Lost at sea - A short story

 We found ourselves on an island, though many of the inhabitants including myself for a time, were convinced it was a peninsula, but the causeway had long washed away and the mainland was nowhere to be seen and not in sight.

For a time life in the island was good, even when we occasionally realised it was an island, until one day, something fell from the sky a meteorite perhaps, it caused so much damage around us, Many of began to see the damage others did not, quite a few of us began to realise there was a lot more damage, it couldn't have all be caused by the explosion.

Chaos erupted, many denied the damage, but others realised we couldn't repair the island, we set sail on a ship headed for the mainland. What we didn't realise though, was that much of the damage was actually viral, we took it with us, but not all noticed, we sailed in circles, never approaching the mainland. 

 Some of us agreed, we needed to use a lifeboat, if we were ever to get to the mainland, not everyone understood, some didn't get, they were ready to set sail, it was the others fault, if they couldn't see the problems on the ship. Reluctantly we disembarked, it turned out to be a trick, just so they could captain their own vessel.

Stuck aboard a a small ship we never really wanted to be, a victim of circumstance, a couple of us made a dash for a dingy.

 We drifted for so long, never getting closer to the mainland, but this time it was ok, we knew we weren't, and we content knowing the only thing to do was drift, over time we rescued a few others, there was space for about 10 of us to sit comfortably here.

We still had no way to make it back though, but in the distance, there is a large cruise liner that seems to be going that way, I think we can hitch a ride, but we will probably keep the dingy, just in case.

This short story was inspired by Flight CIT8722, I think I was on that flight you know, but I joined at a layover at gate 03   

Starmer didn't kill Labour...

.... It was already dead

 That might seem hyperbolic, but let me explain.
 
I didn't grow up in a political household at all, in fact the only political comment I can recall from my childhood, was leading up to the 1997 general election. I remember asking my father about it, there was so much hype around it I remember the 'theme tune' - "Things can only get get better" but little else. I would have been 11 at the time. My father simply said he hoped the tories would win, because they would allow us to buy the council house and Labour wouldn't.

He didn't vote for them, he never has voted, neither did we buy the house, shortly after this my parents separated anyway. The point being that unlike so many I know, I didn't get any sense of class politics from my family, neither did I get it from the wider community. I grew up in a council house, but in a largely middle class area.

Over the next few years, as I imagine all children coming of age do, I began to think more about the world around be, but had no guide to take me. My earliest memories of thinking in terms of class were films like "Brassed Off" and the "Full Monty" they had quite an impact of developing my understanding of class dynamics in society. I remember as well, watching a film about Bloody Sunday in Ireland, though I can't recall its name. I also remember watching the news coverage of the Kosovar Liberation Army and had an instant affinity for them. 

At this in my political awakening as a teenager, looking back I could have easily gone in a nationalist direction, as you can see, I never had any classed based analysis influencing my formative years. 

Before long I had started College and on the very first day, it was 9/11 all of a sudden it was all anyone was discussing and my circle of friends were talking about the role of American imperialism, I became an active participant in the anti-war movement and joined the Socialist Party shortly after, I have since parted ways with them. 

But from this point on I campaigned against the policies of Labour, not just in terms of foreign affairs, but often campaigning against the actions of the Labour controlled Welsh Assembly and Labour councils. Yes there was a left in Labour, but they seemed to the the exception rather than the rule, I was continuously campaigning against the Labour Party, even after the 2010 election of the tories in Westminster, its was the same old Labour Party in charge in Wales and the council chambers.

I suppose the message from this, is whilst I have learnt, subsequently the history of the Labour Party, my lived experience was not that Labour was a party for working class people, and since then Labour has provided little evidence of this either.

Whilst Starmer may have finished the job off, the Labour Party I knew was already dead, Whilst Starmer has horrendous policies and actions towards the genocide in Gaza, this is not a fundamental departure from the Labour government that took part in the unlawful invasion of Iraq. Whilst Starmer has criminalised protesters through the proscription of Palestine Action, this was only possible with use of the Terrorism Act 2000, legislation passed by a Labour government, who have also passed other legislation. Whilst Starmer attacked the poorest with revisions on disability benefits, again its not a fundamental brake with the actions of previous Labour governments.

There was brief hope when Corbyn rose to the Labour leadership, but even then, it was an accident of fortune, he was able to do so little, taken down from the inside because Labour was already thoroughly rotten. On a personal level, it must have been so hard for him to take. A lifelong committed anti-racist labelled repeatedly as a racist! It was quite sickening to see, but it shows exactly how far the rot extended.

