Spartacist Canada No. 173- Summer 2012
La grève étudiante secoue le Québec-Mobilisez la puissance de la classe ouvrière !
1er juin—Après l’adoption par le gouvernement libéral du Québec de la loi 78, communément appelée « loi des matraques », la grève combative des étudiants commencée en février s’est transformée en une crise sociale profonde. Cette loi d’urgence, instaurée le soir du 18 mai, qui interdit toute manifestation à l’intérieur ou à l’extérieur des établissements d’enseignement, restreint sévèrement les autres manifestations et prévoit de lourdes amendes pour tous groupes ou personnes faisant fi de ses restrictions. Il est même illégal d’appeler à ces manifestations, tout comme il l’est de soutenir une grève dans un campus universitaire ou cégep !
Le soir du 18 mai, au moins 10 000 étudiants et sympathisants sont descendus dans la rue à Montréal. La police a déclaré « illégales » les manifestations des nuits suivantes, procédant à un nombre massif d’arrestations. Au total, durant cette grève étudiante, plus de 2500 personnes ont été arrêtées, ce qui dépasse déjà de beaucoup le nombre d’arrestations survenues en vertu de la Loi sur les mesures de guerre d’octobre 1970, quand Ottawa a suspendu les libertés civiles et jeté des centaines de militants de gauche, de nationalistes et de dirigeants syndicaux en prison pour tenter de réprimer un énorme mouvement contestataire au Québec.
Il est clair qu’en intensifiant la répression et en prévoyant des amendes astronomiques, le gouvernement du Québec espérait mettre fin à la contestation étudiante et casser la grève. Mais c’est tout le contraire qui s’est produit. Le 22 mai à Montréal, au moins 300 000 personnes ont pris part à la manifestation. Parmi elles se trouvaient des milliers de syndiqués marchant sous leurs banderoles ainsi qu’un grand nombre d’enseignants, de parents et d’élèves du secondaire. Etant donné la mobilisation gigantesque et l’imposante présence de contingents syndicaux, les flics n’ont pas pu réprimer la manif et ce, malgré le fait que la fédération étudiante CLASSE ait refusé d’en annoncer le trajet, ce qui rendait la marche « illégale » en vertu de la loi 78.
La CLASSE avait appelé les autres organisations opposées à la loi d’urgence à la rejoindre dans son acte de défiance. Mais la bureaucratie syndicale, les autres organisations étudiantes en grève et les dirigeants de l’organisation nationaliste petite-bourgeoise Québec Solidaire ont répondu qu’ils ne pouvaient appuyer que des manifestations « pacifiques et légales ». Ceci n’a nullement empêché une forte majorité des manifestants d’emboîter le pas à la CLASSE lorsque la manif s’est scindée en deux au bout de dix minutes.
Malgré un tollé quotidien dans la presse bourgeoise contre la « violence » des étudiants, les sondages indiquent que la majorité des francophones est opposée à la loi d’urgence. On voit partout à Montréal des gens portant le carré rouge, symbole de la lutte étudiante. Quand la manif du 22 mai est passée devant un grand hôpital du centre-ville, des patients âgés en chaise roulante, connectés à des intraveineuses et arborant des carrés rouges, ont applaudi et levé le poing. Les manifestants leur ont répondu avec des hourras ressentis.
Chaque soir, comme le faisaient les manifestants chiliens lors de leurs récentes grèves étudiantes, des marches de casseroles contre la loi 78 déambulent dans les quartiers de Montréal et d’autres villes. Et pourtant, malgré cette colère généralisée des travailleurs contre le gouvernement libéral, il n’y a rien eu de plus que d’occasionnels cortèges syndicaux dans les manifestations. La puissance potentielle des syndicats du Québec n’a pas été mobilisée. Pour renverser les attaques de la classe capitaliste contre les étudiants, les travailleurs, les minorités ethniques et les démunis, il est absolument nécessaire de mettre en branle le pouvoir social du mouvement ouvrier.
Les négociations entre le gouvernement et les associations étudiantes ont été rompues le 31 mai. Les étudiants ont rejeté une offre insultante proposant de diminuer la hausse des frais de scolarité de 1 dollar (!). Le premier ministre libéral Jean Charest a ensuite brandi la menace de la répression et accusé la CLASSE d’être « des gens qui menacent les Québécois » (La Presse, 1er juin). Nous reproduisons ci-dessous un supplément du 17 mai de Spartacist Canada, dont des milliers de copies ont été distribuées lors de manifestations à Montréal.
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La grève étudiante de 2012 est la plus longue de l’histoire du Québec. Plus de trois mois après le début de la grève, environ 160 000 étudiants sont encore en grève, boycottent les cours, organisent des lignes de piquetage pour fermer les universités et les cégeps, souvent au mépris d’injonctions judiciaires. Il y a eu plus d’un millier d’arrestations et les manifestants subissent des agressions policières brutales pratiquement chaque jour.
La lutte étudiante a intersecté et exacerbé une crise sociale croissante au Québec. Le Parti libéral de Jean Charest actuellement au pouvoir est extrêmement impopulaire et empêtré dans les scandales. Le rassemblement de 200 000 personnes à Montréal le 22 mars, pour soutenir les étudiants en grève, était l’une des plus grosses manifestations de l’histoire du Canada. Un mois plus tard, alors que la manif du Jour de la Terre consiste habituellement en rien de plus qu’une sorte de marche de charité, celle-ci a rassemblé 250 000 personnes, dont beaucoup ont repris des mots d’ordre à la fois contre les Libéraux du Québec et contre les Conservateurs du gouvernement fédéral.
La grève témoigne de l’ampleur de la colère et de la révolte parmi les jeunes Québécois, qui ont poursuivi cette lutte importante en dépit de la répression brutale de l’Etat et des calomnies de la presse bourgeoise. Il y a de bonnes raisons d’être en colère vu l’énorme taux de chômage et de pauvreté parmi les jeunes au Québec. Cependant, cette bataille qui dure depuis plusieurs mois a aussi fait clairement apparaître les limites d’une lutte qui n’a pas été reliée à la puissance sociale de la classe ouvrière.
Partout dans le monde, les gouvernements capitalistes cherchent à faire payer aux ouvriers et aux opprimés la crise financière, qui est une conséquence directe du système de profit bourgeois. Les Conservateurs de Harper se sont attaqués aux syndicats à Postes Canada, Air Canada et ailleurs, et ont imposé des mesures d’austérité aux travailleurs du secteur public. Les ouvriers au Québec ont eu à affronter les cassages de grève de Quebecor, d’Aveos, de Rio-Tinto et d’autres. La grève étudiante, provoquée par le projet du gouvernement Charest d’augmenter les droits de scolarité de 75 pour cent, fait en quelque sorte exception à la guerre unilatérale que mènent les patrons contre les ouvriers et les opprimés.
La bourgeoisie et ses porte-paroles dans les médias pestent contre la « violence » et « l’irresponsabilité » des étudiants. Pourtant, au Québec depuis quelques années la vénalité de la bourgeoisie s’étale au grand jour. Il y a eu une série interminable de révélations de corruption impliquant des maires et des ministres libéraux, et même la ministre de l’Education Line Beauchamp, qui a démissionné sous la pression de la grève étudiante. Toute cette corruption, ainsi que les révélations quotidiennes sur les pots de vin illégaux des sociétés du bâtiment et d’ingénierie, contraste fortement avec le courage et la vitalité des militants étudiants. La fameuse taxe non officielle des « cinq pour cent » sur la construction publique, qui se retrouve dans les poches de divers agents de la mafia et des Hells Angels, et qui les aide à leur tour à financer des politiciens bien disposés envers eux, est une pratique vieille comme le monde au Québec. Le Parti libéral fédéraliste est particulièrement sans vergogne, mais ce type d’opération se déroulait aussi quand le Parti Québécois était au pouvoir. Quant aux frères ennemis, les flics de la SPVM de Montréal et de la Sûreté du Québec, dont la brutalité est légendaire, ils ne se sont jamais si bien entendu que lorsqu’il s’agit de tabasser les étudiants.
Depuis les bancs de l’opposition, le PQ nationaliste-bourgeois prétend soutenir les étudiants afin d’améliorer ses chances électorales contre Charest. Ce n’est qu’une manœuvre cynique de la part de ce parti qui a accusé tout récemment les libéraux de réduire les dépenses trop « timidement » pour équilibrer le budget. Le PQ a lui-même tenté d’augmenter les frais de scolarité lorsqu’il était au gouvernement dans les années 1990. Cela faisait partie de son offensive contre les ouvriers et les programmes sociaux dans le cadre du « Déficit Zéro ». De toute façon, la dirigeante du PQ Pauline Marois promet seulement un gel temporaire des frais de scolarité si elle devenait premier ministre.
Etudiants : Alliez-vous à la classe ouvrière !
Dans les années 1960, lorsque le Québec s’est libéré du joug des anglo-capitalistes de Westmount et de leurs alliés de l’Eglise catholique, l’éducation était l’un des principaux champs de bataille. Des luttes syndicales avaient longtemps cherché à rendre l’enseignement supérieur accessible à la jeunesse ouvrière francophone. Comme le notait Patrick Lagacé dans un article du Globe and Mail du 4 mai soutenant les étudiants : « il y a 50 ans, le Québec était plus proche d’un pays du tiers-monde que d’un pays développé, à en juger par les statistiques du niveau d’enseignement ». Cinquante quatre pour cent de ceux qui avaient 25 ans en 1962 n’avaient pas terminé la sixième année, et sept pour cent seulement avaient été à l’université. Le développement et la laïcisation de l’enseignement — un des principaux aspects de la « Révolution tranquille » — faisait partie d’une campagne de modernisation de l’élite francophone qui voulait être « maîtres chez nous » et créer une bourgeoisie québécoise ainsi qu’une couche de professionnels et de technocrates québécois.
Aujourd’hui, même si le Québec est toujours subordonné en tant que nation au sein de l’Etat canadien anglo-chauvin, des sociétés québécoises comme Bombardier, SNC-Lavalin et Quebecor sont capables de faire concurrence aux multinationales américaines et européennes à l’échelle mondiale. Et dans leur course aux profits, les gouvernements tant du parti libéral que du PQ s’attaquent sans cesse à la classe ouvrière et aux opprimés, y compris en effectuant des coupes sombres dans les budgets de la santé, de l’enseignement et d’autres programmes sociaux.
Les capitalistes ne sont prêts à investir dans l’enseignement public que dans la mesure où ils peuvent en tirer des profits. Ces profits sont le produit du travail des ouvriers, la plus-value que la bourgeoisie leur arrache en les exploitant. Etant donné son rôle central dans la production sociale, la classe ouvrière est la seule qui a la puissance sociale de mettre le système capitaliste à genoux en refusant son travail. Les étudiants, en tant que couche petite-bourgeoise sans lien direct à la production, n’ont pas cette capacité. La lutte étudiante peut certainement déclencher des batailles sociales plus générales, comme le montre la grève actuelle. Mais au bout du compte, la seule solution c’est de s’allier à la classe ouvrière.
Les ouvriers, eux, ont tout intérêt à soutenir activement les étudiants en lutte. Notamment en exigeant que l’enseignement soit gratuit pour tous et de bonne qualité, et que les étudiants reçoivent un salaire. Pour contrer la dette de plus en plus importante des étudiants envers les banques, nous demandons l’abolition de la dette étudiante. Il faut chasser les flics qui occupent actuellement un certain nombre d’universités et de collèges. Nous demandons l’abolition des administrations, dont le rôle est d’imposer la loi des capitalistes au sein des universités. Les cégeps et les universités doivent être gérés par les étudiants, les enseignants et les employés !
On ne pourra mettre fin pour de bon à toutes les attaques contre les ouvriers et les pauvres que dans une lutte politique généralisée centrée sur la puissance sociale de la classe ouvrière. Pour cela il faut que les militants comprennent que le système capitaliste doit être balayé dans son intégrité et remplacé par une société socialiste égalitaire qui servira les besoins de l’humanité et non pas les profits privés. Seule une révolution ouvrière peut arracher les moyens de production des mains des criminels bourgeois qui exploitent la classe ouvrière et sa jeunesse. Pour mener cette lutte à la victoire, il faut forger des partis révolutionnaires d’avant-garde, c’est-à-dire des partis trotskystes, dans le monde entier.
Les étudiants, les travailleurs et la bureaucratie syndicale
Le soutien à la grève étudiante et l’hostilité au gouvernement Charest se sont fait sentir pendant toute la durée du conflit. C’est à l’honneur de la majorité des enseignants et des professeurs syndiqués touchés par la grève qu’ils aient refusé de traverser les lignes de piquetage des étudiants malgré les injonctions judiciaires qui les encourageaient à le faire. Cependant, la bureaucratie syndicale nationaliste, tout en prétendant soutenir les étudiants, n’a pas levé le petit doigt pour mobiliser les travailleurs dans des grèves contre les attaques du gouvernement Charest. Au contraire, les dirigeants syndicaux ont travaillé dur pour rétablir « la paix sociale ». L’entente du 5 mai visant à mettre fin à la grève étudiante a été négociée par Gilles Duceppe, l’ancien dirigeant du Bloc Québécois, et par les dirigeants des trois principales fédérations syndicales. Elle a vite été rejetée par les étudiants dans tout le Québec.
La bureaucratie syndicale, en soutenant les nationalistes-bourgeois du PQ et du Bloc, enchaîne les ouvriers québécois au système capitaliste. C’est aussi le cas des dirigeants de la Fédération étudiante universitaire du Québec (FEUQ) et de la Fédération étudiante collégiale du Québec (FECQ), qui sont alliés aux dirigeants syndicaux dans l’Alliance sociale. La majorité des étudiants grévistes font partie de la CLASSE (Coalition large de l’Association pour une solidarité syndicale étudiante), un syndicat étudiant plus à gauche influencé par des anarchistes. Dans un appel daté de fin avril et intitulé « Vers une grève sociale », la CLASSE faisait remarquer :
« Les étudiantes et étudiants en grève sont conscients de leur impuissance à faire reculer seul le gouvernement sur ces divers mesures. D’où la nécessité pour le mouvement étudiant de s’adjoindre de l’ensemble des forces sociales dans sa lutte contre la révolution culturelle de Bachand [ministre des Finances]. Nous ne faisons pas ici un appel à un appui de façade où quelques permanents syndicaux rédigent un communiqué pour réitérer une énième fois leur appui à la lutte étudiante…. C’est, donc, un appel à la grève sociale que nous lançons à l’ensemble de la population ! »
Il est en effet absolument nécessaire d’unir les étudiants en lutte et la puissance sociale de la classe ouvrière. Mais les appels à la solidarité lancés par la CLASSE ne sont pas liés à la perspective plus large de lutte ouvrière contre le capitalisme. Tout comme la FEUQ et la FECQ, ils ne font en fin de compte que chercher des moyens d’améliorer l’enseignement dans le cadre du système capitaliste. Ainsi, l’entente éphémère signée par toutes les fédérations étudiantes le 5 mai tentait de compenser l’augmentation des frais d’inscription en faisant des « économies » dans les budgets des universités et des collèges individuels. Cela revient à accepter encore plus d’austérité dans l’enseignement, et cela pourrait bien se retourner contre les employés des universités et des cégeps sous forme de diminution de salaires et même de licenciements.
La solution déborde du domaine « normal » de la politique étudiante et syndicale, qui se limite strictement à ce qui est « réalisable » sous le capitalisme. Pour lutter contre la trahison des dirigeants syndicaux, il faut une opposition dans les syndicats qui veuille mener la lutte des classes et soit prête à mettre en branle l’immense pouvoir potentiel de la classe ouvrière en défense de toutes les victimes du système de profit bourgeois. Entre autres, cela veut dire défendre les droits des immigrés et des minorités ethniques et religieuses, en particulier les musulmans qui sont victimes d’une offensive raciste concertée des dirigeants politiques tant nationalistes que fédéralistes.
Québec Solidaire : cinquième roue du PQ
La lutte étudiante met de nouveau en lumière la réalité de la division nationale entre le Canada anglais et le Québec. Pendant les premières semaines, la presse bourgeoise anglo-canadienne a fait un black-out total sur les manifestations. Puis, lorsque la violence des flics contre les étudiants a pris de l’ampleur, la presse s’est mise à dénoncer les grévistes étudiants, avec une forte dose de mépris et d’anglo-chauvinisme. Les conservateurs de Harper, originaires de l’Ouest du Canada, ne prennent même plus en compte le Québec dans leurs calculs électoraux, et sont entrain de mettre en œuvre des politiques réactionnaires sur la criminalité, l’armée, la monarchie et l’environnement qui, aux yeux de la plupart des Québécois, semblent venir de la planète Mars. Les divers éditorialistes et commentateurs anglo-canadiens qui avaient proclamé (une fois de plus) la « mort » de la question nationale au Québec sont maintenant bien embarrassés.
Le Québec est une société distincte et de plus en plus séparée de celle du reste du Canada. L’anglo-chauvinisme, et le nationalisme québécois qu’il favorise, ont longtemps servi à diviser la classe ouvrière selon des lignes nationales, ce qui ne fait que renforcer l’illusion selon laquelle les ouvriers et « leurs » patrons respectifs auraient des intérêts communs. En tant qu’internationalistes prolétariens, nous marxistes sommes pour l’indépendance du Québec. C’est le moyen de couper le nœud gordien et d’enlever la question nationale de l’ordre du jour politique ; cela servirait à montrer aux ouvriers des deux nations qu’ils n’ont aucun allié parmi leurs propres capitalistes. Cela enlèverait par conséquent un obstacle important à la lutte commune de la classe ouvrière contre le système capitaliste.
Le PQ a pour objectif de construire un Québec capitaliste indépendant au service de la bourgeoisie québécoise. Un certain nombre d’ouvriers et de jeunes radicalisés qui cherchent une alternative se sont détachés de lui à cause de ses multiples attaques au nom de l’austérité lorsqu’il était au pouvoir. L’organisation petite-bourgeoise populiste Québec Solidaire (QS) en est un des sous-produits. Ils se disent solidaires des revendications de la grève étudiante, mais fin avril, alors que les luttes avaient atteint un point culminant, le dirigeant du QS Amir Khadir a lancé un « appel au calme ». Dans la même déclaration, QS critiquait la violence policière et s’attaquait en même temps au soi-disant « vandalisme » des « casseurs » parmi les manifestants étudiants (quebecsolidaire.net, 26 avril).
Le programme de QS ne propose que des réformes superficielles afin de rendre le système capitaliste plus « social ». Cela n’est pas très différent du « projet de société » initial du PQ à la fin des années 1960 et pendant les années 1970. Comme pour insister là-dessus, les dirigeants de QS ont récemment tenté de conclure des accords de non-concurrence électorale avec le PQ capitaliste. Tout cela n’empêche bien entendu pas la majeure partie de la gauche pseudo-marxiste au Québec de soutenir QS, dans lequel ces groupes se sont plus ou moins liquidés. Que ce soit les deux ailes du Parti communiste, Gauche Socialiste, La Riposte, Alternative socialiste (AS) ou d’autres encore, ces réformistes présentent tous à tort QS comme une sorte d’étape vers le socialisme.
