Thursday, June 23, 2016

A View From The International Left-Smear Campaign in British Labour Party-Imperialism, Zionism and Anti-Jewish Bigotry

Workers Vanguard No. 1091
3 June 2016
 
Smear Campaign in British Labour Party-Imperialism, Zionism and Anti-Jewish Bigotry

The following was written by our comrades in the Spartacist League/Britain.

In the run-up to the 5 May local and Welsh and Scottish assembly elections, the left-wing leader of the Labour Party, Jeremy Corbyn, was subjected to a vicious smear campaign spearheaded by Labour’s right wing with the aid of the Tories (Conservatives) and the capitalist press. Corbyn was elected as party leader last September based on talk of socialism, trade-union rights and immigrant rights and is also a forthright defender of Palestinian rights. The get-Corbyn cabal, which reached all the way to Zionist New York Times columnist Roger Cohen and Israeli opposition leader Isaac Herzog, shrieked that the party under his leadership has become a haven for “leftist anti-Semites.” To hear Tory swine like Prime Minister David Cameron and then-mayor of London Boris Johnson sanctimoniously bemoaning racism in the Labour Party was truly sickening.
The right wingers of the Labour Party, successors to former prime minister Tony Blair, have been manoeuvering to oust him. Most recently they looked forward to removing him in the event of a Labour defeat in the elections. In the upshot, Labour pretty much held its own. Underlining the cynical character of the witch hunt, the “discovery” of ever more “anti-Semites” ceased even before the ballots had been counted, to be replaced by a new “scandal” that Corbyn’s Labour Party was supposedly rife with woman-haters. The latest smear was based on specious claims, quickly proven false, that many of the 35,000 signatories to a petition urging the BBC to remove Laura Kuenssberg as its political editor had made misogynist comments. Kuenssberg has consistently hounded Corbyn, seeing in him a representative of the working masses the establishment so loathes.
The supposed evidence of anti-Jewish bigotry ranged from the trivial to the stitched-up, much of it coming from the notorious right-wing bottom-feeding blogger who goes by the name “Guido Fawkes” and dating back to well before Corbyn became party leader last September. The witch hunters were joined by the successful Labour candidate for London mayor, Sadiq Khan, a Muslim who had himself been pilloried by the Tories for allegedly befriending “Muslim extremists.” Corbyn strenuously rejected charges that Labour was full of racists, but he did acquiesce to the suspension of a number of party members. Worse yet, his chief lieutenant John McDonnell volubly endorsed the crusade to hunt down “anti-Semites” in the party. Those suspended included Muslim MP Naz Shah, who was also forced to resign as McDonnell’s parliamentary private secretary, and sometime left-Labourite Ken Livingstone. These suspensions should be rescinded immediately.
Livingstone has much to answer for to the working class. As mayor of London he faithfully served the City bankers, he urged Tube [subway] workers to cross RMT picket lines and defended the role of the police in the cold-blooded execution of Brazilian electrician Jean Charles de Menezes in 2005. As a Spartacist League placard at the London May Day rally read: “Ex-Mayor Livingstone: Pro-City, Pro-Police, Anti-Union, but NOT Anti-Jewish!” A second placard read: “No Vote to Blairite Stooge Sadiq Khan!”
To his credit, Livingstone rightly stated: “If you look at what this is all about, it’s not about anti-Semitism in the Labour Party.... What this is all about is actually the struggle of the embittered old Blairite MPs to try to get rid of Jeremy Corbyn” (BBC News online, 30 April). Indeed, a spokesman for the Zionist Britain Israel Communications and Research Centre (BICOM) admitted as much when he ranted, “Save your pitch fork for Corbyn.”
As we documented in our article, “Britain: Banana Monarchy” (Workers Vanguard No. 1082, 29 January), since Corbyn’s election, the Tories, Blairites and the bourgeois media—especially the liberal Guardian—have waged an unrelenting class war aimed at removing him. Only days after Corbyn took over as Labour leader, the Sunday Times (20 September 2015) published a warning from an unnamed “senior serving general” that Corbyn would face a “mutiny” if he tried to act on his commitment to scrap the Trident submarine nuclear missile system or pull out of NATO. This coup threat was echoed two months later when the head of the armed forces, General Nicholas Houghton, in full military regalia, effectively declared on TV that Corbyn’s opposition to nuclear weapons made him unfit to be prime minister. Houghton was immediately backed up by Corbyn’s defence spokesman, the Blairite Maria Eagle. Barely a week has gone by without some overt attack on Corbyn by Blairite plotters. But as the outcome of the latest vendetta shows, every plot to remove him comes up against the stubborn fact that he is more popular than ever among the party membership, which has doubled in size since his campaign for party leader.
Corbyn is hardly a revolutionary; he is firmly committed to a parliamentary path to what would effectively be a new version of the old Labourite “welfare state.” Nonetheless, Corbyn’s election as Labour leader came as a nasty shock to the bourgeois establishment, and especially the right wing of the Labour Party. His campaign set in motion a process to restore the party’s historic links to its working-class base, reversing the direction the Blairites had taken towards becoming an overtly capitalist party. As we wrote in “Britain: Banana Monarchy”:
“Any move that weakens the grip of the Blairites within the party is in the interests of the working class in its struggles against the capitalist class. As the Spartacist League/Britain has stated from the beginning, we have a side in the class war raging in the Labour Party. Against the right-wing attempts to oust him, we say: Defend Jeremy Corbyn’s right to run the Labour Party, and in his way!
Zionism: No Friend of the Jewish People
August Bebel, a central leader of the pre-World War I German Social Democracy, pithily described anti-Jewish bigotry, which whipped up populist venom by singling out “Jewish bankers,” as the “socialism of fools.” But those who today promiscuously toss around unfounded accusations of anti-Semitism are sinister enemies of all who solidarise with the Palestinian people and of the left and workers movement as a whole. The campaign to neutralise and silence international solidarity with the besieged Palestinian people is orchestrated from the highest levels of the Israeli state, with support from its imperialist patrons in Britain, the U.S. and Germany.
In 2011, the Israeli government of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu enacted a law that criminalised advocacy of a boycott of Israel. And at a March 28 conference in Jerusalem to plot strategy against the pro-Palestinian Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement, Intelligence Minister Yisrael Katz called for “targeted civil eliminations” of BDS “leaders.” Coming from a government that has killed some 200 Palestinians just since last October, and slaughtered more than 2,300 during its July 2014 onslaught on Gaza, this is not idle chatter.
Within the Labour Party, there is considerable overlap between Labour Friends of Israel and the Blairite Progress grouping. In early April, Progress head Richard Angell issued an “action plan” involving the Jewish Labour Movement to deal with “antisemitism within [Labour’s] ranks” (mirror.co.uk, 5 April). The Jewish Labour Movement is affiliated not only to the Labour Party but also to the World Zionist Organization, which finances the expansion of Israeli settlements in the occupied West Bank.
This provides some context for the recent raft of “anti-Semitism” smears in Britain. In February, Alex Chalmers, a BICOM intern, slandered the Oxford University Labour Club for having “some kind of problem with Jews” after they voted to endorse Israeli Apartheid Week on campus. When Malia Bouattia, a Muslim woman of Algerian origin who supports the Palestinian cause, subsequently ran successfully for the presidency of the National Union of Students, she, too, was accused of being anti-Jewish. Vicki Kirby, a Labour candidate in Woking [outside of London], was suspended for a 2011 tweet that Guido Fawkes dug up and doctored to make it look as if she promoted racist caricatures of Jews. As Jewish writer David Baddiel attested, Kirby had simply quoted some lines from his 2010 comedy film The Infidel.
Fawkes likewise “outed” Naz Shah for a 2014 Facebook post, before she became a Labour MP, that depicted a map of Israel superimposed on a map of the U.S. Ironically, those who maligned Shah for allegedly supporting the forced transfer of the Israeli Jewish population are the very people who apologise for an Israeli government filled with open proponents of the forced transfer of the Palestinian population from “Greater Israel.” It turned out that the map was originally posted by American Jewish academic Norman Finkelstein, who pointed to the obvious dark humour intended: “So, we have this joke: Why doesn’t Israel become the 51st state? Answer: Because then, it would only have two senators” (opendemocracy.net). The Zionists hate Finkelstein, the son of a concentration camp survivor, not least for his indictments of how they cynically wield the Nazi genocide of the Jews as a bludgeon against those who speak out against Israeli atrocities.
Ken Livingstone was accused of being anti-Jewish because, in defending Shah, he had the chutzpah to say that when “Hitler won his election in 1932, his policy then was that Jews should be moved to Israel. He was supporting Zionism. This was before he went mad and ended up killing six million Jews.” Sundry critics tried to dismiss Livingstone’s statement by pointing out how his facts were mangled (Hitler never won an election, etc., etc.). Despite his glib reduction of the Holocaust to a product of Hitler’s madness, his point about collaboration between Zionists and the Nazis is correct. Livingstone cited Lenni Brenner’s Zionism in the Age of the Dictators (1983), a book the Spartacist League/Britain drew on for the article “Zionist Big Lie targets Perdition” (Workers Hammer No. 88, May 1987). The Zionists prevented that play, written by Jim Allen and directed by Ken Loach, from being staged in London because it was based on the true story of Zionist collaboration with the Nazis in facilitating the deportation to the death camps of more than 400,000 Hungarian Jews in 1944.
Hitler’s ultimate aim was the extermination of all Jews, Zionist and non-Zionist alike. But in its first years, the Third Reich frequently accepted the proffered assistance of the Zionists in helping make Germany “Judenrein” (cleansed of Jews). As documented by Yeshiva University historian Lucy Dawidowicz in The War Against the Jews 1933-1945 (1975), only months after Hitler came to power, the Zionist Federation of Germany (ZVfD) “proposed that the ‘new German state’ recognize the Zionist movement as the most suitable Jewish group in the new Germany with which to deal” and “that since emigration would provide a solution to the Jewish question, it should therefore receive government assistance.” The ZVfD welcomed “the foundation of the new state, which has established the principle of race.” Two months later, the Jewish Agency signed the secret August 1933 Ha’avara (Transfer) agreement with the Hitler regime, which allowed wealthy German Jews to move to Palestine (and only to Palestine) with part of their capital in order to provide an outlet for German exports.
In turn, the Nazi state granted special status to the Zionist movement, which was far smaller than the non-Zionist Jewish organisations. In January 1935, Nazi chief Reinhard Heydrich, head of the Gestapo and second-in-command of the SS, told the Bavarian political police that “the activity of the Zionist-oriented youth organizations...lies in the interest of the National Socialist state’s leadership” because they were preparing Jews for emigration to Palestine (quoted in Dawidowicz). While active socialists and communists were thrown into Dachau, the Zionists were for some years the only non-Nazi political group allowed to function legally, the Zionist banner the only flag aside from the Nazi swastika to fly on German soil.
There was more to this than Zionist Realpolitik in the face of overwhelming Nazi repression, as latter-day apologists would have it. As the revolutionary workers movement grew towards the end of the 19th century, so did organised anti-Jewish bigotry. Overwhelmingly, the Jewish workers, and a significant layer of the Jewish intelligentsia, sought their salvation through the struggle, alongside their non-Jewish class brothers and sisters, for socialist revolution. It was to stanch this movement and to incite pogroms that the tsarist secret police propagated The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a crude forgery that conjured up an international Jewish conspiracy to take over the world. But when rumours of a pogrom spread through St. Petersburg at the height of the 1905 Revolution, the workers’ soviet mobilised some 12,000 armed workers to fight the reactionaries; likewise in Warsaw, integrated workers defence guards were set up to patrol Jewish areas and ward off pogromist mobs (see “Revolution, Counterrevolution and the Jewish Question,” Spartacist [English-language edition] No. 49-50, Winter 1993-94).
