Raise Our Whisper To A Roar.

      This so called “representative democracy” that we live under could not survive without the threat of the law and the brutal violence of imprisonment. These are the pillars on which stand this edifice of state and capital, while they drain the life blood from the people. They indulge in no subtlety as they weave their web of poverty, deprivation and savage exploitation of the citizens, nor in their brutal police repression, concentration camps for immigrants, and the rhetoric of racism against vulnerable sections of society. The social needs of the people are taken off the agenda, while, under a charade of “progress” our natural environment is savaged and damaged beyond repair.

      All this is done in the name of personal profit, wealth and power for a ruling elite. The public, should not, and will not, let this multifaceted brutality go unanswered. However, I believe we are at a critical period, one where the ideas that hold that old ruling elite in power, no longer are accepted, but we the public have not yet articulated what will take their place. A period when the anarchists must raise their voices louder than ever, where our presence should be seen and heard at every public debate, in every workplace and in all communities. When the people seek answers, ours must be on the table. Rationale and humanity will see that they are the best of answers.

 

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Symbolism In Your Face.

      I know I said that the last post on Thatcher would be my last word on the subject, but I couldn't help myself on this one. I sat down with a cup of tea and switched on the tele at the 1 O'clock News, and there it was, "The funeral", (I should have known). The pomp and ceremony, the pageantry, the spectacle, a true picture of how the rich and powerful mark the passing of one of their great warriors.  A display meant to humble those she was sent out to destroy, a marker for you to know your place. You, the ordinary people don't belong here, this is the domain of the ruling class. This whole affair with all its fancy dress and sparkling uniforms, is a victory parade as the parasitic elite feel confident enough to shove their symbolism in your face. A show of power for those who hold power and for the passing of one who worshiped and fought for that power. There was nothing there that said, humility, nothing that said, ordinary people of the UK, it was a military display, with the trinkets of the ruling elite stage managed and hung out to impress.

        When will this grotesque type of display, which is nothing more than a bullhorn advertising the power of the rich, and those who hold that power dear, be swept into the dustbin of history.

        I promise that this is my last word on Thatcher and Thatcherism, honest.

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