AS, un groupe affilié au Comité pour une internationale ouvrière de Peter Taaffe, a exposé cela de manière particulièrement claire dans un tract distribué aux manifestations du 1er mai cette année. Après avoir noté cyniquement que « QS n’est ni un parti de classe ni un parti socialiste », AS prétend que : « Néanmoins, QS a ouvert une brèche dans le discours dominant et contribue à faire prendre conscience à de plus en plus de gens que la source de nos problèmes, c’est le capitalisme. » Et portant le crétinisme parlementaire à de nouveaux sommets, AS conclut :
« Les issues possibles à la présente grève générale du mouvement étudiant montrent qu’il lui faut un relais politique au Parlement pour implanter ses projets et entretenir la flamme de la contestation lorsqu’elle s’essoufflera dans la rue. Ce ne sera pas sur le boul. René Lévesque que s’adoptera la gratuité scolaire. Lors des prochaines élections, les étudiant-e-s grévistes n’auront pas 36 solutions. Seul Québec solidaire défendra leurs positions. »
—« Pour un parti de masse des travailleur-euse-s ! »
L’idée même que « la flamme de la contestation » puisse brûler dans le salon bleu de l’Assemblée nationale est ridicule. Mais malgré son humour involontaire, AS exprime bien le programme politique réformiste que partagent tous les groupes de gauche au sein de QS. Autrement dit, le Québec c’est « notre Etat » et cet Etat peut servir les intérêts des ouvriers, de la jeunesse et des opprimés, si seulement on applique les bonnes politiques « sociales ». Pourtant c’est faux.
Certains des groupes qui soutiennent QS ont également salué la « vague orange » du NPD qui a déferlé sur le Québec lors de l’élection fédérale l’an dernier. La Riposte a, par exemple, déclaré que le succès du NPD était un rejet du « débat dépassé entre le Fédéralisme et le Nationalisme » et « une véritable occasion pour que la politique de classe vienne au devant de la scène et que le NPD devienne le véhicule politique de la riposte contre l’austérité de Harper » (marxist.ca, 3 mai 2011).
Quel rôle le NPD a-t-il donc joué dans la grève étudiante, la lutte sociale la plus importante du Québec depuis de nombreuses années ? Thomas Mulcair a demandé aux membres du parlement NPD de se taire pour éviter « de se mettre à dos » des électeurs « centristes » potentiels. Pourtant Mulcair, ancien ministre du conseil de Charest et avant cela, avocat de l’Alliance Quebec anglo-chauvine, s’est exprimé…mais pour dénoncer la « violence » des étudiants québécois (La Presse, 29 avril) ! Le NPD, qui a toujours été un parti social-démocrate de droite, essaye de plus en plus de couper les ponts avec les syndicats au Canada anglais. Les Néo-démocrates sont profondément opposés aux droits nationaux du Québec, et lorsque la question nationale redeviendra une question brûlante (ce qui est seulement une question de temps), ces contradictions feront éclater le parti au Québec. Les marxistes luttent contre toute illusion selon laquelle le NPD représenterait une alternative « progressiste » pour les ouvriers et la jeunesse.
L’appareil répressif de l’Etat capitaliste
L’intensité de la répression contre les grévistes étudiants témoigne d’une vérité marxiste fondamentale quant à la nature de l’Etat capitaliste. Les flics ont utilisé d’énormes quantités de gaz lacrymogène, de grenades incapacitantes et de balles en caoutchouc contre les étudiants, souvent après avoir déclaré les manifestations « illégales ». Lors de la manifestation du 4 mai contre le congrès du Parti libéral du Québec à Victoriaville, un étudiant a perdu un œil et un autre a été victime de blessures à la tête, qui auraient pu mettre sa vie en danger, après une agression policière particulièrement brutale. A la violence policière dans la rue s’ajoute la chasse aux sorcières menée par la police secrète du SCRS visant les militants anarchistes et divers groupes de gauche, y compris le Parti communiste révolutionnaire (PCR) maoïste. Selon un nouveau projet de loi fédérale, le port d’un masque par les manifestants est devenu un délit encourant des peines de prison pouvant aller jusqu’à dix ans.
L’Etat capitaliste n’est jamais un « arbitre neutre » et sa principale raison d’être, c’est de défendre la domination du capital. L’Etat est un instrument de répression contre la classe ouvrière et les opprimés. Il comprend les flics, les juges, les prisons et l’armée, qui dépendent du pouvoir exécutif du gouvernement. Comme le précisait Lénine, qui dirigea la Révolution russe de 1917 (la seule révolution ouvrière victorieuse de l’histoire), c’est « une machine pour l’oppression d’une classe par une autre » (l’Etat, 1919). Sous les Libéraux et le PQ, c’est bien évidemment le cas, mais il en va de même lorsque l’Etat est dirigé par des partis qui trompent les travailleurs en prétendant être de leur côté. Lorsqu’il est au pouvoir, comme en Ontario et en Colombie-Britannique dans les années 1990, le NPD gouverne toujours au service des patrons. Et si QS en a jamais l’occasion, il en fera autant.
La Riposte et Alternative socialiste prétendent scandaleusement que les flics sont des « ouvriers en uniforme », c’est-à-dire des alliés potentiels de la lutte ouvrière. Les trois derniers mois de lutte et de répression policière devraient mettre un terme à ces illusions. Ces organisations profondément réformistes sont toutes les deux issues du groupe Militant en Grande-Bretagne, qui est connu pour sa fidélité au Parti travailliste (et qui avait envoyé des avis de licenciement à quelque 30 000 travailleurs publics de la ville de Liverpool dans les années 1980 lorsqu’il en dirigeait le conseil municipal!).
Nous nous opposons aux accusations de « violence » que font le NPD et QS contre les manifestants étudiants, et appelons à défendre tous les militants pris dans les filets de l’Etat. Nous exigeons la levée de toutes les inculpations. La presse s’est particulièrement acharnée contre le « vandalisme » de manifestants qui s’en sont pris à des bureaux d’administration universitaire ainsi qu’à des symboles du pouvoir des grosses entreprises. Du point de vue de la classe ouvrière, des actions de ce type ne sont pas des crimes. Ce qui est criminel c’est la brutalité policière contre les étudiants grévistes et la barbarie bien plus grave encore du système capitaliste dans son ensemble. Cependant, la politique d’« action directe » préconisée par divers anarchistes n’est qu’une expression de rage impuissante. La lutte sociale doit, pour être victorieuse, chercher à mobiliser la puissance de la classe ouvrière, et cela est directement lié à la lutte pour la direction révolutionnaire du prolétariat.
Certains anarchistes et maoïstes dénoncent le mouvement ouvrier organisé qu’ils accusent d’être « acheté » et réactionnaire. Le PCR maoïste, par exemple, déclare que le mouvement syndical au Québec « est devenu en fait un instrument aux mains des capitalistes pour contrôler et mater la classe ouvrière », ajoutant : « Mais ce n’est pas qu’une simple question d’orientation, qu’il suffirait de modifier pour en changer la nature profonde » (« Programme du Parti communiste révolutionnaire »). Ceci efface toute distinction entre la base ouvrière des syndicats et la bureaucratie pro-capitaliste, qui est une caste parasitaire qui repose sur le mouvement ouvrier et qui bénéficie de quelques miettes de la table des patrons. Le PCR qui refuse de soutenir les syndicats, c’est-à-dire les organisations de défense fondamentales de la classe ouvrière, dévoile ensuite sa propre perspective de collaboration de classe : selon lui, « la guerre populaire prolongée » constituerait « la voie de la révolution au Canada ». Non seulement cela est ridicule, mais cela est en contradiction totale avec la centralité du prolétariat selon le marxisme.
Puis il y a les bandits politiques du Parti de l’égalité socialiste (PES) et leur « World Socialist Web Site ». Dans une déclaration du 16 avril sur la grève étudiante, cette organisation dit (en gras !) : « Il faut rejeter l’orientation vers les syndicats ». Et ils ajoutent : « Ici comme partout ailleurs dans le monde, le rôle des syndicats est de soumettre les travailleurs au système de profit et à l’État capitaliste ». Une « version corrigée » de la même déclaration, publiée en anglais deux jours plus tard, est encore plus explicite et appelle à aider les ouvriers « à se libérer des syndicats pro-capitalistes ». Le PES se fait parfois passer pour trotskyste, mais son désir de destruction des syndicats converge avec les intérêts des patrons capitalistes. Il en va de même pour leur position sur la question nationale, où ils se font les échos de la bourgeoisie chauvine anglo-canadienne en s’opposant au droit du Québec à l’autodétermination.
La destruction des syndicats aurait inévitablement comme conséquence une diminution des salaires et des avantages sociaux, ainsi que des conditions de travail plus dangereuses. Il faut défendre les syndicats contre les attaques des patrons. En même temps, il faut chasser la bureaucratie syndicale pro-capitaliste et se battre pour une direction menant une lutte de classe contre la politique du nationalisme bourgeois. C’est le seul moyen de transformer les syndicats en organisations luttant pour l’émancipation de la classe ouvrière.
La classe ouvrière du Québec, alliée à la jeunesse étudiante en lutte, peut jouer un rôle important pour revigorer le mouvement ouvrier nord-américain, meurtri par des décennies d’austérité et de cassage de grèves. La grève générale spontanée de mai 1972 au Québec, contre l’emprisonnement de dirigeants syndicaux, a bien montré cette puissance. Mais au bout du compte, les aspirations des ouvriers québécois ont été contenues dans le cadre du nationalisme bourgeois que représentait le PQ. Pour que la puissance du prolétariat puisse se mettre en branle, il faut rompre politiquement avec ce type de nationalisme, y compris sa variante « de gauche » actuelle, Québec Solidaire.
Seule une révolution ouvrière qui renverse l’Etat capitaliste et le remplace par un Etat ouvrier, c’est-à-dire la dictature du prolétariat, est capable d’ouvrir la voie au socialisme. Pour cela il faut remplacer la démocratie bourgeoise (une « démocratie » pour les riches) par la démocratie ouvrière. C’est le seul moyen d’ouvrir la voie à la construction d’une société communiste égalitaire où la misère et la répression seront des reliques du passé.
La Ligue trotskyste/Trotskyist League lutte pour forger un parti ouvrier internationaliste binational et multiethnique, qui se consacre à la lutte pour des révolutions de ce type à travers le Canada, l’Amérique du Nord et au-delà. Cela fait partie intégrante de notre perspective de reforger la Quatrième Internationale, parti mondial de la révolution socialiste. Après les luttes difficiles de ces derniers mois, nous invitons les militants étudiants qui cherchent un programme plus général pour la libération sociale à examiner le programme du trotskysme authentique.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
From the Pen Of Peter Paul Markin-From The “Out In The Be-Bop 1960s Night” Series- Rock ‘n’ Roll Will Never Die- British Style
Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of the movie trailer for Pirate Radio.
First Question: Who put the rock in rock ‘n’ roll? Well, of course, Bo Diddley did (okay, okay others too). That’s his story anyway and who would deny his input. Certainly not I. Not when you listen to Who Do You Love? or Bo Diddley(the song). But there is more. I have gone on and on about the formative influences of the jail-break music of my generation, the generation of ’68. The blues as they headed north up the Mississippi (and other rivers) and got electrified in Chicago, Detroit and other migratory Midwest black enclaves. The blue after a while, post-World War II after a while, getting a little jazz-influenced and more sophisticated as the blue milieu settled in its northern climes and got be-bop R&B along the way. And, of course, down other southern rivers a bunch white good old boys (in the making anyway) making hillbilly music jump, electric Les Paul jump, a notch with rockabilly. Guys like Carl Perkins, Elvis and Jerry Lee. Mix that all together with Ms. Patti Page, Mr. Bing Crosby (oops, forgot these last two names) and I don’t know about you but that spells jail-break, 1950s jail-break to me.
Second Question: Who brought rock ‘n’ roll to your double-locked secret security code armed camp bedroom, hideaway dank cellar, pressed for space storage-filled garage, or other secret ear place back in old time battery-operated transistor radio days (pre-iPod, MP3 alright) ? Well, of course, your local dee-jay (DJ, if you insist) who helped you while away your night, your dream-plagued rock ‘n’ roll night, with his (mainly hes) mile-a-minute-banter, selection of platters (records, 45s and LPs, pre-CD, DVD, iTunes, YouTube, you’ve heard about them, right?), and, yes, selected advertising targeted to the newly enriched (maybe) teenager with disposable dollars.
Disposable income to while away the date nights at double feature stale popcorn drive-in movies, fatted hamburger, fries and soda drive-in restaurants, and drive-into town to the get the very latest 45 and LP platters (records).
The pantheon airways of hallowed such names as Allan Freed, Wolfman Jack, Murry the K, and Arnie Ginsberg come quickly to mind. The best of the lot though came out of the midnight, the Sunday midnight air, of Chicago with Mr. Magic Bill’s (don’t forget the mister part when you address him, he didn’t) Blues Hour where despite its name (and origin) had all the cutting edge stuff before it became cutting edge stuff like Irma Thomas, Etta James, Francie Knight, and the early Platters. Although the music, praise be, outlasted the careers and remembrance of that lot of dee-jays (including Mr. Magic Bill) this classic rock period has always been associated in my mind (and yours too, I bet) with that very dee-jay transistor radio night.
But what about when rock headed overseas, over to the homeland (okay, okay homeland for some of us, the British Isles). That my friends, was a very different experience, rock British version.
In many ways the British 1960s rock explosion paralleled the American classic rock scene, although later than that genre’s American 1950s heyday. The greatest difference, however, was the way that British audiences heard their rock- literally through the pirate radio. Off-shore, out in the ocean depths, white waves splashing against some barnacled old tub of a ship, rock radio. Without getting into the ins and outs of British broadcasting traditions the battle, the age-old battle really, here was between those who wanted to listen to rock and not just in that double-locked bedroom mentioned above, and those nasty governmental officials and their hangers-on who wanted to outlaw it by shutting down this uncontrolled method. Sound familiar?
That battle drove British teens wild to an almost bizarre ends (by today’s cyberspace ease of listening to any damn thing you want, whenever you want , or what somebody decides to put on standards). But get this those British dee-jays like their American counterparts were a bunch of guys (mainly, again) who loved to play rock, who loved to present it in their own fashion, and who wanted the fame, fortune (and, incidental sex) that came with heroic dee-jay-dom out on the briny.
One motley crew (not the group) was I heard ready to go down with the ship, literally, in order to keep rock freedom alive when the authorities pulled the hammer. Of course there were, like American radio with its bongs, gongs and dongs, more than a few gag shows (although British gag, a la Monty Python) provided on air that were better left unmentioned. But there were plenty of drugs, sex, and rock and roll on the high seas. Jesus. You might ask what was wrong with that. Ah, come to think about what was wrong with that? The culture police are listening, or at least your disapproving parents.
One famous dee-jay, the Count, the only American in the lot from what I understand, was allegedly a real wild man. But think about this whole mix of radio personalities, American and British, beaming our music in the good midnight air or out in the seas rock night, late night, early morning and so on. So, here is the drill. Bo (and, yes, others) put the rock in rock ‘n’ roll but the Count and the boys put the bop in the be-bop pirate radio night.
First Question: Who put the rock in rock ‘n’ roll? Well, of course, Bo Diddley did (okay, okay others too). That’s his story anyway and who would deny his input. Certainly not I. Not when you listen to Who Do You Love? or Bo Diddley(the song). But there is more. I have gone on and on about the formative influences of the jail-break music of my generation, the generation of ’68. The blues as they headed north up the Mississippi (and other rivers) and got electrified in Chicago, Detroit and other migratory Midwest black enclaves. The blue after a while, post-World War II after a while, getting a little jazz-influenced and more sophisticated as the blue milieu settled in its northern climes and got be-bop R&B along the way. And, of course, down other southern rivers a bunch white good old boys (in the making anyway) making hillbilly music jump, electric Les Paul jump, a notch with rockabilly. Guys like Carl Perkins, Elvis and Jerry Lee. Mix that all together with Ms. Patti Page, Mr. Bing Crosby (oops, forgot these last two names) and I don’t know about you but that spells jail-break, 1950s jail-break to me.
Second Question: Who brought rock ‘n’ roll to your double-locked secret security code armed camp bedroom, hideaway dank cellar, pressed for space storage-filled garage, or other secret ear place back in old time battery-operated transistor radio days (pre-iPod, MP3 alright) ? Well, of course, your local dee-jay (DJ, if you insist) who helped you while away your night, your dream-plagued rock ‘n’ roll night, with his (mainly hes) mile-a-minute-banter, selection of platters (records, 45s and LPs, pre-CD, DVD, iTunes, YouTube, you’ve heard about them, right?), and, yes, selected advertising targeted to the newly enriched (maybe) teenager with disposable dollars.
Disposable income to while away the date nights at double feature stale popcorn drive-in movies, fatted hamburger, fries and soda drive-in restaurants, and drive-into town to the get the very latest 45 and LP platters (records).
The pantheon airways of hallowed such names as Allan Freed, Wolfman Jack, Murry the K, and Arnie Ginsberg come quickly to mind. The best of the lot though came out of the midnight, the Sunday midnight air, of Chicago with Mr. Magic Bill’s (don’t forget the mister part when you address him, he didn’t) Blues Hour where despite its name (and origin) had all the cutting edge stuff before it became cutting edge stuff like Irma Thomas, Etta James, Francie Knight, and the early Platters. Although the music, praise be, outlasted the careers and remembrance of that lot of dee-jays (including Mr. Magic Bill) this classic rock period has always been associated in my mind (and yours too, I bet) with that very dee-jay transistor radio night.
But what about when rock headed overseas, over to the homeland (okay, okay homeland for some of us, the British Isles). That my friends, was a very different experience, rock British version.
In many ways the British 1960s rock explosion paralleled the American classic rock scene, although later than that genre’s American 1950s heyday. The greatest difference, however, was the way that British audiences heard their rock- literally through the pirate radio. Off-shore, out in the ocean depths, white waves splashing against some barnacled old tub of a ship, rock radio. Without getting into the ins and outs of British broadcasting traditions the battle, the age-old battle really, here was between those who wanted to listen to rock and not just in that double-locked bedroom mentioned above, and those nasty governmental officials and their hangers-on who wanted to outlaw it by shutting down this uncontrolled method. Sound familiar?
That battle drove British teens wild to an almost bizarre ends (by today’s cyberspace ease of listening to any damn thing you want, whenever you want , or what somebody decides to put on standards). But get this those British dee-jays like their American counterparts were a bunch of guys (mainly, again) who loved to play rock, who loved to present it in their own fashion, and who wanted the fame, fortune (and, incidental sex) that came with heroic dee-jay-dom out on the briny.
One motley crew (not the group) was I heard ready to go down with the ship, literally, in order to keep rock freedom alive when the authorities pulled the hammer. Of course there were, like American radio with its bongs, gongs and dongs, more than a few gag shows (although British gag, a la Monty Python) provided on air that were better left unmentioned. But there were plenty of drugs, sex, and rock and roll on the high seas. Jesus. You might ask what was wrong with that. Ah, come to think about what was wrong with that? The culture police are listening, or at least your disapproving parents.
