When we were making the programme about Ted Hughes's 'Poetry in the Making' ('Poetry in the Re-making' Radio 4 Sunday) I visited the BBC written archives in Caversham. In one of the first letters that the BBC Schools producer, Moira Doolan wrote to Hughes asking him to do some poetry programmes (and a couple for children on how to write a novel) , she says that she wants them to appeal to 'secondary modern' pupils (the assumption was that grammar schools would listen to the programmes anyway or could look after themselves). It's worth pondering a moment on this (and I know I have a vested interest in thinking that BBC School Radio was and is a good thing). A BBC producer is asking one of the finest up and coming poets of that time (it was the early 60s) to think of all children and school students and to think of them all as writers of poetry and fiction; don't 'stream' or 'select' or 'segregate' your comments. So, while the education system of the day WAS selecting and segregating with the eleven plus, Doolan and Hughes are thinking of how their broadcasts would and could not segregate.
BBC speakers sat in pretty well all state schools - they were big brown wooden things - and those few words that Moira Doolan said - and Ted Hughes responded positively to - represent an outlook to education and learning at that time. It was a commitment to a humanist and creative outlook towards all pupils.
Tuesday, 21 July 2015
"I aspirationally abstained…."
"As your Labour MP, I would like to say that I aspirationally abstained last night on the grounds that people have told me that they are in favour of poor people becoming poorer and I am aspirationally unable to explain to them why that might be unfair or unjust. It has been pointed out to me that 'poor people' might include some 'people' and that presumably such 'people' (if they are 'people') might not think it's OK for poor people to become poorer. Interesting point but not aspirational. Thanks for supporting me."
'People' didn't know about the Nazis in 1933. Apparently.
Thank you Newsnight for providing excuses for why it was possible for the Royal Family to have a larf doing Hitler salutes in 1933. Thank you Newsnight for not doing half an hour's research on what the left was saying about the Nazi party in the late 20s early 30s. Thank you Newsnight for not checking out what those monitoring anti-semitism were saying about the Nazis at that time.
Yes, there was a quick mumble about 'laws against trade unionists and Communists' (i.e. the Reichstag and 'Enabling' laws that were enacted in Feb and March 1933) but that was quickly diffused into how the Nazis were seen as the party of 'order'. Even in bourgeois democratic terms, what the Nazis did in those first two months was end democracy. Both guests seem to think that people wouldn't have really known about all this…
That's because the 'left' aren't 'people' in that version of history. There is only parliament and the privately owned mass circulation press. That is what they mean by 'people'.
Yes, there was a quick mumble about 'laws against trade unionists and Communists' (i.e. the Reichstag and 'Enabling' laws that were enacted in Feb and March 1933) but that was quickly diffused into how the Nazis were seen as the party of 'order'. Even in bourgeois democratic terms, what the Nazis did in those first two months was end democracy. Both guests seem to think that people wouldn't have really known about all this…
That's because the 'left' aren't 'people' in that version of history. There is only parliament and the privately owned mass circulation press. That is what they mean by 'people'.
,,,but Cameron loves segregation
Don't know what Cameron was on about when he was talking about 'segregation'. Posh Tories like him love segregation. People like him are segregated from birth, sent off to schools where they only meet other boys like him, a place waiting for them at Oxbridge or Durham or Bristol, a business where someone in the family is employed, or in his case, in the Tory Party, where people like him enact laws which help society become more segregated, none more so than in education where the creation of academies and free schools has encouraged groups of parents and/or teachers to set themselves apart and create a kind of 'only-us' type schools, of many different kinds - our religion, our outlook, single-sex and so on.
Mixing is anathema to people like him. Their phoney notion of freedom is entirely based on people's 'choice' to be in public institutions separated off from whoever 'I' might think of as 'them'. And if 'I' am not given that choice then if 'I' have money, 'I' am told it's 'freedom' to buy that separation and segregation.
Mixing is anathema to people like him. Their phoney notion of freedom is entirely based on people's 'choice' to be in public institutions separated off from whoever 'I' might think of as 'them'. And if 'I' am not given that choice then if 'I' have money, 'I' am told it's 'freedom' to buy that separation and segregation.
Wednesday, 15 July 2015
Odysseus hears how the people (and Penelope) are on the streets
…and messengers came from Ithaca with news from Penelope, Odysseus's long-suffering wife.
