> La historia me absolverá…

It is not just history which will absolve those who take up arms against injustice. The masses of the Third World will do so too. They want to hit back even now, at this very moment.

Our task, if we are opponents of the global capitalist Moloch, is to show them how.

What I’m going to do write now is to type up some things that I wrote in a note-pad some days ago. I felt that I had to try and express these thoughts somehow.

The question swirling around in my mind as I wrote this was: history will certainly absolve those who take up the fight against this existing global order, but will it absolve me?

And yes, this is based on some of my experiences. And yes, I mean every word of it.

As you walk down the manicured boulevards and congested streets of a Pakistani city, take a little detour. Enter the slums, the mohalla, the basti. Ask them what they think of the police. Ask them what they think of “the Law”. Ask them what they think of the Pakistani rulers. Ask them, above all, what they think of the Pakistani elite.

Right now, all you hear is the slurping of pigs as they devour what the masses produce. But there is also something else: the whisper in the heart of the man who has to refer to a swine as “sahib” or “sir”. Some Thing within that man says that this sahib is not fit to be spat upon. Some Thing within that man curses a destiny which placed him at the feet of the sahib.

He brushes it away, that dangerous thought which should not arise. After all, is it not God’s will that things stay as they are?

And what do I say about the woman, who can only be the mother, sister, daughter or wife of this wretched man, and nothing more? What does she say? I don’t know. I cannot enter the domestic cell in which she is kept. And what would I ask her? She has never even seen the sahibs.

But when the orgy of consumption is interrupted by something as mundane as a traffic jam or a suicide blast, make no mistake about it: some Thing within those people smiles, even though they are the greatest victims of traffic jams and suicide bombings.

What does that Thing say? More about it later.

What about me, ungrateful product of consumerism that I am?

Why be grateful to a social order that serves us with blood in a flashy carton? I owe nothing to consumerism, I owe nothing to capitalism, I owe everything to the masses.

I have no human rights, because this social order recognizes only consumers and producers. Humans, if they ever existed, are a thing of the past. I am not a human. I am a consumer, whose search for humanity can only lead to fear and disgust. I therefore ask for no mercy from the masses, if they ever hold me to account.

But they rarely, if ever, hold me to account. They will spend their meagre earnings to buy me a cup of tea, and they will serve it with a warmth which I have never seen in my fellow consumers. Among my fellow consumers, I have only seen a constant hunger which can never be fulfilled.

These are things that I cannot express otherwise. I cannot say them to anyone, because I don’t know how to. All I can do is hope that those producers, the masses, will one day accept me. I hope they see me as someone who is weak, but also as someone who wants to be human.

I do not ask them for mercy. With that cup of tea, they have forgiven me in a way that I would never forgive someone who wronged me. I only ask them to somehow understand that I want to be human.

Ungrateful product of consumerism as I am, I would rather be a hypocritical sahib who speaks the truth, than a sahib who refuses to see it.

An apple is an apple, a pig is a pig, and I am what I am.

As for that Thing I mentioned earlier, this is what it says:

Against the white terror you spread

sans notice

through my settlement

Before your rule

having given notice

openly present

I am a ‘terrorist’

murder me if you can!

After sniffing the fragrance

of flaming revenge ablaze

atop the graves

of my mother

father

grandmother

grandfather,

generation upon generation of my lineage

after spreading the ashes

of yearnings

for a beautiful life

I’ve come

Today I’ve not come

to ask for a thing

I’ve come to stir up

an earthquake of terror

in your heavenly joy

I am the ‘terrorist’ of your heaven

murder me if you can!

> The old man still lives

Yep, he’s alive.

If I’m not wrong, this is an enactment of Marx in Soho, by Howard Zinn.