One famous dee-jay, the Count, the only American in the lot from what I understand, was allegedly a real wild man. But think about this whole mix of radio personalities, American and British, beaming our music in the good midnight air or out in the seas rock night, late night, early morning and so on. So, here is the drill. Bo (and, yes, others) put the rock in rock ‘n’ roll but the Count and the boys put the bop in the be-bop pirate radio night.
Friday, July 27, 2012
From The Pen Of Peter Paul Markin -Those Oldies But Goodies…Out In The Be-Bop ‘50s Song Night-The Teen Queens’ “Eddy My Love” (1956) - An Anniversary, Of Sorts
Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of the Teen Queens performing the classic Eddie My Love.
Markin comment:
This space is noted for politics mainly, and mainly the desperate political fight against various social, economic and moral injustices and wrongs in this wicked old world, although the place where politics and cultural expression, especially post World War II be-bop cultural expression, has drawn some of my interest over the past several years. The most telling example of that interest is in the field of popular music, centrally the blues, city and country, good woman on your mind, hardworking, hard drinking blues and folk music, mainly urban, mainly protest to high heaven against the world’s injustices, smite the dragon down, folk music. Of late though the old time 1950s kid, primordial, big bang, jail-break rock and roll music that set us apart from earlier generations has drawn my attention. Mostly by reviewing oldies CDs but here, and occasionally hereafter under this headline, specifically songs that some future archeologists might dig up as prime examples of how we primitives lived ,and what we listened to back in the day, the Stone Age day.
EDDIE MY LOVE
(Aaron Collins / Maxwell Davis / Sam Ling)
The Teen Queens - 1956
The Fontane Sisters - 1956
The Chordettes - 1956
Dee Dee Sharp - 1962
Also recorded by:
Lillian Briggs; Jo Ann Campbell; The Sweethearts.
Eddie, my love, I love you so
How I wanted for you, you'll never know
Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long
Eddie, please write me one line
Tell me your love is still only mine
Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long
You left me last September
To return to me before long
But all I do is cry myself to sleep
Eddie, since you've been gone
Eddie, my love, I'm sinking fast
The very next day might be my last
Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long
You left me last September
To return to me before long
But all I do is cry myself to sleep
Eddie, since you've been gone
Eddie, my love, I'm sinking fast
The very next day might be my last
Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long
Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long
(Transcribed from the Teen Queens
recording by Mel Priddle - May 2006)
**********
If I said teen angst and teen alienation on this one, Eddie My Love, that is all I need to say, right? We all, one way or the other, went through those emotional turmoils whether we knew enough to know about the words alienation and angst or not. And we related to songs, rock, doo wop, or whatever that spoke to those trials and tribulations. Eddie My Love is a classic in that genre. Not one that you and your sweetie would call a favorite, not one that you prayed to the teen music local school dance record hop dee-jay gods to play for the last dance but one that you keep playing to keep your own midnight by the phone blues away.
Now the story line here is classic teen angst. I am right this minute constructing a very complicated instrument, a technological marvel of the ages, an angst-o-meter, to give an accurate reading of how high or low each song in this series ranks. This one, with or without, instrumentation ranks high. Why? Eddie, a summer love apparently, has flown the coop and, ah, let’s call her Betty, Betty and Eddy, yah that sounds right is pining away to no avail. Maybe she is thinking about those words from the song Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? after letting Eddie have his way on that sandy beach last summer. And she is now frantic about being left behind just in case. Just in case, you know, she is as we say, euphemistically, “in the family way.” Hell, we are all adults here and it is 2011 so we need not shillyshally around, and besides no self-respecting child over the age of about eight would be reading this stuff. She might be pregnant. That would account for the distress, duress, and near suicidal frenzy of her plea.
Betty, Betty forget it. Eddie, old two-timing, love ‘em and leave them, Eddie ain’t coming back. Whether you are sinking fast, or not. Truth: old Eddie was last seen down in San Juan, Puerto Rico using the name, Juan Cintron, and, Betty, brace yourself, walking, walking very closely with Linda, and she’s a beauty.
But here is my post hoc advice for what it is worth. Why didn’t you decide to go out with steady as a rock Billy, that sensitive, maybe a little nerdy, soul who was pining away for you while you had nothing but eyes for old fast-moving, sweet dual carb, hot rod-driving, fast-talking speedo Eddie? Now it’s too late, girl. Oh, by the way, you were much better off without old petty larceny, world-owes-him-a-living, lamp-shade-on-his-head life of the party that he turned out to be twenty years later Eddie. And that ain’t no lie.
Markin comment:
This space is noted for politics mainly, and mainly the desperate political fight against various social, economic and moral injustices and wrongs in this wicked old world, although the place where politics and cultural expression, especially post World War II be-bop cultural expression, has drawn some of my interest over the past several years. The most telling example of that interest is in the field of popular music, centrally the blues, city and country, good woman on your mind, hardworking, hard drinking blues and folk music, mainly urban, mainly protest to high heaven against the world’s injustices, smite the dragon down, folk music. Of late though the old time 1950s kid, primordial, big bang, jail-break rock and roll music that set us apart from earlier generations has drawn my attention. Mostly by reviewing oldies CDs but here, and occasionally hereafter under this headline, specifically songs that some future archeologists might dig up as prime examples of how we primitives lived ,and what we listened to back in the day, the Stone Age day.
EDDIE MY LOVE
(Aaron Collins / Maxwell Davis / Sam Ling)
The Teen Queens - 1956
The Fontane Sisters - 1956
The Chordettes - 1956
Dee Dee Sharp - 1962
Also recorded by:
Lillian Briggs; Jo Ann Campbell; The Sweethearts.
Eddie, my love, I love you so
How I wanted for you, you'll never know
Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long
Eddie, please write me one line
Tell me your love is still only mine
Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long
You left me last September
To return to me before long
But all I do is cry myself to sleep
Eddie, since you've been gone
Eddie, my love, I'm sinking fast
The very next day might be my last
Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long
You left me last September
To return to me before long
But all I do is cry myself to sleep
Eddie, since you've been gone
Eddie, my love, I'm sinking fast
The very next day might be my last
Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long
Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long
(Transcribed from the Teen Queens
recording by Mel Priddle - May 2006)
**********
If I said teen angst and teen alienation on this one, Eddie My Love, that is all I need to say, right? We all, one way or the other, went through those emotional turmoils whether we knew enough to know about the words alienation and angst or not. And we related to songs, rock, doo wop, or whatever that spoke to those trials and tribulations. Eddie My Love is a classic in that genre. Not one that you and your sweetie would call a favorite, not one that you prayed to the teen music local school dance record hop dee-jay gods to play for the last dance but one that you keep playing to keep your own midnight by the phone blues away.
Now the story line here is classic teen angst. I am right this minute constructing a very complicated instrument, a technological marvel of the ages, an angst-o-meter, to give an accurate reading of how high or low each song in this series ranks. This one, with or without, instrumentation ranks high. Why? Eddie, a summer love apparently, has flown the coop and, ah, let’s call her Betty, Betty and Eddy, yah that sounds right is pining away to no avail. Maybe she is thinking about those words from the song Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? after letting Eddie have his way on that sandy beach last summer. And she is now frantic about being left behind just in case. Just in case, you know, she is as we say, euphemistically, “in the family way.” Hell, we are all adults here and it is 2011 so we need not shillyshally around, and besides no self-respecting child over the age of about eight would be reading this stuff. She might be pregnant. That would account for the distress, duress, and near suicidal frenzy of her plea.
Betty, Betty forget it. Eddie, old two-timing, love ‘em and leave them, Eddie ain’t coming back. Whether you are sinking fast, or not. Truth: old Eddie was last seen down in San Juan, Puerto Rico using the name, Juan Cintron, and, Betty, brace yourself, walking, walking very closely with Linda, and she’s a beauty.
But here is my post hoc advice for what it is worth. Why didn’t you decide to go out with steady as a rock Billy, that sensitive, maybe a little nerdy, soul who was pining away for you while you had nothing but eyes for old fast-moving, sweet dual carb, hot rod-driving, fast-talking speedo Eddie? Now it’s too late, girl. Oh, by the way, you were much better off without old petty larceny, world-owes-him-a-living, lamp-shade-on-his-head life of the party that he turned out to be twenty years later Eddie. And that ain’t no lie.
From The Pen Of Peter Paul Markin- From The “Out In The Be-Bop 1960s Night” Series - When Frankie, Frankie From The Old Neighborhood, Was King
In a series of entries that formed scenes, scenes from the hitchhike road in search of the great American West night in the late 1960s, later than the time of Frankie’s early 1960s old working class neighborhood kingly time, it was noted by me that there had been about a thousand truck stop diner stories left over from those old hitchhike road days. On reflection though, I realized that there really had been about three diner stories with many variations. Not so with Frankie, Frankie from the old neighborhood, stories. I have got a thousand of them, or so it seems, all different. Hey, you already, if you have been attentive, know a few Frankie, Frankie from the old neighborhood, stories (okay, I will stop, or try to, stop using that full designation and just call him plain, old, ordinary, vanilla Frankie just like everybody else alright).
Yah, you already know the Frankie (see I told you I could do it) story about how he lazily spent a hot late August 1960 summer before entering high school day working his way up the streets of the old neighborhood to get some potato salad (and other stuff too) for his family’s Labor Day picnic. And he got a cameo appearance in the tear-jerk, heart-rendering saga of my first day of high school in that same year where I, vicariously, attempted to overthrow his lordship with the nubiles (girls, for those not from the old neighborhood, although there were plenty of other terms of art to designate the fair sex then, most of them getting their start in local teenage social usage from Frankie’s mouth). That effort, that attempt at coping his “style”, like many things associated with one-of-a-kind Frankie, as it turned out, proved unsuccessful.
More recently I took you in a roundabout way to a Frankie story in a review of a 1985 Roy Orbison concert documentary, Black and White Nights. That story centered around my grinding my teeth whenever I heard Roy’s Running Scared because one of Frankie’s twists (see nubiles above) played the song endlessly to taint the love smitten but extremely jealous Frankie on the old jukebox at the pizza parlor, old Salducci's Pizza Shop, that we used to hang around in during our off-hour high school days. It’s that story, that already told drugstore soda fountain story, that brought forth a bunch of memories about those pizza parlor days and how Frankie, for most of his high school career, was king of the hill at that locale. And king, king arbiter, of the social doings of those around him as well.
And who was Frankie? Frankie of one thousand stories, Frankie of one thousand treacheries, Frankie of one thousand kindnesses, and, oh yah, Frankie, my bosom friend in high school. Well, let me just steal some sentences from that old August summer walk story and that first day of school saga because really Frankie and I went back to perilous middle school days (a.k.a. junior high days for old-timers) when he saved my bacon more than one time, especially from making a fatal mistake with the frails (see nubiles and twists above). He was, maybe, just a prince then working his way up to kingship. But even he, as he endlessly told me that summer before high school, August humidity doldrums or not, was along with the sweat on his brow from the heat a little bit anxious about being “little fish in a big pond” freshmen come that 1960 September.
Especially, a pseudo-beatnik “little fish”. See, he had cultivated a certain, well, let’s call it "style" over there at the middle school. That “style” involved a total disdain for everything, everything except trying to impress girls with his long-panted, flannel-shirted, work boot-shod, thick book-carrying knowledge of every arcane fact known to humankind. Like that really was the way to impress teenage girls, then or now. Well, as it turned out, yes it was. Frankie right. In any case he was worried, worried sick at times that in such a big school his “style” needed upgrading. Let’s not even get into that story, the Frankie part of it now, or maybe, ever. We survived high school, okay.
But see, that is why, the Frankie why, the why of my push for the throne, the kingship throne, when I entered high school and that old Frankie was grooming himself for like it was his by divine right. When the deal went down and I knew I was going to the “bigs” (high school) I spent that summer, reading, big time booked-devoured reading. Hey, I'll say I did, The Communist Manifesto, that one just because old Willie Westhaven over at the middle school (junior high, okay) called me a Bolshevik when I answered one of his foolish math questions in a surly manner. I told you before that was my pose, my Frankie-engineered pose, what do you want; I just wanted to see what he, old Willie, was talking about when he used that word. How about Democracy in America (by a French guy), The Age of Jackson (by a Harvard professor who knew idol Jack Kennedy, personally, and was crazy for old-time guys like Jackson), and Catcher In The Rye (Holden was me, me to a tee). Okay, okay I won’t keep going on but that was just the reading on the hot days when I didn’t want to go out. There was more.
Here's what was behind the why. I intended, and I swear I intended to even on the first nothing doing day of that new school year in that new school in that new decade (1960) to beat old Frankie, old book-toting, mad monk, girl-chasing Frankie, who knew every arcane fact that mankind had produced and had told it to every girl who would listen for two minutes (maybe less) in that eternal struggle, the boy meets girl struggle, at his own game. Yes, Frankie, my buddy of buddies, prince among men (well, boys, anyhow) who kindly navigated me through the tough, murderous parts of junior high, mercifully concluded, finished and done with, praise be, and didn’t think twice about it. He, you see, despite, everything I said a minute ago he was “in.”; that arcane knowledge stuff worked with the “ins” who counted, worked, at least a little, and I got dragged in his wake. I always got dragged in his wake, including as lord chamberlain in his pizza parlor kingdom.
What I didn’t know then, wet behind the ears about what was what in life's power struggles, was if you were going to overthrow the king you’d better do it all the way. But, see if I had done that, if I had overthrown him, I wouldn’t have had any Frankie stories to tell you, or help with the frills in the treacherous world of high school social life (see nubiles, frails and twists above. Why don’t we just leave it like this. If you see the name Frankie and a slangy word when you think I am talking about girls, that's girls. Okay?)
As I told you in that Roy Orbison review, when Roy was big, big in our beat down around the edges, some days it seemed beat six ways to Sunday working class neighborhood in the early 1960s, we all used to hang around the town pizza parlor, or one of them anyway, that was also conveniently near our high school as well. Maybe this place was not the best one to sit down and have a family-sized pizza with salad and all the fixings in, complete with family, or if you were fussy about décor but the best tasting pizza, especially if you let it cool for a while and no eat it when it was piping hot right out of the oven.
Moreover, this was the one place where the teen-friendly owner, a big old balding Italian guy, Tonio Salducci, at least he said he was Italian and there were plenty of Italians in our town in those days so I believed him but he really looked Greek or Armenian to me, let us stay in the booths if it wasn’t busy, and we behaved like, well, like respectable teenagers. And this guy, this old Italian guy, blessed Leonardo-like master Tonio, could make us all laugh, even me, when he started to prepare a new pizza and he flour-powdered and rolled the dough out and flipped that sucker in the air about twelve times and about fifteen different ways to stretch it out. Sometimes people would just stand outside in front of the doubled-framed big picture window and watch his handiwork in utter fascination.
Jesus, Tonio could flip that thing. One time, and you know this is true because you probably have your own pizza dough on the ceiling stories, he flipped the sucker so high it stuck to the ceiling, right near the fan on the ceiling, and it might still be there for all I know (the place still is, although not him). But this is how he was cool; he just started up another without making a fuss. Let me tell you about him, Tonio, sometime but right now our business to get on with Frankie, alright.
So there is nothing unusual, and I don’t pretend there is, in just hanging out having a slice of pizza (no onions, please, in case I get might lucky tonight and that certain she comes in, the one that I have been eyeing in school all week until my eyes have become sore, that thin, long blondish-haired girl wearing those cashmere sweaters showing just the right shape, please, please, James Brown, please come in that door), some soft drink (which we called tonic in New England in those days but which you called, uh, soda), usually a locally bottled root beer, and, incessantly (and that "incessantly" allowed us to stay since we were paying customers with all the rights and dignities that status entailed, unless, of course, they needed our seats), dropping nickels, dimes and quarters in the jukebox.
But here is where it all came together, Frankie and Tonio the pizza guy, from day one, got along like crazy. Frankie, Francis Xavier Riley, map of Ireland, red-headed, fair-skinned, blue-eyed Frankie got along like crazy with Italian guy Tonio. That was remarkable in itself because, truth be told, there was more than one Irish/ Italian ethnic, let me be nice, dispute in those days. Usually over “turf”, like kids now, or some other foolish one minute thing or another. Moreover, and Frankie didn’t tell me this for a while, Frankie, my bosom buddy Frankie, like he was sworn to some Omerta oath, didn’t tell me that Tonio was “connected.” For those who have been in outer space, or led quiet lives, or don’t hang with the hoi polloi that means with the syndicate, the hard guys, the Mafia. If you don’t get it now go down and get the Godfather trilogy and learn a couple of things, anyway. This "connected" stemmed, innocently enough, from the jukebox concession which the hard guys controlled and was a lifeblood of Tonio's teenage-draped business, and not so innocently, from his role as master numbers man (pre-state lottery days, okay) and "bookie" (nobody should have to be told what that is, but just in case, he took bets on horses, dogs, whatever, from the guys around town, including, big time, Frankie's father, who went over the edge betting like some guys fathers' took to drink).
And what this “connected” also meant, this Frankie Tonio-connected meant, was that no Italian guys, no young black engineer-booted, no white rolled-up tee-shirted, no blue denim- dungaree, no wide black-belted, no switchblade-wielding, no-hot-breathed, garlicky young Italian studs were going to mess with one Francis Xavier Riley, his babes (you know what that means, right?), or his associates (that’s mainly me). Or else. Now, naturally, connected to "the connected" or not, not every young tough in any working- class town, not having studied, and studied hard, the sociology of the town, was going to know that some young Irish punk, one kind of "beatnik” Irish punk with all that arcane knowledge in order to chase those skirts and a true vocation for the blarney was going to know that said pizza parlor owner and its “king”, king hell king, were tight. Especially at night, a weekend night, when the booze has flowed freely and that hard-bitten childhood abuse that turned those Italian guys (and Irish guys too) into toughs hit the fore. But they learn, and learn fast.
Okay, you don’t believe me. One night, one Saturday night, one Tonio-working Saturday night (he didn’t always work at night, not Saturday night anyway, because he had a honey, a very good-looking honey too, dark hair, dark laughing eyes, dark secrets she wouldn’t mind sharing as well it looked like to me but I might have been wrong on that) two young toughs came in, Italian toughs from the look of them. This town then , by the way, if you haven’t been made aware of it before was strictly white, mainly Irish and Italian, so any dark guys, are Italian period, not black, Hispanic, Indian, Asian or anything else. Hell, I don’t think those groups even passed through; at least I don’t remember seeing any, except an Arab, once.
So Frankie, your humble observer (although I prefer the more intimate umbrella term "associate" under these circumstances) and one of his squeezes (not his main squeeze, Joanne) were sitting at the king’s table (blue vinyl-seated, white Formica table-topped, paper place-setting, condiment-ladened center booth of five, front of double glass window, best jukebox and sound position, no question) splitting a Saturday night whole pizza with all the fixings (it’s getting late, about ten o’clock, and I have given up on that certain long blondish-haired she who said she might meet so onions anchovies, garlic for all I know don’t matter right now) when these two ruffians come forth and petition (yah, right) for our table. Our filled with pizza, drinks, condiments, odds and ends papery, and the king, his consort (of the evening, I swear I forget which one) and his lord chamberlain.
