The International Brigade and Delores Ibarruri's tribute to them.

La Pasionaria statue in Glasgow, Scotland (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 The International Brigade came from all corners of the world to defend the legitimate Spanish Government from the rebel Nationalists led by Franco and supported by Hitler and Mussolini. One of the leaders of the government side was the remarkable Delores Ibarruri (known by her pseudonym La Pasionaria - Spanish for Passion Flower - which she used to write articles anonymously  in various journals). Best known for her famous slogan - "They Shall Not Pass" she was an inspirational speaker  and in this prescient speech in Paris in 1936 predicted the catastrophic events that would follow if France and Britain and others failed to support the Republic's struggle (they didn't):-

September 8, 1936 (Paris).

Conclusion of the speech delivered to a Convention of Solidarity organized in Paris as part of an official mission by the Popular Front to the French government asking for the lifting of the arms embargo against the Spanish Republic.

Our people exude heroism, but a heroic spirit is not enough. The armament of the rebels must be confronted with rifles, airplanes, field guns. We defend the cause of freedom and peace. We need planes and guns to fight, to defend ourselves, our freedom, to prevent the insurgents bombing our open cities, murdering our women and our children. We need arms to defend freedom and peace!

Don't you forget—and let no one forget—that if today it falls to us to resist Fascist aggression the struggle does not end with Spain. Today it is our turn, but if the Spanish people are allowed to succumb, it will be your turn—all of Europe will be compelled to face up to aggression and war.

Help us to forestall the defeat of democracy because the consequence of such a defeat would be a new World War, which we are all interested in avoiding but whose first battles are being fought in our country already. For our children and yours! For the sake of peace and to oppose war demand that the border be opened! Demand that the French government fulfill its obligations with the Spanish Republican government! Help us obtain the arms we need to defend ourselves with! Fascism shall not pass! It shall not pass! It shall not pass.

 When, sadly, it became apparent that the Republican cause was lost she made this moving and historical address to the International Brigade as its soldiers marched through Barcelona for the last time:-

Dolores Ibárruri, La Pasionaria
Barcelona, November 1, 1938

It is very difficult to say a few words in farewell to the heroes of the International Brigades, because of what they are and what they represent. A feeling of sorrow, an infinite grief catches our throat - sorrow for those who are going away, for the soldiers of the highest ideal of human redemption, exiles from their countries, persecuted by the tyrants of all peoples - grief for  those who will stay here forever mingled with the Spanish soil, in the very depth of our heart, hallowed by our feeling of eternal gratitude. 

From all peoples, from all races, you came to us like brothers, like sons of immortal Spain; and in the hardest days of the war, when the capital of the Spanish Republic was threatened, it was you, gallant comrades of the International Brigades, who helped save the city with your fighting enthusiasm, your heroism and your spirit of sacrifice. - And Jarama and Guadalajara, Brunete and Belchite, Levante and the Ebro, in immortal verses sing of the courage, the sacrifice, the daring, th  discipline of the men of the International Brigades.  

For the first time in the history of the peoples' struggles, there was the spectacle, breath­taking in its grandeur, of the formation of International Brigades to help save a threatened country's freedom and independence - the freedom and independence of our Spanish land.  

Communists, Socialists, Anarchists, Republicans - men of different colors, differing ideology, antagonistic religions --- yet all profoundly loving liberty and justice, they came and offered themselves to us unconditionally.  

They gave us everything --- their youth or their maturity; their science or their experience; their blood and their lives; their hopes and aspirations --- and they asked us for nothing. But yes, it must be said, they did want a post in battle, they aspired to the honor of dying for us. 

Banners of Spain! Salute these many heroes! Be lowered to honor so many martyrs! 

Mothers! Women! When the years pass by and the wounds of war are stanched; when the memory of the sad and bloody days dissipates in a present of liberty, of peace and of well­being; when the rancors have died out and pride in a free country is felt equally by all Spaniards, speak to your children. Tell them of these men of the International Brigades. 