“The old French order, the Republic…hah, Liberals, they called themselves…they did not dare come into Paris. They trembled with fear, because with the Germans gone, Paris was taken over by the workers, the housewives, the intellectuals, the clerks, the armed citizens. The people of Paris formed not a government but something more glorious, something that governments everywhere fear: a commune, the collective energy of the People. It was the Commune de Paris! [*generous swig of beer*]People were meeting 24 hours a day… everywhere lots of three and four, making decisions together. The city was surrounded by the French Army, threatening to invade it at any moment. Paris became the first free city in the world: the first enclave of Liberty in a world of Tyranny. If you want to know what I mean by the dictatorship of the proleteriat, look at the Commune de Paris… THAT is a true democracy! Hah, not the democracy of England and America, where elections are circuses, where people are voting for one or another guardian of the old order, where whatever candidate wins, the rich go on ruling the country!” [*generous swig of beer*]

In a terrible world which is more conducive to a nihilistic cynicism than anything else, how am I to kill the Communard within myself?

But then again, should I even try to do so?

> Al-Hakim speaks…

In 1970, Dr. George Habash, leader of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) made a speech before American prisoners taken and held at the Intercontinental Hotel in Amman, Jordan.

Here is a well-made video featuring the text of the speech, with photos and music:

Here is the text of his powerful speech, delivered at 5 am, on the 12th of June, 1970:

Ladies and gentlemen;

I feel that it is my duty to explain to you why we did wht we did. Of course, from a liberal point of view of thinking, I feel sorry for what happened, and I am sorry that we caused you some trouble during the last 2 or 3 days. But leaving this aside, I hope that you will understand, or at least try to understand, why we did what we did. Maybe it will be difficult for you to understand our point of view. People living different circumstances think on different lines. They cannot think in the same manner and we, the Palestinian people, and the conditions we have been living for a good number of years, all these conditions have modeled our way of thinking. We cannot help it. You can understand our way of thinking when you know a very basic fact. We, the Palestinians for 22 years, for the last 22 years, have been living in camps and tents. We were driven out of our country, our houses, our homes and our lands, driven out like sheep and left here in refugee camps in very inhumane conditions. For 22 years our people have been waiting in order to restore their rights but nothing happened. 3 years ago circumstances became favorable so that our people could carry arms to defend their cause and start to fight to restore their rights, to go back to their country and liberate their country. After 22 years of injustice, inhumanity, living in camps with nobody caring for us, we feel that we have the very full right to protect our revolution. We have all the right to protect our revolution. Our code of morals is our revolution. What saves our revolution, what helps our revolution, what protects our revolution is right, is very right and very honourable and very noble and very beautiful, because our revolution means justice, means having back our homes, having back our country, which is a very just and noble aim. You have to take this point into consideration. If you want to be, in one way or another, cooperative with us, try to understand our point of view.

We don’t wake up in the morning to have a cup of milk with Nescafe and then spend half an hour before the mirror thinking of flying to Switzerland or having one month in this country or one month in that country. We don’t have the thousands of millions of dollars that you in America and Britain have. We live daily in camps. Our wives wait for the water, whether it will come at 10 o’clock in the morning, 12 o’clock or 3 o’clock in the afternoon. We cannot be calm as you can. We cannot think as you think.

We have lived in this condition, not for one day, not for 2 days, not for 3 days. Not for one week, not for 2 weeks, not for 3 weeks. Not for one year, not for 2 years, but for 22 years.

If any one of you comes to these camps and stays for one or two weeks, he will be affected. He cannot think and handle things regardless of the conditions he will be living.

> I’m no infidel!

I was listening to this awesome song by the famous Lebanese artist Ziad Rahbani. His mother was the famous Fairouz.

He also happens to be a communist, by the way.

In this song, he says something along the lines of “I am not kafir, but hunger is kafir. I am not kafir, but illness/disease is kafir. I am not kafir, but poverty is kafir.”

The word “kafir” refers to someone who is a disbeliever, infidel, etc.

So what he’s saying is that he is not the one who makes people do wrong things (as religious elements in society would have us believe), but that it is hunger, poverty, disease, etc. which causes the problems facing society.

