Far away in Oriental Europe, there was a castle and in that castle I was born. Confiscated by the communists at gun point, left to rot and turned into “social housing”. Hello, Romania. The glory of the event was unmatched by the land, as a black and white reality welcomed me–a tyranny that feared not speak its name. A rare sincerity that new tyrannies lost, in this age, when they so thrive.
Shops were empty and TV lies see-through. People had two realities, one at home, and a lie front. Then they shot Ceausescu on Christmas day and I was watching from beneath the tree. Bullets flying, students murdered. And the students died in vain because the new regime was the same old people with new haircuts and NEW, PROGRESSIVE WORDS.
“So what, bitch, this isn’t the third world, this IS BRITAIN”; yes, but: 1. Eastern Europe is the SECOND world, thank you. Second; and 2. all the signs of tyranny are here, in the first world. Scarier than the afore-mentioned, because capitalism makes this economically STABLE. This caring face and soothing lies, I’ve seen them before, I know what they hide. “You’re worth it” and “impossible is nothing” ring hollow when you peek at backstage machinations. No, it rings sinister. The words have been compromised. Our vehicles for thought have been hijacked, and now they’re vehicles for mind control.
I joined Labour not because I’m a communist, but because what you call hard left is but common sense and my survival needs, unperverted by the jollies of consumerism, tell me it’s time for Corbyn.
Initially embraced neoliberalism in my student days, fed to me through the University funnel. Come to Britain a hardcore anglophile, it took me 5 minutes to see the fraud.
Prefer an existence in Cassandra’s curse than docile worker bee on a race to the bottom. I don’t believe 100% democracy ever existed but I believe in the democratic spirit, and Corbynistas give hope. If only more of them realised the dangers more insidious and clever than apparent. It’s a mortal error to not correctly identify your threat. My own crusade: show people how they’re being manipulated, so that they might take right decisions out of the predicament bondage we’re in.
Victoria Pearson is a writer and mum of four who lives behind a keyboard in Bedfordshire, England. Having always wanted to be a writer, V started to think it was an achievable dream when she wrote and edited a feature for the Guardian when she was 17. Following that, she appeared live on the Richard […]
Teresa’s life is built on the four cornerstones of politics, music, cricket and cake. Being the daughter of immigrants has entirely informed her world and political view, and she has consequently always instinctively rooted (and occasionally fought) for the underdog, the outsider and the ‘other’. She is left leaning but non party political, and is […]
If Veronika were younger she’d be a New Scot. She was born in Vienna, but her Austrian parents soon moved her to Scotland ‘for a year’ …and never went home. That was back in the 60s. Veronika trained as an archaeologist and a teacher but became a campaigner. She has been active for peace, social […]