Recount for them how, coming over seas and mountains, crossing frontiers bristling with bayonets, sought by raving dogs thirsting to tear their flesh, these men reached our country as crusaders for freedom, to fight and die for Spain's liberty and independence threatened by German and Italian fascism. They gave up everything --- their loves, their countries, home and fortune, fathers, mothers, wives, brothers, sisters and children --- and they came and said to us: ``We are here. Your cause, Spain's cause, is ours. It is the cause of all advanced and progressive mankind.'' 

Today many are departing. Thousands remain, shrouded in Spanish earth, profoundly remembered by all Spaniards. Comrades of the International Brigades: Political reasons, reasons of state, the welfare of that very cause for which you offered your blood with boundless generosity, are sending you back, some to your own countries and others to forced exile. You can go proudly. You are history. You are legend. You are the heroic example of democracy's solidarity and universality in the face of the vile and accommodating spirit of those who interpret democratic principles with their eyes on hoards of wealth or corporate shares which they want to safeguard from all risk. 

We shall not forget you; and, when the olive tree of peace is in flower, entwined with the victory laurels of the Republic of Spain --- return!  

Return to our side for here you will find a homeland --- those who have no country or friends, who must live deprived of friendship --- all, all will have the affection and gratitude of the Spanish people who today and tomorrow will shout with enthusiasm ---   

Long live the heroes of the International Brigades!

The Eagle and The Hawk.

 My two regular readers know, by now, that occasionally on this blog I like to demonstrate very different interpretations of a particular song. In this instance the song was written by John Denver, often dismissed by purists as a pop/folk writer, but he was much much deeper than this and wrote songs with not only a deeply emotional but also a spiritual significance. I hope to demonstrate this in a later post but for now lets stick to the text and play different versions of The Eagle and The Hawk.

John Denver

Blind Pilot

Bonnie Prince Billy

The Problems caused by, "The New Americans"

Early Indian Languages of the USA (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A Mark 8 nuclear bomb. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 Of course I am referring to the bloodthirsty puritans and religious zealots who stole North America from the native Americans or more correctly The Indian Tribes, that roamed that continent in comparative peace, for thousands of years before the incomers arrived. Not only did they arrive, but they invaded, tortured and almost wiped out those tribes that were the historical guardians of that fair land.
 But time passed and the settlers found that they needed cheap labour to till the soil and pick the crops. So a good capitalist liberal economic plan was devised to ship Native Africans in rotting and filthy ships from the old world to the new. And these too were treated as second class citizens, and ill treated and killed if they were obdurate, and are despised even unto this day.
 And when these African Americans were grudgingly given their civil rights they then needed another source of cheap labour so to this day Mexicans are dragged in to pick their crops, and I have witnessed the tin hovels that they are forced to live in whilst picking Red Delicious in the Yakima Valley.
 One of the factors that psychologists consider when dealing with psychopaths is their feelings of insecurity, usually but not always. born out of, a troubled early past and a sense of not belonging. This often results in an innate siege mentality and a distorted sense of right and wrong but above all a need to protect what they have. So it it is with the, "New Americans" who are the most bloodthirsty race of people ever to live on this planet which belongs to us all equally and is not there to serve the interests of their ruling elite. Of course it is idiotic to generalise as we all know decent, caring citizens of the USA who are often embarrassed by their chiefs and you will find such agonising in the columns of this astute journal.
 This blogger was born in 1944, and a year later  the, "New Americans" dropped the first nuclear bomb on Hiroshima. Since then, in the name of democracy and freedom, for God's sake, they have blitzed their way around the weak and defenceless leaving millions of dead and injured in their wake, not for them to tangle with The Russian Bear, for he might do unto them serious non-collateral damage.
 So what's to do? TheRainbow Alliance has been tried whilst the labor unions and Wall Street protestors have been silenced, much like Phil Ochs experienced at the Democratic convention in Chicago, when Mayor Daly set his dogs on those who dared to say enough is enough. And so the coffins continue to roll out on the "New Americans" conveyor belt of death.