I may be wrong in my understanding of the Arabic words, but he then goes on to say that the true kafir is the one who makes us work the whole week, but prays on Fridays or Sundays (i.e. the typical pious capitalist found in Muslim countries).

This is wonderful stuff. And its quite daring, too.

But then, this is a common theme found in discourse of Third-world communists. They often have to deal with accusations of being enemies of faith, infidels, immoral, dangerous, bad people, etc. In Latin American countries, even priests associated with left-wing movements have had to deal with the wrath of the clerical establishment and the state.

In Muslim countries, the accusation of kufr (denial of a belief in God) has often been hurled at progressives and leftists. I’m sure almost every politically-active leftist in Pakistan has had the experience of being labelled a “dehria” (atheist) at some point during their political activism.

From personal experience, I can say that this is a very annoying accusation. The most aggravating part is that the accusation brings completely irrelevant things into a debate. Instead of the debate being focused on the woes of the masses, it shifts to the personal beliefs of the activist. It’s such a perfect tool for those who want to derail and discredit the work of a left-wing activist in a Third-world country.

Maulana Bhashani, who was one of the most famous leaders of the peasant movement in Pakistan, was often accused in this way, despite his own background as a spiritual leader. I think, and I may be wrong, that it was he who said that if this (i.e. the demand for social justice and change) is “kufr”, then he is a “kafir”.

The reader might not be able to understand the radical nature of this statement, unless they are from a Third-world society where religious sentiments can be inflamed easily.

But I suppose we ought to remember that a major figure in the Islamic faith, Ali ibn abi-Talib, who was the cousin of Prophet Muhammad and later a caliph, is attributed a famous statement about how poverty leads to kufr.

> 20 000 peasants rally in Okara

I had the honor to attend a massive peasant rally yesterday, in the Okara region of the Punjab province. I’ve never seen anything like this before: 20 000 peasants all gathered in one place to defy the Pakistani military and express their unity.

This was in the aftermath of the deaths of 3 peasants in an attack by thugs allied to the Pakistani military. I wrote about that earlier.

The atmosphere was charged, yet somewhat festive.

Thousands of peasants arrived in carvans, waving red flags and singing songs of resistance.

I stood on the side of a dirt-road near the Kalyana Military Estate farm, as throngs of peasants arrived on motorcycles and tractor-trolleys. Each delegation was led by women, who have played an active role in the defense of their lands from the military and its allied landlords.

Leaders of the Okara peasants’ movement have always been open in saying that without the participation of women, their movement would never have been successful. One of the most memorable sights for anyone who attends a rally in Okara is the participation of the famous Thaapa Brigade, which is an affectionate term we use for the women wielding wooden thaapas. These women defended their homes and their men, even using the wooden instruments to attack and kill state forces on some occasions.

It is a wonderful sight to see delegations of women leading the peasant men, banging together thaapas. It is a sound which the military robbers should rightly fear. It is a symbol of our strength, and remains an insult to those cowards.

The peasants were openly hurling insults at the Pakistani military, which has tried to deprive them of their lands. Among the most popular slogans there were:

“Jera waawey:
ohoi khaawey!”

which translates roughly from Punjabi as: “Whoever grows (the crops), they shall eat (of the crops)“

In other words, those who produce in society should be the ones who consume, and not our murderous, lazy and useless elite.

Another one, which I love, of course, was:

“Pukkay nungay mein tey tu:
Lut kay khaa gai GHQ!”

which translates roughly as:

“You and I are hungry and un-clothed,
The GHQ (General Headquarters, i.e. the Military) have robbed us!”

I especially loved a speech by an elderly female leader of the peasants, who roundly abused the Pakistani military for daring to attack those whom she referred to as “our sons” (i.e. the peasant men who were killed by military thugs a few days earlier).

Here is a video of a part of the event:

At one point, I was standing near the gates to a Military-owned farm, a few paces away from the uniformed soldiers standing guard there. Some 50-60 peasants on their way to the rally gathered around us, and we started talking.