In his 1958 essay “The Non-Jewish Jew,” Marxist historian Isaac Deutscher accounted for the disproportionate role of Jews in the socialist movement:
“They were a priori exceptional in that as Jews they dwelt on the borderlines of various civilizations, religions, and national cultures. They were born and brought up on the borderlines of various epochs. Their mind matured where the most diverse cultural influences crossed and fertilized each other....
“Like Marx, Rosa Luxemburg and Trotsky strove, together with their non-Jewish comrades, for the universal, as against the particularist, and for the internationalist, as against the nationalist, solutions to the problems of their time.”
Zionist founding father Theodor Herzl (1860-1904) despised the assimilationist and pro-socialist Jewish proletariat. Rather than fight anti-Jewish bigotry and repression, Herzl and his fellow Zionists used it as an excuse to separate Europe’s Jews from their compatriots and mould them into a nation with its own homeland, in Palestine. Ideologically nurtured in the cradle of German national “awakening,” Zionism embraced the reactionary ideals of Blut (blood) and Volk (nation). Born long after the bourgeois nation-state had outlived its historically progressive role in the era of capitalist consolidation, Zionism distinguished itself in being a particularly venal and racialist brand of nationalism. The Zionist leaders raised the battle cry, “A land without people for a people without land,” knowing full well that to make Palestine a land without people would require the expulsion of much of its Arab population.
The Zionist project could only be realised with the support of a powerful imperialist patron—be it tsarist Russia, the Kaiser’s (or Hitler’s) Germany, Britain or the U.S. The Zionists peddled their wares with the claim that they could neutralise Jewish support for the revolutionary socialist movement. As Winston Churchill later ranted, the Zionists could help in defeating the “sinister confederacy” of “International Jews” who conspired “for the overthrow of civilization” (“Zionism versus Bolshevism, A Struggle for the Soul of the Jewish People,” Illustrated Sunday Herald, 8 February 1920). While Zionist leader Chaim Weizmann looked to the British or U.S. imperialists, the Revisionist right wing inspired by Vladimir Jabotinsky gravitated towards Mussolini’s Italy and even Hitler’s Germany. As late as 1941, a Revisionist splinter calling itself the National Military Organisation (NMO), better known as the Stern Gang, appealed to the Third Reich:
“Common interests could exist between the establishment of a New Order in Europe in conformity with the German concept, and the true national aspirations of the Jewish people as they are embodied by the NMO.”
— quoted in Zionism in the Age of the Dictators
It was such “common interests” that led Herzl and his followers to find allies among the more reactionary elements of the bourgeoisie, who wanted to rid themselves of “their” Jews. Weizmann managed to secure the 1917 Balfour Declaration, with its vague promise of a Jewish homeland in Palestine. The British imperialists aimed to establish a bulwark of support in the region, pitting Jews against Palestinians. They also hoped to undermine Jewish support for Bolshevism on the eve of the victorious October Revolution in Russia, then Britain’s ally in World War I.
In this latter aim they failed. In the course of the Russian Revolution and the civil war against imperialist and domestic counterrevolutionary forces, which carried out pogroms against Jews and reds wherever they went, the dispossessed Jewish masses flocked to the Bolshevik banner. The Jewish nationalist and pro-Zionist socialist groups in Russia and the Ukraine became empty shells. As the Third All-Russia Conference of the Jewish Communist Sections declared in 1920:
“The Jewish workers and the poorest of the Jewish people understand quite well that only the communist order will put an end to all pogroms, will root out all nationalist prejudices, will erase all national restrictions and install over the whole face of the earth a genuine brotherhood of peoples.”
News of Central Bureau of the Jewish Sections (October 1920)
The Bolshevik Revolution and the early Soviet state under Lenin and Trotsky were a beacon to workers and the oppressed everywhere, including the Arab masses subjugated by British imperialism in the Near East, who suffered under the barbarity of capitalist “civilisation.” The overthrow of capitalism and the institution of a planned collectivised economy opened the road to the liberation and development of all the many Soviet peoples. Even after the reactionary and nationalist Stalinist bureaucracy usurped political power from the working class, it was the proletarian class character of the Soviet Union that allowed it to save well over two million Jews fleeing the Nazi murder machine and to smash Hitler’s Third Reich. In contrast, the imperialist “democracies” turned back all but a handful of Jewish refugees. Many of the Jewish refugees who were allowed into Britain were detained as so-called enemy aliens during World War II and thousands were deported. Most notorious was the ship Dunera, which was packed with 2,000 mostly Jewish refugees along with 450 Italian and German prisoners for the two-month voyage to Australia.
For a Socialist Federation of the Near East!
Young activists who solidarise with the cause of the Palestinian people in the face of Israeli state terror would do well to consider the words of the Jewish Communists in 1920. Revolutionary proletarian internationalism is the only road to the national and social emancipation of the Palestinian people. This may seem far-fetched in an age when the opportunist “far left” sneers at the Marxist goal of an egalitarian international communist order and even class struggle seems a thing of the past. However, if the past decade has demonstrated nothing else, it is that catastrophic crises are endemic to the capitalist profit system. The same holds true of the class struggle between the proletariat and the bourgeoisie, as the current strike wave in France and years of protests and strikes in Greece demonstrate, notwithstanding the stranglehold of the reformist, pro-capitalist trade union bureaucracies.
The capitalist state of Israel is no exception to this Marxist understanding. While Israeli society has moved steadily to the right in recent decades, the historic interests of the Israeli Jewish working class run counter to those of their capitalist rulers and exploiters. So long as the national rather than the class axis prevails, the Palestinians will lose out to the overwhelming military superiority of the Zionist state. It is only the working class of Israel that has the capacity and historic interest to shatter the Zionist state from within. In fighting for the creation of revolutionary internationalist workers parties in the Near East we struggle to win the Israeli Jewish workers away from their Zionist rulers, to recognise that their class allies are the working people of the Arab countries and to champion the national rights of the Palestinians. Likewise we seek to break the Arab toiling masses from Arab nationalism and Islamic reaction (see “Defend the Palestinian People!” Workers Vanguard No. 1089, 6 May).
The 2011 Egyptian protests did find an echo in the mass protests in Israel that summer, showing the potential to undermine the garrison mentality drummed into Israeli Jewish workers by the Zionist rulers, who tell them that they are surrounded by a “sea” of hostile Arabs. However, the uprising in Egypt did not present a challenge to capitalist rule by the proletariat; rather, it was dominated by bourgeois nationalists and Islamists. For their part, the Revolutionary Socialists (RS) in Egypt, associated with the British Socialist Workers Party (SWP), simply capitulated to these forces. From pushing illusions in the army to backing the reactionary Muslim Brotherhood and, ultimately, the coup that brought the military to power, at every stage the RS helped to ensure that the Egyptian proletariat would remain tied to its class enemies.
In Britain, the reformists of the SWP prate that the liberal BDS movement is “the potentially most serious challenge to Israel’s position and to the continuance of its long-term policy of piecemeal and de facto annexation of the whole of Palestine” (Socialist Review, July/August 2013). The BDS campaign is based on the bankrupt assumption that the Israeli state can be pressured by its “democratic” imperialist paymasters to halt the oppression of the Palestinian people. The notion that the (admittedly well-funded and powerful) “Zionist lobby” is responsible for imperialist support to Israel is ludicrous. It is in pursuit of its own geopolitical interests that U.S. imperialism pumps some $3 billion a year in military aid to its Israeli gendarme.
According to the Palestine Solidarity Committee, the boycott strategy “exerts moral pressure on the British Government by giving expression to the desire to move towards a more ethical foreign policy.” “Democratic” Britain, as much as, if not more than, any other country, bears the burden of historical responsibility for making the Near East the slaughterhouse that it is today. At the start of World War I, Britain sought to encourage an Arab revolt against the Ottoman Empire, then Britain’s enemy, by promising that the Arabs would be granted freedom at the war’s end. Two years later, the British imperialists and their French allies, in the secret 1916 Sykes-Picot agreement, carved up the Near East for themselves. This was followed by the pro-Zionist Balfour Declaration. Thirty years later, the Clement Attlee Labour government presided over the bloody partition of Palestine (and the far bloodier partition of India). Divide and rule—that is the “morality” of British imperialism.
While defending BDS activists when they come under attack by the state, we oppose this strategy, which looks to the supposed “humanitarian” instincts of capitalist governments, campus administrations and corporate giants to pressure Israel. Ongoing economic sanctions serve mainly to weaken and undermine the workers and oppressed of the targeted country, not its capitalist rulers. Particularly odious are academic and cultural boycotts, which equate Israeli scholars and artists—such as the integrated West-Eastern Divan Orchestra set up by Palestinian scholar Edward Said and Jewish musician Daniel Barenboim—with the chauvinist Zionist rulers. In contrast, Marxists assert the need for international working-class solidarity with the Palestinians. A standing boycott by British and U.S. dock workers, for example, refusing to handle military shipments to Israel, would strike a powerful blow against Zionist state terror.
Marxists reject the notion widely held on the left that an oppressor nation forfeits its right to self-determination. This is a species of nationalist moralism, which ends up mirroring the lie that equates Zionism with the Jewish people. As we explained in “Birth of the Zionist State: A Marxist Analysis” (WV No. 45, 24 May 1974):
“Out of the destruction of European Jewry by Hitler (without whose aid the Zionists would have gone the way of the Shakers and other utopian sects) and at the expense of the Palestinian Arabs, a settler colony was transformed into a nation....
“This Hebrew nation came into existence through force and violence, through the suppression, forced expulsion and genocide of other peoples. Communists must oppose this brutal national oppression. Yet once this historical fact is accomplished, we must certainly recognize that nation’s right to self-determination, unless we prefer the alternative, namely national genocide.”
We defend the Palestinian people against the Zionist state down the line, even when that means taking a military side with Islamic fundamentalists like Hamas in Gaza. But we recognise the right of the Israeli Jews as well as the Palestinians to national self-determination. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is at bottom a situation of interpenetrated peoples. Both peoples lay claim to the same small sliver of land. Under capitalism, the exercise of national self-determination by one side necessarily comes at the expense of the other. There can and will be no just resolution to the conflicting national rights of the Palestinian and Israeli Jewish peoples short of the establishment of a socialist federation of the Near East, requiring the overthrow of all the bourgeois states of the region through proletarian revolutions.
For revolutionaries in Britain, solidarity with the oppressed in the neocolonial countries must start with opposing our “own” ruling class and fighting to bring down British imperialism through socialist revolution at home. Leftist youth who seek effective solidarity with the Palestinian people against Zionist terror need to study the lessons of the Bolshevik Revolution, the greatest victory for the working class and the oppressed to date. Based on those lessons, the Spartacist League/Britain, section of the International Communist League, fights to cohere a revolutionary workers party as part of a reforged Trotskyist Fourth International. It is only through the worldwide victory of the socialist proletariat that all manner of exploitation, oppression and imperialist barbarity will be overcome.

