I keep seeing stuff online about the Workers Party, and it’s quite frustrating, as a member of the party, to see this stuff bandied around willy-nilly. Even some pretty good people, that you think are ok, that you seem to largely agree with, seem to have this really weird mental block about our party.
Since joining the party last December, pretty much the minute that Corbyn lost, I have never felt such a sense of camaraderie. The party was tiny when I joined, and the benefit of that was that you got to know pretty much everyone in it. Now, as new people join, it’s harder to keep track, but I love seeing a new person with a little target logo on their profile and seeing that we’ve got new bods rocking up all the time. It’s like collecting Pokemon, but more fun, and slightly less cute.
I’m gonna tackle a few myths, because they’re irritating me. Firstly, we’re not bankrolled by anyone. We have membership fee and that’s it. If you can’t afford to pay that fee, which is only £1 a week, then you can join as an affiliate member, which is free. You can also join up the whole family and have membership for everyone for the price of one.
Secondly. Just because we’re called the workers party, doesn’t meant that we’re anti-disabled, anti-unemployed etc. That’s ridiculous. If you are of working age and you rely on your income from selling your labour, you’re a worker. If you’re disabled and can’t work, you’re still a worker. It’s just capitalism decides you’re not productive enough and puts you on some benefit or another. We don’t see it like that. We believe that everyone has a place and a right to enjoyable and fulfilling work, and we see you as workers, not disabled people. If you used to be a worker and are now retired, you’re a worker. Whether you were a surgeon or a bin man. It makes no difference. If you trade your time for a wage, no matter how big that wage is, you’re a worker. If you’re self employed and have staff, but you still work for your firm yourself as manager or director or whatever, then you’re a worker. You’re what they’d call petit bourgeois, years ago, but you’re still a worker. You’re only not a worker if you can live from the labour of others without having to do any yourself. If you exploit workers for profit and live off their efforts, then you are not a worker. So. How many of the people that diss us for being called the workers party are actually in that position? Not many, mush. You reckon Bill Gates and Bezos are quibbling over what a worker is? They know full well, that they used to be workers, and now they’re the exploiting capitalist class. They’ve shifted, but calm down, mister camp site owner or small-ish building firm owner dude… you haven’t, I’m afraid. You’re a petit bourgeois worker. Sorry, but you are. You ain’t the middle class. There’s no such thing. You’re as much at their mercy as we are.
Is that what it’s all about? The status game of becoming middle class? That people like to think that they’re step up? And that they imagine all workers look like Fred Dibnah and work up a chimney or down a mine?
Thirdly. People often go on about our links to the CPGBML – The Marxist Leninists. But wait. Socialism came from Marxism, and Leninism. All the main ideas that Engels and Marx came up with on political economy, the arts, humanities, etc, are what made socialism a thing. So to try and distance your self from those guys because they’re from a long time ago and because you believed all the cold war propaganda you got fed all your life, then reject them, is counter intuitive. People seem to think that fake news is something new, like it got made up when Trump got in, and before that everything was wonderful and true and wholesome. Well, sorry, me old muckas, but a lot of what you got told was exaggerated bullshit. When I learned this, I learned the true meaning of blue pill/red pill. The woke think they’re woke, but you ain’t woke ‘til you appreciate the full scale of cold war propaganda that shaped your life and your mind by osmosis. It’s truly incredible when you realise the lies that have been told, it’s almost incomprehensible. I’m watching comrades in the party go through the same stages of learning, as we do quite a bit of studying in our party, I’m afraid to tell you. We like to learn about what we’re talking about. There’s enough vacuous nonsense going around without us adding to it. We take this seriously. And when you start to do that, and really take notice of what’s going on, it’s more than shocking. It’s frankly, disturbing. But don’t take my word for it, there’s plenty to go and watch and read. But don’t come on twitter and diss our acknowledgement of the importance of history and theory to bringing about socialism. Unless you understand where you came from, there’s no way you’re gonna get any further than arguing for a piece of kindly capitalism to promenade as socialism just to make the masses feel slightly better about themselves and to stave off the revolution for another little while longer, which is incidentally what they’re trying to do with UBI, another thing that people like to slate our party for, because we don’t agree with the imperialist plan to pull the wool over your eyes by bunging you a few quid and everyone feels dead grateful because they’ve been starving on Universal Credit for the last couple of years.