Paul Robeson who lived and died in the cause of civil rights for all of the people of this world and the labour movement.

The Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band

Hard Times for the BLUES.

Down and Out Blues (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 To my two regular readers, once again apologies to you but the time has come to take about football and of course Birmingahm City F.C. I am grateful to Eoin of Singing the Blues for this most erudite description of our current plight:-

My Problem? I Don't Know Who To Be Angry At Any More.

As we left the ground yesterday after an annoying, perplexing and humiliating second-half display I became further vexed by the notes of misplaced triumph in the announcer’s voice as he announced the Chelsea v AVFC result. And my question was along the lines of “What exactly is it you’re feeling so happy about? Am I seriously expected, after a display like yesterday’s, feel good about our local Premier League rivals playing a brilliant team, hotly tipped to win the league and to make good progress in Europe. Is there an assumption that there’s always something amusing happening on the other side of the A38 that’s amusing and that as long as they’re about we can be chipper and perky?” Chipper and perky about a well run-club that’s made mistakes, flirted with and avoided relegation, had a good start to this season and commands healthy gates?

Am I expected to sneer at their transition from Ellis to Learner and somehow revel in their current lack of clarity regarding the possible sale of the club and to do this with no sense of irony as we witness a collective atrophy consume the fabric of the club.

And I don’t know who to be angry at. Sullivan and Gold for selling the club, BIHL for buying it, McLeish for leaving it meaning at the point of his inevitable dismissal from AVFC, they would in turn appoint Lambert and in so doing give Houghton an opportunity to manage a Premier League team? Should I focus my anger on our current owners and their seemingly limitless ineptitude-a case study in how to over-promise, under-deliver and demolish in months that which had taken years to achieve? Need I remind myself of their inability to deliver the accounts on time, produce end of year financial statements or anything else even moderately consistent with good business practice?

Do I focus my disquiet on the fans that stay away or rather do I (and I include myself here) point the finger at the remnants of our support that still attend to witness embarrassment heaped upon humiliation. The cauldron of support that prompted Sir Alex Ferguson to comment, now has all the intensity of spluttering flame that begs to be extinguished.

Should I join the “Clark out” group-think when I believe that Lee Clark is a manifestation of what is wrong with the club rather than the cause of it? Should I add my voice to the torrent of abuse he faces or I should I reflect on who could do better/different and-honestly-who of any ambition or quality would want to be part of an organisation that is merely a passport for its owners’ intentions to stay visible on the Hong-Kong stock exchange? I could point my finger at those who thought they might like to buy us and have seemingly withdrawn but do you know what, the prospect of maximum liability in a high risk situation with less than 25% asset control would probably make me raise an eyebrow and walk away.

I think I'm angry and sad because there’s nothing to be done except wait, listening for the faintest of sounds in a communication vacuum that seems to suit only those who own our club and seem indifferent to its impotent Carver Doone-like attempts to escape from the mire in which it will be consumed.

At 17:35 yesterday I was past the airport and well on my way to Coventry. It’s not that long ago that I was still on the car-park at 17:35: that’s a very much unwanted silver lining on a vast, dark cloud.

Two poems to my Mother.

TO A LOVED ONE

(My Mother)

Autumn of low sun

and long shadows

dark days

and morning mists

that cloak my valley

in dreamscapes;

softening

winter's

harsh approach.

Like you, before you flew

left clues

of imminent departure

in shrouded sentences

and sideways glances

that signalled

the frozen years to come.

The daylight sleeps

yet the trees

stripped of their leaves

allow light into my forest

and winter's moon

upon the woodland floor.

So it it with you

warm memories flicker

in the inner sanctum of my soul

and tears cannot put out

the fire I have inside for you.

LOST OPPORTUNITY

The last kiss we gave each other, as you lay dying

Was like the first kiss that you gave to me, to hush my crying.

But through the myriad wasted hours in between

delicate times for kissing you, were missed by me.

