‘If You Tolerate This Then Your Children Will Be Next’

Today is the 40th anniversary of the National Guard’s shootings of student Vietnam War protestors at Kent State University in Ohio.

Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose – earlier today Martin posted about unwarranted police violence at a peaceable, permitted May Day protest in Rotterdamand this was his view on why the police attacked non-agressive, unarmed protesters:

I doubt that the police has explicitly gotten orders to crack down on political protests. If I had to guess I’d think that it’s a side effect to the Rotterdam police overreacting to what happened at the Hoek van Holland beach party of August last year — where inept policing and rioting football hooligans led to the police accidently shooting and killing an innocent man. Since then the Rotterdam police has become a lot harsher in dealing with potentially dangerous situations and since leftist demonstrations of this kind have always been seen as worrisome by them, it’s no surprise that this happened. Wrong, but not surprising.

I have to say, with all due respect, I disagree. Vehemently. State violence against dissenters is EU policy and therefore Dutch policy too.

The authorities’ violent response in Rotterdam, along with those at Kent State, Genoa, the G8 and G20 protests, Seattle, Minneapolis St. Paul, New York and countless other peaceful protests worldwide are part of an organised pattern of oppression and the silencing of popular opinion by supposedly democratic governments.Like I said back in 2007 when the Canadian police attacked a demo:

Protest isn’t all pink tutus, dogs on strings and rainbow flags: it can be fatal. Remember Carlo Giuliani, shot in the face, his head split like a melon by the wheel of a police landrover at Genoa? That’s what our democratic police are capable of when governments and elected representatives won’t listen and citizens feel forced to take to the streets to exercise their right to protest.

And the worst of it is, we’ve let them do it to us; rather than fight back, we’ve gone home scared, to watch ‘V For Vendetta’ on DVD and wish we could be braver human beings.

But it’s not very surprising is it, when just walking innocently through a demo on your way home from work can get you dead.

Oppressive violence against political dissenters is a feature of life under capitalism. After all, there’s money to be made from it:

Paramilitary political police on both sides of the Atlantic need only a discreet nod from the pols (and sometimes not even that) to go in joyfully and with boots, taser and fists. They love that sort of thing: that’s why they’re police. For every saintly murdered copper, devoted village bobby or innocuous deputy sheriff there are ten barely-controlled thugs with plenty of hate and plenty of gusto.

Every now and then they get let off the leash and someone notices. This time is was Salon. Then it all goes back to normal and soon these incidents just become part of the wallpaper of normal life, like warrantless wiretapping, torture, routine tasering or prison rape.

For anyone to expect that police on any continent will do anything but suppress any person or movement that might put their industry or jobs in jeopardy is very naive indeed.

I hate to keep quoting myself, but I don’t see the point of saying the same things year upon year in slightly different words. Police violence against dissenters is no occasional incident; to use that hackneyed phrase I’ve used so many times before, it isn’t a bug, it’s a feature.

Our leaders can waffle on about their commitment to liberty band fredom for all – and don’t they just, here’s Gordon Brown pontificating on the subject in April 2008:

Among the measures he announced were:

• New rights of protest. This will mean watering down laws – introduced just four years ago – that ban any unauthorised protest within one kilometre of the Palace of Westminster.

• New rights of access to public information by extending the Freedom of Information Act to companies carrying out public functions, such as private prisons.

• Entrenched freedoms of the press to carry out investigative journalism.

• A review of the rule that allows Cabinet papers to be seen automatically only after 30 years.

• New rights against invasion of property after it emerged there are 250 laws allowing state agents to enter a home.

• A debate about a British Bill of Rights and Duties and the possibility of a written constitution.

Have we seen any of these things? Have we hell. We know what politicians mean when they waffle on about freedom:

That’s what the ‘freedom’ in Bush & Blair’s constantly reiterated talking point means – the freedom for capital to be entirely free of restraints, legal, moral or physical. The ‘democracy’ part refers to the periodic tv ratings contests that we laughingly call elections – and any pretence to those being free and fair is long gone, in the UK as well as the US. It doesn’t matter who you vote for really.
Even if you do go through the motions of voting, the only real power your representatives have is the power to decide which lobbyist’s request they will accede to, and what the quid pro quo will be.

The real business of governing, ie how to manage the electorate’s money, is done by unelected trade representatives, at talks in luxury settings, protected against dissent by cordons sanitaires of barbed wire and armed troops, for the benefit of those whose generous capital donations keep those governments triumphant in the ratings wars and in power.

And until we all get a bit braver, and have the gumption to stand firm in the face of state violence and tyranny, to fight back even, there’ll be even more Kent States.

UPDATE:

This sort of gumption:

A group of around 20 school teachers forced their way into the television studios of Greece’s state broadcaster NET on Monday evening, to protest against the government’s austerity programme.

Maths Comedy Double

Well, triple, actually. What the hell, quadruple. Quintuple even. I may be a little bit nerdy, but I still can’t add up.