'O Odysseus,' said the messengers.
'It's alright, I know what you're going to say. Penelope has heard that I lingered too long on the Isle of Ogygia in the arms of Calypso.'
'No, my lord,' said the first messenger, 'that's the least of your worries.'
'Really? What else can be bothering her?'
'She and all of Ithaca is starving, my lord,' said the messenger, 'and they all looked to you to relieve them of their hunger pangs.'
'To me?!' said Odysseus incredulously, 'but I saved them from the horde of men in long grey pants. If it wasn't for me, they would be at our door.'
'Yes, my lord, but the point is, they've come through the door. They're now supping at your table…and mine…and all of our tables.'
'My Penelope!' screamed Odysseus in a jealous rage, 'O my Ithaca!'
'Well, actually,' said the messenger who was a Cynic.Or a Sceptic. Or an Epicurean. Or all three…'Penelope isn't at home. She's on the streets.'
'On the streets?' shrieked Odysseus.
'Not like that, you fool,' said the messenger, 'she and all of Ithaca are on the streets. You would do well to harken unto them.'
'What does that mean?' said Odysseus who was unacquainted with ancient Greek.
'Listen. Note. Take heed. Learn from the people…, that sort of thing.'
'Hmmmmmmmmmm, 'said Odysseus, remembering the last time he was afflicted by self-will and how that had brought the wrath of Poseidon upon himself and his men….'hmmmmmmmmmm, ' he repeated.
'O Odysseus,' said the messengers.
'It's alright, I know what you're going to say. Penelope has heard that I lingered too long on the Isle of Ogygia in the arms of Calypso.'
'No, my lord,' said the first messenger, 'that's the least of your worries.'
'Really? What else can be bothering her?'
'She and all of Ithaca is starving, my lord,' said the messenger, 'and they all looked to you to relieve them of their hunger pangs.'
'To me?!' said Odysseus incredulously, 'but I saved them from the horde of men in long grey pants. If it wasn't for me, they would be at our door.'
'Yes, my lord, but the point is, they've come through the door. They're now supping at your table…and mine…and all of our tables.'
'My Penelope!' screamed Odysseus in a jealous rage, 'O my Ithaca!'
'Well, actually,' said the messenger who was a Cynic.Or a Sceptic. Or an Epicurean. Or all three…'Penelope isn't at home. She's on the streets.'
'On the streets?' shrieked Odysseus.
'Not like that, you fool,' said the messenger, 'she and all of Ithaca are on the streets. You would do well to harken unto them.'
'What does that mean?' said Odysseus who was unacquainted with ancient Greek.
'Listen. Note. Take heed. Learn from the people…, that sort of thing.'
'Hmmmmmmmmmm, 'said Odysseus, remembering the last time he was afflicted by self-will and how that had brought the wrath of Poseidon upon himself and his men….'hmmmmmmmmmm, ' he repeated.
IMF: Circe Lagardos chides Odysseus
..and Odysseus returned to the wood where Circe Lagardos lived.
'O Odysseus,' she lamented, 'did I not warn you of being brought low at the hands of the men in the horde of men in long grey pants?'
'Actually, no,' said Odysseus, 'what you actually said was that it's always best to stay well in with the horde of men in long grey pants.'
'Did I?' said Circe.
'Yes, you do seem to forget things these days. I have heard from the oracles that you are insistent that we Ithacans pay our tribute to the city and yet you yourself pay none.'
'You must learn to overlook petty detail, Odysseus and look to the bigger picture. My message to you today is that no matter what is the agreement you have made between you and the horde of men in long grey pants, it is no more use to you than swine turd.'
'How come?' said Odysseus looking deep into the wine-dark sea.
'Because, dear Odysseus, even people like me have come to realise that a people who eat nothing, make nothing. People who make nothing, are unable to furnish the likes of me with any drachma at all.'
'How strange to hear these words from you, Circe,' said Odysseus ruefully rubbing his beard.
'Never fear, Odysseus, such humanity on my part won't last long. Soon I will be back to turning people into swine.'
'And will you be paying your tribute to the city at any point in the future?' Odysseus queried.
'Never,' said Circe and returned to her offices.