Why oh why does it take birth and death

to separate me holding you, mama mild,

like you held me when I was an upset child.

But , oh why did I not cradle you as you grew old?

And now you're gone, I regret all that I should have done.

Told you at thirty how pretty you were; my heart you'd won.

At forty that you had spun my dreams.

At sixty, your highness, you were my queen.

In the hour of your death it was obscene

watching the crows circle over your bed,

unable to breath life back into you

too useless to smother you with myself.

                                                                David, who thinks of you every day.

A time to throw stones and a time for peace.

 On Friday 26 September the British House of Commons, voted on whether to become the lackeys of the USA and bomb ISIL bases in Iraq (some hope, bases don't exist and ISIL will melt into the general population in the area that they receive the support of the indigenous tribes).  There was however one beacon amongst a sea of mediocricy when George Galloway, in a passionate summation of the situation destroyed the rest of the commons with the following excoriating speech. It needs no further comment.

  

 At the same time the autumn mist of mellow fruit and mistiness has descended on my beloved valley, far from the madness of our government and the bombs that bring with them collateral damage ( a euphemism for the burning and shredding of innocent children and women):-

Meanwhile lovely Anastasia in far of and cold Moscow dreams still of the summer past:-

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News from St. Petersburg.

Deutsch: Vincent van Gogh im Jahr 1866 im Alter von 13 Jahren. Vermutlich entstand das Foto nach Beendigung des Internataufenthalts in Zevenbergen, bevor er in die höhere Schule in Tilburg eintrat. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

City of culture rivers, canals, the sea and beauty. Tourist traps are expensive (£4 for a cup of tea) but get to where the Russians eat and dine and it's £0.50 for a cupa. Mind you the tea is crap. and I found nowhere with a nice Darjeeling or Assam. DO NOT have a glass of Vodka (about the equivalent of 4 shots, for £1.30) in the morning, as the Russian sailors do - nor anytime - I felt ill for the rest of the day and thought that I was going to be sick. It took two hours of steady walking to get rid of the effects - no wonder Russia has one of the worst record for early death from the dreaded liquor. My remedy was the rest of the holiday back on the wagon.
 The Hermitage is beyond description, three floors and a basement filled with the works of the old masters - twenty of everything Cezanne's, Picasso's, Van Gogh's, Gaugan's etc, etc as well as some exiting Russian modern art.
 The people are friendly, articulate and extremely well educated and the place, like Moscow is buzzing. My guide Natalie was informed, educated and buoyant, although, naughty girl, she smoked the stick of death, Stop it Natalie! Fireworks, pop concerts and symphony orchestras, all for free in the main square. And, perhaps, one of the most amazing sites that I have ever seen about 500 Hells Angel's lights flashing and horns blaring doing fifty miles an hour around the city roads and being escorted, front and end by police cars with lights flashing and sirens screaming, joining in the fun.

Life in the Gulag.

I have found Moscow to be the most vibrant, attractive, cosmopolitan, and beautiful city that I have ever visited. It is vast  and so far I have visited 10 different cities within the city. Each area is totally different with its own sub-culture but whatey all have in common is open green spaces and parks. I have , in two days, visited about 5% of the city and next year, God willing, I will visit again for two weeks to see more. Everyone is so friendly and helpful and it is full of young people who make the place buzz, with that feeling of excitement and joy that only comes with the blooming of youth and the joie de vivre that comes with it.
 The city containes 20 million of Russia's population of 74 million. Water is free, no plugs, the metro has wonderful stations and the trains are very fast and as soon as one pulls out, within 20 seconds another arrives. Freedom of speech and friendly discussions between opposites take place in the cafés , parks and bars. Everything is pristine which some like and some don't but it is the cleanest city that I have ever been in. The military are around, in small numbers, and leap to their feet on the metro to give you a seat. You get the impression that the motherland would be defended at all costs, as in the past, and the memorials remind you of the 27 million who died fighting Hitler and probably played a major part in his defeat.
 The next post on this blog will be reporting on my visit to Sankt-Peterburg/Санкт-Петербург.