*****Victory To The Fast-Food Workers The Vanguard Of The Fight For $15......


*****Victory To The Fast-Food Workers The Vanguard Of The Fight For $15......Fight For $15 Is Just A Beginning-All Labor Must Support Our Sisters And Brothers

 
 
 
 
From The Pen Of Sam Lowell

Frank Jackman had always ever since he was a kid down in Carver, a working class town formerly a shoe factory mecca about thirty miles south of Boston and later dotted with assorted small shops related to the shipbuilding trade, a very strong supporters of anything involving organized labor and organizing labor, anything that might push working people ahead. While it had taken it a long time, and some serious military service during the Vietnam War, his generation’s war, to get on the right side of the angels on the war issue and even more painfully and slowly on the woman’s liberation and gay rights issues, and he was still having a tough time with the transgender thing although the plight of heroic Wikileaks whistle-blower Army soldier Chelsea Manning had made it easier to express solidarity, he had always been a stand-up guy for unions and for working people. Maybe it was because his late father, Lawrence Jackman, had been born and raised in coal country down in Harlan County, Kentucky where knowing which side you were on, knowing that picket lines mean don’t cross, knowing that every scrap given by the bosses had been paid for in blood and so it was in his blood. Maybe though it was closer to the nub, closer to home, that the closing of the heavily unionized shoe factories which either headed down south or off-shore left slim leaving for those who did not follow them south, slim pickings for an uneducated man like his father trying to raise four daughters and son on hopes and dreams and not much else. Those hopes and dreams leaving his mother to work in the “mother’s don’t work” 1950s at a local donut shop filling donuts for chrissakes to help make ends meet so his was always aware of how close the different between work and no work was, and decent pay for decent work too. How ever he got “religion” on the question as a kid, and he suspected the answer was in the DNA, Frank was always at the ready when the latest labor struggles erupted, the latest recently being the sporadic uprisings amount fast-food workers and lowly-paid Walmart workers to earn a living wage.        