I wonder if we could sell swine turd to travellers who visit Ithaca, Odysseus pondered….
'
'O Odysseus,' she lamented, 'did I not warn you of being brought low at the hands of the men in the horde of men in long grey pants?'
'Actually, no,' said Odysseus, 'what you actually said was that it's always best to stay well in with the horde of men in long grey pants.'
'Did I?' said Circe.
'Yes, you do seem to forget things these days. I have heard from the oracles that you are insistent that we Ithacans pay our tribute to the city and yet you yourself pay none.'
'You must learn to overlook petty detail, Odysseus and look to the bigger picture. My message to you today is that no matter what is the agreement you have made between you and the horde of men in long grey pants, it is no more use to you than swine turd.'
'How come?' said Odysseus looking deep into the wine-dark sea.
'Because, dear Odysseus, even people like me have come to realise that a people who eat nothing, make nothing. People who make nothing, are unable to furnish the likes of me with any drachma at all.'
'How strange to hear these words from you, Circe,' said Odysseus ruefully rubbing his beard.
'Never fear, Odysseus, such humanity on my part won't last long. Soon I will be back to turning people into swine.'
'And will you be paying your tribute to the city at any point in the future?' Odysseus queried.
'Never,' said Circe and returned to her offices.
I wonder if we could sell swine turd to travellers who visit Ithaca, Odysseus pondered….
'
Monday, 13 July 2015
Who was a Communist?
My parents didn't tell us which of their friends and relations
were Communists and which weren't,
so we had to do it ourselves.
A group of teachers and their partners came over
from my father's school,
Len got out his guitar and they sang,
'I'm the man, the very fat man who waters the workers' beer'.
They must be Communists, I thought.
A group of teachers came over from my mother's school,
and a man called Wally told stories about an engraving firm
controlled by 'the masons', he said.
My dad was fascinated by Wally's stories and kept saying,
'Christ, would you believe it?!'
So I asked my mum if Wally was a Communist
and she said, 'Of course not, you mustn't ever say that.'
Then we went on a camp with the Hornsey Communists
and a woman spilt meths on her groundsheet
and it burst in to flame.
My dad said she was a bloody fool
so I reckoned that though she might have been a
Communist once
she wasn't one now.
We went camping with Fred and Lorna,
and when we sang 'I'm the man the very fat man
who waters the workers' beer' Lorna didn't join in
and said, 'Oh Fred, come on, there's no need to
sing that one,' so Lorna, I thought, was not very Communist.
Sometimes we went to see two families who
lived upstairs and downstairs in a house.
Upstairs was Francis the Armenian who was so Communist
quite often he wasn't there - he was working for peace
in Czechoslovakia. Peggy, his wife, though
was very Communist, I thought, because
she not only talked about peace, she talked about
peace-loving peoples.
My father said that she sounded like a bloody gramophone
record, but as we often used to listen to bloody gramophone
records of the Red Army, I didn't know why there
could be anything wrong with that.
Downstairs there was Roy who was the most miserable
man I have ever known. Even his hands was miserable.
He said that everything was bad. As my parents
said some things (but not everything) were bad as well,
it was possible, I thought,
Roy was more Communist than them.
Roy's wife, was sometimes ill and had to go to bed for
months. But when she came out of the bedroom
she was very smiley and seemed to say that
everything wasn't as bad as Roy said it was.
I wasn't sure if that meant she was more or less
Communist than Roy.
There was Moishe and Rene who weren't just
Communists they were almost my parents.
Moishe went to school with my father and
Rene went to school with my mother.
They had even camped together.
When they talked it was like they were
a moishe-rene-my mother-my father Communist camping club.
Then there were the relatives or 'meshpukkhe' as
my father called them.
My father's mother was so old and so Communist, she was the first
Communist. And her father they said, was a
Communist-before-there-even-were-Communists.
My mother's mother, 'Bubbe', kept
chickens and said the woman who did the 'bag wash'
was trying to diddle her. My father said that she
wasn't a Communist, she just 'kvetshed' (complained)
but she made the best shmatena (a kind of yoghurt)
in London so maybe that made her some kind of
a Communist without knowing she was.
I asked my mother if 'Zeyde' (her father) was a
Communist and she said very angrily that he was
'some kind of Trotskyist'.