About to Land in Moskva.

This blogger is about to land in the enemy of the western world in 15 minutes. Flight with Transaerow as the best that I have ever had.
 Watch this space for further reports from the wild bear.

WHy the Labourt Party Must TURN LEFT -> -> ->

Portrait Picture of Tony Benn (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Portrait photo of Barbara Castle (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

James Keir Hardie was an early democratic socialist, who founded the Independent Labour Party in Great Britain (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    I was a foot soldier for the Labour Party from 1961 until Blair invaded Iraq   My sole but, miserable, compensation for not having left a distressing legacy behind me is that I DID NOT vote for any of the three candidates for the leadership, when sadly John Smith did and the hopes of returning a Socialist government died with him. In did not feel that either of the three candidates (Becket, Blair and Prescott) would give a fig for what the, then, members of the party were looking for. I did however cast a vote for Prescott as the Deputy Leader as he personally helped my colleagues and myself when we were going through the courts over the banning of Trade Unions at GCHQ in 1984. I always repay a favour.
 With the three major parties offering only the same shades of neo-liberal politics to the electorate many millions are totally disenfranchised and are seeking something new, such as Scottish Independence (how about independence for Kernow as well, now that the E.U. has officially recognised it as an  official minority within  the U.K.). Neo- liberalism was defined as follows by Shamus Cook who, lamenting the lot of working class people in the Western World brilliantly defined defined it as follows:-
  “The essence of neoliberalism can be reduced to the following: government should be used exclusively to help big business and the wealthy with tax cuts, subsidies, privatizations, anti-labour laws, etc., while all government programs that help working and poor people should be eliminated. It’s really that simple.”  
 Ed Milliband is now confronted with offering more of the same, at the next election, surrounded as he his by advisers who, like the other parties seek to appeal to the middle ground. Well I have news for you Ed, the middle ground is a tiny minority controlled by the establishment and the lies of its media whilst the rest of us are yearning for something different.
 After over fifty years in politics I have only ever met two whom I respect both for their intellects and their refusal to compromise on socialist policies (sadly Both Barbara Castle and Tony Benn are dead). I have met many of the rest of them from ministers to MP's  and was even sadly a misguided foot soldier for some of them ( I exclude Terry penny from this list, as he was a proper socialst who fought,  Tidley Ridley or Old Nick, in a huge Tory swathe in the Cotswolds. I met Ridley when he was destroying the miners at Thathcher's behest and I can honestly say that he had the handshake and the demeanour of a wet fish).
 Well, dear reader, as ever I digress, so back to the subject. I am convinced that there is a sea change about to occur in British politics, regardless of what happens in Scotland, UKIP is going to split the Tory vote and many of my racist Tory colleagues at GCHQ like millions of other conservatives will be rooting for them. Milliband should therefore show the boldness and vision to offer a leftist alternative (just 10% to the left will do) by sacking  his advisers and he would sweep the country if he stood on a platform of taking the railways and energy back into public ownership whilst retaining LLoyds and RSB (on which us taxpayers have spent more than 80 billion pounds and merging them together as a state bank independently run and controlled but responsible to the commons. It was they and their chums in the city and America who ruined the economy of the Western World and the Greeks, the Spanish, the Portuguese, the Italians and the Irish, amongst others are still suffering from the consequences of crooked bankers with their criminal risk taking and blind robbery.  It is in his hands otherwise British politics will fracture and I fear the right wing are waiting and that W.B Yates terrible prediction will happen:-


William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
       THE SECOND COMING
    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

    The darkness drops again but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

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Harvey Andrews meets Phil Ochs.

I have long been an admirer of Harvey Andrews, a very talented and much under rated, British singer and recording artist. We have two things in common: firstly for our sins we both support Birmingham City and you can hear him sing if you scroll down this Blog to the post about, in my humble opinion the days when the Blues had proper supporters ( and moreover massive support with one attendance of over 44,000 in 1966 when we were in the second division ) as opposed to the tiny gates of today and a group of whinging, so called supporters, who fortunately or unfortunately form a large but vocal and very immature minority of one of the Blues many supporters sites called Small Heath Alliance; secondly we are both huge admirers of Phil Ochs and Harvey's tale of his meeting with Phil Ochs can be found here.