One day in the late summer of 2014 he had picked up a leaflet from a young guy, a young guy who later identified himself as a field organizer for the Service Employees International Union (SEIU), a union filled to the brim with low-end workers like janitors, nurses assistants, salespeople, and the like, passing them out at an anti-war rally (against the American escalations in Syria and Iraq) in downtown Boston. The leaflet after giving some useful information about how poorly fast-food worker were paid and how paltry the benefits, especially the lack of health insurance announced an upcoming “Fight for $15” action in Downtown Boston on September 4, 2014 at noon as part of a national struggle for economic justice and dignity for the our hard working sisters and brothers. He told the young organizer after expressing solidarity with the upcoming efforts that he would try to bring others to the event although being held during a workday would be hard for some to make the time.

In the event Frank brought about a dozen others with him. They and maybe fifty to one hundred others during the course of the event stood in solidarity for a couple of hours while a cohort of fast-food workers told their stories. And while another cohort of fast-food workers were sitting on the ground in protest prepared to commit civil disobedience by blocking the street to make their point. Several of them would eventually be arrested and taken away by the police later to be fined and released.

Frank, when he reflected on the day’s events later, was pretty elated as he told his old friend Josh Breslin whom he had called up in Maine to tell him what had happened that day. Josh had also grown up in a factory town, a textile town, Olde Saco, and had been to many such support events himself and before he retired had as a free-lance writer written up lots of labor stories. The key ingredient that impressed Josh in Frank’s description had been how many young serious black and Latino workers had participated in the actions. Later than night when Frank reflected further on the situation he broke out in a smile as he was writing up his summary of his take on the events. There would be people pass off the torch to when guys like him and Josh were no longer around. He had been afraid that would not happen after the long drought doldrums in the class struggle of the previous few decades. Here is what else he had to say:            

No question in this wicked old world that those at the bottom are “the forgotten ones,” “los olvidados,” those who a writer who had worked among them had long ago correctly described as the world fellahin, the ones who never get ahead. This day we are talking about working people, people working and working hard for eight, nine, ten dollars an hour. Maybe working two jobs to make ends meet since a lot of times these McJobs, these Wal-Mart jobs do not come with forty hours of work attached but whatever some cost-cutting manager deems right to keep them on a string and keep them from qualifying for certain benefits that do not kick in with “part-time” work. And lately taking advantage of cover from Obamacare keeping the hours below the threshold necessary to kick in health insurance and other benefits. Yes, the forgotten people.

But let’s do the math here figuring on forty hours and figuring on say ten dollars an hour. That‘s four hundred a week times fifty weeks (okay so I am rounding off for estimate purposes here too since most of these jobs do not have vacation time figured in).That’s twenty thousand a year. Okay so just figure any kind of decent apartment in the Boston area where I am writing this-say one thousand a month. That’s twelve thousand a year. So the other eight thousand is for everything else. No way can that be done. And if you had listened to the young and not so young fast-food workers, the working mothers, the working older brothers taking care of younger siblings, workers trying to go to school to get out of the vicious cycle of poverty you would understand the truth of that statement. And the stories went on and on along that line all during the action. 

Confession: it has been a very long time since I have had to scrimp and scrim to make ends meet, to get the rent in, to keep those damn bill-collectors away from my door, to beg the utility companies to not shut off those necessary services. But I have been there, no question. Growing up working class town poor, the only difference on the economic question was that it was all poor whites unlike today’s crowd. Also for many years living from hand to mouth before things got steady. I did not like it then and I do not like the idea of it now.  I am here to say even the “Fight for $15” is not enough, but it is a start. And I whole-heartedly support the struggle of my sisters and brothers for a little economic justice in this wicked old world. And any reader who might read this-would you work for these slave wages? I think not. So show your solidarity and get out and support the fast-food and Wal-Mart workers in their just struggles. 

Organize Wal-Mart! Organize the fast food workers! Union! Union!  
       http://www.boston.com/news/local/massachusetts/2014/09/04/boston-fast-food-workers-rally-for-wages-unions/bc1ZqZIgwsVcOw0QHIV74M/story.html         

*****John Brown’s Body Lies A Moldering In The Grave-With The Massachusetts 54th Black Volunteer Regiment In Mind.

*****John Brown’s Body Lies A Moldering In The Grave-With The Massachusetts 54th Black Volunteer Regiment In Mind.



 



Every time I pass the frieze honoring the heroic Massachusetts 54th Black Volunteer Regiment across from the State House on Beacon Street in Boston, a unit that fought in the American Civil War, a war which we have just finished commemorating the 150th anniversary of its formal ending (April 1865) I am struck by one figure who I will discuss in a minute. For those who do not know the 54th Regiment the unit had been recruited and made up of all volunteers, former slaves, freedmen, maybe a current fugitive slave snuck in there, those were such times for such unheralded personal valor, the recruitment a task that the great abolitionist Frederick Douglass, himself an ex-slave had been central in promoting (including two of his sons). All knew, or soon became aware that if they did not fight to the finish they would not be treated as prisoners of war but captured chattel subject to re-enslavement or death.  The regiment fought with ferocious valor before Fort Wagner down in South Carolina and other hot spots where an armed black man, in uniform or out, brought red flashes of deep venom, if venom is red, but hellfire hatred in any case to the Southern plantation owners and their hangers-on (that armed black men acting in self-defense of themselves and theirs still bringing hellfire hatred among some whites to this day, no question).

I almost automatically focus in on that old hard-bitten grizzled erect bearded soldier who is just beneath the head of the horse being ridden by Colonel Robert Gould Shaw, the white commander of the regiment who from a family of ardent abolitionists fell with his men before Fort Wagner and was buried with them, an honor. (See above) I do not know the details of the model Saint-Gauden’s used when he worked that section (I am sure that specific information can be found although it is not necessary to this sketch) but as I grow older I appreciate that old man soldier even more, as old men are supposed to leave the arduous duty of fighting for just causes, arms in hand, to the young.