That sounded terrible. And yet he was so nice.
He took me to Hackney Downs where he
showed me to his friends who said, every time,
'Is that your Grandson, Frank?'
'Yes,' he said every time,
'He's a nice looking boy,' they said every time,
and went on talking in Yiddish.
As i didn't speak Yiddish I had no way of knowing
whether they were Trotskyists too.
In 1957, we went to Communist East Germany
and there was a row between everybody on the
delegation about whether Stalinallee (Stalin Alley)
looked like a public lavatory or not.
We saw the Carl Zeiss camera works,
Frederick the Great's house,
Goethe's house, Schiller's house, Bach's house,
Luther's castle, Buchenwald concentration camp
and Hitler's bunker.
When we got back, my parents stopped being
Communists.
They called me and my brother in and said
that they didn't agree with the Communist Party
and democracy.
I had no idea what that meant. Not a clue.
The ones who were Communists went on being
Communists and now we weren't Communists.
Every so often Roy came over and said
everything was getting worse.
were Communists and which weren't,
so we had to do it ourselves.
A group of teachers and their partners came over
from my father's school,
Len got out his guitar and they sang,
'I'm the man, the very fat man who waters the workers' beer'.
They must be Communists, I thought.
A group of teachers came over from my mother's school,
and a man called Wally told stories about an engraving firm
controlled by 'the masons', he said.
My dad was fascinated by Wally's stories and kept saying,
'Christ, would you believe it?!'
So I asked my mum if Wally was a Communist
and she said, 'Of course not, you mustn't ever say that.'
Then we went on a camp with the Hornsey Communists
and a woman spilt meths on her groundsheet
and it burst in to flame.
My dad said she was a bloody fool
so I reckoned that though she might have been a
Communist once
she wasn't one now.
We went camping with Fred and Lorna,
and when we sang 'I'm the man the very fat man
who waters the workers' beer' Lorna didn't join in
and said, 'Oh Fred, come on, there's no need to
sing that one,' so Lorna, I thought, was not very Communist.
Sometimes we went to see two families who
lived upstairs and downstairs in a house.
Upstairs was Francis the Armenian who was so Communist
quite often he wasn't there - he was working for peace
in Czechoslovakia. Peggy, his wife, though
was very Communist, I thought, because
she not only talked about peace, she talked about
peace-loving peoples.
My father said that she sounded like a bloody gramophone
record, but as we often used to listen to bloody gramophone
records of the Red Army, I didn't know why there
could be anything wrong with that.
Downstairs there was Roy who was the most miserable
man I have ever known. Even his hands was miserable.
He said that everything was bad. As my parents
said some things (but not everything) were bad as well,
it was possible, I thought,
Roy was more Communist than them.
Roy's wife, was sometimes ill and had to go to bed for
months. But when she came out of the bedroom
she was very smiley and seemed to say that
everything wasn't as bad as Roy said it was.
I wasn't sure if that meant she was more or less
Communist than Roy.
There was Moishe and Rene who weren't just
Communists they were almost my parents.
Moishe went to school with my father and
Rene went to school with my mother.
They had even camped together.
When they talked it was like they were
a moishe-rene-my mother-my father Communist camping club.
Then there were the relatives or 'meshpukkhe' as
my father called them.
My father's mother was so old and so Communist, she was the first
Communist. And her father they said, was a
Communist-before-there-even-were-Communists.
My mother's mother, 'Bubbe', kept
chickens and said the woman who did the 'bag wash'
was trying to diddle her. My father said that she
wasn't a Communist, she just 'kvetshed' (complained)
but she made the best shmatena (a kind of yoghurt)
in London so maybe that made her some kind of
a Communist without knowing she was.
I asked my mother if 'Zeyde' (her father) was a
Communist and she said very angrily that he was
'some kind of Trotskyist'.
That sounded terrible. And yet he was so nice.
He took me to Hackney Downs where he
showed me to his friends who said, every time,
'Is that your Grandson, Frank?'
'Yes,' he said every time,
'He's a nice looking boy,' they said every time,
and went on talking in Yiddish.
As i didn't speak Yiddish I had no way of knowing
whether they were Trotskyists too.
In 1957, we went to Communist East Germany
and there was a row between everybody on the
delegation about whether Stalinallee (Stalin Alley)
looked like a public lavatory or not.