Since there were at least two other prime front window seats available Frankie denied the petition out of hand. Now in a righteous world this should have been the end of it. But what these hard guys, these guys who looked like they might have had shivs (yah, knives, shape knives, for the squeamish out there) and only see two geeky "beatnik" guys and some unremarkable signora do was to start to get loud and menacing (nice word, huh?) toward the king and his court. Menacing enough that Tonio, old pizza dough-to-the-ceiling throwing Tonio, took umbrage (another nice word, right?) and came over to the table very calmly. He called the two gentlemen aside, and talking low and almost into their ears, said some things that we could not hear. All we knew was that about a minute later these two behemoths, these two future candidates for jailbird-dom, were walking; I want to say walking gingerly, but anyway quickly, out the door into the hard face of Saturday night.
We thereafter proceeded to finish our kingly meal, safe in the knowledge that Frankie was indeed king of the pizza parlor night. And also that we knew, now knew in our hearts because Frankie and I talked about it later, that behind every king there was an unseen power. Christ, and I wanted to overthrow Frankie. I must have been crazy, crazy as a loon.
Yah, you already know the Frankie (see I told you I could do it) story about how he lazily spent a hot late August 1960 summer before entering high school day working his way up the streets of the old neighborhood to get some potato salad (and other stuff too) for his family’s Labor Day picnic. And he got a cameo appearance in the tear-jerk, heart-rendering saga of my first day of high school in that same year where I, vicariously, attempted to overthrow his lordship with the nubiles (girls, for those not from the old neighborhood, although there were plenty of other terms of art to designate the fair sex then, most of them getting their start in local teenage social usage from Frankie’s mouth). That effort, that attempt at coping his “style”, like many things associated with one-of-a-kind Frankie, as it turned out, proved unsuccessful.
More recently I took you in a roundabout way to a Frankie story in a review of a 1985 Roy Orbison concert documentary, Black and White Nights. That story centered around my grinding my teeth whenever I heard Roy’s Running Scared because one of Frankie’s twists (see nubiles above) played the song endlessly to taint the love smitten but extremely jealous Frankie on the old jukebox at the pizza parlor, old Salducci's Pizza Shop, that we used to hang around in during our off-hour high school days. It’s that story, that already told drugstore soda fountain story, that brought forth a bunch of memories about those pizza parlor days and how Frankie, for most of his high school career, was king of the hill at that locale. And king, king arbiter, of the social doings of those around him as well.
And who was Frankie? Frankie of one thousand stories, Frankie of one thousand treacheries, Frankie of one thousand kindnesses, and, oh yah, Frankie, my bosom friend in high school. Well, let me just steal some sentences from that old August summer walk story and that first day of school saga because really Frankie and I went back to perilous middle school days (a.k.a. junior high days for old-timers) when he saved my bacon more than one time, especially from making a fatal mistake with the frails (see nubiles and twists above). He was, maybe, just a prince then working his way up to kingship. But even he, as he endlessly told me that summer before high school, August humidity doldrums or not, was along with the sweat on his brow from the heat a little bit anxious about being “little fish in a big pond” freshmen come that 1960 September.
Especially, a pseudo-beatnik “little fish”. See, he had cultivated a certain, well, let’s call it "style" over there at the middle school. That “style” involved a total disdain for everything, everything except trying to impress girls with his long-panted, flannel-shirted, work boot-shod, thick book-carrying knowledge of every arcane fact known to humankind. Like that really was the way to impress teenage girls, then or now. Well, as it turned out, yes it was. Frankie right. In any case he was worried, worried sick at times that in such a big school his “style” needed upgrading. Let’s not even get into that story, the Frankie part of it now, or maybe, ever. We survived high school, okay.
But see, that is why, the Frankie why, the why of my push for the throne, the kingship throne, when I entered high school and that old Frankie was grooming himself for like it was his by divine right. When the deal went down and I knew I was going to the “bigs” (high school) I spent that summer, reading, big time booked-devoured reading. Hey, I'll say I did, The Communist Manifesto, that one just because old Willie Westhaven over at the middle school (junior high, okay) called me a Bolshevik when I answered one of his foolish math questions in a surly manner. I told you before that was my pose, my Frankie-engineered pose, what do you want; I just wanted to see what he, old Willie, was talking about when he used that word. How about Democracy in America (by a French guy), The Age of Jackson (by a Harvard professor who knew idol Jack Kennedy, personally, and was crazy for old-time guys like Jackson), and Catcher In The Rye (Holden was me, me to a tee). Okay, okay I won’t keep going on but that was just the reading on the hot days when I didn’t want to go out. There was more.
Here's what was behind the why. I intended, and I swear I intended to even on the first nothing doing day of that new school year in that new school in that new decade (1960) to beat old Frankie, old book-toting, mad monk, girl-chasing Frankie, who knew every arcane fact that mankind had produced and had told it to every girl who would listen for two minutes (maybe less) in that eternal struggle, the boy meets girl struggle, at his own game. Yes, Frankie, my buddy of buddies, prince among men (well, boys, anyhow) who kindly navigated me through the tough, murderous parts of junior high, mercifully concluded, finished and done with, praise be, and didn’t think twice about it. He, you see, despite, everything I said a minute ago he was “in.”; that arcane knowledge stuff worked with the “ins” who counted, worked, at least a little, and I got dragged in his wake. I always got dragged in his wake, including as lord chamberlain in his pizza parlor kingdom.
What I didn’t know then, wet behind the ears about what was what in life's power struggles, was if you were going to overthrow the king you’d better do it all the way. But, see if I had done that, if I had overthrown him, I wouldn’t have had any Frankie stories to tell you, or help with the frills in the treacherous world of high school social life (see nubiles, frails and twists above. Why don’t we just leave it like this. If you see the name Frankie and a slangy word when you think I am talking about girls, that's girls. Okay?)
As I told you in that Roy Orbison review, when Roy was big, big in our beat down around the edges, some days it seemed beat six ways to Sunday working class neighborhood in the early 1960s, we all used to hang around the town pizza parlor, or one of them anyway, that was also conveniently near our high school as well. Maybe this place was not the best one to sit down and have a family-sized pizza with salad and all the fixings in, complete with family, or if you were fussy about décor but the best tasting pizza, especially if you let it cool for a while and no eat it when it was piping hot right out of the oven.
Moreover, this was the one place where the teen-friendly owner, a big old balding Italian guy, Tonio Salducci, at least he said he was Italian and there were plenty of Italians in our town in those days so I believed him but he really looked Greek or Armenian to me, let us stay in the booths if it wasn’t busy, and we behaved like, well, like respectable teenagers. And this guy, this old Italian guy, blessed Leonardo-like master Tonio, could make us all laugh, even me, when he started to prepare a new pizza and he flour-powdered and rolled the dough out and flipped that sucker in the air about twelve times and about fifteen different ways to stretch it out. Sometimes people would just stand outside in front of the doubled-framed big picture window and watch his handiwork in utter fascination.
Jesus, Tonio could flip that thing. One time, and you know this is true because you probably have your own pizza dough on the ceiling stories, he flipped the sucker so high it stuck to the ceiling, right near the fan on the ceiling, and it might still be there for all I know (the place still is, although not him). But this is how he was cool; he just started up another without making a fuss. Let me tell you about him, Tonio, sometime but right now our business to get on with Frankie, alright.
So there is nothing unusual, and I don’t pretend there is, in just hanging out having a slice of pizza (no onions, please, in case I get might lucky tonight and that certain she comes in, the one that I have been eyeing in school all week until my eyes have become sore, that thin, long blondish-haired girl wearing those cashmere sweaters showing just the right shape, please, please, James Brown, please come in that door), some soft drink (which we called tonic in New England in those days but which you called, uh, soda), usually a locally bottled root beer, and, incessantly (and that "incessantly" allowed us to stay since we were paying customers with all the rights and dignities that status entailed, unless, of course, they needed our seats), dropping nickels, dimes and quarters in the jukebox.
But here is where it all came together, Frankie and Tonio the pizza guy, from day one, got along like crazy. Frankie, Francis Xavier Riley, map of Ireland, red-headed, fair-skinned, blue-eyed Frankie got along like crazy with Italian guy Tonio. That was remarkable in itself because, truth be told, there was more than one Irish/ Italian ethnic, let me be nice, dispute in those days. Usually over “turf”, like kids now, or some other foolish one minute thing or another. Moreover, and Frankie didn’t tell me this for a while, Frankie, my bosom buddy Frankie, like he was sworn to some Omerta oath, didn’t tell me that Tonio was “connected.” For those who have been in outer space, or led quiet lives, or don’t hang with the hoi polloi that means with the syndicate, the hard guys, the Mafia. If you don’t get it now go down and get the Godfather trilogy and learn a couple of things, anyway. This "connected" stemmed, innocently enough, from the jukebox concession which the hard guys controlled and was a lifeblood of Tonio's teenage-draped business, and not so innocently, from his role as master numbers man (pre-state lottery days, okay) and "bookie" (nobody should have to be told what that is, but just in case, he took bets on horses, dogs, whatever, from the guys around town, including, big time, Frankie's father, who went over the edge betting like some guys fathers' took to drink).
And what this “connected” also meant, this Frankie Tonio-connected meant, was that no Italian guys, no young black engineer-booted, no white rolled-up tee-shirted, no blue denim- dungaree, no wide black-belted, no switchblade-wielding, no-hot-breathed, garlicky young Italian studs were going to mess with one Francis Xavier Riley, his babes (you know what that means, right?), or his associates (that’s mainly me). Or else. Now, naturally, connected to "the connected" or not, not every young tough in any working- class town, not having studied, and studied hard, the sociology of the town, was going to know that some young Irish punk, one kind of "beatnik” Irish punk with all that arcane knowledge in order to chase those skirts and a true vocation for the blarney was going to know that said pizza parlor owner and its “king”, king hell king, were tight. Especially at night, a weekend night, when the booze has flowed freely and that hard-bitten childhood abuse that turned those Italian guys (and Irish guys too) into toughs hit the fore. But they learn, and learn fast.
Okay, you don’t believe me. One night, one Saturday night, one Tonio-working Saturday night (he didn’t always work at night, not Saturday night anyway, because he had a honey, a very good-looking honey too, dark hair, dark laughing eyes, dark secrets she wouldn’t mind sharing as well it looked like to me but I might have been wrong on that) two young toughs came in, Italian toughs from the look of them. This town then , by the way, if you haven’t been made aware of it before was strictly white, mainly Irish and Italian, so any dark guys, are Italian period, not black, Hispanic, Indian, Asian or anything else. Hell, I don’t think those groups even passed through; at least I don’t remember seeing any, except an Arab, once.
So Frankie, your humble observer (although I prefer the more intimate umbrella term "associate" under these circumstances) and one of his squeezes (not his main squeeze, Joanne) were sitting at the king’s table (blue vinyl-seated, white Formica table-topped, paper place-setting, condiment-ladened center booth of five, front of double glass window, best jukebox and sound position, no question) splitting a Saturday night whole pizza with all the fixings (it’s getting late, about ten o’clock, and I have given up on that certain long blondish-haired she who said she might meet so onions anchovies, garlic for all I know don’t matter right now) when these two ruffians come forth and petition (yah, right) for our table. Our filled with pizza, drinks, condiments, odds and ends papery, and the king, his consort (of the evening, I swear I forget which one) and his lord chamberlain.
Since there were at least two other prime front window seats available Frankie denied the petition out of hand. Now in a righteous world this should have been the end of it. But what these hard guys, these guys who looked like they might have had shivs (yah, knives, shape knives, for the squeamish out there) and only see two geeky "beatnik" guys and some unremarkable signora do was to start to get loud and menacing (nice word, huh?) toward the king and his court. Menacing enough that Tonio, old pizza dough-to-the-ceiling throwing Tonio, took umbrage (another nice word, right?) and came over to the table very calmly. He called the two gentlemen aside, and talking low and almost into their ears, said some things that we could not hear. All we knew was that about a minute later these two behemoths, these two future candidates for jailbird-dom, were walking; I want to say walking gingerly, but anyway quickly, out the door into the hard face of Saturday night.
We thereafter proceeded to finish our kingly meal, safe in the knowledge that Frankie was indeed king of the pizza parlor night. And also that we knew, now knew in our hearts because Frankie and I talked about it later, that behind every king there was an unseen power. Christ, and I wanted to overthrow Frankie. I must have been crazy, crazy as a loon.
From #Un-Occupied Boston (#Un-Tomemonos Boston)-General Assembly-An Embryo Of An Alternate Government Gone Wrong-What Happens When We Do Not Learn The Lessons Of History- The Pre-1848 Socialist Movement-The works of Auguste Blanqui 1834-Who Makes the Soup Should Eat It
Click on the headline to link to the Occupy Boston General Assembly Minutes website. Occupy Boston started at 6:00 PM, September 30, 2011.
Markin comment:
I will post any updates from that site if there are any serious discussions of the way forward for the Occupy movement or, more importantly, any analysis of the now atrophied and dysfunctional General Assembly concept. In the meantime I will continue with the “Lessons From History “ series started in the Fall of 2011 with Karl Marx’s The Civil War In France-1871 (The defense of the Paris Commune). Right now this series is focused on the European socialist movement before the Revolutions of 1848.
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An Injury To One Is An Injury To All!-Defend The Occupy Movement And All Occupiers! Drop All Charges Against All Occupy Protesters Everywhere!
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Fight-Don’t Starve-We Created The Wealth, Let's Take It Back! Labor And The Oppressed Must Rule!
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A Five-Point Program As Talking Points
*Jobs For All Now!-“30 For 40”- A historic demand of the labor movement. Thirty hours work for forty hours pay to spread the available work around. Organize the unorganized- Organize the South- Organize Wal-Mart- Defend the right for public and private workers to unionize.
* Defend the working classes! No union dues for Democratic (or the stray Republican) candidates. Spent the dough instead on organizing the unorganized and on other labor-specific causes (good example, the November, 2011 anti-union recall referendum in Ohio, bad example the Wisconsin gubernatorial recall race in June 2012).
*End the endless wars!- Immediate, Unconditional Withdrawal Of All U.S./Allied Troops (And Mercenaries) From Afghanistan! Hands Off Pakistan! Hands Off Iran! U.S. Hands Off The World!
*Fight for a social agenda for working people!. Quality Healthcare For All! Nationalize the colleges and universities under student-teacher-campus worker control! Forgive student debt! Stop housing foreclosures!
*We created the wealth, let’s take it back. Take the struggle for our daily bread off the historic agenda. Build a workers party that fights for a workers government to unite all the oppressed.
Emblazon on our red banner-Labor and the oppressed must rule!
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The works of Auguste Blanqui 1834-Who Makes the Soup Should Eat It
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Source: Auguste Blanqui, Textes Choisis, avec preface et notes par V.P. Volguine, Editions Sociales, Paris, 1971;
Translated: for marxists.org by Mitchell Abidor;
CopyLeft: Creative Commons (Attribute & ShareAlike) marxists.org 2004.
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Wealth is born of intelligence and labor. But these two forces can only act with the aid of a passive element – the land, which they put to work by their combined efforts. It thus seems that this indispensable instrument should belong to all men. Such is not the case.
Individuals have taken over common land by ruse or violence, declaring themselves its owners; they have established by law that it will always be theirs, and that the right to property will become the foundation of the social constitution; which is to say that it will come before and, if need be, absorb all human rights, even that to life, if it has the ill fortune to find itself in conflict with the privilege of a small number.
The right to property has extended itself by logical deduction from the land to other instruments: the accumulated products of labor, designated by the generic name of capital. Since capital, sterile in and of itself can only fructify through labor, and , on the other hand, since it is the primary matter worked on by social forces, the majority, excluded from its possession, finds itself condemned to forced labor, to the profit of the possessing minority. Neither the instruments nor the fruits of labor belong to the workers, but to the idlers. The gluttonous branches absorb the tree’s sap, to the detriment of the fertile boughs. The hornets devour the honey created by the bees.
Such is our social order, founded on conquest, which has divided populations into victors and vanquished. The logical consequence of such an organization is slavery. And we didn’t have to wait long for its arrival. In fact, with land acquiring value only from cultivation, the privileged have drawn the conclusion that, thanks to the right to own land, they also have that to own the human livestock that makes it fertile. In the first place they have considered it as a complement to their domain but, in the final analysis, they see it as personal property, independent of the land.
Nevertheless, the principle of equality, engraved in the depths of the heart, and which conspires, with the centuries, to destroy the exploitation of man by man in all its forms, delivered the first blow to the sacrilegious right to property by smashing slavery. Privilege was forced to reduce itself to the possession of men not as furniture, but as real estate auxiliary to, and inseparable from, real estate in the form of land.
In the 16th century a deadly rebirth of oppression brought about the enslavement of blacks; and even today the inhabitants of a land reputed to be French own men in the same way as clothing and horses. There is, in fact, less of a difference than meets the eye between our state and that of the colonies. After eighteen centuries of war between privilege and equality the homeland, theatre and principal champion of this struggle, could not put up with slavery in its naked brutality. But the fact exists in name, and the right to property, while more hypocritical in Paris than in Martinique, is neither less inflexible nor less oppressive.
In fact, servitude does not consist solely in being a man’s thing, or a lord’s serf. He is not free who, deprived of the instruments of labor, remains at the mercy of the privileged who are their owners. This is the state that feeds revolt. In order to exorcise this peril they try to reconcile Cain with Abel. From the necessity of capital as an instrument of labor they go on to conclude in the community of interests, and then to that of solidarity between the capitalist and the worker. How many artistically embroidered phrases there are on this canvas! The lamb is shorn for his own health. It owes thanks. Our Aesculapiuses know how to sugar-coat the pill.
There are still some who are fooled by these homilies, but they are few. Each day the light shines brighter on this so-called association of the parasite and its victim. But the facts are eloquent; they prove the duel, the duel to the death, between revenue and salary. It’s a question of justice and good sense. Let’s examine the situation.
There is no society without labor! What’s more, there exist no idlers who do not have need of workers. But what need do workers have of idlers? Is capital only productive in the workers’ hands on condition that it not belong to them? I imagine the proletariat, deserting en masse, taking its tools and its labor to some distant land. Would it by chance die due to the absence of its masters? Can the new society only come about by creating lords of the land and of capital, in handing over to a caste of idlers the ownership of all the instruments of labor? Is there no other social mechanism possible but this division of owners and the salaried?
On the other hand, how curious it would be to see the expression on the faces of our proud lords abandoned by their slaves. What would be done with their palaces, their workshops, their deserted fields? Would they die of hunger in the midst of their riches, or would they put on work clothes, take up the pick and, in their turn, humbly sweat on some plot of land? How much would all of them cultivate?
