[matilda] Iraq is in the middle of civil war

[worldwarfree at riseup.net]

Iraq is in the middle of Civil War, the country’s former interim Prime
Minister Iyad Allawi told the BBC on Sunday.

http://www.aljazeera.com/me.asp?service_ID=10874

Of course this could be the message CIA/MI5 desire us to think..


That it should come to this 
 fear and loathing on the SWP march

Should’ve known, I really should. I mean when it comes to cynical, piss
taking of this merry band of useless marching muppets I’m the worst
offender
 but somehow, well the glorious events taking place in France,
the line of mounted riot cops I saw leaving Islington nick on my way
there, well it got my blood running, got my hopes up that this day would
be more than the usual impotent trot through London, that perhaps, just
perhaps this would be the day that something might happen.

I was late and alone, failing to meet up with any of the people I’d
planned to (the few hopeless souls who like myself clung onto a shred of
optimism and bothered to turn up).

I picked up the march just as it was leaving Parliament Square and heading
down towards Victoria, seeing a site I’ve seen a thousand times before and
feeling no less uninspired by it than previously.

As the march ambled past Scotland Yard, I think I was the only one who
noticed the cops bedecked in body armour and brandishing machine guns
guarding the old bill’s HQ.

Cracking open a beer, in contrast to the numbing sobriety around me, I
decided to push forward to the front of the march to see who I could find
and get an idea of the size of the thing. Dodging banners and peaceniks
and ignoring the angry stares I finally made it to the front, passing the
usual band of commies and trustafarians shouting ineffective slogans
through cheap megaphones.

The march was larger than I expected, and longer, though this was largely
due to gaps of empty road space ten of metres long dividing the
increasingly sectarian groups on the march and engendering little in the
way of feelings of solidarity and unity.

Everyone had their own cause to plugs, Greens and communists, Islamic
groups and South American Socialists all failed to mingle on the road to
indifference.

As we passed the palace, which was greeted by benign indifference, the
only anger on show was from tourists jostling to try and get a glimpse of
her maj’ and giving the cops a far harder time of it than any of the so
called revolutionaries on the march could muster.

Turning into Grosvenor Place the cops ran a line of tape down the centre
of the road, leaving half the road free for traffic to pass by. Thinking
that this looked a likely flashpoint for some fun and games I sat down at
a bus stop and waited for Rhythms of Resistance and the handful of anrchos
present to turn up, who as usual were trailing behind.

Turn up they did, and I was relieved to see a smattering of familiar
faces. I busied myself amongst the leaping kids surrounding them,
desperate for at least a whiff of the old civil disobedience. Untying the
tapes from the bollards I moved onto the other side of the road, where
cars sped past me, some seemingly in a frantic rush to send me flying back
into the ‘designated protest zone’.

Feeling disempowered by marching next to a constant stream of traffic I
beckoned wildly for people to join me. The smattering of cops present had
me in their sites but I had a look in my eye that kept them at bay. My
blood was boiling now, tho’ my anger began to be directed at the marchers
rather than the old bill who couldn’t believe their luck at the lack of
courage and rebellion of those on the march.

"what’s happened to us" I asked of one of the drummers "is this what we’ve
become?"

"the band can’t always lead" she replied "it’s down to the march" a fair
enough response I guess but only highlighting the pitiful inadequacy of
those present, happy to be corralled and shunted about by the state
lackies.

I briefly considered dragging the cones out in front of the traffic myself
and offering myself up for arrest in the hope that that would engender
some ferocity and passion, but felt vaguely that my arrest would only
provide a curiosity to the unintrepid bunch, something to chat about in
the pub later..

There was no mood in the air for direct action of any kind and I felt I
would have had little support, so I stayed at the edge of the road,
pissing off cops and motorists alike for no real reason.

It was at this point I began to think of the late, mighty Chris Groner and
the fun we had stopping the traffic and narking off the cops the night
they invaded Iraq 
 and it was then that my anger dissipated and a mood of
melancholy and deep sadness washed over me.

Moving forward from the over excited teenagers I pushed forward, deciding
to get to the square as quickly as possible. Remembering another friend
who died recently, and who I had seen for the last time at one of the
early STWC marches, my eyes moistened and I really began to wish I’d
stayed in bed.

At the square I bumped into friends, drank some more and began to cheer
up, as we regaled each with dispiriting tales of the lack of any kind of
effective resistance in London these days. As we talked the speakers
spoke, the trots clapped and nothing changed.

As ROR arrived in the square the mood of their assembled dancers and
hangers on was joyous and celebratory, leaving me thinking what are you so
fucking happy about.

When we take a road, blockade a motorway that’s the time for rapture, not
some boring statist affair, which is actually about the slaughter of
hundreds of thousands worldwide in the name of the dollar.

Anger was sadly lacking along the whole of the march, the only genuine
passion I saw was from groups of young Muslims, who were alone in their
heartfelt dissonance, as the middle class, well heeled marchers seemed to
think the was some fun day out 
 politics lite and a chance to flog some
pamphlets.

The main call of the day was ‘impeach Bush, Blair resign‘, as if that
would make any fucking difference, neatly side stepping the real issues
and casting the day firmly into the party political arena allowing
Galloway to spout his guff about his inept political party.

As twitchy cops began to encircle the square people trailed of into
various Soho boozers as the cold and the lack of creativity on offer
became too much.

Lying bastards the SWP will claim this day as a success, dishonestly
attempting to claim numbers of 100,000 when anyone with a shred of
integrity would admit that even the police estimate of 15,000 was
generous.

This day was far from a success, showing the failure of people in this
country to provide any kind of fierce, effective resistance and as we
bleat about the almost daily removals of our civil liberties it should
perhaps be time to consider the old axiom that you get the government you
deserve.

This day was a failure for the anarchist movement as well, loathe as I am
to say it, who once again failed to capitalise on the thousands of young,
political but confused people on the march. Whether this was due to many
staying in bed and ignoring this pointless charade, or those present not
having the nerve to precipitate any kind of direct resistance, instead
towing the party, statist line, it seems sad that in the city where we
once rocked Trafalgar Square with repetitive beats all day long, that
nothing could be mustered up to enliven this grim affair 
 our time was
then 
 I guess,

I wanted to write a funny, sardonic response to the day, and apologise for
the lack of jokes in this piece 


http://www.indymedia.org.uk/en/2006/03/336176.html

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