We saw the Carl Zeiss camera works,
Frederick the Great's house,
Goethe's house, Schiller's house, Bach's house,
Luther's castle, Buchenwald concentration camp
and Hitler's bunker.
When we got back, my parents stopped being
Communists.
They called me and my brother in and said
that they didn't agree with the Communist Party
and democracy.
I had no idea what that meant. Not a clue.
The ones who were Communists went on being
Communists and now we weren't Communists.
Every so often Roy came over and said
everything was getting worse.
Odysseus sails to the Isle of Urop and meets the horde of greedy men in long grey pants
…and then Odysseus and his men sailed on and came to the Island of Urop where a horde of greedy men wearing long grey pants fell upon them. 'Ithaca is a ruin,' they shouted, 'and we must have it.'
Odysseus and his men said, 'Be that as it may, but let us sit down, talk and eat hummus.'
The horde of greedy men said that they eschewed (not chewed) hummus and preferred the red blooded meat of Ithacans.
'Never!' cried Odysseus but went on supping with the horde.
12 hours later, the horde of greedy men owned Ithaca and Odysseus said he would return thither and tell the people that their dignity was assured.
"It will be better in Hades,' muttered one of the sailors.
'Nay,'said another, 'I liked being one of Circe's pigs. I got to quite like the acorns she gave us.'
'Just as well,' said another, 'because that's what we'll be eating when we get back.'
[to be continued]
Odysseus and his men said, 'Be that as it may, but let us sit down, talk and eat hummus.'
The horde of greedy men said that they eschewed (not chewed) hummus and preferred the red blooded meat of Ithacans.
'Never!' cried Odysseus but went on supping with the horde.
12 hours later, the horde of greedy men owned Ithaca and Odysseus said he would return thither and tell the people that their dignity was assured.
"It will be better in Hades,' muttered one of the sailors.
'Nay,'said another, 'I liked being one of Circe's pigs. I got to quite like the acorns she gave us.'
'Just as well,' said another, 'because that's what we'll be eating when we get back.'
[to be continued]
Friday, 10 July 2015
Urgent message
Urgent message: the terrorism of George Osborne is a danger to you and your families. Not content with stealing your standard of living, he is now intent on dressing this up as being done on your behalf. This man and the evil organisation he fronts should be avoided at all costs. We recommend that you leave the country immediately. If not, get together with anyone you know who agrees with the sentiments expressed in this message and do what you can to remove Osborne and his organisation from power. In fact, forget that thing about leaving the country immediately, and instead allow yourself to dream a moment and imagine Osborne and his organisation packing their bags and leaving in much the same way as the last US troops packed their bags and jumped on a helicopter when they left Vietnam. Another world is possible.
Moneylending
I found myself thinking that money-lending made some sort of sense when things are productive. You lend me money, I do something or other that alters the value of something, I get richer and I pay you back more than you lent me. Then these moneylenders got the idea you could lend money to people who were lending money. Or you lent money so that people could gamble on more than their own productivity - like property that could or might go up in 'value' simply because of where it is. Or you could buy someone's debt and then sell it on for more than you spent on it….and the link to something being productive stretches longer and longer.
And when you live in a country like the UK that can issue its own currency and seems to have so many international links all this can seem distant and convoluted and not matter very much. But if you're in a country like Greece, it suddenly becomes stark and clear. Moneylenders lend to anyone they think can return the dosh with brass knobs on. And the speculation gets crazier and crazier until there comes a point that the people taking the loans are speculating more and more. And, though it appears as if it's all going on 'up there', suddenly the chain of moneylending turns on the people at the very end of the chain,people in flats, low-paid jobs, with tiny pensions, and suddenly they are the ones 'responsible' for paying the money back. The big boys turn on them and say, 'You owe the money'.
And they demand that the poor people's governments clamp down on the poor people and ensure that they can be sacked, that they work till they drop that their healthcare becomes more expensive that their wages are frozen that they pay more tax on the meagre earnings they have….
