Perhaps we expect too much of legends. The clichés of never meeting your heroes or the “gentleman never being a hero to his valet” are all based on savage truth clobbering political romanticism around its self-satisfied chops. We’ve seen a lot of that over the last century of progressive politics, but it can still break your heart in pieces.
The legend
Let’s start with the legend; in our family, we always called it the Big Meeting because it was where serious people would speak about serious matters. My Pit-Rescueman Grandad would listen to the speeches, my Gran and her kids would wander about the stalls and the fair. They would play with friends as Houghton would maybe have four or five busloads coming to follow their banner. The sun would shine and everyone of all ages would have a great, uproarious, happy time and look forward to next year.
Palestine
But that was before Thatcher, when there were working mines and pit villages, and when their associated industries and communities had a hope of a future. Contrary to some current social media commentary it was not unusual for international political causes to be advocated; Lidice, anti-apartheid, Kurdish self-determination, the education of Fiona Hill who ended up at the US State Department are a few remembered at random. This year it was Palestine and the Israeli state’s responsibility for their fascist massacres in Gaza, always excepting the first fascist massacre by Hamas on 7 October.
This continuing crime saw understandable and overwhelming support amongst the Big Meeting part of the people attending, but not with everyone. I did not witness it, but my friend who did, told me in appalled and hushed tones that “some people had booed the Palestinians”; again I do not know but I suspect that that reaction came from a small minority of those who’d come for the Gala. Because, unfortunately the divisions of politics, preoccupation and affiliation are utterly obvious; today it seems that denying the humanity of those you oppose and downgrading their suffering is part of everything from state sponsored propaganda warfare to social media.
History
This is nothing new; no doubt there were people in the 1940s who believed that the massacre of Lidice was nowt to do with them and was in a “land far away of which we know nothing”; maybe apartheid would have been popular with the voters of new “Reformed” Durham County Council; maybe they don’t know a Kurd from a haddock (sorry, that’s a bad Ashington joke), and maybe they’d be proud that Durham’s Fiona Hill served their favourite President Trump?
History is a savage teacher because honesty and rigour rarely produce comfortable truths. Take the example of Sir William Lawther, a pitman from Northumberland who became a Durham Councillor in the 1920s and President of the NUM and head of the Miners International Federation in the 1940s. He was also a spy working for the Information Research Department of the Foreign Office disseminating “fake news” to undermine communist and anti-colonial movements in Asia, Africa, Ireland and the Middle East. My Grandad was saving men from the Whitehaven Disaster at the same time and probably saw him at Durham, probably clapped him a bit too.
Durham Big Meeting Trade Tent
Now I’m not an expert in these matters but if I was looking for more modern establishment spies at Durham, the Trade Tent and its environs would be the first place I’d look. There I saw various different types of alleged Communist Party, a few Corbynista offshoots, the “Northumbrian Independence Party” advertising its HQ in Warrington which isn’t even in the North (don’t get me started). They are all nice enough folk I suppose, but even with the slogans and badges and the old books or new pamphlets they don’t seem to have any political or economic answer to anything. The giveaway is that they ask for “solidarity” but practise division as they promote various personally incompatible sects all claiming to represent the interests of all humanity. I just listen to my cynical brain telling me that there’s someone in Whitehall laughing and collecting a bonus.
Some of the stalls were wonderful though, the feller from Barnsley with his mining heritage slogans, The International Brigade t-shirts, the Hassockfielders with their wonderful optimism, the feminists, the Left Book Club and others debating and informing not hectoring. The best one in my opinion was outside, next to the posh dog food stall and opposite the dopesmoking podcast, posed the question of what shall we do to commemorate the centenary of The General Strike? Answers on postcode to K Starmer, 10 Downing Street.
For a start, if we still have to run a foodbank by then we’ll be asking a few questions ourselves. Speaking of our government, I saw no sign of the Labour Party. I know how hard it must be when everyone blames you and hates you, and your most recent actions have seen you expelled from any significant role in Durham County Council. Good councillors, who’ve worked for their constituents for years are booted out in favour of chancers because this government and its regional administrative satraps can’t do politics properly.
Can the Left do politics?
That heart breaking question that I fear even to ask is if we in the left are any good at politics? If not, how do we learn to communicate a simple message of peace, dignity and prosperity? If we are so vulnerable to a combination of seductive nationalistic nativism combined with simplistic dismissal of obvious problems, then instead of the slogans and internecine sectarianism, maybe we need to go back to school. The lessons seem to be that finding talented demagogues fails, promoting a complex message fails, oversimplifying the message fails and many in the Left are fine with that because “politics” is their hobby and things like Durham are a holiday.