I like to think that that old grizzled brother who aside from color looks like me when he heard the call from Massachusetts wherever he was, maybe had read about the plea in some abolitionist newspaper, had maybe even gotten the message from Frederick Douglass himself through his newspaper, The North Star, calling Sable Brother to Arms or on out the stump once Lincoln unleashed him to recruit his black brothers for whatever reason although depleting Union ranks reduced by bloody fight after bloody fight as is the nature of civil war when the societal norms are broken  as was at least one cause, he picked up stakes leaving some small farm or trade and family behind and volunteered forthwith. Maybe he had been born, like Douglass, in slavery and somehow, manumission, flight, something, following the Northern Star, got to the North. Maybe learned a skill, a useful skill, got a little education to be able to read and write and advance himself and had in his own way prospered.
But something was gnawing at him, something about the times, something about tow-headed white farm boys, all awkward and ignorant from the heartland of the Midwest, sullen Irish and other ethnic immigrants from the cities where it turned out the streets were not paved with gold and so took the bounty for Army duty, took some draft-dodger’s place for pay, hell, even high-blown Harvard boys were being armed to defend the Union (and the endless names of the fallen and endless battles sites on Memorial Hall at Harvard a graphic testament to that solemn sense of duty then). And more frequently as the days and months passed about the increasing number of white folk who hated, hated with a red-hot passion, slavery and if that passion meant anything what was he a strong black man going to do about it, do about breaking the hundreds of years chains. Maybe he still had kindred under the yolk down South in some sweated plantation, poorly fed, ill-treated, left to fester and die when not productive anymore, the women, young and old subject to Mister’s lustful appetites and he had to do something.
Then the call came, Governor Andrews of Massachusetts was raising a “sable” armed regiment (Douglass’ word) to be headed by a volunteer Harvard boy urged on by his high abolitionist parents, Colonel Shaw, the question of black military leadership of their own to be left to another day, another day long in the future as it turned out but what was he to know of that, and he shut down his small shop or farm, said good-bye to kin and neighbors and went to Boston to join freedom’s fight. I wonder if my old bearded soldier fell before Fort Wagner fight down in heated rebel country, or maybe fell in some other engagement less famous but just as important to the concept of disciplined armed black men fighting freedom’s fight. I like to think though that the grizzled old man used every bit of wit and skill he had and survived to march into Charleston, South Carolina, the fire-breathing heart of the Confederacy, then subdued at the end of war with his fellows in the 54th stepping off to the tune of John Brown’s Body Lies A-Moldering In The Grave. A fitting tribute to Captain Brown and his band of brother, black and white, at Harper’s Ferry fight and to an old grizzled bearded soldier’s honor.             


*In Folklorist Harry Smith’s House-"Spike Driver Blues" — Mississippi John Hurt (1928)

The year 2009 has turned into something a year of review of the folk revival of the 1960s. In November I featured a posting of many of the episodes (via “YouTube”) of Pete Seeger’s classic folk television show from the 1960s, “Rainbow Quest”. I propose to do the same here to end out the year with as many of the selections from Harry Smith’s seminal “Anthology Of American Folk Music,” in one place, as I was able to find material for, either lyrics or "YouTube" performances (not necessarily by the original performer). This is down at the roots, for sure.


From Scott Ainsie's blog

Spike Driver Blues (John Hurt)
INSTRUMENTAL INTRO/VERSE


Take this hammer and carry it to the captain,
Tell him I'm gone. Tell him I'm gone. Oh, tell him I'm gone.
Take this hammer and carry it to the captain,
Oh, tell him I'm gone. Tell him I'm gone. I sure am gone.

It's a long way from east Colorado, honey, to my home,
Honey to my home....
It's a long way from east Colorado, honey, to my home.
.....That's where I'm goin.

INSTRUMENTAL

John Henry was a steel drivin' man, but he went down.
But he went down....he sure went down.

John Henry he left his hammer, laying side the road.
John Henry he left his hammer, all over in rain.
All over in rain. Laying side the road.

INSTRUMENTAL

This is the hammer that killed John Henry, Lord, it won't kill me.
This is the hammer that killed John Henry, but it won't kill me....sure won't kill me.

In Honor Of Our Class-War Prisoners- Free All The Class-War Prisoners!-Larry Hoover


In Honor Of Our Class-War Prisoners- Free All The Class-War Prisoners!-Larry Hoover

 

http://www.thejerichomovement.com/prisoners.html

 

A link above to more information about the class-war prisoner honored in this entry.

Make June Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month

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 longtime supporter of the Partisan Defense Committee, a class struggle, non-sectarian legal and social defense organization which supports 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!

 

  • *In Folklorist Harry Smith’s House-"Prison Cell Blues" — Blind Lemon Jefferson (1928)

    Click on the title to link to a presentation of the song listed in the headline.

    The year 2009 has turned into something a year of review of the folk revival of the 1960s. In November I featured a posting of many of the episodes (via “YouTube”) of Pete Seeger’s classic folk television show from the 1960s, “Rainbow Quest”. I propose to do the same here to end out the year with as many of the selections from Harry Smith’s seminal “Anthology Of American Folk Music,” in one place, as I was able to find material for, either lyrics or "YouTube" performances (not necessarily by the original performer). This is down at the roots, for sure.

    Prison Cell Blues

    Getting tired of sleeping in this lowdown lonesome cell
    Lord, I wouldn't have been here if it had not been for Nell

    Lay awake at night and just can't eat a bite
    Used to be my rider but she just won't treat me right

    Got a red-eyed captain and a squabbling boss
    Got a mad dog sergeant, honey, and he won't knock off

    I'm getting tired of sleeping in this lowdown lonesome cell
    Lord, I wouldn't 've been here if it had not been for Nell

    I asked the government to knock some days off my time
    Well, the way I'm treated, I'm about to lose my mind

    I wrote to the governor, please turn me a-loose
    Since I don't get no answer, I know it ain't no use

    I'm getting tired of sleeping in this lowdown lonesome cell
    Lord, I wouldn't have been here if it had not been for Nell

    I hate to turn over and find my rider gone
    Walking across my floor, Lordy, how I moan

    Lord, I wouldn't have been here if it had not been for Nell
    I'm getting tired of sleeping in this lowdown lonesome cell

    A View From The Left-WE WILL BE VOTING TO DEFEAT RACIST BREXIT



    Frank Jackman comment:
    Usually when I post something from some other source, mostly articles and other materials that may be of interest to the radical public that I am trying to address I place the words “ A View From The Left” in the headline and let the subject of the article speak for itself, or let the writer speak for him or herself without further comment whether I agree with the gist of what is said or not. After all I can write my own piece if some pressing issue is at hand. I do so here.     



    WE WILL BE VOTING TO DEFEAT RACIST BREXIT

    Payday
    An international network of men working with the Global Women's Strike
    We will be voting To DEFEAT RACIST BREXIT
    In the UK, Payday includes men from several countries including other countries in Europe. Our organizing, here and with grassroots activists across Europe against murder, rape and torture, especially by the military, has been helped by our ability to travel with relative freedom.
    We don’t want to be together in Europe for the same reasons that governments want “unity”.  That does not make grassroots unity any less critical.  The murder of Jo Cox and the unrepentant racism of the Brexit campaign are symptomatic of the rise of the extreme right all over Europe. On Thursday we intend to stand with the new anti-racist, anti-austerity and internationalist movements in a number of countries in Europe, and with Jeremy Corbyn and John McDonnell, and all our sisters and brothers opposing austerity, racism and war – we will vote to remain.
    https://scontent-lhr3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/13494966_517611158424825_7792616473217593499_n.jpg?oh=8a8fca626a1ccfe7870b0116348a4933&oe=57C229AD
    REFUSING TO KILL – OR BE KILLED – IS NOT A CRIME!
     
     

    *****Once Again On The 1960s Folk Minute-The Cambridge Club 47 Scene

    *****Once Again On The 1960s Folk Minute-The Cambridge Club 47 Scene

     
     

    From The Pen Of Zack James

    Joshua Breslin, Carver down in the wilds of Southeastern Massachusetts cranberry bog country born, had certainly not been the only one who had recently taken a nose-dive turn back in time to that unique moment beginning in the very late 1950s, say 1958, 1959 when be-bop jazz (you know Dizzy, the late Bird, the mad man Monk the guys who bopped swing-a-ling for “cool” high white note searches on the instruments) “beatnik” complete with beret and bop-a-long banter and everybody from suburb land was clad in black, guys in black chinos and flannel shirts, gals in black dresses, black stockings, black shoes, who knows maybe black underwear which in Victoria's Secret time is not hard to image but then something the corner boys in front of Jimmy Jack’s Diner salaciously contemplated about the female side of that "beat" scene (what King Kerouac termed beatitude, the search for holiness or wholeness), was giving way to earnest “folkie” time. And no alluring black-dressed gals but unisex flannel shirts, or sometimes once somebody had been to Mexico peasant blouses, unisex blue jeans and unisex sandals leaving nothing in particular to the fervent corner boy imagination) in the clubs that mattered around the Village (the Gaslight, Geddes Folk City, half the joints on Bleecker Street), Harvard Square (Club Blue, the place for serious cheap dates since for the price of coffees and pastries for two you could linger on, Café Blanc, the place for serious dates since they had a five dollar minimum, Club 47, the latter a place where serious folkies and serious folk musicians hung out) and North Beach (Club Ernie’s, The Hungry Eye, all a step behind the folk surge since you would still find a jazz-poetry mix longer than in the Eastern towns). That scene would go on in earnest to the mid-1960s when folk music had its minute as a popular genre and faded a bit. Even guys like Sam Eaton, Sam Lowell, Jack Callahan and Bart Webber, who only abided the music back in the day, now too, because the other guys droned on and on about it under the influence of Pete Markin a guy Josh had met  in the summer of love, 1967 were diving in too. Diving into the music which beside first love rock and roll got them through the teenage night.