But a people of 32 million souls doesn’t retire to Mount Aventine. Let us then take the opposite and more realizable hypothesis. One fine day the idlers evacuate the soil of France, which remains in the workers’ hands. A day of happiness and triumph! What an immense relief for so many chests, relieved of the weight that crushes them! How freely this multitude breathes. Citizens – sing in chorus the song of deliverance!
Axiom: the nation is impoverished by the death of a worker. She is enriched by that of an idler. The death of a wealthy man is a benefit.
Yes! The right of property is in decline. Generous spirits prophesy and call for its fall. The Essenian principle of reality has slowly sapped it over the course of eighteen centuries through the successive abolition of the various servitudes which served as the basis for its power. It will disappear one day, along with the last privileges that serve as its refuge and nook. The past and the present guarantee us this resolution. For humanity is never stationary. It either advances or goes back. Its progressive march led it to equality. Its backward march climbs, by all of privilege’s steps, to personal slavery, the final word in the right of property. To be sure, before returning there, European civilization would have perished. But through what catastrophe? A Russian invasion? To the contrary, it is the north that will itself be invaded by the principle of equality that the French bring in the conquest of nations. The future is not in doubt.
Let us immediately say that equality doesn’t consist in the partitioning of land. The splitting up of land will really change nothing concerning the right of property. With wealth growing from the ownership of the instruments of labor, rather than through labor itself, the spirit of exploitation left standing would soon know, through the reconstruction of large fortunes, how to restore social inequality.
Association alone, in place of private property, will serve as the basis for the reign of justice through equality. This is the foundation of the growing ardor of men of the future to make clear and highlight the elements of association. We, too, will perhaps bring our contingent to the common task.
Markin comment:
I will post any updates from that site if there are any serious discussions of the way forward for the Occupy movement or, more importantly, any analysis of the now atrophied and dysfunctional General Assembly concept. In the meantime I will continue with the “Lessons From History “ series started in the Fall of 2011 with Karl Marx’s The Civil War In France-1871 (The defense of the Paris Commune). Right now this series is focused on the European socialist movement before the Revolutions of 1848.
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An Injury To One Is An Injury To All!-Defend The Occupy Movement And All Occupiers! Drop All Charges Against All Occupy Protesters Everywhere!
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Fight-Don’t Starve-We Created The Wealth, Let's Take It Back! Labor And The Oppressed Must Rule!
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A Five-Point Program As Talking Points
*Jobs For All Now!-“30 For 40”- A historic demand of the labor movement. Thirty hours work for forty hours pay to spread the available work around. Organize the unorganized- Organize the South- Organize Wal-Mart- Defend the right for public and private workers to unionize.
* Defend the working classes! No union dues for Democratic (or the stray Republican) candidates. Spent the dough instead on organizing the unorganized and on other labor-specific causes (good example, the November, 2011 anti-union recall referendum in Ohio, bad example the Wisconsin gubernatorial recall race in June 2012).
*End the endless wars!- Immediate, Unconditional Withdrawal Of All U.S./Allied Troops (And Mercenaries) From Afghanistan! Hands Off Pakistan! Hands Off Iran! U.S. Hands Off The World!
*Fight for a social agenda for working people!. Quality Healthcare For All! Nationalize the colleges and universities under student-teacher-campus worker control! Forgive student debt! Stop housing foreclosures!
*We created the wealth, let’s take it back. Take the struggle for our daily bread off the historic agenda. Build a workers party that fights for a workers government to unite all the oppressed.
Emblazon on our red banner-Labor and the oppressed must rule!
********
The works of Auguste Blanqui 1834-Who Makes the Soup Should Eat It
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Source: Auguste Blanqui, Textes Choisis, avec preface et notes par V.P. Volguine, Editions Sociales, Paris, 1971;
Translated: for marxists.org by Mitchell Abidor;
CopyLeft: Creative Commons (Attribute & ShareAlike) marxists.org 2004.
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Wealth is born of intelligence and labor. But these two forces can only act with the aid of a passive element – the land, which they put to work by their combined efforts. It thus seems that this indispensable instrument should belong to all men. Such is not the case.
Individuals have taken over common land by ruse or violence, declaring themselves its owners; they have established by law that it will always be theirs, and that the right to property will become the foundation of the social constitution; which is to say that it will come before and, if need be, absorb all human rights, even that to life, if it has the ill fortune to find itself in conflict with the privilege of a small number.
The right to property has extended itself by logical deduction from the land to other instruments: the accumulated products of labor, designated by the generic name of capital. Since capital, sterile in and of itself can only fructify through labor, and , on the other hand, since it is the primary matter worked on by social forces, the majority, excluded from its possession, finds itself condemned to forced labor, to the profit of the possessing minority. Neither the instruments nor the fruits of labor belong to the workers, but to the idlers. The gluttonous branches absorb the tree’s sap, to the detriment of the fertile boughs. The hornets devour the honey created by the bees.
Such is our social order, founded on conquest, which has divided populations into victors and vanquished. The logical consequence of such an organization is slavery. And we didn’t have to wait long for its arrival. In fact, with land acquiring value only from cultivation, the privileged have drawn the conclusion that, thanks to the right to own land, they also have that to own the human livestock that makes it fertile. In the first place they have considered it as a complement to their domain but, in the final analysis, they see it as personal property, independent of the land.
Nevertheless, the principle of equality, engraved in the depths of the heart, and which conspires, with the centuries, to destroy the exploitation of man by man in all its forms, delivered the first blow to the sacrilegious right to property by smashing slavery. Privilege was forced to reduce itself to the possession of men not as furniture, but as real estate auxiliary to, and inseparable from, real estate in the form of land.
In the 16th century a deadly rebirth of oppression brought about the enslavement of blacks; and even today the inhabitants of a land reputed to be French own men in the same way as clothing and horses. There is, in fact, less of a difference than meets the eye between our state and that of the colonies. After eighteen centuries of war between privilege and equality the homeland, theatre and principal champion of this struggle, could not put up with slavery in its naked brutality. But the fact exists in name, and the right to property, while more hypocritical in Paris than in Martinique, is neither less inflexible nor less oppressive.
In fact, servitude does not consist solely in being a man’s thing, or a lord’s serf. He is not free who, deprived of the instruments of labor, remains at the mercy of the privileged who are their owners. This is the state that feeds revolt. In order to exorcise this peril they try to reconcile Cain with Abel. From the necessity of capital as an instrument of labor they go on to conclude in the community of interests, and then to that of solidarity between the capitalist and the worker. How many artistically embroidered phrases there are on this canvas! The lamb is shorn for his own health. It owes thanks. Our Aesculapiuses know how to sugar-coat the pill.
There are still some who are fooled by these homilies, but they are few. Each day the light shines brighter on this so-called association of the parasite and its victim. But the facts are eloquent; they prove the duel, the duel to the death, between revenue and salary. It’s a question of justice and good sense. Let’s examine the situation.
There is no society without labor! What’s more, there exist no idlers who do not have need of workers. But what need do workers have of idlers? Is capital only productive in the workers’ hands on condition that it not belong to them? I imagine the proletariat, deserting en masse, taking its tools and its labor to some distant land. Would it by chance die due to the absence of its masters? Can the new society only come about by creating lords of the land and of capital, in handing over to a caste of idlers the ownership of all the instruments of labor? Is there no other social mechanism possible but this division of owners and the salaried?
On the other hand, how curious it would be to see the expression on the faces of our proud lords abandoned by their slaves. What would be done with their palaces, their workshops, their deserted fields? Would they die of hunger in the midst of their riches, or would they put on work clothes, take up the pick and, in their turn, humbly sweat on some plot of land? How much would all of them cultivate?
But a people of 32 million souls doesn’t retire to Mount Aventine. Let us then take the opposite and more realizable hypothesis. One fine day the idlers evacuate the soil of France, which remains in the workers’ hands. A day of happiness and triumph! What an immense relief for so many chests, relieved of the weight that crushes them! How freely this multitude breathes. Citizens – sing in chorus the song of deliverance!
Axiom: the nation is impoverished by the death of a worker. She is enriched by that of an idler. The death of a wealthy man is a benefit.
Yes! The right of property is in decline. Generous spirits prophesy and call for its fall. The Essenian principle of reality has slowly sapped it over the course of eighteen centuries through the successive abolition of the various servitudes which served as the basis for its power. It will disappear one day, along with the last privileges that serve as its refuge and nook. The past and the present guarantee us this resolution. For humanity is never stationary. It either advances or goes back. Its progressive march led it to equality. Its backward march climbs, by all of privilege’s steps, to personal slavery, the final word in the right of property. To be sure, before returning there, European civilization would have perished. But through what catastrophe? A Russian invasion? To the contrary, it is the north that will itself be invaded by the principle of equality that the French bring in the conquest of nations. The future is not in doubt.
Let us immediately say that equality doesn’t consist in the partitioning of land. The splitting up of land will really change nothing concerning the right of property. With wealth growing from the ownership of the instruments of labor, rather than through labor itself, the spirit of exploitation left standing would soon know, through the reconstruction of large fortunes, how to restore social inequality.
Association alone, in place of private property, will serve as the basis for the reign of justice through equality. This is the foundation of the growing ardor of men of the future to make clear and highlight the elements of association. We, too, will perhaps bring our contingent to the common task.
Labor's Untold Story- Bread And Roses- The Heroic Lawrence Textile Strike Of 1912.
Click on title to link to Lucy Parsons Project site for a pro-IWW analysis of the famous Lawrence (Massachusetts) textile strike of 1912. Where the expression "bread and roses" came from. There are other sources with different perspective on this strike so Google on.
Every Month Is Labor History Month
This Commentary is part of a series under the following general title: Labor’s Untold Story- Reclaiming Our Labor History In Order To Fight Another Day-And Win!
As a first run through, and in some cases until I can get enough other sources in order to make a decent presentation, I will start with short entries on each topic that I will eventually go into greater detail about. Or, better yet, take my suggested topic and run with it yourself.
Poem and Song lyrics-"Bread and Roses"
Poem
As we come marching, marching in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: "Bread and roses! Bread and roses!"
As we come marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses!
As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for -- but we fight for roses, too!
As we come marching, marching, we bring the greater days.
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler -- ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses! Bread and roses! Song Lyrics
Song
As we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses!
As we go marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses.
As we go marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient call for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too.
As we go marching, marching, we bring the greater days,
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler, ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses, bread and roses.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; bread and roses, bread and roses
Every Month Is Labor History Month
This Commentary is part of a series under the following general title: Labor’s Untold Story- Reclaiming Our Labor History In Order To Fight Another Day-And Win!
As a first run through, and in some cases until I can get enough other sources in order to make a decent presentation, I will start with short entries on each topic that I will eventually go into greater detail about. Or, better yet, take my suggested topic and run with it yourself.
Poem and Song lyrics-"Bread and Roses"
Poem
As we come marching, marching in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: "Bread and roses! Bread and roses!"
As we come marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses!
As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for -- but we fight for roses, too!
As we come marching, marching, we bring the greater days.
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler -- ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses! Bread and roses! Song Lyrics
Song
As we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses!
As we go marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses.
As we go marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient call for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too.
As we go marching, marching, we bring the greater days,
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler, ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses, bread and roses.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; bread and roses, bread and roses
From The "Bread And Roses" Centennial Website- A Brief History Of The Great Lawrence (Ma) Textile Strike Of 1912
Click on the headline to link to the "Bread And Roses" Centennial Website- A Brief History Of The Great Lawrence (Ma) Textile Strike Of 1912
Bread & Roses Labor Day Festival 2012
The Bread & Roses Heritage Committee has been putting on a labor day festival for 26 years located on the Campagnone Common in Lawrence. The labor day festival has become a highly anticipated annual event in the city of Lawrence where members of the community join together to celebrate the true reason for the holiday. Every year the Bread & Roses Heritage Committee assembles a diverse and impressive list of performers, vendors, speakers, and organizations. In 2012, for the centennial of the Bread & Roses Strike, the annual labor day festival will be unlike any other heretofore hosted. With plans still in the works, the Bread & Roses Heritage Committee is committed to making the 2012 festival its biggest yet with world-renowned performers and guests.
.
Bread & Roses Labor Day Festival 2012
The Bread & Roses Heritage Committee has been putting on a labor day festival for 26 years located on the Campagnone Common in Lawrence. The labor day festival has become a highly anticipated annual event in the city of Lawrence where members of the community join together to celebrate the true reason for the holiday. Every year the Bread & Roses Heritage Committee assembles a diverse and impressive list of performers, vendors, speakers, and organizations. In 2012, for the centennial of the Bread & Roses Strike, the annual labor day festival will be unlike any other heretofore hosted. With plans still in the works, the Bread & Roses Heritage Committee is committed to making the 2012 festival its biggest yet with world-renowned performers and guests.
.
From The "Bread And Roses" Centennial Website-"Short Pay! All Out!: The Great Lawrence Strike of 1912"-An Exhibit
Click on the headline to link to the "Bread And Roses" Centennial Website
"Short Pay! All Out!: The Great Lawrence Strike of 1912"
The Lawrence History Center will be opening an exhibit and cultural space on January 12, 2012. The bilingual exhibit showcases the events of the strike in an intuitive, thought-provoking and conversation-starting way. This will allow the natural use of the exhibit's cultural space for lectures, meetings, performances, and community gatherings relevant to the themes of the strike of 1912.
The exhibit is housed on the sixth floor of the Everett Mill building (15 Union St., Lawrence, MA), the very place where the strike began.
Make a plan to come to Lawrence and visit. Hours are Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays 11am-3pm or by appointment with the Lawrence History Center(978-686-9230).
Can't make it to Lawrence? Visit the online exhibit by clicking here
The Lawrence History center received two generous grants of $10,000 from Mass Humanities that were used in the planning of the exhibit.
"Short Pay! All Out!: The Great Lawrence Strike of 1912"
The Lawrence History Center will be opening an exhibit and cultural space on January 12, 2012. The bilingual exhibit showcases the events of the strike in an intuitive, thought-provoking and conversation-starting way. This will allow the natural use of the exhibit's cultural space for lectures, meetings, performances, and community gatherings relevant to the themes of the strike of 1912.
The exhibit is housed on the sixth floor of the Everett Mill building (15 Union St., Lawrence, MA), the very place where the strike began.
Make a plan to come to Lawrence and visit. Hours are Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays 11am-3pm or by appointment with the Lawrence History Center(978-686-9230).
Can't make it to Lawrence? Visit the online exhibit by clicking here
The Lawrence History center received two generous grants of $10,000 from Mass Humanities that were used in the planning of the exhibit.
From The Great Lawrence 1912 "Bread And Roses" Centennial Website- Upcoming Events
Click on the headline to link to the Bread and Roses Centennial website.
BREAD AND ROSES
(Lyrics: James Oppenheim; Music: Martha Coleman or Caroline Kohlsaat) (1910s)
Textile workers, Lowell, MA
Any copyrighted material on these pages is used in "fair use", for the purpose of study, review or critical analysis only, and will be removed at the request of copyright owner(s).
New Year's Day, 1912, ushered in one of the most historic struggles in the history of the American working-class. On that cold January 1st, the textile workers of Lawrence, Massachusetts, began a nine-week strike which shook the very foundation of the Bay State and had national repercussions.
In its last session, the Massachusetts State Legislature, after tremendous pressure from the workers, had finally passed a law limiting the working hours of children under the age of 18 to 54 hours a week. Needless to say, the huge textile corporations had viciously opposed the law.
As an act of retaliation, the employers cut the working hours of all employees to 54 hours, with a commensurate cut in wages, of course. The workers in the Lawrence factories, some 35,000 of them, answered this with a complete walk-out.
The strike itself was unique on many counts, but principally because the workers realized that they had to ignore the existing craft-union set-up. The craft unions were composed only of skilled, English-speaking workers, which excluded most of the workers. Instead, under the leadership of the International [sic] Workers of the World (IWW), a blow was struck on behalf of industrial unionism with the uniting of all textile workers in the strike.
In the course of the strike, the workers presented the bosses with the following demands:
A 15 per cent wage increase;
Abolition of the "premium system* (a version of present-day "incentive plans");
Double pay for overtime;
No discrimination against strikers;
An end to speed-up;
An end to discrimination against foreign-born workers.
The song... was inspired by one of the demonstrations which took place during the course of the strike. During a parade through Lawrence, a group of women workers carried banners proclaiming "Bread and Roses". This poetic presentation of the demands of women workers for equal pay for equal work together with special consideration as women echoed throughout the country.
James Oppenheim, many of whose poems reflect a working-class content and sympathy, picked up the phrase and made it into a poem. Martha Coleman set the poem to music, and the song has become a part of the singing tradition of the American working-class.
The song is more than an interesting piece of historic literature and is presented here... as a song for today, for the complete emancipation of women, who still demand "Give Us Bread -- And Give Us Roses!"
Sing Out!, Vol. 25, 1/1976, p. 8.
"The women worked in the mills for lower pay and In addition had all the housework and care of the children. The old world attitude of men as 'the lord and master' was strong at the end of the day's work . . . or now of strike duty . . . the man went home and sat at ease while his wife did all the work, preparing the meal, cleaning the house, etc. There was considerable male opposition to women going to meetings and marching on the picket line. We resolutely set out to combat these notions. The women wanted to picket!"
— IWW organizer Elizabeth Guriey Flynn, "The Rebel Girl", commenting on the Lawrence strike, reprinted ibid.
MORE BACKGROUND ON THE LAWRENCE STRIKE
In 1912, in the great woolen center of Lawrence, Massachusetts, 20,000 workers walked out of the mills in spontaneous protest against a cut in their weekly pay. Workers had been averaging $8.76 for a 56-hour work week when a state law made 54 hours the maximum for women and for minors under 18. The companies reduced all hours to 54 but refused to raise wage rates to make up for the average loss of 31 cents per week suffered by each worker because of the reduction in hours.
This caused the walkout which rocked the great New England textile industry. Under the aggressive leadership of the Industrial Workers of the World the strike became front-page news throughout the country. This is how IWW leader Bill Haywood described the Lawrence strike in his autobiography, Bill Haywood's Book:
"It was a wonderful strike, the most significant strike, the greatest strike that has ever been carried on in this country or any other country. And the most significant part of that strike was that it was a democracy. The strikers had a committee of 56, representing 27 different languages. The boss would have to see all the committee to do any business with them. And immediately behind that committee was a substitute committee of another 56 prepared in the event of the original committee's being arrested. Every official in touch with affairs at Lawrence had a substitute selected to take his place in the event of being thrown in jail."
After ten weeks the strikers won important concessions from the woolen companies, not only for themselves but also for 250,000 textile workers throughout New England.
During one of the many parades conducted by the strikers some young girls carried a banner with the slogan: "We want bread and roses too." This inspired James Oppenheim to write his poem, "Bread and Roses," which was set to music by Caroline Kohlsaat,
There is also an Italian song with the same title, "Pan e Rose," written by the Italian-American poet Arturo Giovannitti which is used by the Italian Dressmakers' Local 89 of the International Ladies' Garment Workers' Union.
