outside Iranian embassy

Saturday 27th June

Assemble @ 2pm at High Street Kensington Station

Proceed @ 2:30pm towards Iranian embassy.

Days of protest against President Ahmedinejad's regime are being brutally repressed by security services, including paramilitary militias and Revolutionary Guards. The disputed election result has led to popular demonstrations that have far outstripped simply being support for 'Reformist' candidate Mousavi.

Thoughts on Abercrombie & Fitch's attitude to disability

Naff US clothing chain Abercrombie & Fitch is under scrutiny after a former employee tells a tribunal about the discrimination she faced due to her prosthetic arm.

Law student Riam Dean, is seeking compensation from the retailer for her experiences under A&F's "oppressive regime".

Dean was born without a left forearm, and has worn a prosthetic limb since she was a baby.

The facts of the case are seemingly simple: Dean alleges that she told her employer about her disability, whereupon they agreed she could wear a cardigan to cover the connection between her prostehtic forearm and upper arm.

However, she was soon told that, because of the cardigan, she was in breach of the companies' "look policy".

Dean contends that the A&F head office suggested she stay in the stockroom "until the winter uniform arrives".

While there has been some dispute over elements of her claim, including allegations that her claim that A&F management had repeatedly asked her to remove her prosthetic arm was false, the central issue of discrimination over her aesthetic incompatibility with the firm's near fascistic obsession with manifestations of physical perfection remains.

A&F's "look policy" states that employees "represent Abercrombie & Fitch with natural, classic American style consistent with the company's brand" and "look great while exhibiting individuality".

Clearly the individuality envisaged by the A&F head office does not extend to the possibility that not everyone - be it staff or consumer - will conform to the sculptured, wholesome, aryan-master-race package that Abercrombie & Fitch purveys to the an image-conscious US and latterly, British teenage market.

I can assure you that this writer is not kept awake at night, flicking through A&F back catalogues, conjuring conspiracies out of the marvellous similiarities between said catalogues and the Hitler Youth's propaganda. However, despite the other complex issued dragged out in the tribunal, the fact remains that A&F's valorisation of aesthetic perfection sets the bar for moral bankruptcy, in the pursuit of corporate profit, and defence of commercial image.

After all, they probably couldn't conceive that a sales assistant with a prosthetic arm would not in fact imperil the management's christmas bonuses. Their social conditioning and orientation towards such a shallow, commercialised market meant that those concerned with profit-strategies couldn't comprehend the fact that in an ordinary world, people are born with disabilities, and it is not acceptable to shun them, or to display callous disrespect for disability-discrimination acts, by employing someone and then taking pains to ensure your customers don't know that, shock, horror, up-market A&F employs somebody with a prosthetic arm.

To be sure, Abercrombie & Fitch aren't the only ones at fault in a fashion industry whose disdain for reality, and creation of an aesthetic dystopia, is documented in daily accounts of rising eating-disorders, objectification of physical appearance etc.

However, if the tribunal takes a firm line against A&F in this case, then that would send a message out to retailers that, no matter the social status of their clientele, no fasion label is above the right to work in a discrimination-free atmosphere, without the physical and psychological detriments of disability being compounded and exploited by image-conscious head-office bureaucrats.

In fact, though the fashion industry could do itself a huge PR boost by changing its attitudes to the disabled workforce, any such attempts would for the foreseeable future be seen as the PR stunt it would inevitably be, rather than a longed-for sea change in attitudes.

In the event of student protest

In the wake of a fresh occupation at the School of Oriental and African Studies over a raid by immigration officials and the deportation of several cleaners, I thought I'd share this from Indymedia. It's a copy of emails sent between SOAS admin and a legal firm, detailing the legal recourse available to institutions facing 'trespass' by protesters.

There seem to be 3 principal ways of evicting protestors from private property:

1. Under Common Law, the owner can physically remove the trespassers, using no more force than is reasonably required.
2. A Possession order may be aquired though an emergency High Court injunction whereby the administration must show that they have a greater right to the land than those occupying it.
3. Police can order trespassers to leave a property (and arrest those who do not comply) if:

• at least two people are trespassing on the campus with a common purpose of residing there for any purpose
• the institution has taken reasonable steps to ask them to leave; and
• any one of them has damaged property, or used threatening, abusive or insulting words or behaviour towards a member of staff.