    The best way to describe that turn from be-bop beat to earnest folkie, is by way of a short comment by the late folk historian Dave Von Ronk which summed up the turn nicely. Earlier in that period, especially the period after Allen Ginsburg’s Howl out in the Frisco poetry slam blew the roof off modernist poetry with his talk of melted modern minds, hipsters, negro streets, the fight against Moloch, the allure of homosexuality, and Jack Kerouac’s On The Road in a fruitless search for the father he and Neal Cassady never knew had the Army-Navy surplus stores cleaning out their rucksack inventories, when “beat poets” held sway and folkies were hired to clear the room between readings Dave would have been thrown in the streets to beg for his supper if his graven voice and quirky folk songs did not empty the place, and he did (any serious look at some of his earliest compositions will tell in a moment why, and why the cross-over from beat to folkie by the former crowd never really happened). But then the sea-change happened, tastes changed and the search for roots was on, and Von Ronk would be doing three full sets a night and checking every folk anthology he could lay his hands on (including naturally Harry Smith’s legendary efforts and the Lomaxes and Seegers too) and misty musty record store recordings to get enough material.

    People may dispute the end-point of that folk minute like they do about the question of when the "turn the world upside down" counter-cultural 1960s ended as a “youth nation” phenomenon but clearly with the advent of acid-etched rock (acid as in LSD, blotter, electric kool aid acid test not some battery stuff ) by 1967-68 the searching for and reviving of the folk roots that had driven many aficionados to the obscure archives like Harry Smith’s anthology, the recording of the Lomaxes, Seegers and that crowd had passed.

    As an anecdote, one that Josh would use whenever the subject of his own sea-change back to rock and roll came up, in support of that acid-etched dateline that is the period when Josh stopped taking his “dates” to the formerly ubiquitous home away from home coffeehouses which had sustained him through many a dark home life night in high school and later when he escaped home during college, cheap poor boy college student dates to the Harvard Square coffeehouses where for the price of a couple of cups of coffee, expresso then a favorite since you could sip it slowly and make it last for the duration and rather exotic since it was percolated in a strange copper-plated coffee-maker, a shared pastry of unknown quality, and maybe a couple of dollars admission charge or for the “basket” that was the life-support of the performers you could hear up and coming talent working out their kinks, and took those "dates" instead to the open-air fashion statement rock concerts that were abounding around the town.

    The shift also entailed a certain change in fashion from those earnest flannel shirts, denims, lacy blouses and sandals to day-glo tie-dye shirts, bell-bottomed denims, granny dresses, and mountain boots or Chuck Taylor sneakers. Oh yeah, and the decibel level of the music got higher, much higher and the lyrics talked not of ancient mountain sorrows, thwarted triangle love, or down-hearted blues over something that was on your mind but to alice-in-wonderland and white rabbit dreams, carnal nightmares, yellow submarines, satanic majesties, and wooden ships on the water.             

    Some fifty years out others in Josh-like fits of nostalgia and maybe to sum up a life’s work there have been two recent documentaries concerning the most famous Harvard Square coffeehouse of them all, the Club 47 (which still exists under the name of the non-profit Club Passim which traces its genealogy to that legendary Mount Auburn Street spot in a similar small venue near the Harvard Co-Op Bookstore off of Church Street).

    One of the documentaries put out a few years ago (see above) traces the general evolution of that club in its prime when the likes of Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Tom Rush, Eric Von Schmidt, the members of the Jim Kweskin Jug Band (the forming of jug bands, a popular musical form including a seemingly infinite number of bands with the name Sheik in them, going back to the early 20th century itself a part of the roots revival guys like Josh were in thrall to), and many others sharpened up their acts there. The other documentary, No Regrets (title taken from one of his most famous songs) which Josh reviewed for one of the blogs, The American Folk Minute, to which he has contributed to over the years is a biopic centered on the fifty plus years in folk music of Tom Rush. Both those visual references got Josh thinking about how that folk scene, or better, the Harvard Square coffeehouse scene kept Josh from going off the rails, although that was a close thing.        

    Like about a billion kids before and after Josh in his coming of age in the early 1960s went through the usual bouts of teenage angst and alienation aided and abetted by growing up “from hunger” among the very lowest rung of the working poor with all the pathologies associated with survival down at the base of society where the bonds of human solidarity are often times very attenuated. All of this “wisdom” complete with appropriate “learned” jargon, of course figured out, told about, made many mistakes to gain, came later, much later because at the time Josh was just feeling rotten about his life and how the hell he got placed in a world which he had not created (re-enforced when questioned by one Delores Breslin with Prescott Breslin as a behind-the scenes back-up about his various doings) and no likely possibilities of having a say what with the world stacked against him, his place in the sun (and not that “safe” white collar civil service job that Delores saw as the epitome of upward mobility for her brood), and how he didn’t have a say in what was going on. Then through one source or another mainly by the accident of tuning in his life-saver transistor radio, which for once he successfully badgered to get from Delores and Prescott one Christmas by threatening murder and mayhem if he didn’t when all his corner boys at Jimmy Jack’s Diner had them, on one Sunday night to listen to a favorite rock and roll DJ that he could receive on that night from Chicago he found a folk music program that sounded interesting (it turned out to be the Dick Summer show on WBZ, a DJ who is featured in the Tom Rush documentary) and he was hooked by the different songs played, some mountain music, some jug, some country blues, some protest songs.

    Each week Dick Summer would announce who was playing where for the week and he kept mentioning various locations, including the Club 47, in Harvard Square. Josh was intrigued, wanted to go if only he could find a kindred for a date and if he could scratch up some dough. Neither easy tasks for a guy in high teen alienation mode.           

    One Saturday afternoon Josh made connections to get to a Red Line subway stop which was the quickest way for him to get to Harvard Square (and was also the last stop on that line then) and walked around the Square looking into the various clubs and coffeehouses that had been mentioned by Summer and a few more as well. You could hardly walk a block without running into one or the other. Of course during the day all people were doing was sitting around drinking coffee and reading, maybe playing chess, or as he found out later huddled in small group corners working on their music (or poetry which also still had some sway as a tail end of the “beat” scene) so he didn’t that day get the full sense of what was going on. A few weeks later, having been “hipped” to the way things worked, meaning that as long as you had coffee or something in front of you in most places you were cool Josh always chronically low on funds took a date, a cheap date naturally, to the Club Blue where you did not pay admission but where Eric Von Schmidt was to play. Josh had heard his Joshua Gone Barbados covered by Tom Rush on Dick Summer’s show and he had flipped out so he was eager to hear him. So for the price of, Josh thought, two coffees each, a stretched-out shared brownie and two subway fares they had a good time, an excellent time (although that particular young woman and Josh would not go on much beyond that first date since she was looking for a guy who had more dough to spend on her, and maybe a “boss” car too).