And the moneylenders go on and on and on and on lending money, to whichever outfit they can and this is all good, all fine and all part of what makes the system go on and on and the crises go on and on and on…
And when you live in a country like the UK that can issue its own currency and seems to have so many international links all this can seem distant and convoluted and not matter very much. But if you're in a country like Greece, it suddenly becomes stark and clear. Moneylenders lend to anyone they think can return the dosh with brass knobs on. And the speculation gets crazier and crazier until there comes a point that the people taking the loans are speculating more and more. And, though it appears as if it's all going on 'up there', suddenly the chain of moneylending turns on the people at the very end of the chain,people in flats, low-paid jobs, with tiny pensions, and suddenly they are the ones 'responsible' for paying the money back. The big boys turn on them and say, 'You owe the money'.
And they demand that the poor people's governments clamp down on the poor people and ensure that they can be sacked, that they work till they drop that their healthcare becomes more expensive that their wages are frozen that they pay more tax on the meagre earnings they have….
And the moneylenders go on and on and on and on lending money, to whichever outfit they can and this is all good, all fine and all part of what makes the system go on and on and the crises go on and on and on…
Dear Mr Tsipras, What are politicians for?
Dear Mr Tsipras,
What are politicians for? The majority of them are there to ensure that the ways in which the majority of people are exploited and oppressed carry on. And we despise them for it. Most of them use their opportunity to do this to personally enrich themselves until they die in a haze of over-consumption. You know all this.
Just occasionally, we are delighted when politicians emerge who not only remind us of how venal and disgusting these people are who prop up such an unequal unfair system, but who suggest ways in which this situation can be challenged or even overcome. It happens rather rarely and when it does, it is often difficult for such people to be heard through the din of voices telling us that exploitation and oppression make for a fair and just world. You know all this.
You and your party emerged at a time of great crisis for the Greek people. But when I say the 'Greek people', I don't mean the great moguls, bankers, and property owners - or the previous generations of politicians. I mean the Greek workers, small-time farmers and small-time shop-keepers who do the work to keep Greece going. I've only been to Greece twice but I've seen the people running fishing boats, tending olive groves, working the ferries, coming out of small-time factories, cleaning, cooking, washing, putting hummus and olives on my table as I sat out at night looking at the sea. These people are in crisis. You know all this.
And you know that it wasn't these people who borrowed the money. They got up, went to work and went to bed. And when they couldn't do this in the winter, they travelled to Athens or Italy or Britain or America or wherever to pick up some more work. These people didn't have the power or the clout to make the big deals that brought in money from Europe. These big deals are made in the money exchanges and stock exchanges and banks by the owners and controllers of big, big money. The people I'm talking about didn't have the power to do that. They trusted the politicians and the bankers and the rest to be doing the right thing…to make sure that the tourists like me came in and bought their meals and slept in the beds and bought the trinkets and that the people in Europe bought the olives and the olive oil. And for the vast mass of these people, doing this work has never made them rich. They've just gone on doing it. Yet up there in the banks and exchanges, a tiny, tiny minority of people did get rich and go on being rich and go on swanning round the world dodging taxes, buying properties, buying and selling money. You know all this.
And you told the world you know this. You won the confidence of the Greek people I'm talking about. They believed that you would find a way for them to not have to pay back the loans they didn't make. Somehow, you and your party would claw back some of the wealth sloshing around the richest families, somehow you and your party would find a way to tell those in power who want to claw back their losses from the poorest people, to go hang. Lending money is a risky business. Just tell them they lost. Tough. You know all this.
And last weekend, it looked like you pulled off one of the great moves of this kind of politics. You returned to the people and the people told the world that they wouldn't and couldn't take the rap for the rich people's risk-taking. We rejoiced. You know all this.
And yet today, we read that, far from returning to the people and using all your powers of invention and cunning to resist the power of bank notes, and electronic euro-clicking, you seem to have said, yes, the poorest people in Greece - the great majority of Greek people will pay. They will pay with their hands, their hearts, their bodies, their hours of work and extra work and extra extra work. And this mass of labour will produce bit by bit some kind of compensation (is it?) to the great bankers of Europe sitting in their mansions across the world. You know all this.
And you know that no matter what 'compensation' these banks receive, in truth, what they win is an affirmation of their own power. They strengthen their warnings and threats to the mass of people of Europe: don't you ever dare tip up the apple cart, don't you ever dare suggest that there can be any other way of organising your lives so that you benefit from the work you do. There is only one way: the way whereby you do the work, and we benefit the most. That is the order we live by and we order you to live by it. That was the message they wanted you, Mr Tsipras, to deliver. And surprisingly, shockingly, amazingly, it seems as if you have.