Edith Fowke & Joe Glazer (eds.), Songs of Work and Protest, New York, NY, 1973, p. 71
Lyrics as reprinted ibid.
As we come marching, marching in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: "Bread and roses! Bread and roses!"
As we come marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses!
As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for -- but we fight for roses, too!
As we come marching, marching, we bring the greater days.
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler -- ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses! Bread and roses!
From The Pen Of Joshua Lawrence Breslin- Jane Greer Move Over-Lizabeth Scott’s “Too Late For Tears”
Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for the film noir Too Late For Tears.
DVD Review
Too Late For Tears, starring Lizabeth Scott, Dan Duryea, United Artists, 1949
Too late for tears is right, probably too late at about age six for our shoot-‘em-up femme fatale Jane (played her is demonic fashion by usually demure, if always husky-voiced, Lizabeth Scott). They, those tears, got all dried up and shriveled as she furtively pushed her way forward in this wicked old world. And every man in sight had better watch out, and not turn his back. Jane Greer from Out Of The Past had better move over because there is a new sheriff (actually anti-sheriff) who is not to afraid put a slug, or six, in a guy who will not do her bidding, or even think about not doing it. There are two kinds of femme fatales in this wicked old world, those with hearts of gold and those with no hearts. Dear Jan e fits the later in surprising interesting B crime noir under review, Too Late For Tears
Yes, some of the dialogue is a little stiff and the copy I reviewed had some technical glitches in it but this one nevertheless held my attention. Partially because cinematically anyway it is easy to “fall” for a heartless femme, especially when she gets those wheels in her head turning madly for whatever is it is she is after (and gets those guns blaring too). Partially as well because the theme of the film, although greed as a driving force in human history has been done unto death, crime doesn’t pay gets a little different workout here as the plot develops and is resolved.
Divorcee Jane (prior husband committed suicide, prompted or not, by his business failures and therefore no dough status made him bum of the month is dear Jane’s eyes) is married to a regular middle class guy, Alan, (with nice digs in Hollywood, 1940s Hollywood) who she had latched onto to make her fame and fortune (mainly the latter). While convertible cruising the Hollywood hills a passing car dumps a parcel in the backseat (good aim) of their car. Turned out there was some serious dough (serious 1940s dough now strictly coffee and cakes money) stashed there as part of a blackmail payoff. Naturally the money hunger wheels start working in Jane’s head (although not in Alan’s for which he would pay dearly, very dearly). She taunts Alan into keeping it at the bus station for a while, although against his better judgment.
Enter the “owner” of the dough Danny (played by Dan Duryea) who wants it back (naturally). The rest of the plot centers on Jane playing off every man who gets in her way, starting with kindred spirit Danny, as she tries to “con” a con. Hubby Alan is the first by a few off-hand point blank shots from his own gun when he decides to turn the dough in. Later, after hubby’s demise, when Danny now knee –deep as an accomplice to Jane’s madness gets cold feet at murder (murder of a woman in this case, Alan’s sister, who is getting suspicious about missing Alan’s whereabouts) he takes the fall, this time with some untimely poison administered by guess who. And eventually trouper that she is, Jan is getting ready to plug a guy who turned out to be her ex-husband’s brother who is seeking revenge (possibly) for his brother’s death before her own untimely death. Whoa! So guys if some husky-voiced dame, a blonde probably, wants to keep some off-hand dough, let her keep it, and for god’s sake don’t turn your back.
DVD Review
Too Late For Tears, starring Lizabeth Scott, Dan Duryea, United Artists, 1949
Too late for tears is right, probably too late at about age six for our shoot-‘em-up femme fatale Jane (played her is demonic fashion by usually demure, if always husky-voiced, Lizabeth Scott). They, those tears, got all dried up and shriveled as she furtively pushed her way forward in this wicked old world. And every man in sight had better watch out, and not turn his back. Jane Greer from Out Of The Past had better move over because there is a new sheriff (actually anti-sheriff) who is not to afraid put a slug, or six, in a guy who will not do her bidding, or even think about not doing it. There are two kinds of femme fatales in this wicked old world, those with hearts of gold and those with no hearts. Dear Jan e fits the later in surprising interesting B crime noir under review, Too Late For Tears
Yes, some of the dialogue is a little stiff and the copy I reviewed had some technical glitches in it but this one nevertheless held my attention. Partially because cinematically anyway it is easy to “fall” for a heartless femme, especially when she gets those wheels in her head turning madly for whatever is it is she is after (and gets those guns blaring too). Partially as well because the theme of the film, although greed as a driving force in human history has been done unto death, crime doesn’t pay gets a little different workout here as the plot develops and is resolved.
Divorcee Jane (prior husband committed suicide, prompted or not, by his business failures and therefore no dough status made him bum of the month is dear Jane’s eyes) is married to a regular middle class guy, Alan, (with nice digs in Hollywood, 1940s Hollywood) who she had latched onto to make her fame and fortune (mainly the latter). While convertible cruising the Hollywood hills a passing car dumps a parcel in the backseat (good aim) of their car. Turned out there was some serious dough (serious 1940s dough now strictly coffee and cakes money) stashed there as part of a blackmail payoff. Naturally the money hunger wheels start working in Jane’s head (although not in Alan’s for which he would pay dearly, very dearly). She taunts Alan into keeping it at the bus station for a while, although against his better judgment.
Enter the “owner” of the dough Danny (played by Dan Duryea) who wants it back (naturally). The rest of the plot centers on Jane playing off every man who gets in her way, starting with kindred spirit Danny, as she tries to “con” a con. Hubby Alan is the first by a few off-hand point blank shots from his own gun when he decides to turn the dough in. Later, after hubby’s demise, when Danny now knee –deep as an accomplice to Jane’s madness gets cold feet at murder (murder of a woman in this case, Alan’s sister, who is getting suspicious about missing Alan’s whereabouts) he takes the fall, this time with some untimely poison administered by guess who. And eventually trouper that she is, Jan is getting ready to plug a guy who turned out to be her ex-husband’s brother who is seeking revenge (possibly) for his brother’s death before her own untimely death. Whoa! So guys if some husky-voiced dame, a blonde probably, wants to keep some off-hand dough, let her keep it, and for god’s sake don’t turn your back.
From "OCCUPY HOMES MASSACHUSETTS"- No Homeowner Need Stand Alone!-Organize Now!
From "OCCUPY HOMES MASSACHUSETTS"- No Homeowner Need Stand Alone!-Organize Now!
Stand Together-Occupy Homes Ma-Stop 'the banksters' Foreclosures and Evictions
www.OccupyQuincy.org
OCCUPY HOMES MASSACHUSETTS
Next Meeting Scheduled For Tufts Library, Broad Street, Weymouth, August 14, 2012-6:00 PM- Check out directions and details onFacebook-Occupy Homes MA.
WANT ASSISTANCE OR MORE INFORMATION?
OccupyHomesMA@gmail.com
617-249-4359
*********
Are you facing FORECLOSURE?- YOU ARE NOT ALONE!
Stand up with other homeowners who are fighting with us.
Want more information?
Contact us by email at OccupyHomesMA@gmail.com
or call us at 617-249-4359
The homeowner's meeting is intended to be a support group
specifically for those in the foreclosure process.
ATTEND A HOMEOWNERS MEETING TO
Develop Solidarity and Support:
We urge people to leave their shame at the door. We work to end the stigma and isolation of individual foreclosure and eviction cases by uniting homeowners.
Learn Your Rights:
You don't have to move just because the bank says so. We empower people to know their rights and advocate for themselves.
Organize with Occupy Homes MA:
Community members and activists are ready to stand with you. Let’s build mass resistance to defend your home and break the stranglehold the big banks have on our neighborhoods.
************
Want to get involved?
Participate!
Fight back! A movement working for the 99% must be shaped and formed by all those who participate. All decisions on the direction and scope of the struggle are democratic.
Organize!
Build powerful communities! Identify issues affecting our neighborhoods, and work together on solutions.
Mobilize!
The best tool of the 99% is our numbers, and our ability to work together. Plan public actions, protests, and home defense.
Educate!
Become educated and teach others about the nature of the foreclosure crisis, and ways empowered communities can begin to solve it.
************
Excerpt from...
Keeping House: Local Organizations Collaborate to Help Boston Residents Stay in Their Home Post-Foreclosure
Noelle Swan Spare Change News
When Jeril Richardson checked out of the hospital after he was hit by a car in 2009, he returned home to find that his landlord had not been keeping up with mortgage payments and the bank was foreclosing on his Hyde Park home.
Canvassers knocking on his door told him about City Life Vida Urbana, a community organization that would help him to fight to stay in his home. Nearly three years later, Richardson still lives in the house, pays rent to the bank, and is saving to purchase the property.
Every weekend, students and community volunteers from Project No One Leaves hit the streets in an effort to reach tenants and homeowners facing foreclosure to inform them of their rights during and after the foreclosure.
"We try to get there before eviction agents come knocking and telling them to leave immediately," said Chris Larson, senior at Tufts University who helped to coordinate a chapter of No One Leaves at Tufts.
In recent years, keeping up with new foreclosures has become a daunting task, said Chas Hamilton, a third-year law student and current president of the board for Project No One Leaves at Harvard Law School. "In a given week, there might be 30 new foreclosures listed in Boston proper."
"Then there are properties that they did not get to in weeks past because canvassers ran out of time, people weren't home, or their just weren't enough cars to get to all of the neighborhoods." Volunteers for No One Leaves chart foreclosure postings listed in local newspapers and real estate publications.
Listings are grouped into geographic zones of the city and mapped out. Each week, a dozen or so volunteers gather at the Harvard Legal Aid Bureau in Cambridge, split up into groups of two to five depending on the number of cars available, and try to get out to as many properties as they can in three hours.
"The real message that we try to deliver is that foreclosure is not the end. It's the beginning of this very long battle," Larson said.
http://sparechangenews.net/news/keeping-house-
local-organizations-collaborate-help-boston-residents-
stay-their-home-post-forecl
********
WHY Occupy Homes MA?
OCCUPY OUR HOMES
Far too many homeowners are facing foreclosure. The need is greater than the capacity to help. City Life along with a team from Harvard Law is mentoring Occupy Homes MA as we create this new chapter to help homeowners on the South Shore. We are here to:
STOP FORECLOSURES
This is a people's movement that is building across Massachusetts. Homeowners did not create the crisis we are in, and homeowners are no longer going to face the shame of foreclosure and eviction alone. We are here to:
STOP EVICTIONS
The police should serve and protect the 99%, not assist the big banks with eviction. We will organize the community and resist eviction. Knowledge is power; they cannot easily put you out on the street - we want to help you, we won't let them!
HOUSING IS A HUMAN
There are 18 million empty homes in the U.S.
Help us, to help you by saying: "NOT MY HOME!"
Stand Together-Occupy Homes Ma-Stop 'the banksters' Foreclosures and Evictions
www.OccupyQuincy.org
OCCUPY HOMES MASSACHUSETTS
Next Meeting Scheduled For Tufts Library, Broad Street, Weymouth, August 14, 2012-6:00 PM- Check out directions and details onFacebook-Occupy Homes MA.
WANT ASSISTANCE OR MORE INFORMATION?
OccupyHomesMA@gmail.com
617-249-4359
*********
Are you facing FORECLOSURE?- YOU ARE NOT ALONE!
Stand up with other homeowners who are fighting with us.
Want more information?
Contact us by email at OccupyHomesMA@gmail.com
or call us at 617-249-4359
The homeowner's meeting is intended to be a support group
specifically for those in the foreclosure process.
ATTEND A HOMEOWNERS MEETING TO
Develop Solidarity and Support:
We urge people to leave their shame at the door. We work to end the stigma and isolation of individual foreclosure and eviction cases by uniting homeowners.
Learn Your Rights:
You don't have to move just because the bank says so. We empower people to know their rights and advocate for themselves.
Organize with Occupy Homes MA:
Community members and activists are ready to stand with you. Let’s build mass resistance to defend your home and break the stranglehold the big banks have on our neighborhoods.
************
Want to get involved?
Participate!
Fight back! A movement working for the 99% must be shaped and formed by all those who participate. All decisions on the direction and scope of the struggle are democratic.
Organize!
Build powerful communities! Identify issues affecting our neighborhoods, and work together on solutions.
Mobilize!
The best tool of the 99% is our numbers, and our ability to work together. Plan public actions, protests, and home defense.
Educate!
Become educated and teach others about the nature of the foreclosure crisis, and ways empowered communities can begin to solve it.
************
Excerpt from...
Keeping House: Local Organizations Collaborate to Help Boston Residents Stay in Their Home Post-Foreclosure
Noelle Swan Spare Change News
When Jeril Richardson checked out of the hospital after he was hit by a car in 2009, he returned home to find that his landlord had not been keeping up with mortgage payments and the bank was foreclosing on his Hyde Park home.
Canvassers knocking on his door told him about City Life Vida Urbana, a community organization that would help him to fight to stay in his home. Nearly three years later, Richardson still lives in the house, pays rent to the bank, and is saving to purchase the property.
Every weekend, students and community volunteers from Project No One Leaves hit the streets in an effort to reach tenants and homeowners facing foreclosure to inform them of their rights during and after the foreclosure.
"We try to get there before eviction agents come knocking and telling them to leave immediately," said Chris Larson, senior at Tufts University who helped to coordinate a chapter of No One Leaves at Tufts.
In recent years, keeping up with new foreclosures has become a daunting task, said Chas Hamilton, a third-year law student and current president of the board for Project No One Leaves at Harvard Law School. "In a given week, there might be 30 new foreclosures listed in Boston proper."
"Then there are properties that they did not get to in weeks past because canvassers ran out of time, people weren't home, or their just weren't enough cars to get to all of the neighborhoods." Volunteers for No One Leaves chart foreclosure postings listed in local newspapers and real estate publications.
Listings are grouped into geographic zones of the city and mapped out. Each week, a dozen or so volunteers gather at the Harvard Legal Aid Bureau in Cambridge, split up into groups of two to five depending on the number of cars available, and try to get out to as many properties as they can in three hours.
"The real message that we try to deliver is that foreclosure is not the end. It's the beginning of this very long battle," Larson said.
http://sparechangenews.net/news/keeping-house-
local-organizations-collaborate-help-boston-residents-
stay-their-home-post-forecl
********
WHY Occupy Homes MA?
OCCUPY OUR HOMES
Far too many homeowners are facing foreclosure. The need is greater than the capacity to help. City Life along with a team from Harvard Law is mentoring Occupy Homes MA as we create this new chapter to help homeowners on the South Shore. We are here to:
STOP FORECLOSURES
This is a people's movement that is building across Massachusetts. Homeowners did not create the crisis we are in, and homeowners are no longer going to face the shame of foreclosure and eviction alone. We are here to:
STOP EVICTIONS
The police should serve and protect the 99%, not assist the big banks with eviction. We will organize the community and resist eviction. Knowledge is power; they cannot easily put you out on the street - we want to help you, we won't let them!
HOUSING IS A HUMAN
There are 18 million empty homes in the U.S.
Help us, to help you by saying: "NOT MY HOME!"
Thursday, July 26, 2012
From The Pen Of Joshua Lawrence Breslin- Tales From The 'Hood-Time Is Not On Our Side
Joshua Lawrence Breslin comment:
He, Peter Paul Markin to give him a name although many of the generation of ‘68 had been on the same quest, for a whole number of reasons both personal and political, had been on the trail of his roots, including trips to the old working class neighborhoods where he came of political age. Through various methods, including extensive use of the glorious Internet, he was able to track down a couple of guys from the old neighborhood whose family story had gripped him in olden times.
As an unintended result of that research he have also come in contact with some helpful old high school classmates, North Adamsville High School (that’s in Massachusetts) Class of 1964 . One such helpful person, a class officer back in the day, had asked him to answer some questions that her committee was putting together for his high school class with an eye to the upcoming 50th anniversary reunion. You know the “what the hell have you done with your ill-begotten life for the past half century,” how many kids, grandkids, egad, great-grandkids do you have; don’t lie about anything in any answer because we have ways of finding out the truth of your silly life. How do you think we find you after all these years anyway? (Although, as simple matter, a glance a local telephone book would have provided the answer.)
Got it. Peter Paul got it alright. He had answered some of the more pertinent questions, the dream questions, like how did things actually work out as against one’s totally inflated and obscenely optimistic teenage dream goals, as truthfully as possible, or as any of the old gang needed to know and gave forth with the expected fair percentage of lies, half-lies, and bizarre falsehoods that they should have expected for him, despite the fore-warnings. And they, in turn provided their inflated estimates. No foul, no harm. He dutifully posted those on the class website, although not without noting that this “memoir” excursion was getting to be a seemingly endless task as the more questions he answered the more they (really she, she unnamed she, just in case legal action becomes necessary) kept sending him. Such is life. But, through some of the interchange correspondence he uncovered more information about his roots coming from an earlier period, the dark “projects” coming of age period. Such is life, indeed.
He told me, one melancholy barroom veranda afternoon, some of the details of his “discovery.” How his family had started life in a housing project in Adamsville with all that implied, then and now. By the beauties of the Internet social networking he have come in contact with someone who remembered him (or rather his brother, his older brother, Prescott- she was sweet on him in elementary school), a woman named Sherry. She had lived in that housing project during his family’s stay there and for many, many year after his family had left (to move to the other side of town in a broken down single, well, shack was the only work he could think of to describe it) , and saw its transformation from a temporary way station for returning World War II veterans as had been its original intention to a classic drug-strewn crime-ridden ‘den of iniquity’ as portrayed in subsequent media accounts, She agreed to be his ‘hood historian. Moreover she had brothers, sisters, children and grandchildren who had memories from that place and she agreed to pump them for their remembrances.
And that is where I came in. Peter Paul, my old yellow brick road magical mystery tour brother from the 1960s summer of love (summers of love?) generational break-out since we met on the West Coast one sunny year called on me to work out some of the kinks in the stories, something he felt was too close to believe that he could do them some small measure of justice. He presented the concept as something that could very well be a slice of life series on the trials and tribulations of members of the marginally working poor, a section of the working class with which I am also very familiar coming from old time mill town Olde Saco up in Maine. See too from my vantage point the thing could have produced a study, with all its inherent limitations, of the decline and disintegration of working class political consciousness in America since World War II. I had (have) written other stories from the Olde Saco days that played out one way with a section of the working class that was slightly above the one that Peter Paul came from, but just above, the steadily employed working people who dotted the coastal Maine landscape back then. That saga did not paint a pretty political picture. Nor would this one, I feared. But, damn, we both agreed, why shouldn’t these people have their stories told, warts and all.
Again, like that Olde Saco series (with a ponderous series title of History and Consciousness, H&C, I have gotten better with my titles since then, thank you), this series would really narrate a very prosaic working class set of stories. I planned, however, to organize these stories differently because now I know what I am looking for and each story will be able to stand on its own. In H&C the stories as they unfolded piecemeal, frankly, got out of control and I do not believe that when I put all the parts together at the end that it had the power that I wanted it to have, and that it did have for me as they unfolded.