    Josh would go over to Harvard Square many weekend nights in those days, including sneaking out of the house a few time late at night and heading over since in those days the Red Line subway ran all night. That was his home away from home not only for cheap date nights depending on the girl he was interested in but when the storms gathered at the house about his doing, or not doing, this or that, stuff like that when his mother pulled the hammer down. If Josh had a few dollars make by caddying for the Mayfair swells at the Carver Country Club, a private club a few miles from his house he would pony up the admission, or two admissions if he was lucky, to hear Joan Baez or her sister Mimi with her husband Richard Farina, maybe Eric Von Schmidt, Tom Paxton when he was in town at the 47. If he was broke he would do his alternative, take the subway but rather than go to a club he would hang out all night at the famous Harvard Square Hayes-Bickford just up the steps from the subway stop exit. That was a wild scene made up of winos, grifters, con men, guys and gals working off barroom drunks, crazies, and… almost every time out there would be folk-singers or poets, some known to him, others from cheap street who soon faded into the dust, in little clusters, coffee mugs filled, singing or speaking low, keeping the folk tradition alive, keeping the faith that a new wind was coming across the land and they, Josh, wanted to catch it. Wasn’t that a time.          


     

    Wednesday, June 22, 2016

    In Honor Of Our Class-War Prisoners- Free All The Class-War Prisoners Former And Present!-Luis Medina,


    *In Honor Of Our Class-War Prisoners- Free All The Class-War Prisoners Former And Present!-Luis Medina,

     

    http://www.thejerichomovement.com/prisoners.html

     

    A link above to more information about the class-war prisoner honored in this entry.

    Make June Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month

    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 longtime supporter of the Partisan Defense Committee, a class struggle, non-sectarian legal and social defense organization which supports 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!

    *****Present At The Creation-The Penguins’ Earth Angel (1955)

    *****Present At The Creation-The Penguins’ Earth Angel (1955)



    From The Pen Of Bart Webber

    Deep in the dark red scare Cold War night, still brewing then even after Uncle Joe fell down in his Red Square drunken stupor spilling potato-etched Vodka all over the Central Committee, the Politburo, or his raggedy-ass cronies who were to pick up the pieces after he breathed his last, one night and never came back, so yeah still brewing after Uncle Joe kissed off in his vast red earth, still brewing as a child remembered in dark back of school dreams about Soviet nightmares, worried about the whether those heathens (later to find out that Miss Todd who first made him and his classmates aware of the scorched red earth menace had been wrong that they were atheists not heathen, a very different thing, but she wanted to make us think they were in need of some high Catholic missionary work and so heathen)under Uncle Joe wondering how the Russkie kids got through it, and still brewing too when Miss Winot in her pristine glory told each and every one of her fourth grade charges, us, that come that Russkie madness, come the Apocalypse, come the big bad ass mega-bombs that each and every one of her charges shall come that thundering god-awful air raid siren call duck, quickly and quietly, under his or her desk and then place his or his hands, also quickly and quietly, one over the other on the top of his or her head, a small breeze was coming to the land (of course being pristine and proper she did not dig down deep to titillate us with such terms as “big bad ass” but let’s face it that is what she meant, and maybe in the teachers' room or some night out in the moonless moors she sued such terms you never know).

    Maybe nobody saw it coming although the more I think about the matter somebody, some bodies knew something, not those supposedly in the know about such times, those who are supposed to catch the breezes before they move beyond their power to curtail them, guys in the government who keep an eagle eye on such things, or professors endlessly prattling on about some idea about what the muck of society has turned into due to their not catching that breeze that was coming across their faces like some North wind. 

    No those guys, no way they are usually good at the wrap-up. The what it all meant par after the furies were over. Here is what I am talking about when I talk about guys who know what to know, and how to play it to their advantages. Take guys like my older brother Franklin and his friends, Benny, sometimes called "the Knife" and Jimmy, who was called just Jimmy, who were playing some be-bop  stuff up in his room. Ma refused to let Franklin play his songs on the family record player down center stage in the living room or flip the dial on the kitchen radio away from her tunes of the roaring 1940s, her and my father’s coming of age time, so up his room like some mad monk doing who knows what because I was busy worrying about riding bicycles or something. Not girls or dances stuff like that no way. Here’s the real tip-off though he and his boys would go out Friday nights to Jack Slack’s bowling alleys not to bowl, although that was the cover story to questioning mothers, but to hang around Freddie O’Toole’s car complete with turned on amped up radio (station unknown then by me but later identified as WMEX out of Boston and stull in existence the last I heard, including a few hour segment on Saturday replaying the old Arnie "Woo-Woo" Ginsberg shows that drove us wild and drive us to learn about the social customs around drive-in movies and drive-in restaurants when thinking about girls time did come) and dance, dance with girls, get it, to stuff like Ike Turner’s Rocket 88 (a great song tribute to a great automobile which nobody in our neighborhood could come close to affording so hard-working but poorly paid fathers' were reduced to cheapjack Fords and Plymouths, not cool), and guys who even today I don’t know the names of even with YouTube giving everybody with every kind of musical inclination a blast to the past ticket.

    Here's something outside the neighborhood just to show it was hard-ass Franklin Webber who was hip to all things rock. So how about the times we, the family, would go up to Boston for some Catholic thing filled with incense and high Latin everybody mumbling prayers for forgiveness, when they did nothing to be forgiven for, into the South End at Holy Cross Cathedral and smack across from the church was the later famous Red Hat Club where guys were blasting away at pianos, on guitars and on big ass sexy saxes and it was not the big band sound my folks listened to or cool, cool be-bop jazz either that drove the "beat" night but music from jump street, etched in the back of my brain because remember I’m still fussing over bikes and stuff like that and not worrying about guys hitting the high white note. Or how about every time we went down Massachusetts Avenue in Boston as the sun went down, the “Negro” part before you hit Huntington Avenue at Symphony Hall (an area that Malcolm X knew well a decade before when he was nothing but a cat hustling the midnight creep with some white girls into kicks and larcenies) and we stopped at the ten billion lights on Mass Ave and all you would hear is this bouncing beat coming from taverns, from the old time townhouse apartments and black guys dressed “to the nines,” all flash dancing on the streets with dressed “to the nines” good-looking black girls. Memory bank.           

    So some guys knew, gals too don’t forget after all they had to dig the beat, dig the guys who dug the beat, the beat of  out of some Africa breeze mixed with forbidden sweated Southern lusts if the thing was going to work out. And it wasn’t all dead-ass “white negro” hipsters either eulogized by Norman Mailer (or maybe mocked you never knew with him but he sensed something was in the breeze even if he was tied more closely to an earlier sensibility) or break-out “beats” tired of the cool cold jazz that was turning in on itself, getting too technical and losing the search for the high white note or lumpens of all descriptions who whiled away the nights searching their radio dials for something that they while away the nights searching their radio dials for something that they could swing to while reefer high or codeine low.

    If you, via hail YouTube, look at the Jacks and Jills dancing up a storm in the 1950s say on American Bandstand they mostly look like very proper well-dressed middle class kids who are trying to break out of the cookie-cutter existence they found themselves in but they still looked  pretty well-fed and well-heeled so yeah, some guys and gals and it wasn’t always who you might suspect like Franklin, white hipsters, black saints, and sexy sax players that got hip, got that back-beat and those piano riffs etched into their brains.

    Maybe though the guys in the White House were too busy worrying about what Uncle Joe’s progeny were doing out in the missile silos of Minsk, maybe the professional television talkers on Meet The Press wanted to discuss the latest turn in national and international politics for a candid world to hear and missed what was happening out in the cookie-cutter neighborhoods, and maybe the academic sociologists and professional criminologists were too wrapped up in figuring out why Marlon Brando was sulking in his corner boy kingdom (and wreaking havoc on a fearful small town world when he and the boys broke out), why  Johnny Spain had that “shiv” ready to do murder and mayhem to the next midnight passer-by, and why well-groomed and fed James Dean was brooding in the “golden age” land of plenty but the breeze was coming.