 Harvey recorded a very moving tribute to Ochs after he died and I urge you dear reader to listen to this YouTube video of the song. I must admit, silly old emotional thing that I am, that It moved me to tears a few nights ago when I first became aware of it. The song is extremely well written, not too sentimental and yet it admits to an admiration of what Ochs believed in and taught him. The voice is quite, melodic, crystal clear but wistful and matches the mood of the song perfectly.

Bitter Tears and Ethnic Cleansing - Buffy St. Marie

No comment - the song speaks for itself.

Polly Bolton

 She now writes gardening books and holds tuition classes in singing in her hideaway in Shropshire. Although hardly known users can trace her career on Wiki or find more infotmation here. To me she is quite the most talented female vocalist anywhere, and yet, as fate has decreed, she is largely unrecognised. Listen to this and if you don't agree then please post a comment (see my profile).

For the attention of a Phil Ochs Heretic ( Old Fella) plus, as a bonus, Ochs jamming with John Lennon.

There are a few of us who still believe, like  Neil Young, that this guy was one of the finest poets of his generation, eclipsed in Nanci Griffith words by, "The Midnight boy from Minnesota", whom he helped and gave a bed to when he first arrived in Greenwich Village. Others doubt the quality of his voice and dismiss him as a forgotten protest singer. I disagree with both, although his voice was later damaged when he was strangled and left for dead on a beach in Tanzania and lost the upper range of his vocal chords (conspiracy theorists blame this attempted murder on the FBI who subsequent archives have revealed held a massive file on him).
 Firstly lets listen to the voice and the poetry and the differing themes explored in this piece similar to Shelly, Keats or Browning.

Boys Own.

 I was lucky enough as a boy to have been bought up in green and verdant England. Largely due to my father's  job in the Air Ministry, which involved him travelling around some of the RAF bases in the west of England (in those days there was no cosmetic and lying labelling such as, "The Ministry of a Defence"  whose major role since it was given that title has been to blow up and dismember Wogs, Arabs, Kenyans, Argentinians and Afghans - indeed anyone as long as they live overseas and are not Protestant or White) who alongside The War Office and The Admiralty were responsible for administering the defence of the realm wherever it existed in far flung tracts of the
empire.
 Anyway dear reader, as usual I digress so let us return to the subject in hand - that magical, awakening and innocent period of ones life called boyhood. What memories of the smells, the fishing, tramping through gorse and chalk land, exploring in the woods and playing cowboys and indians ( my particular hero, who flickered on the black and white and spidery screen from Hancock's projector at the YMCA hut in Wootton Bassett was Johnny McBrown - long since forgotten as are Hopalong Cassidy and Gabby Hayes) , and taking those first tentative steps onto the ice of the Kennett and Avon canal, in winter, to see if it really would hold our weight, where only a few months earlier we were skimming stones off of its surface. My playgrounds ranged from the Malvern Hills,in Worcestershire, to the chalk downs of Wiltshire through to exploring the byways of The Forest of Dean. Long ago sadly those days were lost, like innocence, or as A. E. Housman gloriously portrayed it:-

INTO my heart on air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,	5
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again

 Much later the awakening of other thought as I begun to wonder what really was under Jackie Slater's blue knickers, and some boys paid her a sixpence to have a look. That lost age is summed up for me in the following two quite different songs which both, however, lament the glorious past.

Birmingham City F.C. when they had supporters and not whingers.