Why? What's the point? What has been the point of your life? Why have you spent the last five years, being a person who has said the opposite of what you have done today? What's it all been for? What is a socialist who makes it easier for capitalism to exploit and oppress people? What kind of socialist is that? But then, I fear, you know all this, you know all this, you know all this.
What are politicians for? The majority of them are there to ensure that the ways in which the majority of people are exploited and oppressed carry on. And we despise them for it. Most of them use their opportunity to do this to personally enrich themselves until they die in a haze of over-consumption. You know all this.
Just occasionally, we are delighted when politicians emerge who not only remind us of how venal and disgusting these people are who prop up such an unequal unfair system, but who suggest ways in which this situation can be challenged or even overcome. It happens rather rarely and when it does, it is often difficult for such people to be heard through the din of voices telling us that exploitation and oppression make for a fair and just world. You know all this.
You and your party emerged at a time of great crisis for the Greek people. But when I say the 'Greek people', I don't mean the great moguls, bankers, and property owners - or the previous generations of politicians. I mean the Greek workers, small-time farmers and small-time shop-keepers who do the work to keep Greece going. I've only been to Greece twice but I've seen the people running fishing boats, tending olive groves, working the ferries, coming out of small-time factories, cleaning, cooking, washing, putting hummus and olives on my table as I sat out at night looking at the sea. These people are in crisis. You know all this.
And you know that it wasn't these people who borrowed the money. They got up, went to work and went to bed. And when they couldn't do this in the winter, they travelled to Athens or Italy or Britain or America or wherever to pick up some more work. These people didn't have the power or the clout to make the big deals that brought in money from Europe. These big deals are made in the money exchanges and stock exchanges and banks by the owners and controllers of big, big money. The people I'm talking about didn't have the power to do that. They trusted the politicians and the bankers and the rest to be doing the right thing…to make sure that the tourists like me came in and bought their meals and slept in the beds and bought the trinkets and that the people in Europe bought the olives and the olive oil. And for the vast mass of these people, doing this work has never made them rich. They've just gone on doing it. Yet up there in the banks and exchanges, a tiny, tiny minority of people did get rich and go on being rich and go on swanning round the world dodging taxes, buying properties, buying and selling money. You know all this.
And you told the world you know this. You won the confidence of the Greek people I'm talking about. They believed that you would find a way for them to not have to pay back the loans they didn't make. Somehow, you and your party would claw back some of the wealth sloshing around the richest families, somehow you and your party would find a way to tell those in power who want to claw back their losses from the poorest people, to go hang. Lending money is a risky business. Just tell them they lost. Tough. You know all this.
And last weekend, it looked like you pulled off one of the great moves of this kind of politics. You returned to the people and the people told the world that they wouldn't and couldn't take the rap for the rich people's risk-taking. We rejoiced. You know all this.
And yet today, we read that, far from returning to the people and using all your powers of invention and cunning to resist the power of bank notes, and electronic euro-clicking, you seem to have said, yes, the poorest people in Greece - the great majority of Greek people will pay. They will pay with their hands, their hearts, their bodies, their hours of work and extra work and extra extra work. And this mass of labour will produce bit by bit some kind of compensation (is it?) to the great bankers of Europe sitting in their mansions across the world. You know all this.
And you know that no matter what 'compensation' these banks receive, in truth, what they win is an affirmation of their own power. They strengthen their warnings and threats to the mass of people of Europe: don't you ever dare tip up the apple cart, don't you ever dare suggest that there can be any other way of organising your lives so that you benefit from the work you do. There is only one way: the way whereby you do the work, and we benefit the most. That is the order we live by and we order you to live by it. That was the message they wanted you, Mr Tsipras, to deliver. And surprisingly, shockingly, amazingly, it seems as if you have.
Why? What's the point? What has been the point of your life? Why have you spent the last five years, being a person who has said the opposite of what you have done today? What's it all been for? What is a socialist who makes it easier for capitalism to exploit and oppress people? What kind of socialist is that? But then, I fear, you know all this, you know all this, you know all this.