Starmer himself is nothing new, its just the logical extension of what had come before, perhaps it took some aback because he came directly after Corbyn, but it was Corbyn who was the aberration, Starmer is a continuation of Blair.

Whilst of course throughout this time, there were those inside and outside supporting the Labour Party and many of them genuine, they were always the exception to the norm. You would also hear a conversation like this 

"Labour but socialist"
"Old Labour really"
"Labour but good"

Or a thousand other descriptions that required a caveat it. They were always hanging onto something that had long gone, were always significantly limited in what they could or couldn't do. The slightest resistance was  held up to be the most radical of a stance precisely because it was so abnormal.

To me though, Labour was already dead by the time I had come of age, how could it have been anything but, since then I have campaigned against the policies of Labour, and Starmer's Labour is just a continuation of it. I don't even think he finished the job off, I think it was only the announcement of Your Party being formed that has been the final nail in the coffin for Labour.

Liberation: Writing

Whenever anyone has asked me about my artistic outlet, I would always respond by saying I would like to be artistic but I am not. In my head though, I would also think that my artistic outlet is writing. I could never say it though, because I either wasn't writing, wasn't very good at it but most importantly I didn't really enjoy it. That has changed though.

Growing up, I battled with this, although only now I can see this. I didn't grow up in a household full of books. I had to force myself to read as a young adult. It wasn't that I struggled to read at al, but rather I had to struggle to enjoy it and choose to do it. The situation now is very different, I am running out of space in my own home to house all the books I own. Reading let alone writing, just wasn't ever something that I saw as a recreational activity. 

In fact a few years ago, I walked into a room incredibly surprised to join a conversation with my partner, who I know to be an avid reader and my mother, discussing different fiction authors. I had never known my mother to be a reader at all all throughout my childhood. 

The only time I wrote anything was at school, Whilst I excelled academically, English was the one area in which I did struggle. I wasn't bad, but neither was I great, like I was in other areas. Consequently the school environment was so off putting when it came to writing at all. This isn't a unique story of course, so many people later fall in love with things they hated at school but what happened in my adulthood sealed this fate of my interest in writing.

At the age of 17 I joined a Trotskyist organisation at the height of the anti-war movement around the time of the invasion of Iraq. Whilst I agree with much of the politics involved still to this day, there is so much I don't. 

One of the very subtle things I have come to realise has been the constraints placed on any form of expression, the writing i did at this time was always formulaic, devoid of any personality and always had to end with concrete proposals. Years later I started this very blog, but still entwined in that world, I have come to realise that I still adhered to that unwritten style guide all throughout. 

I began to view writing as something only done to make a coherent point, style, form or enjoyment were irrelevant sometimes even undesirable, it was monotone at best. Even when writing in other spheres, in academia; I took the same approach, when I very occasionally wrote something non-political I took that same approach.

I forced myself to write, that is why this blog was created. I thought I could replicate what I had with reading, I forced myself to read until I enjoyed it, I could force myself to write until I enjoyed it, but it never happened. I was overlooking the obvious, Whenever I read something I didn't enjoy, I could simply read something else that I did, and that made it easier to read everything. When I wrote though, I always wrote in the same benign way, I could never force myself to enjoy writing, I was the problem.

It is easy to say this all with the benefit of hindsight, it was impossible to see it at the time, but recently I have begun to write again, this time free of the shackles of a vanguardist political organisation, or even the perceived shackles, where self censorship is to the fore, I, for the first time ever, after multiple attempts, I finally enjoy writing.

Not only am I beginning to enjoy the process of writing, time is now my only constraint, I have only written a few pieces so far, but my mind has already planned out another 10 or so pieces, some completely different than anything I have written before.

I have an artist friend who would adamantly believe that everyone has an artistic outlook, and that art is part and parcel of everyday life, I guess its finally time to admit he has a point. Next time I am asked the question "What is your artistic outlet" I can now give an answer. I plan to continue writing, I have no idea if it serves a purpose, I have no idea if its any good or if many people will read it, but I guess that isn't the point, the writing has been liberated I finally enjoy it.

Anyone who has ever been inside a revolutionary vanguardist party and come out the other side, will talk about how much it would from them, often in terms of time and money, but in this instance, I think it shows it takes more from us than we sometimes realise, it controls the very way you think, not be force or coercion, its fully accepted and embraced, but it could a part of  who I could have been.