 With apologies to my two lady regular readers the time has come once again to talk about that, to you, boring subject - football, and in particular the Blues. In the sidebar to this blog you will see a link to Singing ther Blues  which has declined in recent years due to the sad demise of many of its former members but remains the primary Blues fans site where regular discussion can be had on the Blues without the vitriol and piss taking which seems to plague some, and I emphasis some of the current crop of smart alecs on other Blues sites.
 One of those former regulars was JimHerriotSavedBalls who was a regular contributor with a massive archive of information, and a cheerful sense of humour, who for years served us up some superb picturs and newspaper articles on the team. Well, I was browsing youtube and suddenly there was a video from Jim. Wherever you are Jim you are sadly missed and we could do with a few more like you now. Cheers to you mate for all those happy days from Spion. Jim HerriotSavedBalls presents:-

Union Man.

 For those of you familiar with my earlier posts on the subject of the Trades Union Movement you will know my feelings on the matter. The one thing that I am proud about, above all others, and dear reader there is not a lot that I have been proud of in my life, except for my undying support over fifty seven years for the Blues, is the fact that I was one of the appellants who took Thatcher through the British and European courts for Banning TRADES UNION membership at GCHQ in 1984. Having won in the High Court where Judge Glidewell ruled that the government ban was unlawful, the usual strings of the British establishment were pulled and greased and we were subsequently defeated in the so called Court of Appeal, The Lords[1] and the European Court. We were subsequently vindicated however when the International Labour Organisation ruled in our favour and in 1997, almost the first act of the new Foreign Secretary, Robin Cook, was to once again allow free Trades Union membership at GCHQ. We had Defeated Thatcher. The following is an extract taken from Wikipedia, to which I subscribe and to those of you who don't may I humbly suggest that you do support this encyclopedia of our modern age.

Trade union disputes

NUCPS banner on march in Cheltenham 1992

Main article: Council of Civil Service Unions v Minister for the Civil Service

In 1984, GCHQ was the centre of a political row when the Conservative government of Margaret Thatcher prohibited its employees from belonging to a trade union. It was claimed that joining a union would be in conflict with national security. A number of mass national one-day strikes were held to protest this decision, seen as a first step to wider bans on trade unions. Appeals to British Courts and European Commission of Human Rights^[23] were unsuccessful. The government offered a sum of money to each employee who agreed to give up their union membership. Appeal to the ILO resulted in a decision that government's actions were in violation of Freedom of Association and Protection of the Right to Organise Convention.^[24] The ban was eventually lifted by the incoming Labour government in 1997, with the Government Communications Group of the Public and Commercial Services (PCS) Union being formed to represent interested employees at all grades.^[25] In 2000, a group of 14 former GCHQ employees, who had been dismissed after refusing to give up their union membership, were offered re-employment, which three of them accepted.<sup>[26]

 Of course banners, brass bands and singing have long been part of the history of the Trade Union movement as has been these songs some traditional and some modern.</sup>

 

 

And today I discovered this tribute by Phil Ochs to the labouring men and women. Only this rather muted video is available on youtube but ther is a superb version on, "Sliced Bread Records - The Songs of Phil Ochs" by Pat Humphries.

This song was never recorded by Ochs and this recording was made on a tape recorder at a concert in New York City in January 1964, hence the poor quality. In recent years, in some places, it has become an anthem for the labour movement. As the recording is so poor I have listed the lyrics, with cord changes below, wich have been compiled by Trent Ochs.

Hands

By Phil Ochs, Arrangements & lyric changes by Jim Glover

G                      Bm            C              D 
I've seen the hands of laborers that lifted all the loads
        G                         Bm           C                      D
And the granite stuck to their fingers as they dug the canals and the roads
    Em                      Bm
Now they're cleared and the bridges span
C                          D
The river paused for a power dam
    G                   Bm      C                  D
And now the hand of the laborer is reaching out to you

Chorus:
       G           Em    C    D               G           Em 
Oh the hands hands hands that worked to build land, land, your land
    D            G         Em C D                     G
The labor of the woman and the man workin' with their hands

Hands, hands, hands a-workin' with their hands

I've seen the hands of the miners digging out the coal.
The black dust stuck to their fingers as they lived their life in a hole.
The rocks they're still under the ground, and now their mine is a-closin' 
down. 
And now the hand of the miner is reaching out to you. (Chorus)

Well I've seen the hands of the lumberjacks; forests swaying in the breeze.
And the splinters stuck to their fingers as lumber was torn from the trees.
And the wood that came from the timber tall built your buildings from
wall to wall.
And now the hand of the lumberjack is reaching out to you.