First up, much obliged to the endless thread at Pharyngula for this clip, in which Abbott and Costello prove the fungibility of numbers:

Just to prove I’m down with the kids, some rap. First, quadratic equations:

Lamar Queen is a rapping 8th grade math teacher in Los Angeles:

Mr Purdy does the Dance of The Parallel Lines:


Why didn’t I ever have maths teachers like those two?

Sing it, nerd girl! Baby got back math:

But let’s not let the Merkins have all the maths glory.

I will derive, hey hey…wish he’d done it in the sparkly boobtube and rollerskates, though:


Go Aussies, with Pythagoras’ Theorem, TTTO Waltzing Matilda:

Bonus podcast link:

From the Mark Steel Lecture Series on the BBC here’s his lecture on Isaac Newton. 30 minutes of sciencey hilariousness.

Selling Pooh Sticks With Style

At first I was like all, WTF? when I saw this ad for the Comfort Wipe post-defecation self-cleaning device at Consumerist. But on further viewing I find this commercial a masterpiece of allusion and understatement.

Look how they cleverly suggested their target markets with their cast, there. Subtle. Bravo ad agency!

The pooh stick concept itself I’m not so impressed with. There’s seriously a market for this thing?

Moon, June, There Is No Spoon

spoons

June again, wedding season. I do love a good wedding, though it’s deeply unfashionable in a professed socialist.

But I don’t care; I love the whole hoohah, the sentimental tears at the first careless rapture of young love (or the umpteenth of mature love) the boggling at the hideous bridesmaid’s dresses and the style of the invitations and the colours of the ribbons on the cars. I like to see a wedding done well, but because they mostly aren’t weddings are a glorious opportunity to bitch to my heart’s content, behind a discreetly held service sheet. Ooh – have you seen her shoes? Vile. Not sure I would’ve chosen lilies for a wedding… oh my, her sister’s butt ugly.

But I’d never, ever do it in public and most certainly not in print or pixels. Despite the blog’s hunger for content I hardly ever write personal stuff on the blog. Why? I know what a cow I can be. No-one’d ever speak to me again if I did.

I don’t do over our friends or family for blog hits or – unlike Guardian lifestyle hack Tanya Gold – for money:

Three weeks I ago I received a wedding list from a friend. Let me be more accurate. She used to be a friend, but as her wedding looms she has been replaced by a shape-shifting, John Lewis-icking monster. She wants ice-crushers and cookbook holders and spoons. Give them to me, she squawks through her John Lewis proxy, because I am in love – and that means I get consumer durables for free! I demand a new kitchen – and you will pay for it!

Wedding lists were designed to help a young married couple build a home, in the days when everyone got married aged 12 and a half, and were totally spoonless. But today, you are not buying your friends a new life. They are 30 years old and rotting. wrinkles and Botox and they sag, like dying balloons. You are buying them an upgrade.

They don’t want a deep expression of your friendship, which you have chosen. The message is – your input is not required. Kill your imagination. Destroy your sensitivity. Give us the spoons. Or you will not be invited to the wedding and you will not get to eat lukewarm mini-pots of risotto

I bet getting the cheque for that felt good.

Awful to read that about yourself in the daily paper and worse still, written by someone you thought liked you. “They have wrinkles and Botox and they sag, like dying balloons”. Ow, nasty. Just sheer unwarranted bitchery. The key phrase seems to be “….- your input is not required”. Bitter at not being the centre of attention much, Tanya?

The former friend and future bride didn’t take it lying down and had the editors put this at the top of the comments:

joholland

10 Jun 09, 1:08pm

As the bride referred to in the piece I should point out that Tanya was invited to my wedding but no wedding list was included in her invitation because I know how much she hates them.

I do have a wedding list at John Lewis which I can appreciate is bourgeois but we decided that it would be practical, though by no means compulsory. The irony in all this is that I really, really don’t care about gifts and have never even brought the subject up with Tanya (my dress, I concede is another matter). It might sound trite but all I want is a happy unforgettable day surrounded by people I love. My wedding is less than a month away and frankly, Tanya I don’t want any spoons but I’m not sure that I want you at my wedding either.

And that’s the end of that friendship, which is why I don’t do personal stuff for public consumption.

I can remember my own and my sister’s and friend’s weddings and the enmities and angsts thereof, when all the sibling rivalry and buried family resentment came bubbling to the surface and rows abounded. It was horrible. My younger self would certainly have blogged about it had a blog been available – it would’ve helped vent the tension. Hah! That’s told her.

Getting paid for it by a national newspaper I would’ve seen as pure bonus. I’d’ve gone out and bought shoes with the money. Like Gold I would’ve thought nothing of the permanence of my words or considered they might follow me around for ever, souring potential future friendships.

My older self knows better. I’ve been asked occasionally why it is I rarely blog about anything personal, or keep a LiveJournal or Facebook page. I could and do waffle on about privacy, which is political. But the primary reason I won’t ever write about anyone I know is encapsulated in that bitter, sub-Bridget Jones-ish post. For Gold that’s a friend lost forever and a reputation as a journalist, such it was, sullied for the sake of a bit of paid bitchery about weddings and the chance to let off a little steam. Was it worth it?