I wasn’t going to blog anything today, but I read in the Scotsman that Magrit Curran is to head a British Labour party commission which plans to visit the 10 areas of former British Labour support which returned a high Yes vote in order to discover why we turned our backs on Magrit’s beloved career ladder. British Labour is asking us to put our trust in them once again. They have no shame, they have learned nothing, and now they look to us for answers to a problem of their own making and expect us to solve it for them so they can get back to business as usual, so they can pretend that nothing has happened.
No doubt the commission will operate as British Labour always operates, behind closed doors and talking to no-one except those who have been pre-approved. It is a window dressing exercise, a sham with no intent except to pretend to listen. It is a lie, like the very name “Scottish Labour” is a lie. British Labour does not listen, it only orders, it only commands, it only directs, it only takes. It is a creature of Westminster, not a child of Scotland’s working class communities. British Labour sold out the working classes of Scotland for party interests, it exists to keep us trapped in hopelessness.
So as a former British Labour voter, who was brought up and lives in one of the working class areas that was lost to British Labour, I’d like to tell Magrit why we reject them, because she will not be soliticing my opinion, she will not ask to speak with me – or you. We are not pre-approved, and we will never approve.
We are not coming back to you Magrit. Your empty words are meaningless. We did not turn our backs on you, you turned your back on us. You have made your choices, and now we have made ours. We choose to repay your contempt with rejection, we choose to reject your platitudes with our passion, we choose to stand against you for you have chosen to stand apart. We are the people, not you, and you do not speak for us.
We see how quickly your vows evaporate. How little you offer. There is no place for you in our struggles, for you stand with the Tories, with big business, with the banks, and you wrapped yourself in the Union flag and grinned when the forces of the powerful threatened the community you claim to represent. You have bequeathed us a land where foodbanks are protected by nuclear missiles, and you tell us we can expect nothing better. You offer austerity, you offer loss, you offer disappointment. You offer to manage our expectations on behalf of the bosses. And the only gains that can be made are those which benefit the Magrit Currans, the Party people who put party before people.
British Labour has become nothing more than a career path for the ambitious, a chance of fame for the talentless. The British Labour party is the parliamentary tail of the Labour movement, the arse that thinks it’s the brain and heart. The movement continues, the movement moves on. It must move on without British Labour. We have excreted you Magrit. You will be flushed away, unmourned.
Look forward to a future of exclusion Magrit. Embrace your rejection, it is the only comfort you will find. There is no place for your tribalism amongst the alliance of Yes. You have nothing to offer us, and all we have for you is to show you the door. Leave. There is no place for you amongst us. You do not belong here. You belong with the Tories, you belong in the boardrooms, you belong with those who play party games with people’s lives. The only message we have for you is to tell you to fuck off back to your focus groups.
You are a nationalist Magrit, a British nationalist. You can reject the label but it will forever stick to you. The rampaging Loyalist mobs who sought out Yes voters to attack and assault in the wake of the vote, they are your people and your responsibility. The selfish ones who were asked to think of their country and the future of us all but who thought only of their nice shiny motors, their ipads, their foreign holidays. They are your people, the materialists and the shallow ones. You represent their pinched faces, their pursed lips and their poverty of spirit.
This is a whirlwind of your own creation Magrit, and it will blow you away like the lifeless dust your party has become. There can be no reconciliation with your kind. Even Ramsay MacDonald once had principles, the great betrayer was a better human being than you and your and your party have become. The current generations of British Labour have never known principles. No soul. No heart. No love. You are dead to us because you are dead to yourselves. I will not reconcile myself to your corpse of hope, to the rotting stench of your decay. You will never put the coffin lid on my aspirations and dreams.
British Labour has been a long time dying. The last drops of red had dripped from its veins long before the referendum campaign began. Now all that is left is a rotting cadaver and a bad smell. It must be cleared away. If you wish to understand why we reject you Magrit, you do not need a commission. You do not need reports that will lie unread and undigested. You only need to look in a mirror. You are the problem, not us. We are the solution.
British Labour has made its choices, and now we make ours. Magrit and the rest of the British Labour party, we choose a future without you in it.