That said, if this time last year somebody asked me, including Peter Paul, if I would be doing another series like H&C I would have said they were crazy. I then wanted to discuss the finer theoretical points of organizing for the American withdrawal from Afghanistan Iraq or building a workers’ party in this country. But this series seemed like finding the philosopher’s stone. This was the “real deal” down at the base of society; from a time when with a little tweaking things could have gone in another direction.
I prepared the first story (since published) that dealt with how this poor woman Sherry, Peter’s ‘hood historian, was humiliated by other students (girls mainly) at his elementary school for the mere fact of being from “the projects.” This writer was painfully aware of that type of humiliation as he faced the same thing up in Olde Saco. H expected to use that introductory story to draw some political conclusions, if possible. Again, as I had in H&C, I asked the question- will there be political lessons to be learned? I did not believe so, directly. However, real stories about the fate of the working class down at the base can help explain the very real retardants to working class political consciousness that we face as we try to organize here in America to take back the republic. I have spent a lifetime quoting radical socialist principles, chapter and verse, elsewhere. These stories desperately need to be told. Sadly, after that first story though Sherry passed away and we, Peter Paul and I, have been left a little rudderless. Time is not always on our side. Sherry from the ‘hood, RIP.
He, Peter Paul Markin to give him a name although many of the generation of ‘68 had been on the same quest, for a whole number of reasons both personal and political, had been on the trail of his roots, including trips to the old working class neighborhoods where he came of political age. Through various methods, including extensive use of the glorious Internet, he was able to track down a couple of guys from the old neighborhood whose family story had gripped him in olden times.
As an unintended result of that research he have also come in contact with some helpful old high school classmates, North Adamsville High School (that’s in Massachusetts) Class of 1964 . One such helpful person, a class officer back in the day, had asked him to answer some questions that her committee was putting together for his high school class with an eye to the upcoming 50th anniversary reunion. You know the “what the hell have you done with your ill-begotten life for the past half century,” how many kids, grandkids, egad, great-grandkids do you have; don’t lie about anything in any answer because we have ways of finding out the truth of your silly life. How do you think we find you after all these years anyway? (Although, as simple matter, a glance a local telephone book would have provided the answer.)
Got it. Peter Paul got it alright. He had answered some of the more pertinent questions, the dream questions, like how did things actually work out as against one’s totally inflated and obscenely optimistic teenage dream goals, as truthfully as possible, or as any of the old gang needed to know and gave forth with the expected fair percentage of lies, half-lies, and bizarre falsehoods that they should have expected for him, despite the fore-warnings. And they, in turn provided their inflated estimates. No foul, no harm. He dutifully posted those on the class website, although not without noting that this “memoir” excursion was getting to be a seemingly endless task as the more questions he answered the more they (really she, she unnamed she, just in case legal action becomes necessary) kept sending him. Such is life. But, through some of the interchange correspondence he uncovered more information about his roots coming from an earlier period, the dark “projects” coming of age period. Such is life, indeed.
He told me, one melancholy barroom veranda afternoon, some of the details of his “discovery.” How his family had started life in a housing project in Adamsville with all that implied, then and now. By the beauties of the Internet social networking he have come in contact with someone who remembered him (or rather his brother, his older brother, Prescott- she was sweet on him in elementary school), a woman named Sherry. She had lived in that housing project during his family’s stay there and for many, many year after his family had left (to move to the other side of town in a broken down single, well, shack was the only work he could think of to describe it) , and saw its transformation from a temporary way station for returning World War II veterans as had been its original intention to a classic drug-strewn crime-ridden ‘den of iniquity’ as portrayed in subsequent media accounts, She agreed to be his ‘hood historian. Moreover she had brothers, sisters, children and grandchildren who had memories from that place and she agreed to pump them for their remembrances.
And that is where I came in. Peter Paul, my old yellow brick road magical mystery tour brother from the 1960s summer of love (summers of love?) generational break-out since we met on the West Coast one sunny year called on me to work out some of the kinks in the stories, something he felt was too close to believe that he could do them some small measure of justice. He presented the concept as something that could very well be a slice of life series on the trials and tribulations of members of the marginally working poor, a section of the working class with which I am also very familiar coming from old time mill town Olde Saco up in Maine. See too from my vantage point the thing could have produced a study, with all its inherent limitations, of the decline and disintegration of working class political consciousness in America since World War II. I had (have) written other stories from the Olde Saco days that played out one way with a section of the working class that was slightly above the one that Peter Paul came from, but just above, the steadily employed working people who dotted the coastal Maine landscape back then. That saga did not paint a pretty political picture. Nor would this one, I feared. But, damn, we both agreed, why shouldn’t these people have their stories told, warts and all.
Again, like that Olde Saco series (with a ponderous series title of History and Consciousness, H&C, I have gotten better with my titles since then, thank you), this series would really narrate a very prosaic working class set of stories. I planned, however, to organize these stories differently because now I know what I am looking for and each story will be able to stand on its own. In H&C the stories as they unfolded piecemeal, frankly, got out of control and I do not believe that when I put all the parts together at the end that it had the power that I wanted it to have, and that it did have for me as they unfolded.
That said, if this time last year somebody asked me, including Peter Paul, if I would be doing another series like H&C I would have said they were crazy. I then wanted to discuss the finer theoretical points of organizing for the American withdrawal from Afghanistan Iraq or building a workers’ party in this country. But this series seemed like finding the philosopher’s stone. This was the “real deal” down at the base of society; from a time when with a little tweaking things could have gone in another direction.
I prepared the first story (since published) that dealt with how this poor woman Sherry, Peter’s ‘hood historian, was humiliated by other students (girls mainly) at his elementary school for the mere fact of being from “the projects.” This writer was painfully aware of that type of humiliation as he faced the same thing up in Olde Saco. H expected to use that introductory story to draw some political conclusions, if possible. Again, as I had in H&C, I asked the question- will there be political lessons to be learned? I did not believe so, directly. However, real stories about the fate of the working class down at the base can help explain the very real retardants to working class political consciousness that we face as we try to organize here in America to take back the republic. I have spent a lifetime quoting radical socialist principles, chapter and verse, elsewhere. These stories desperately need to be told. Sadly, after that first story though Sherry passed away and we, Peter Paul and I, have been left a little rudderless. Time is not always on our side. Sherry from the ‘hood, RIP.
From “COURAGE TO RESIST”- A Note From Private Bradley Manning’s Civilian Attorney David E Coombs -Free Bradley Manning! Free All The Military Resisters!
From “COURAGE TO RESIST”- A Note From Private Bradley Manning’s Civilian Attorney David E Coombs -Free Bradley Manning! Free All The Military Resisters!
Click on the headline to link to the Courage To Resist website.
Courage To Resist
Supporting the troops who refuse to fight
484 Lake Park Ave #41, Oakland CA 94610
www.couragetoresist.org
510-488-3559
"Brad also asked me to specifically thank on his behalf the unflinching support of
Courage To Resist”
From David Coombs Civilian defense counsel for US Army PFC Bradley Manning
July 14, 2012
Over the past two years, thousands of individuals have either donated to thedefense fund or given freely of their time to support PFC Bradley Manning. The support provided has come in many forms:
Signing petitions (standwithbrad.org);
Standing up to say "I am Bradley Manning"
(iam.bradleymanning.org);
Writing to military/government authorities;
Writing letters to the editors of local and national newspapers;
Attending marches, rallies, and other public events to raise awareness about Bradley Manning;
Using social media to write about the case and the events of every hearing;
Contacting government representatives;
Sending messages of support to my law office;
Donating to the legal defense fund;
Or Volunteering with the Bradley Manning Support Networkand Courage to Resist.
At every court hearing, I am given the opportunity to witness this support first hand. The attendance by supporters during these hearings has been nothing short of inspiring. Although my client is not permitted to engage those in attendance, he is aware of your presence and support.
During our latest hearing on 6-8 June, I was particularly struck by the warmth of support by those in attendance. At one point during a break, I had causally mentioned that it was my anniversary.
Apparently a supporter had overheard this statement, and took up a collection to give flowers, a balloon, and a thoughtful card to me and my wife. This kind gesture is emblematic of the type of people who are supporting Brad.
I would like to publicly thank all those who have supported my client over the past two years. I also want to pass on the following message from Brad: "I am very grateful for your support and humbled by your ongoing efforts." Brad also asked me to specifically thank on his behalf the unflinching support of Courage to Resist and the Bradley Manning Support Network.
What happens in this court-martial is of vital importance to all of us. With your continued support, we will ensure that justice is achieved for Brad.
David E, Coombs-Civilian defense counsel for US Army PFC Bradley Manning
**********
Courage to Resist hosts the Bradley Manning Defense Fund in collaboration with the Bradley Manning Support Network. The Defense Fund has been, and continues to be, responsible for 100% of Bradley's legal expenses. That's amounted to $200,000 thus far, with at least another $50,000 needed through trial.
If you'd like your tax-deductible donation today to go towards Bradley's defense only (including legal and public education efforts), just note that on your reply and/or write "Bradley Manning" on your check's memo line. Otherwise, we'll use your contribution to support Bradley along with other military GI resisters.
Click on the headline to link to the Courage To Resist website.
Courage To Resist
Supporting the troops who refuse to fight
484 Lake Park Ave #41, Oakland CA 94610
www.couragetoresist.org
510-488-3559
"Brad also asked me to specifically thank on his behalf the unflinching support of
Courage To Resist”
From David Coombs Civilian defense counsel for US Army PFC Bradley Manning
July 14, 2012
Over the past two years, thousands of individuals have either donated to thedefense fund or given freely of their time to support PFC Bradley Manning. The support provided has come in many forms:
Signing petitions (standwithbrad.org);
Standing up to say "I am Bradley Manning"
(iam.bradleymanning.org);
Writing to military/government authorities;
Writing letters to the editors of local and national newspapers;
Attending marches, rallies, and other public events to raise awareness about Bradley Manning;
Using social media to write about the case and the events of every hearing;
Contacting government representatives;
Sending messages of support to my law office;
Donating to the legal defense fund;
Or Volunteering with the Bradley Manning Support Networkand Courage to Resist.
At every court hearing, I am given the opportunity to witness this support first hand. The attendance by supporters during these hearings has been nothing short of inspiring. Although my client is not permitted to engage those in attendance, he is aware of your presence and support.
During our latest hearing on 6-8 June, I was particularly struck by the warmth of support by those in attendance. At one point during a break, I had causally mentioned that it was my anniversary.
Apparently a supporter had overheard this statement, and took up a collection to give flowers, a balloon, and a thoughtful card to me and my wife. This kind gesture is emblematic of the type of people who are supporting Brad.
I would like to publicly thank all those who have supported my client over the past two years. I also want to pass on the following message from Brad: "I am very grateful for your support and humbled by your ongoing efforts." Brad also asked me to specifically thank on his behalf the unflinching support of Courage to Resist and the Bradley Manning Support Network.
What happens in this court-martial is of vital importance to all of us. With your continued support, we will ensure that justice is achieved for Brad.
David E, Coombs-Civilian defense counsel for US Army PFC Bradley Manning
**********
Courage to Resist hosts the Bradley Manning Defense Fund in collaboration with the Bradley Manning Support Network. The Defense Fund has been, and continues to be, responsible for 100% of Bradley's legal expenses. That's amounted to $200,000 thus far, with at least another $50,000 needed through trial.
If you'd like your tax-deductible donation today to go towards Bradley's defense only (including legal and public education efforts), just note that on your reply and/or write "Bradley Manning" on your check's memo line. Otherwise, we'll use your contribution to support Bradley along with other military GI resisters.
On The Anniversary Of The July 26th Movement-Defend The Cuban Revolution!! -Defend The Cuban Five -End The Blockade Ahora!
DEFEND THE CUBAN REVOLUTION!!!
COMMENTARY
END THE U.S. BLOCKADE!-U.S. OUT OF GUANTANAMO!
This year marks the 59th anniversary of the Cuban July 26th movement, the 53rd anniversary of the victory of the Cuban Revolution and the 45th anniversary of the execution of Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara by the Bolivian Army after the defeat of his guerrilla forces and his capture in godforsaken rural Bolivia. I have reviewed the life of Che elsewhere in this space (see blog, dated July 5, 2006). Thus, it is fitting to remember an event of which he was a central actor. Additionally, the Cuban Revolution stood for my generation, the Generation of '68, and, hopefully, will for later generations as a symbol of revolutionary intransigence against United States imperialism.
Let us be clear about two things. First, this writer has defended the Cuban revolution since its inception; initially under a liberal- democratic premise of the right of nations, especially applicable to small nations pressed up against military forces of the imperialist powers, to self-determination; later under the above-mentioned premise and also that it should be defended on socialist grounds, not my idea of socialism- the Bolshevik, 1917 kind- but as an anti-capitalist, anti-imperialist revolution nevertheless. That prospective continues to be this writer’s position today. Secondly, my conception of revolutionary strategy and thus of world politics has for a long time been far removed from Fidel Castro’s (and Che’s) strategy, which emphasized military victory by guerrilla forces in the countryside, rather than my position of mass action by the urban proletariat leading the rural masses. That said, despite those strategic political differences this militant can honor the Cuban revolution as a symbol of a fight that all anti-imperialist militants should defend.
Let me expand on these points, the first point by way of reminiscences. I am old enough to have actually seen Castro’s Rebel Army on television as it triumphantly entered Havana in 1959. Although I was only a teenager at the time and hardly politically sophisticated I, like others of my generation, saw in that ragtag, scruffy group the stuff of romantic revolutionary dreams. I was glad Batista had to flee and that ‘the people’ would rule in Cuba.
Later, in 1960 as the nationalizations occurred in response to American imperialist pressure, I defended them. In fact, as a general proposition I was, hazily and without any particular thought, in favor of nationalizations everywhere. In 1961, despite my then deeply felt affinity for the Kennedys, I was pleased that the counterrevolutionaries were routed at the Bag of Pigs. Increased Soviet aid and involvement in the economic and political infrastructure of beleaguered Cuba? No problem. The Cuban Missile Crisis, however, left me and virtually everyone in the world, shaking in our boots. Frankly, I saw this crisis (after the fact) as a typical for the time Cold War confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union with Cuba as the playground. Not as some independent Cuban ploy. In short, my experiences at that time can be summed up by the slogan- Fair Play for Cuba. So far, a conclusion that a good liberal could espouse as a manifestation of a nation’s, particularly a small nation’s, right to self-determination. It is only later, during the radicalization of the Vietnam War period that I moved beyond that position.
Now to the second point and the hard politics. If any revolution is defined by one person the Cuban revolution can stand as that example. From its inception it was Fidel’s show, for better or worse. The military command, the strategy, the political programs, and the various national and international alliances all filtered through him. On reflection, that points out the basis problem and my major difference with the Fidelistas. And it starts with question of revolutionary strategy. Taking power based on a strategy of guerrilla warfare is fundamentally difference from an urban insurrection led by a workers party (or parties) allied with, as in Cuba, landless peasants and agricultural workers responsible to workers and X (fill in the blank for whatever allies apply in the local situation) councils. And it showed those distortions then and continues to show them as the basis for decision making –top down. It is necessary to move on from there.
Believe me, this writer as well as countless others, all went through our phase of enthusing over the guerrilla road to socialism. But, as the fate of Che and others makes clear, the Cuban victory was the result of exceptional circumstances. Many revolutionaries stumbled over that hard fact and the best, including Che, paid for it with imprisonment or their lives. In short, the Bolshevik, 1917 model still stands up as a damn good model for the way to take power and to try to move on to the road to socialism. Still, although I have made plenty of political mistakes in my life I have never regretted my defense of the Cuban Revolution. And neither should militants today. As Che said- the duty of every revolutionary is to make the revolution- and to defend them too. Enough said. U.S. HANDS OFF CUBA! END THE BLOCKADE! U.S. OUT OF GUANTANAMO!
COMMENTARY
END THE U.S. BLOCKADE!-U.S. OUT OF GUANTANAMO!
This year marks the 59th anniversary of the Cuban July 26th movement, the 53rd anniversary of the victory of the Cuban Revolution and the 45th anniversary of the execution of Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara by the Bolivian Army after the defeat of his guerrilla forces and his capture in godforsaken rural Bolivia. I have reviewed the life of Che elsewhere in this space (see blog, dated July 5, 2006). Thus, it is fitting to remember an event of which he was a central actor. Additionally, the Cuban Revolution stood for my generation, the Generation of '68, and, hopefully, will for later generations as a symbol of revolutionary intransigence against United States imperialism.
Let us be clear about two things. First, this writer has defended the Cuban revolution since its inception; initially under a liberal- democratic premise of the right of nations, especially applicable to small nations pressed up against military forces of the imperialist powers, to self-determination; later under the above-mentioned premise and also that it should be defended on socialist grounds, not my idea of socialism- the Bolshevik, 1917 kind- but as an anti-capitalist, anti-imperialist revolution nevertheless. That prospective continues to be this writer’s position today. Secondly, my conception of revolutionary strategy and thus of world politics has for a long time been far removed from Fidel Castro’s (and Che’s) strategy, which emphasized military victory by guerrilla forces in the countryside, rather than my position of mass action by the urban proletariat leading the rural masses. That said, despite those strategic political differences this militant can honor the Cuban revolution as a symbol of a fight that all anti-imperialist militants should defend.
Let me expand on these points, the first point by way of reminiscences. I am old enough to have actually seen Castro’s Rebel Army on television as it triumphantly entered Havana in 1959. Although I was only a teenager at the time and hardly politically sophisticated I, like others of my generation, saw in that ragtag, scruffy group the stuff of romantic revolutionary dreams. I was glad Batista had to flee and that ‘the people’ would rule in Cuba.
Later, in 1960 as the nationalizations occurred in response to American imperialist pressure, I defended them. In fact, as a general proposition I was, hazily and without any particular thought, in favor of nationalizations everywhere. In 1961, despite my then deeply felt affinity for the Kennedys, I was pleased that the counterrevolutionaries were routed at the Bag of Pigs. Increased Soviet aid and involvement in the economic and political infrastructure of beleaguered Cuba? No problem. The Cuban Missile Crisis, however, left me and virtually everyone in the world, shaking in our boots. Frankly, I saw this crisis (after the fact) as a typical for the time Cold War confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union with Cuba as the playground. Not as some independent Cuban ploy. In short, my experiences at that time can be summed up by the slogan- Fair Play for Cuba. So far, a conclusion that a good liberal could espouse as a manifestation of a nation’s, particularly a small nation’s, right to self-determination. It is only later, during the radicalization of the Vietnam War period that I moved beyond that position.
Now to the second point and the hard politics. If any revolution is defined by one person the Cuban revolution can stand as that example. From its inception it was Fidel’s show, for better or worse. The military command, the strategy, the political programs, and the various national and international alliances all filtered through him. On reflection, that points out the basis problem and my major difference with the Fidelistas. And it starts with question of revolutionary strategy. Taking power based on a strategy of guerrilla warfare is fundamentally difference from an urban insurrection led by a workers party (or parties) allied with, as in Cuba, landless peasants and agricultural workers responsible to workers and X (fill in the blank for whatever allies apply in the local situation) councils. And it showed those distortions then and continues to show them as the basis for decision making –top down. It is necessary to move on from there.