> Murder by the Pakistani military, in Okara

Over the past few months, I’ve had the privilege of working with the peasant movement in Okara, Pakistan.

These peasants, under the leadership of the Anjuman Mazareyeen e Punjab (AMP), have struggled for years to win back the right to own their own land, which was taken over by the predatory Pakistani military.

A few days ago, local thugs allied to the Military shot and killed three peasants who resisted their land-grabbing efforts, and wounded more than 20.

I rushed to the scene the day after this happened, with some friends and companeros. We attended a funeral, where around 2-3000 peasants showed up, in a defiant and angry mood.

I will never forget the scene where one of the women whose male relatives were shot, walked through a field, lamenting her loss. She was followed by some other women, who were trying to comfort her in her grief. Suddenly, she just fell down, face first, and lay there in the middle of a field.

I have rarely seen such an expression of grief and sorrow.

We met with some local leaders of the movement, and they tell us that on the 17th of this month, a massive rally is being planned in Okara. We assured them of our full participation, along with progressive students from Lahore.

One can only hope that from this point on, the Okara peasant movement will take an even more militant stand against the military, the state and the local landlords.

I look forward to the rally on the 17th of April.

> Our open letter to Barack Obama

Here is a wonderful track by the hiphop group Rebel Diaz, titled “An open letter to Barack Obama”:

I think it strikes a nice balance between criticizing Obama for selling out to the corporate establishment, and at the same time, admitting how far he’s politicized a new generation.

Here are some selections from the lyrics: some of the most hard-hitting bits of criticism (I typed them up as I listened to the song, so forgive me for any mistakes):

…

But I have to ask a question, and I hope you can address it,
I hope you can express it in a return message.
When you diss Reverend Wright, please tell me you don’t mean it
Because if you really think he’s harming us, that’s our first disagreement!

…
And I hate to be so graphic but sometimes the truth hurts,
We need more than Hope, because this system doesn’t work!

…

What about the situation of my peeps in Palestine?
You support Israel: they are not a friend of mine!

And when I watched the debate, you and McCain sounded the same,
But I guess this is politics and you gotta play it safe.

Can there ever be change in a two-party system?
Will a black president mean less blacks in prison?

You had three different chances to address the bail-out,
But what I wanted to hear never came out your mouth!

You even talked about war, and going after Bin Laden,
when the war at home has become the real problem.

When it comes to immigrants, I heard you voted for the Fence,
Your dad was born in Kenya, man, you’re not making sense!

See, this is just a criticism, and I hope that you make it,
Cuz if not, we’re one heart-beat away from Sarah Palin!

I just hope that you acknowledge that we’re out here starving
And you’re bailing out the ones that corruped the markets!

…

> Greece, Venezuela, Bolivia: radical internationalism at its finest

Conflicts like the one in Palestine bring out both the worst and the best in humanity.

On the one hand, you get to see some of the worst aspects of the human race: the Zionist aggressors and their pitiless bombardment of helpless Palestinian civilians. You see the worst in humanity when the US stands by and encourages this massacre in the name of “security” for the Zionist Entity. You see the worst in humanity when the governments of Europe watch in silent complicity.

And on the other hand, you get to see the best of humanity in the grim resilience of the people of Gaza, and the heroic actions of the resistance fighters.

And you see a beautiful spectacle of revolutionary solidarity from the people of Venezuela and Bolivia, when their elected governments cut off diplomatic ties with the Zionist Apartheid-State: something which the Arab rulers are too shameless to do.

Here is the brave decision by the government of Evo Morales, who expelled the ambassador of the Zionist Entity from Bolivia.
Not to be left behind in anti-imperialist solidarity, Hugo Chavez and Venezuela followed suit.

But then, the people of Greece showed us another example of what revolutionary internationalism is all about.

On 10 January 2009, the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine* issued an “Urgent Call to Greek People: Block the Shipment of US Arms to Israel through Greek Ports.” It reported that the U.S. Navy was planning to ship 3,000 tons of ammunition by merchant ship from the Greek port Astakos to the Israeli port Ashdod just north of Gaza in the coming days. The PFLP also released a call for escalating direct action to interfere with, occupy, and shut down Israeli consulates and embassies worldwide.