They take, they give, like they’re gods. They’re not even in charge. The shareholders are. They’ve got you all determined to kick out the Tories like getting Labour in is actually going to change anything. It’s not, and I think the main reason we get so much flack is because we’re the only party who are willing to acknowledge that. We don’t spend our meetings talking about where to set up the next soup kitchen or to shout about how bad the Tories are. We spend our time discussing and planning the inevitable fall of capitalism and the rise of its natural successor, socialism. Not identity politics, not UBI, not sticking plasters or concessions or reformist ways, but changing the entire system, from the ground up and from the top down. Talking of top down, this is the bit that irritates me the most. The shit that people give our leader, the inimitable Mister G.
George is Marmite, everyone knows that. You don’t spend fifty years in politics and say the right thing every single day, although to be fair, he’s come pretty close. Which is all the more reason why his detractors seem to pick up the three things they can hold against him, or that they think they can, and go on and on and on and on about it. Yes. He wanted Brexit. So did Tony Benn, so did Jeremy Corbyn. So did all the socialist greats. Just because the Farage wanted it, for different reasons, doesn’t mean it’s bad.
Next he was on big brother. So? He had a good laugh AND RAISED CASH FOR PALESTINE.
Next, he’s working with Tories. No. He’s showing the Tories up, because they’re refusing to work with him, showing clearly that their title of Conservative and unionist party in Scotland is a complete misnomer on every conceivable level, and that all they’re actually interested is keeping their own party strong, not what they’re supposed to believe is best for Scotland. They’re standing by, while George and his buddies do their job for them. And that’s bad, why?
Next, he’s transphobic. Jesus wept. I don’t even know where to begin with this one, as the whole point of that statement, is that it’s so indicative of how identity politics is talking over politics that it’s almost too ironic to comment upon. At the workers party, you can be a twenty stone monkey in a dress and call yourself a giraffe if you want, as long as you broadly agree with the ten-point programme, and don’t go on too long with the showtunes. You can be a one-legged, bearded trapeze artist with three breasts and a tail like a donkey. We don’t give a shit. It’s irrelevant. We don’t agree with people picking on each other for what they are. We don’t even like to be too mean to gammons. We understand that they’re mostly uninformed, lost, disenfranchised people that see the world in a certain way, the way in which it’s always been presented to them, and this new woke world is just too much for them to comprehend, so they lash out for the right to think how they’ve always thunk. There are a generation, of mostly men, that are never going to understand that you want to be called Sindy and wear lipstick. They just don’t get it. The tragedy is when men of that age are Trans, and they have to deal with the people in their own generation, and most of them probably hid all their lives, causing themselves immense pain in the process. They’ve all seen Billy Elliot. They know how it works. They knew they shit they’d get. You young uns should think yourselves lucky that you can more or less do what you want. Nobody really gives a crap. We don’t. Are you a worker that wants the best for yourself and your family and your community? Do you want to live in a society where all have meaningful work, homes, jobs, freedoms, less work hours, more fun stuff, more rewarding friendships and camaraderie, no billionaires fleecing us all, no big businesses making all the decision, but workers making the decisions on what’s best for their localities? Where the people get to choose whether or not the call centre stays in town and provides jobs or it moves to India instead? Where our industries are rebuilt using green technologies that are green for green sake and not for the sake of profit? Where our country can rebuild itself, provide for its people, give everyone a comfortable safe home, a meaningful life, less seclusion, less loneliness, more hope? Isn’t that what you all want?
That’s what we want. So please, if you’re gonna diss our party, or our leader, or our members, know that what you’re doing is holding up all the stuff that needs to happen before you can get what you’re saying you want. While you’re causing these big chasms of personality versus personality, then you’re completely missing the point. These people spend all day whining about being politically homeless, yet the answers are staring them in the face, and they’re too proud to even look up and put the key in the front door. Just come in, for God’s sake. Kettle’s on.