Believe me, this writer as well as countless others, all went through our phase of enthusing over the guerrilla road to socialism. But, as the fate of Che and others makes clear, the Cuban victory was the result of exceptional circumstances. Many revolutionaries stumbled over that hard fact and the best, including Che, paid for it with imprisonment or their lives. In short, the Bolshevik, 1917 model still stands up as a damn good model for the way to take power and to try to move on to the road to socialism. Still, although I have made plenty of political mistakes in my life I have never regretted my defense of the Cuban Revolution. And neither should militants today. As Che said- the duty of every revolutionary is to make the revolution- and to defend them too. Enough said. U.S. HANDS OFF CUBA! END THE BLOCKADE! U.S. OUT OF GUANTANAMO!
On The Anniversary Of The July 26th Movement-The Latest From "The National Committee to Free the Cuban Five" Website -Free The Five Ahora! -The Defense Of The Cuban Revolution Begins With The Defense Of The Cuban Five
Click on the title to link to the website mentioned in the headline for the latest news and opinion from that site.
Markin comment (re-post from July 26, 2011):
On a day, July 26th, important in the history of the Cuban revolutionary movement it is also important, as always, to remember that the defense of the Cuban revolution here in the United States, the "heart of the beast", starts with the defense of the Cuban Five.
Markin comment (reposted from 2010)
In “surfing” the National Jericho Movement Website recently in order to find out more, if possible, about class- war prisoner and 1960s radical, Marilyn Buck, whom I had read about in a The Rag Blog post I linked to the Jericho list of class war prisoners. I found Marilyn Buck listed there but also others, some of whose cases, like that of the “voice of the voiceless” Pennsylvania death row prisoner, Mumia Abu-Jamal, are well-known and others who seemingly have languished in obscurity. All of the cases, at least from the information that I could glean from the site, seemed compelling. And all seemed worthy of far more publicity and of a more public fight for their freedom.
That last notion set me to the task at hand. Readers of this space know that I am a long- time supporter of class-war prisoners as part of the process of advancing the international working class’ struggle for socialism. In that spirit I am honoring the class war prisoners on the National Jericho Movement list this June as the start of what I hope will be an on-going attempt by all serious leftist militants to do their duty- fighting for freedom for these brothers and sisters. We will fight out our political differences and disagreements as a separate matter. What matters here and now is the old Wobblie (IWW) slogan - An injury to one is an injury to all.
Note: This list, right now, is composed of class-war prisoners held in American detention. If others are likewise incarcerated that are not listed here feel free to leave information on their cases in the comment section. Likewise any cases, internationally, that come to your attention. I am sure there are many, many such cases out there. Make this June, and every June, a Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month- Free All Class-War Prisoners Now!
Markin comment (re-post from July 26, 2011):
On a day, July 26th, important in the history of the Cuban revolutionary movement it is also important, as always, to remember that the defense of the Cuban revolution here in the United States, the "heart of the beast", starts with the defense of the Cuban Five.
Markin comment (reposted from 2010)
In “surfing” the National Jericho Movement Website recently in order to find out more, if possible, about class- war prisoner and 1960s radical, Marilyn Buck, whom I had read about in a The Rag Blog post I linked to the Jericho list of class war prisoners. I found Marilyn Buck listed there but also others, some of whose cases, like that of the “voice of the voiceless” Pennsylvania death row prisoner, Mumia Abu-Jamal, are well-known and others who seemingly have languished in obscurity. All of the cases, at least from the information that I could glean from the site, seemed compelling. And all seemed worthy of far more publicity and of a more public fight for their freedom.
That last notion set me to the task at hand. Readers of this space know that I am a long- time supporter of class-war prisoners as part of the process of advancing the international working class’ struggle for socialism. In that spirit I am honoring the class war prisoners on the National Jericho Movement list this June as the start of what I hope will be an on-going attempt by all serious leftist militants to do their duty- fighting for freedom for these brothers and sisters. We will fight out our political differences and disagreements as a separate matter. What matters here and now is the old Wobblie (IWW) slogan - An injury to one is an injury to all.
Note: This list, right now, is composed of class-war prisoners held in American detention. If others are likewise incarcerated that are not listed here feel free to leave information on their cases in the comment section. Likewise any cases, internationally, that come to your attention. I am sure there are many, many such cases out there. Make this June, and every June, a Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month- Free All Class-War Prisoners Now!
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
A Non-Communist View Of The Formation Of The American Communsit Party- Thedore Draper's "The Roots Of American Communism- A Book Review
Click on the headline to link to the James P.Cannon Internet Archives segment, Notes To An Historian, as a welcome supplement to Theodore Draper's important work.
BOOK REVIEW
THE ROOTS OF AMERICAN COMMUNISM, THEODORE DRAPER, The Viking Press, New York, 1957
As an addition to the historical record of the period from the Russian Revolution of 1917 to the formation and consolidation of the legal, open party in 1923 The Roots of American Communism and its companion volume detailing the period from 1923 to 1929-Soviet Russia and American Communism (which will be reviewed separately) – is the definitive scholarly study on the early history of the American Communist Party. The author, an ex-communist but at the time of writing an anti-communist, unlike other former communists nevertheless does a thorough job or presenting the personalities and issues in a reasonably straightforward manner. Given that these volumes were researched and published during the heart of the Cold War hysteria against the Soviet Union in the 1950’s this is not faint praise.
Also useful for this period in conjunction with these two volumes and to round them out, from the pro-Communist partisan perspective of one of the main leaders, is James P. Cannon’s The First Ten Years of American Communism and the Prometheus Research Library’s James P. Cannon and the Early Communist Movement. Absent from Mr. Draper’s analysis is any real feel for why the early leaders and rank and file of the party put themselves on the line, faced harassment, imprisonment or worst to create an American Bolshevik party. While there is no dearth of memoirs of other participants in the early movement, Cannon’s analysis most honestly fills that gap.
That said, why must militants read these works today? After the demise of the former Soviet Union and Eastern Europe anything positively related to Communist studies has been deeply discounted in the academy and in bourgeois politics. Nevertheless, for better or worse, the American Communist Party (and its offshoots) needs to be studied as an ultimately flawed example of a party that failed in its mission to create a radical version of society in America when it became merely a tool of Soviet diplomacy in the late 1920s. Now is the time for militants to study the mistakes and draw the lessons of that history.
For those not familiar with this period a few helpful introductory chapters by Mr. Draper give an analysis of the forces that made up the radical scene prior to World War I. Those forces included the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), independent syndicalists influenced by the French movement and the anti-war left-wing of the Socialist party, including various foreign language federations. Thus, in its formative period the American party (or parties, to be more correct) gathered all those fresh elements which responded to the Bolshevik victory in Russia in 1917, saw it as the wave of the future and wanted to establish that kind of socialism here. As this reviewer has noted elsewhere, while those diffuse forces proved to be difficult to organize, this mix provided for a better internal party life than, say, in England where the Celtic and anarcho-syndicalist elements were not recruited resulting in a ‘stillborn’ party.
Mr. Draper also addresses the various important faction fights which occurred inside the party. To make sense of this is sometimes no simple task. That overview also highlights some of the now more obscure personalities, where they stood on the issues and insights into the significance of the crucial early fights in the party. These include questions which are still relevant today; a legal vs. an underground party; the proper attitude toward parliamentary politics; support to third party bourgeois candidates; trade union policy; class war defense as well as how to rein in the intense internal struggle of the various factions for organizational control of the party.
This presentation makes it somewhat easier for those not well-versed in the intricacies of the political disputes which wracked the early American party to understand how these questions tended to pull the party in on itself. In many ways, given the undisputed rise of American imperialism in the immediate aftermath of World War I, this is a story of the ‘dog days’ of the party. Unfortunately, that American rise combined with the international ramifications of the internal disputes in the Russian Communist Party and in the Communist International shipwrecked the party as a revolutionary party toward the end of this period. That subject is more fully addressed in the second volume. Read this book.
BOOK REVIEW
THE ROOTS OF AMERICAN COMMUNISM, THEODORE DRAPER, The Viking Press, New York, 1957
As an addition to the historical record of the period from the Russian Revolution of 1917 to the formation and consolidation of the legal, open party in 1923 The Roots of American Communism and its companion volume detailing the period from 1923 to 1929-Soviet Russia and American Communism (which will be reviewed separately) – is the definitive scholarly study on the early history of the American Communist Party. The author, an ex-communist but at the time of writing an anti-communist, unlike other former communists nevertheless does a thorough job or presenting the personalities and issues in a reasonably straightforward manner. Given that these volumes were researched and published during the heart of the Cold War hysteria against the Soviet Union in the 1950’s this is not faint praise.
Also useful for this period in conjunction with these two volumes and to round them out, from the pro-Communist partisan perspective of one of the main leaders, is James P. Cannon’s The First Ten Years of American Communism and the Prometheus Research Library’s James P. Cannon and the Early Communist Movement. Absent from Mr. Draper’s analysis is any real feel for why the early leaders and rank and file of the party put themselves on the line, faced harassment, imprisonment or worst to create an American Bolshevik party. While there is no dearth of memoirs of other participants in the early movement, Cannon’s analysis most honestly fills that gap.
That said, why must militants read these works today? After the demise of the former Soviet Union and Eastern Europe anything positively related to Communist studies has been deeply discounted in the academy and in bourgeois politics. Nevertheless, for better or worse, the American Communist Party (and its offshoots) needs to be studied as an ultimately flawed example of a party that failed in its mission to create a radical version of society in America when it became merely a tool of Soviet diplomacy in the late 1920s. Now is the time for militants to study the mistakes and draw the lessons of that history.
For those not familiar with this period a few helpful introductory chapters by Mr. Draper give an analysis of the forces that made up the radical scene prior to World War I. Those forces included the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), independent syndicalists influenced by the French movement and the anti-war left-wing of the Socialist party, including various foreign language federations. Thus, in its formative period the American party (or parties, to be more correct) gathered all those fresh elements which responded to the Bolshevik victory in Russia in 1917, saw it as the wave of the future and wanted to establish that kind of socialism here. As this reviewer has noted elsewhere, while those diffuse forces proved to be difficult to organize, this mix provided for a better internal party life than, say, in England where the Celtic and anarcho-syndicalist elements were not recruited resulting in a ‘stillborn’ party.
Mr. Draper also addresses the various important faction fights which occurred inside the party. To make sense of this is sometimes no simple task. That overview also highlights some of the now more obscure personalities, where they stood on the issues and insights into the significance of the crucial early fights in the party. These include questions which are still relevant today; a legal vs. an underground party; the proper attitude toward parliamentary politics; support to third party bourgeois candidates; trade union policy; class war defense as well as how to rein in the intense internal struggle of the various factions for organizational control of the party.
This presentation makes it somewhat easier for those not well-versed in the intricacies of the political disputes which wracked the early American party to understand how these questions tended to pull the party in on itself. In many ways, given the undisputed rise of American imperialism in the immediate aftermath of World War I, this is a story of the ‘dog days’ of the party. Unfortunately, that American rise combined with the international ramifications of the internal disputes in the Russian Communist Party and in the Communist International shipwrecked the party as a revolutionary party toward the end of this period. That subject is more fully addressed in the second volume. Read this book.
From The Pen Of American Communist Leader James P. Cannon- The Cause That Passes Through The Prisons- A Book Review
Click on the headline to link to the James P. Cannon Internet Archives.
Book Review
LETTERS FROM PRISON, JAMES P. CANNON, Pathfinder Press, New York, 1973
If you are interested in the history of the American Left or are a militant trying to understand some of the past lessons of our history concerning the communist response to various social and labor questions this book is for you. This book is part of a continuing series of volumes of the writings of James P. Cannon that were published by the organization he founded in the 1930s, the Socialist Workers Party, in the 1970’s and 1980’s. Cannon died in 1974. Look in this space for other related reviews of this series of documents on and by an important American Communist.
In their introduction the editors motivate the purpose for the publication of the book by stating the Cannon was the finest Communist leader that America had ever produced. This an intriguing question. The editors trace their political lineage back to Cannon’s leadership of the early Communist Party and later after his expulsion to the Trotskyist Socialist Workers Party so their perspective is obvious. What does the documentation provided here show? This certainly is the period of Cannon’s political maturation after a long and fruitful political collaboration working with LeonTrotsky, the exiled Russian revolutionary.
The period under discussion in his letters to his long time companion Rose Krasner- the years of World War II after Cannon and 17 other leaders of the Socialist Workers Party had been indicted, convicted and refused appeal by the United States Supreme Court under the then new Smith Act provisions and finally were imprisoned- demonstrate a continued commitment to the goals of revolutionary socialism and a desire to fight for those goals. One thing is sure- in his prime, which includes this period- Cannon had the instincts to want to lead a revolution and had the evident capacity to do so. That he never had an opportunity to lead a revolution is his personal tragedy and ours as well.
When the American Government under Franklin D. Roosevelt goaded on by one of his favorite abject ‘labor lieutenants of capitalism’ , Daniel Tobin President of the International Teamsters Union, went after the real opponents of the second imperialist war known as World war II, the Socialist Workers Party and the Teamsters local in Minneapolis, they went to the right address. Unfortunately, unlike in World War I, those organizations were politically virtually the only ones in opposition to th egoverment from the left. The American Socialist Party and the American Communist Party- the latter after a short opposition during the infamous Hitler-Stalin Pact- had both made their peace with imperialism. If anything those organizations were the chief labor cheerleaders of the prosecutions. As an aside, but indicative of the nature of that organization, the Workers Party led by Max Shachtman, which had split from the SWP in 1940 over the question of defense of the Soviet Union, did not face government prosecution.
This volume of letters from prison by James P. Cannon, leader of the Socialist Workers Party are testimony to what happens to revolutionaries when they fundamentally oppose a bourgeois government on its most cherished right, the right to make war-they go to jail. Kicking and screaming, yes, and using every avenue to avoid that situation but when the time comes that is what they do. In no case do they flinch from the consequences of the necessary action to oppose war. This comes with the territory of being a revolutionary. While few today remember such boldness, militants in the face of opposition to the current Iraq War would do well to honor that commitment by the Minneapolis 18.
As his letters indicate, political people do not roll over when in prison but within the limited circumstances they find themselves in act as political people and carry on as best they can –whether it is Czarist, fascist, Stalinist or bourgeois prisons. In the present case it was an advantage that many of the party leaders were with Cannon and could essentially form a leadership in exile to supplement the official leadership left behind on the outside. Of course all things being equal prison definitely cuts into the effectiveness of a revolutionary but the enforced idleness from the outside struggle is a time to study and reflection, which Cannon did, very ambitiously and systematically. Through his companion Rose Karsner and other sources Cannon kept up with internal party affairs and made plans for the future of the party.
Finally, it is rather ironic that Cannon, who was the guiding force in the American Communist Party’s class struggle defense organization-the International Labor Defense- in the mid-1920’s should need the services of the Socialist Workers Party’s class struggle defense organization -the Non-Partisan Labor Defense. What Cannon said in the 1920’s applied to his own case. The struggle of the class-war prisoners- the cause that passes through the prisons- is the concern of the whole working class. An injury to one is an injury to all. That slogan is still valid for today’s militants to organize around.
Book Review
LETTERS FROM PRISON, JAMES P. CANNON, Pathfinder Press, New York, 1973
If you are interested in the history of the American Left or are a militant trying to understand some of the past lessons of our history concerning the communist response to various social and labor questions this book is for you. This book is part of a continuing series of volumes of the writings of James P. Cannon that were published by the organization he founded in the 1930s, the Socialist Workers Party, in the 1970’s and 1980’s. Cannon died in 1974. Look in this space for other related reviews of this series of documents on and by an important American Communist.
In their introduction the editors motivate the purpose for the publication of the book by stating the Cannon was the finest Communist leader that America had ever produced. This an intriguing question. The editors trace their political lineage back to Cannon’s leadership of the early Communist Party and later after his expulsion to the Trotskyist Socialist Workers Party so their perspective is obvious. What does the documentation provided here show? This certainly is the period of Cannon’s political maturation after a long and fruitful political collaboration working with LeonTrotsky, the exiled Russian revolutionary.
The period under discussion in his letters to his long time companion Rose Krasner- the years of World War II after Cannon and 17 other leaders of the Socialist Workers Party had been indicted, convicted and refused appeal by the United States Supreme Court under the then new Smith Act provisions and finally were imprisoned- demonstrate a continued commitment to the goals of revolutionary socialism and a desire to fight for those goals. One thing is sure- in his prime, which includes this period- Cannon had the instincts to want to lead a revolution and had the evident capacity to do so. That he never had an opportunity to lead a revolution is his personal tragedy and ours as well.
When the American Government under Franklin D. Roosevelt goaded on by one of his favorite abject ‘labor lieutenants of capitalism’ , Daniel Tobin President of the International Teamsters Union, went after the real opponents of the second imperialist war known as World war II, the Socialist Workers Party and the Teamsters local in Minneapolis, they went to the right address. Unfortunately, unlike in World War I, those organizations were politically virtually the only ones in opposition to th egoverment from the left. The American Socialist Party and the American Communist Party- the latter after a short opposition during the infamous Hitler-Stalin Pact- had both made their peace with imperialism. If anything those organizations were the chief labor cheerleaders of the prosecutions. As an aside, but indicative of the nature of that organization, the Workers Party led by Max Shachtman, which had split from the SWP in 1940 over the question of defense of the Soviet Union, did not face government prosecution.
This volume of letters from prison by James P. Cannon, leader of the Socialist Workers Party are testimony to what happens to revolutionaries when they fundamentally oppose a bourgeois government on its most cherished right, the right to make war-they go to jail. Kicking and screaming, yes, and using every avenue to avoid that situation but when the time comes that is what they do. In no case do they flinch from the consequences of the necessary action to oppose war. This comes with the territory of being a revolutionary. While few today remember such boldness, militants in the face of opposition to the current Iraq War would do well to honor that commitment by the Minneapolis 18.
As his letters indicate, political people do not roll over when in prison but within the limited circumstances they find themselves in act as political people and carry on as best they can –whether it is Czarist, fascist, Stalinist or bourgeois prisons. In the present case it was an advantage that many of the party leaders were with Cannon and could essentially form a leadership in exile to supplement the official leadership left behind on the outside. Of course all things being equal prison definitely cuts into the effectiveness of a revolutionary but the enforced idleness from the outside struggle is a time to study and reflection, which Cannon did, very ambitiously and systematically. Through his companion Rose Karsner and other sources Cannon kept up with internal party affairs and made plans for the future of the party.
Finally, it is rather ironic that Cannon, who was the guiding force in the American Communist Party’s class struggle defense organization-the International Labor Defense- in the mid-1920’s should need the services of the Socialist Workers Party’s class struggle defense organization -the Non-Partisan Labor Defense. What Cannon said in the 1920’s applied to his own case. The struggle of the class-war prisoners- the cause that passes through the prisons- is the concern of the whole working class. An injury to one is an injury to all. That slogan is still valid for today’s militants to organize around.
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