> Victory?

The big picture is as follows:

The Chief Justice was restored after the military threatened Zardari into complying with Nawaz Sharif’s demands. Once again, the deciding factor, of course, was the military establishment.

Nawaz Sharif was content with his victory over Zardari. The PPP has further isolated itself in the Punjab province.

But here is what happened on the streets, at least from my perspective:

We managed to cross all the road-blocks until we reached the final one near the High Court, on GPO Chowk (an intersection near the High Court).

At that point, protesters began gathering there in huge numbers. There were altercations with the police personnel manning the last barricade between us and the High Court.

And then, before we knew it, the tear-gas shells began raining down. Bang! Bang! Bang!

We pulled back to a safe distance from the tear-gas. And then the police charged us: a line of uniformed men, a line bristling with batons.

And I was off, flying through the streets, leading behind me a detachment of cops on a wild chase through the narrow lanes on one side of the High Court. At one point, we were trapped in an alley, with policemen closing in on us from both sides. We clambered over two walls to escape them.

I have the honour to be among the few hundred persistent protesters who did not melt away under police repression. We were trapped in GPO Chowk (an intersection near the High Court) for hours, under constant tear-gas shelling and baton-charges from the police.

I cannot describe the sheer joy of expressing your rage at everything wrong which you see in an unjust world: by attacking a symbol and instrument of state power, the police. I cannot describe how ecstatic it is to pelt them with stones. I cannot describe the furious joy of being hit with a baton and responding with kicks and punches.

Each time they hit you, it makes a stinging sensation, then searing pain shoots through the area of your body where they struck you. And then that pain disappears as anger floods your existence. You lash out as the natural instincts of survival and vengeance take hold of your being.

At that moment, the big political chessboard disappears for a moment. You stop being a pawn in the hands of Nawaz Sharif, Imran Khan or anyone else.

You become something which the powerful always fear: the enraged demonstrator attacking the policeman who are sent to repress the people. You become a force of history itself: the primal fury of the powerless when they discover that empowerment lies in attacking the powerful.

> And off comes the velvet glove…

…revealing the jelly fist beneath it.

Isn’t all of this so pathetic? The idiotic crackdown by the Zardari government on the lawyers’ movement and on the political parties supporting it: its all such an ugly farce.

The lawyers’ Long March will leave tomorrow from Lahore, heading towards the capital, Islamabad. I intend to participate, along with some friends.

I’m currently at the home of a friend and companero, and I intend to spend the night here (my parents might make a fuss if I try to leave home tomorrow morning).

I have all my riot-gear laid out in front of me: a thick hoody to help shield me from the sticks of the riot-police, a keffiyeh scarf to cover my face, a packet of salt to help with the tear-gas, and shoes which are easy to run around in (they’re also useful for kicking cops).

We plan to travel towards the High Court tomorrow morning. If police road-blocks prevent us from doing so, we’ve planned to slip past them in ones and twos. The Long March will leave from the High Court, towards Islamabad. But we expect heavy fighting at the High Court itself.

Assuming that we make it out of the High Court without getting arrested or beaten back, we’ll head towards Islamabad with the lawyers’ motorcade.

The journey will be difficult, since there are police barricades all over the highway to Islamabad.

It’s quite clear that the PPP-led government has no intention of restoring the judiciary without a confrontation with the lawyers’ movement. There have been arrests all over Lahore for the past few days, and with Governor’s Rule clamped down on the Punjab province, it seems that we’re all set for major repression from the government.

The lawyers’ movement, of course, is not what it once was. It has been hijacked to a great degree by the PML-N, the Jamaat-e-Islami and others. Nawaz Sharif clearly intends to use the Long March for his own ends. His feud with Zardari is obviously not about “democracy” or “justice” or “rule of law” or other such meaningless slogans.

So what am I doing in this movement?