Pertinently, the advice picks up on the fact that after occupations, negotiations or concessions granted by the administration with the purpose of ending the occupation are not pursued with the same level of efficiency, and tempo as during the occupation:

"In some cases, it appears that the original organisational energy is not sustained post occupation and the follow up actions are not pursued as rigorously by the students."

While some occupations gained notable concessions, and many universities have initiated processes for disinvesting from arms companies, granting scholarships to Palestinian students etc, the failure of many occupations to consolidate the demands of their occupation - even where successful - was an important feature of workshops during the National Student Co-ordination conference in April.

The email shows that the university administrations were legally well prepared for the January Gaza solidarity occupations, even if the initial occupations at SOAS, Kings, and LSE may have come as a surprise.

Over the next 3 months, occupations spread to over 30 universities from Sussex to Strathclyde and while technology allowed the occupations to maintain contact and disseminate tactics and ideas, it did the same for the university vice-chancellors.

Many would no doubt have been aware that conceeding to '"negotiations" after putting up a show of token resistance, would have been the policy best suited to dispersing the anger, and hoping that the students would not apply the same dedication to protracted rounds of "talks about talks" as they did in the initial demands stage of the occupations.

In many cases they have been proved right.

With a wave of actions, including occupations, sit-ins, demonstrations, speaking tours etc, planned for the autumn term, it is vital that students utilise all the resources at their disposal to organise effectively on campus, form cross-campus links, and fight to consolidate the smallest of victories.

This email proves that the administration was preparing for protest during the depths of nearly two decades of dormant student activisim.

We must likewise prepare for the coming struggle in autumn.

No Mean City

Here's one from the vaults, 2005 or thereabouts.

From Paris to Texas, you'll walk the line,
Never to your tune, though least you're still alive.
When you bite the bullet, you swallow it tough;
Another shot sunk, don't look into the sun.

This is my hometown;
It's no mean city
Hey you strangers, welcome to the city,
Clicking your heels, at ease with sitting pretty.
All you strangers, I'm just a sinner;
Trying to sell a story.

She ain't from my town, but she's walking the streets,
Like she was born in the cracks, and she's keeping the beat.
All you strangers, all you deadbeats,
Buy into my story.

Hey now strangers, there's dust in the air,
There's something on the streets,
but I can't say where;
And all you strangers, you can't play fair,
So she sells you my story

If you came out of the town, another piece of meat,
With a hellhound on your tail, you're nothing on the street.
All you strangers, and you deadbeats
Buy into this story

This is my hometown
It's no mean city

Awrite now mister, in the Emperor's clothes;
You've made it rags to riches, but here's the end of the road.
All you strangers, like you don’t know
Who’s swinging from the willow

Hey now strangers, there's dust in the air,
There's something on the streets,
but I can't say where;
And all you takers, you can't play fair,
So she sells you my story

We’re livin’, livin’, livin’
In no mean city
This is my hometown
It's no mean city

Come down strangers, get your blood-on-blood.
The poet in the streets, said it ain't so tough,
And all you strangers, there whipping it up.
I say it's no mean city.

We’re livin’, livin’, livin’
In no mean city
This is my hometown,
It's no mean city

#29

Alienation follows interpretation of questions
through a prejudiced lens
but you can't placate your conscience
and instil selfish concessions
that serve your enemies' ends.
No barriers sprung from hatred's shallow foundations
can endure
A determination to deliver ourselves,
our brothers, our sisters -
beyond cancers of colour and tongue.
so you might still blame Thatcher,
and you might easily blame your neighbour
but as our stricken leaders clamour
choleric, and clamber from our pockets
-choose carefully your loyalty
Parasites' chorus in hysterics
in suited ranks of Sirens, chastised
cannot temper Brutus's reflex;
Many hands at the tumbril,
many more to the blade.
Cast in tint of victory now-
resolve to interpret the world, for what it is,
and better still, for what it could be;
- Awaiting 'cross the barricade.