| Red Words |
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| Tuesday, 30 November 1999 00:00 | |
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Leftovers On the Left Pat Moloney and Kerry Taylor (eds.) Reviewed by Dougal McNeill I’ve always felt annoyed at my ignorance of New Zealand labour and left history and, whenever a new book or second-hand treat on the subject comes my way, it is an exciting experience. On the Left, edited by Pat Moloney and Kerry Taylor, is no exception to this. I had high hopes for a book which claimed to be “bringing the left back in†to historical discussion but, although there are many positive and worthwhile aspects to this book, it is a failed opportunity, a lost chance and a deeply dishonest project. Far from “bringing the left back in,†the stated aims of this book act, in fact, as a stalking horse for the authors’ sometimes open, sometimes hidden double aim: discrediting class analysis and rejecting “Leninist†ways of organising. The contributions are a sad mixture of academic banality, red-baiting and self-congratulatory interviews. There are, however, many moments that made reading On the Left worthwhile. It was fascinating to learn about the Industrial Workers of the World (“Wobbliesâ€) setting up in the early years of the twentieth century, and of the pull syndicalist ideas had. Toby Boraman’s chapter on the New Left in New Zealand was filled with facts and details about how radical groups of the 1960s tried to break with old top-down models of organising and revitalise the progressive movements. Learning about Utopian literature and “Billy Banjo†(coalminer, socialist, poet and novelist) was inspiring as well. But most of the good things about this collection I discovered despite the authors’ best intentions. Despite claiming to be “brining the left back in,†class is almost a dirty word in these essays. Time and again we are told of the limits of class politics, class organisations and class analysis. This is despite the fact that, by their own admission, the identity politics most of the contributors seem to advocate has led social movements to disarray – becoming distracted and inward-looking. Cybele Locke, in her chapter on organising the unemployed, admits, “When more attention was given to Mäori and Päkehä caucus time than to setting the agenda of the whole movement, the leadership became paralysed and ineffective.†Readers of Socialist Review will know we place a huge emphasis on gender and ethnicity in our analyses but, because of the straw targets you find in On the Left, none of the essays actually deal with the real, sophisticated Marxist account of class. They set themselves the easy target of their own stereotypical version of Marxism and leave it at that. Which is a shame, because while there are interesting and fruitful discussions and debates the New Zealand left needs to have – you won’t find them here. Worse than the continual dismissal of class is the red-baiting of so many contributors. Toby Boraman hides his (completely inaccurate and dishonest) definition of “Leninist†in his footnotes so as to be able to tar supporters of Stalin, Mao and genuine democratic revolutionary socialists all with the same brush. Cybele Locke’s article, which claims to be on organising the unemployed, is in fact a classic example of red-baiting: the main crime of the Communist Party, for her, is that they tried to build their own organisation. As socialists we have always argued that, as well building the social movements, building our own organisations is a key way of strengthening these movements. But such a claim isn’t even given a hearing by Locke, who is too busy separating the good socialist sheep (who accept their class analysis is wrong and don’t try to build) from the sectarian goats (who keep their independence and are open in their politics). Earlier chapters on the Knights of Labour and William Pember Reeves try to challenge even the most basic connections of the left with class politics. A final note on style: each of the contributors needs to take a lyrical laxative. Their writing is constipated and academic in the extreme. This is a collection without vision, without hope and without promise. Erik Olssen freely admits he is “…a lapsed socialist… I’m not clear what sort of programme being a socialist would commit me to.†Some of us still answer: “real democracy, an end to war, imperialism, homophobia, sexism and racism†- but that may be getting a little too “Leninist†for the sophisticated contributors to On the Left. Spare your money and find some good second-hand books on New Zealand labour history instead. Good places to start are Bert Roth’s Toil and Trouble, Jock Barnes’ Never a White Flag and David Bedggood’s Rich and Poor in New Zealand.
The son of a British diplomat, Strummer was born John Graham Mellor in Ankara, Turkey. He was educated at a private boarding school in London, and later studied art at the Central School of Art and Design in London and Newport College of Art in Wales. However, his time was increasingly occupied by involvement with bands, a commitment that increased on his return to London. Strummer was known for a time as Woody Mellor, in honour of the left-wing American songwriter Woody Guthrie. Under this name he played for a time in a band called The Vultures before changing his name again to Joe Strummer. At this point he left The Vultures to join a new band, the 101ers, named for the street number of the squat in which they lived. Playing the pub rock scene, their influences included Guthrie and Bruce Springsteen, and it was here that Strummer developed the musical skills he was later to bring to The Clash. Paul Bond describes Strummer’s politics at the time as being mix of “sympathy for the working class and the oppressed, hostility to racism and support for what he saw as revolutionary political struggle, whether nominally guided by Marxist socialism, anarchism, or movements of national liberation.†His musical direction was to radically change after an encounter with the Sex Pistols – “it hit me like an atom bomb.†Within a year Strummer had left the 101ers to join a new band, The Clash. Their sound and style developed in a context of widespread anger about the betrayal of Harold Wilson’s Labour Party, successor to the Conservative Government brought down by the miners’ strike of 1974. Wilson’s imposition of IMF restrictions led to rising youth unemployment and deepening social divisions. The Sex Pistols’ savage comment that “there’s no future in England’s dreaming†arose from this situation. Unlike the Pistols, The Clash’s vision was not nihilistic. As Strummer was to tell the New Musical Express, “I think people ought to know that we’re antifascist, antiviolence, antiracist, and we’re pro-creative.†Their growing success led them to headline the huge “Rock Against Racism†concert in Hyde Park, organised by the Anti-Nazi League. Strummer dubbed their music “the sound of the Westway,†referring to main arterial road of their home district, Notting Hill. Along with writing partner Mick Jones he absorbed reggae and jazz influences from the large Caribbean community in this area, musical styles later to appear in such songs as “White Man in Hammersmith Palais.†Their eponymous first release dealt with themes of political alienation and urban chaos, and was very much of its time – raw and full of energy. The replacement of drummer Terry Chimes with Topper Headon did much to enhance the band’s command of dub styles, and Strummer often acknowledged the contribution he made to the band. Later albums experimented with a wide variety of musical forms, to varying degrees of success, but underlining it all was a sense of anger at the ruling class and the divisions foisted on the working class. By this time the band was playing to packed crowds in the US, but serious strains had developed. Headon had developed a heroin addiction that was out of control, and Strummer and Jones were often at each other’s throats. The band soon collapsed. Strummer continued to work and develop his art. In an interview given just before his death he said, “I don’t want to look back, I want to keep going forward, I still have something to say to people.†This included some film work as an actor (Jim Jarmusch’s Mystery Train) and work on several film scores. He also stood in as vocalist for The Pogues after the sacking of chronic alcoholic Shane MacGowan. More recently, Strummer formed The Mescaleros, a band marked by the same enthusiasm for musical experimentation that has characterised all of his work. As he described the song Bhindi Bhagee, “It’s got a bit of… um y’know, ragga bhangra, two-step tango, mini-cab radio, music on the go! Umm, surfbeat, backbeat, frontbeat, backseat. There’s a bunch of player’s and they’re really letting go!†Joe Strummer will be remembered for the
energy and emotion of his music, and for the strongly principled politics
that gave structure to those songs. He remains an inspiration for
musicians and rebels around the world. |
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