And I've seen the hands of the farmers plowin' across the fields.
And the topsoil stuck to their fingers as the land was split by the steel.
Just growing all they could grow, to fill your tables row after row.
And now the hand of the farmer is reaching out to you.

Oh the hands, hands, hands were working on the land, your land.
The labor of the woman and the man working with their hands.
Hands, hands, working with their hands.

 Notes [1] Such is the twisted mentality of the English legal system that all

 confidentiality was breached

 by them,two hours before we filed into the house

 to hear the verdict that was to affect our lives, as the press had been notified

 of the judgement and a sympathetic journo had phoned us to inform us that we had

 lost. 

 THE BASTARDS.

Phil Ochs Greatest Hits.

I bought Phil Ochs' first L.P. in the early sixties, not because I knew his music, but because of the. cover of the album. I wore what was then known as a "Donkey Jacket" and on the cover of this  album was this cool looking guy sitting on the ground with one, with a wrecked city around him and THE CND SYMBOL showing boldly. Although then I was theoretically and actually working as an electronic spy at GCHQ I had left wing views, hated the Tories, had canvassed for the losing Labour Party candidate in Cheltenham and supported and marched with CND.

 My two regular readers will know all about my career or failure at GCHQ as that is all listed in previous posts, but is immaterial to the subject of this blog.

 So I brought the L.P. It's contents stunned me. Dylan was out and people were knocked out by his protest songs but this guy was different. He was a poet, a visionary whose voice was different,but not great, but the immediate impact was that here was a guy who had thrown himself into every line that he wrote with the intensely personal almost spiritual sense of a prophet. In fact he cared so much about what was going wrong with this world that he stood up as a patriotic American and said what is going on here is UN-AMERICAN. We are electrocuting people for crimes that they may not have committed, we are fighting war after war after war and what have we gained? Black people are being treated like vermin and other terrible crimes are being committed in the name of democracy and THIS IS WRONG and I am going to say so through my poetry, my voice and my guitar. There was no selling out, like some others, He was in it for good or good and nobody was going to stop him except himself. No thing and nobody frightened him and he really believed that through the power of song he could change this rotten, corrupt and sordid world in which we are bystanders and puppets being used by the dark side.

 I will touch briefly on a few other things, but this is not the start of a biography because an excellent one already exists, called "There but for Fortune" which was written by Michael Schumacher. This blogger refuses to link to the minimum wage, non-union owners of Amazon but new or good used copies can be found at this British book sellers site. Towards the end of his short life an album was made called, "Phil Ochs Greatest Hits", an ironic title because he never had one, and on the back were the words,  "Fifty Phil Ochs Fans Can't be Wrong".

Note the Elvis gold lame suit. On the L.P. are some songs of rememberance of his youth, some dream songs and a haunting piece on the death of the actor James Dean. Two years ago I liaised with his bother Michael Ochs, who has his own place in a quite different hall of fame, about getting a British  television company to show a bio-doc which had been made about Phil, again with  the title, "There but for Fortune" . My efforts, unfortunately we're not successful but for those of you who are sassy enough this excellent film of his life, with comments from a surprisingly diverse range of people , is available in the USA and on eBay etc. but only in the format 1 version , which is not compatible with European CD players but it has also been shown on American TV on the PSB channel.

Okay enough of my rubbish here are a few of his great songs, with some cover versions by other artists:-

  

                     No More Songs

                                                               Jim Dean of Indiana

                                                    Annie DiFranco - When I'm Gone

 

Joan Baez -There But For Fortune

                                                                                             I Ain't Marching Anymore

                                               Judy Collins - In the heat of the Summer

 There will be more.