Monday, 1 September 2014

Be True To Yourself.

       Our pompous parasite class of privileged millionaires, and their mouthpiece, that babbling brook of bullshit, the mainstream media, continue their attempt to glorify and justify, the imperialist bloody land grab of 1914/18 with a biased phoney history. We will have distorted documentaries, plays and ceremonies, about how it was all justified, in an attempt to defend democracy. Of how we were the honourable side, and the other side were a despicable sub-human species. The reality was, those sent by the UK imperialists, to do the killing were bus drivers, farm labourers, office workers, shop assistants, plumbers, engineers etc., who they were sent to kill, were, bus drivers, farm labourers, office workers, shop assistants, plumbers, engineers, etc.. None of whom had ever known democracy in their entire life, all of whom, on both sides, were struggle to create a democracy, something the Imperialists could not tolerate.
     Prior to the Imperial slaughter of 1914/18, the UK, like the rest of Europe, was in turmoil, here in the UK from 1900 to 1914, the country was racked by a continual series of strikes that were noted for their militancy and refusal to follow union leaders dictates.

Troops paraded in the streets of Liverpool in an attempt to intimidate workers, 1911.

        This militancy shook the British capitalist state to its foundations and forced the Liberal government of Herbert Henry Asquith to increasingly turn to military means in an attempt to halt the strikes. While the most famous examples of Government militancy was the despatching of two warships up the River Mersey following the 1911 strike of seamen there are also plenty of other examples such as the use of troops during the rail strike of 1911 in an attempt to keep scab trains operating. This period saw workers militancy break out of the boundaries of bourgeois legality and begin to start to develop towards a more critical consciousness which questioned the very basis of capitalist rule.
      This then was the democracy that existed in the UK prior to the 1914/18 imperial bloody greed fest. Today we are still struggling to create that democracy, and today like then, it is the capitalist class that stands in our way. If only once again, the workers would create that 1911 critical consciousness, and that breaking out of the bourgeois legality.
       When we hear our lords and masters talk of war as a solution to their problems, we would do well to remember the words of Eugene V. Debs, as he was sentenced to 10 years in prison and stripped of his citizenship, in that "Land of the Free", the good ol' US of A, for speaking out against that all encompassing 1914/18 imperialist slaughter.
      “They have always taught and trained you to believe it to be your patriotic duty to go to war and to have yourselves slaughtered at their command. But in all the history of the world you, the people, have never had a voice in declaring war, and strange as it certainly appears, no war by any nation in any age has ever been declared by the people … Do not worry over the charge of treason to your masters, but be concerned about the treason that involves yourselves. Be true to yourself and you cannot be a traitor to any good cause on earth.”


No, I shall not die for the fluttering flag,
if truth be known, ’tis nothing but a multi-coloured rag
held aloft by some foolish hand
inciting worker and peasant to kill
on some green and wooded hill,
peasant and worker from some other land.
Nor shall I shed blood for the fluttering rag
that brings out fools to stand and brag
of brutal deeds painted grand,
deeds where rustic and craftsman lie so still
killed by my brothers' misguided hand.
No allegiance have I for the Nation
this man made autocratic creation
that divides my brothers in a world so small,
binds us to a country's cause, right or wrong,
bids us follow its drum, sing its song,
then sheds our blood in some border brawl.
No, I'll be no slave to flag or nation,
have no ear for power oration,
though its iron heel is on my breast,
my back feels its leather thong,
at patriotism's barracoon, I'll be no guest.

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