    (And you could add in the same brother Franklin who as I was worrying about bikes, not the two pedal kid powered but some bad ass Vincent Black Lightning kind, getting “from hunger” to get a Brando bike, a varoom bike, so this girl, Wendy, from school, would take his bait, a girl that my mother fretted was from the wrong side of town, her way of saying Wendy was a tramp and maybe she was although she was nice to me when Franklin brought her around still she was as smart as hell once I found out about her school and home life a few years later after she, they, Wendy and Franklin, had left town on some big ass Norton but that is after the creation so I will let it go for now.)               
    And then it came, came to us in our turn, came like some Kansas whirlwind, came like the ocean churning up the big waves crashing to a defenseless shoreline, came if the truth be known like the “second coming” long predicted and not just by mad man poet Yeats and his Easter, 1916 mind proclaiming a terrible beauty is born, and the brethren, us,  were waiting, waiting like we had been waiting all our short spell lives. Came in a funny form, or rather ironically funny forms, as it turned out.

    Came one time, came big as 1954 turned to 1955 and a guy, get this, dressed not in sackcloth or hair-shirt but in a sport’s jacket, a Robert Hall sport’s jacket from the "off the rack" look of it when he and the boys were “from hunger,” playing for coffee and crullers before on the low life circuit, a little on the heavy side with a little boy’s regular curl in his hair and blasted the whole blessed world to smithereens. Blasted every living breathing teenager, boy or girl, out of his or her lethargy, got the blood flowing. The guy Bill Haley, goddam an old lounge lizard band guy who decided to move the beat forward from cool ass be-bop jazz and sweet romance popular music and make everybody, every kid jump, yeah Big Bill Haley and his Comets, the song Rock Around The Clock.         

    Came as things turned to a little more hep cat too, came all duck walk and sex moves, feet moving faster than Bill could ever do, came out of Saint Loo, came out with a crazy beat. Came out in suit and tie all swagger. Came out with a big baby girl guitar that twisted up the chords something fierce and declared to the candid world, us, that Maybelline was his woman. But get this, because what did we know of “color” back then when we lived in an all-white Irish Catholic neighborhoods and since we heard what we heard of rock and roll mostly on the radio we were shocked when we found out the first time that he was a “Negro” to use the polite parlance of the times not always used in the house, the neighborhood, the town, a black man making us go to “jump street.” And we bought into it, bought into the beat, and joined him in saying to Mister Beethoven that you and your brethren best move over because there is a new sheriff in town.   

    Came sometimes in slo-mo, hey remember this rock and roll idea was as an ice-breaker with a beat you didn’t  have to dance close to with your partner and get all tied up in knots forgetting when to twirl, when to whirl, when to do a split but kind of free form for the guys (or gals, but mainly guys) with two left feet like me could survive, maybe not survive the big one if the Russkies decided to go over the top with the bomb, but that school dance and for your free-form efforts maybe that she your eyeballs were getting sore over would consent to the last chance  last dance that you waited around for in case she was so impressed she might want to go with you some place later. But before that “some place later” you had to negotiate and the only way to do was to bust up a slow one, a dreamy one to get her in the mood and hence people have been singing songs from time immemorial to get people in the mood, this time Earth Angel would do the trick. Do the trick as long as you navigated those toes of hers, left her with two feet and standing. Dance slow, very slow brother.   

    Here is the funny thing, funny since we were present at the creation, present in spite of every command uttered by Miss Winot against it, declaring the music worse than that Russkie threat if you believed her (a few kids, girls mainly, did whether to suck up to her since she would take their entreaties and suck ups seriously although boys were strictly “no go” and I know having spent many a missed sunny afternoon doing some silly “punishment” for her since she was impervious to my sly charms).We were just too young to deeply imbibe the full measure of what we were hearing. See this music, music we started calling rock and roll once somebody gave it a name (super DJ impresario Alan Freed as we found out later after we had already become “children of rock and roll”) was meant, was blessedly meant to be danced to which meant in that boy-girl age we who didn’t even like the opposite sex as things stood then were just hanging by our thumbs.

    Yeah, was meant to be danced to at “petting parties” in dank family room basements by barely teenage boys and girls. Was meant to be danced to at teenage dance clubs where everybody was getting caught up on learning the newest dance moves and the latest “cool” outfits to go along with that new freedom. Was meant to serve as a backdrop at Doc’s Drugstore’s soda fountain where Doc had installed a jukebox complete with all the latest tunes as boys and girls shared a Coke sipping slowly with two straws hanging out in one frosted glass. Was meant to be listened to by corner boys at Jack Slack’s bowling alley where Jack eventually had set up a small dance floor so kids could dance while waiting for lanes to open (otherwise everybody would be still dancing out in front of O’Toole’s “boss” car complete with amped-up radio not to Jack’s profit). Was meant to be listened to as the sun went down in the west at the local drive-in restaurant while the hamburgers and fries were cooking and everybody was waiting for darkness to fall so the real night could begin, the night of dancing in dark corners and exploring the mysteries of the universe, or at least the mysteries of Miss Sarah Brown.  Was even meant to be listened to on fugitive transistor radios in the that secluded off-limits to adults and little kids (us) where teens, boys and girls, mixed and matched in the drive-in movie night (and would stutter some nonsense to questioning parents who wanted to know the plot of the movies- what movies, Ma).              

    Yeah, we were just a little too young even if we can legitimately claim to have been present at the creation. But we will catch up, catch up with a vengeance.

    On The 100th Anniversary Of Lenin's Imperialism: The Highest Stage Of Capitalism

    On The 100th Anniversary Of Lenin's Imperialism: The Highest Stage Of Capitalism



    Workers Vanguard No. 1091
    3 June 2016
    TROTSKY
    LENIN
    Imperialism and Capitalist Plunder
    (Quote of the Week)
    This year marks the 100th anniversary of V.I. Lenin’s 1916 work Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism. Written amid the carnage of World War I, Lenin’s pamphlet was a pioneering Marxist analysis of the origin and workings of capitalist imperialism. For Leninists, the development of imperialism underscores the urgent need for an internationalist revolutionary party to lead the proletariat to power and root out the decaying capitalist order.
    It is characteristic of capitalism in general that the ownership of capital is separated from the application of capital to production, that money capital is separated from industrial or productive capital, and that the rentier who lives entirely on income obtained from money capital, is separated from the entrepreneur and from all who are directly concerned in the management of capital. Imperialism, or the domination of finance capital, is that highest stage of capitalism in which this separation reaches vast proportions. The supremacy of finance capital over all other forms of capital means the predominance of the rentier and of the financial oligarchy; it means that a small number of financially “powerful” states stand out among all the rest....
    Typical of the old capitalism, when free competition held undivided sway, was the export of goods. Typical of the latest stage of capitalism, when monopolies rule, is the export of capital....
    On the threshold of the twentieth century we see the formation of a new type of monopoly: firstly, monopolist associations of capitalists in all capitalistically developed countries; secondly, the monopolist position of a few very rich countries, in which the accumulation of capital has reached gigantic proportions. An enormous “surplus of capital” has arisen in the advanced countries.
    It goes without saying that if capitalism could develop agriculture, which today is everywhere lagging terribly behind industry, if it could raise the living standards of the masses, who in spite of the amazing technical progress are everywhere still half-starved and poverty-stricken, there could be no question of a surplus of capital. This “argument” is very often advanced by the petty-bourgeois critics of capitalism. But if capitalism did these things it would not be capitalism; for both uneven development and a semi-starvation level of existence of the masses are fundamental and inevitable conditions and constitute premises of this mode of production. As long as capitalism remains what it is, surplus capital will be utilised not for the purpose of raising the standard of living of the masses in a given country, for this would mean a decline in profits for the capitalists, but for the purpose of increasing profits by exporting capital abroad to the backward countries. In these backward countries profits are usually high, for capital is scarce, the price of land is relatively low, wages are low, raw materials are cheap.
    —V.I. Lenin, Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism (1916)