Well it’s Monday morning now and people are back at work wondering if their pay will stretch. Maybe the old Trade Union lessons of helping the members and their families do better can achieve the deserved dignity and hope all deserve? Maybe, as my granny said about politics in the 1960s that “there’s no substitute for brains”, but as anyone knows there’s no substitute for turning up and making an argument.
There were some great things though
The positives
I feel terrible about criticising Durham so let me find some positivity. The colliery bands were uniquely, unforgettably great. I see why many take up station with cans on Old Elvet from the stairs to the prison to watch the bands march in and out and avoid the racecourse with the fair and the speeches. There’s nothing quite like the power of the heavy brass and the marching drums to put some joy into you but there’s also not the numbers following the banners that there used to be. The colliery band is becoming an interest taken on by a few, not the community duty that it once was. That’s not a criticism; only the Durham mining people could maintain such incredible efforts a generation after the pits were closed, but time marches on and people die off as the name stays but the cause fades. The attempts to make Durham a Trade Union Festival show some vigour with the likes of Unison, the PCS, ASLEF and the CWU with big stalls, freebies for the kids and the big red inflatable post box providing some shade from the scorching sun bringing a bit of a community political crossover that seemed accessible to all.
Serious questions
There was still worried grumbling aplenty though. I had separate conversations with two serious activist trade unionists who are Labour Party members who wanted the kind of chat that we have when no one is listening. They both are sticking with the government as they see the alternatives as worse, but they’re not happy. The dearth of a person from Westminster with the ability to show how wages will exceed spending by say £200 every month and thus give people a chance to plan, to have a holiday or absorb bad times instead of staggering to payday and hoping for a miracle is becoming exhausting. We remembered what that great Labour supporting football manager Brian Clough said when someone asked if he’d “never made a mistake” and he countered with the immortal reply “Not when it’s my living” and thought about the many errors in presentation and policy this government has made. Errors made despite people warning them, and telling them so, right up until they gave in without saying even sorry properly. It is only to be hoped that this is what happens when you put inexperienced people into jobs that are too big for them that they’ll grow some competence in the heat of struggle. The signs in Durham City of the alternative weren’t reassuring at all, because the modern world will laugh when someone asks “how can this get any worse?” and then delivers disaster faster than Amazon.
People may mock the inexperience of callow Reform Councillors, but they make the rules now and seeing a massive police presence at the racecourse entrance and in the narrow Durham streets made me slightly uneasy. As a guide I saw more police by far than I’ve seen here before, far more than you get at an ordinary football match or demo and loads of private security people too. Maybe the new council is increasing security costs to deter the Gala, maybe they just want to show who’s in charge, maybe there was a credible threat of serious drunken or even political violence? Maybe they were expecting Palestine Action and mass arrests with consequent public order issues, but all they got at teatime was Tudhoe Band playing Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer” outside the County Hotel with Banner Dancing and a singalong crowd. It’s not exactly a conventional political anthem but its lyrics still inspire – “Tommy used to work on the dock, union men on strike, he’s down on his luck it’s tough, so tough. Gina works the diner all day, working for her man, she brings home her pay, for love. She says we’ve got to hold on to what we’ve got, it doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not. We’ve got each other and that’s a lot for love. We’ll give it a shot Oh woah, we’re half way there, living on a prayer. Take may hand, we’ll make it I swear. Oh woah.. Living on a prayer”.
There is a dearth of expertise and rigour in politics that is bringing us closer to national disaster than we have seen for a century. Our friends are weak, our enemies are strong and the people are disillusioned. The Reform Council of County Durham is a warning about what happens when people feel ignored and isolated. It is astounding that the Labour Party either didn’t detect this or having done so, failed to respond with appropriate community based interventions. Perhaps it’s because their agent of influence was based in Barking and doesn’t get community. It is further astounding and disgusting that “The Left” decided to hate Labour after April 2020 to concentrate on foreign policy, personalities and philosophy whilst trying to decide what name they’ll finally give to the Corbyn Party when it finally appears have missed every bus and are locked in the station. The people are what is important here, and the three little words that progressive politics needs to treasure are improvements to their “terms and conditions” – of their labour, of their services, and of their citizenship. It’s exactly what a combination of Big Meeting and Gala mean, to provide the dignity of labour and a state that serves its people with care and imagination. It’s difficult but possible…Living on a prayer though.
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