Today, Rishi Sunak. the multi-millionaire Tory Chancellor, delivered his budget in the House of Commons. It was a budget for the few. It was a budget that did not meet the needs of the British people or our brilliant public services. It was a budget that papered over the cracks and that failed to build the foundations of recovery. Once again letting down the country and the people that they should be serving
But nothing new here, time and time again we see how the Tories only look after their friends. They have been found to have wasted hundreds of millions of pounds having handed over to companies associated with the Conservative Party, contracts that have failed to deliver for the NHS and essential workers and for public safety.
Millions of people are going to have to pay more in council tax because the Tories have failed to support local councils through this pandemic. Hard hit families and those struggling to get by are going to face higher bills. meaning may will be pushed into poverty,
If that does not expose their meanness, at the same time the Tories are cutting the international aid budget to the world's most ravage country, Yemen by 50%. Children in that war torn country are starving and the Tories are cutting their support. This is the reality of Boris Johnson and Rishi Sunak's vision of a 'global Britain.'
1.3 m lowest paid workers will now pay tax, £7.5bn tax hikes on workers wages, new Autumn furlough and Universal Credit cliff edge, ten's of thousands on legacy benefits ignored The decision to delay the cut to Universal Credit instead of securing incomes in the long term my making it permanent will lead to 26,000 families in Wales not being able to afford essentials in six months time.
There is absolutely nothing for schools, which are struggling with increased Covid costs, The Tory failure to invest any resources -, staff, space, support-to help make schools safe continues unaltered, The Tory obsession with full reopening of schools is not matched by any practical support for making it safe and sustainable.
No extra money for a social care system on its knees, no funding lifeline for councils struggling to provide services holding communities together.
Even with a crippling 4% rise in council tax, adult social care services, along with other services, will require an additional £1.6 billion of funding just to stand still, let alone restore the funding axed during the last decade. On top of this our NHS front line workers are being forced to accept a pay freeze, after a year of battling the deadly Coronavirus and working to keep us all safe, many of them sacrificing their lives, contracting the virus and dying because Matt Hancock couldn't be bothered to supply proper personal protective equipment (PPE) at the right time, and now they and other key workers are being rewarded with the prospect of serious economic hardship, instead of a pay rise that they more than earned and deserved. Sunak has insulted millions of workers who have seen us through this crisis. Adding insult to injury Lifetime Allowance on pensions is also frozen. As a consequence many doctors will leave the NHS or reduce their hours.
This while big business and multinational corporations who have made billions during the pandemic will get away scot free; because Sunak has backed away from calls to impose a wealth tax. Emergency action is needed to protect jobs and wages. But instead Sunak intends to shore up profits and wealth, Even in a pandemic the Tories, it seems protect the ultra-wealthy.and want us to pay for the crisis as the economy recovers from the Covid crisis, while the rich laugh all the way to the bank.
I'm baffled that Sunak boasts that we need to spend £407 bn to deal with the pandemic, in comparison to other countries who have not needed to spend anything like this, Why? Because they dealt with it all early.
Keir Starmer's weak opposition means that Sunak and the Tories can largely get away with real scrutiny and challenge but no amount of trickery can conceal that this budget attacks the poorest, it is after all a Tory budget and as a result their budget will do nothing to address a decade of economic inequality that they have been responsible for. At end of the day Tories are still bloody Tories. It is a budget of half measures and quick fixes , a budget that does not begin to measure up to the scale of the challenges we face. If not times were not stressful enough at the moment, these measures will further increase the burden on the disadvantaged among us, whose numbers will no doubt rise as a result of Sunak's ill thought out budget for the few.
Today as has become traditional, I mark St David's Day/ Dydd Dewi
Sant, on the anniversary of St David’s death
in 589AD .
I've written previously in more detail here https://teifidancer-teifidancer.blogspot.com/2020/03/some-praise-for-dewi-sant-st-david.html but the story goes that David's mother St Non, or Nonitta was raped by Xanctus or Sanctus, Prince of Ceredigion, and the product of the violation was David. Non, gave birth to her son on a clifftop during a wild storm. Today the ruins of St Non's Chapel on the Pembrokeshire coast marks the spot.
St David is rumoured to have been educated in Cardiganshire before making his way to Jerusalem where he was appointed as Archbishop.
After his pilmgrimages he is said to have settled in Glyn Rhosyn (St David’s) in south-west Wales.Here he established a religious community and the cathedral of St David’s became a popular centre of pilgrimage.
Much of his life story is based on the Buchedd Dewi (Life of David) written by the scholar Rhigyfarch at the end of the 11th century.
Various
miracles are attributed to St David, including restoring the sight of
his teacher and, most famously, creating an entirely new hill (now the
village of Llanddewi Brefi) during an outdoor sermon.
He became a
renowned missionary in Wales and beyond, and is credited with founding
monasteries in his homeland, the south-west of England (including
Glastonbury) and Brittany.
He was named the Archbishop of Wales at
the Synod of Brefi church council in 550, but remained in the
settlement of Menevia – later named St Davids in his honour – where he
had set up a large monastery which is now St David’s Cathedral.
His body was buried at St David’s Cathedral, which became a prestigious site of pilgrimage in the middle ages.
The cathedral stands today on the site of St David’s 6th century
monastic settlement. The cathedral has had a tumultuous past with
invasions, earthquakes, royal visits and refurbishments. It stands today
in Pembrokeshire as a mighty symbol of religious pilgrimage and as a
remarkable reminder of Welsh heritage.
David was officially recognized as a Catholic saint in 1120 and the
day of his death was decreed as a national festival in the 18th century.
To mark St David’s Day people around Wales wear one of the two national emblems – the leek or the daffodil.
Like any folklore, there is much speculation as to why these two objects exist as national emblems.
The daffodil, however, was more of a seasonal introduction as their spring sprouting coincides with the national day.
There will be no big St David’s Day Celebrations this year, with Wales remaining under lockdown restrictions.Nevertheless. we will celebrate Wales, our people, our language and the unique culture that we all share.
Google`s iconic logo though gets the annual St David’s Day makeover today marking the national celebration of the Welsh patron Saint.
The Google Doodle as it is known is the latest in a long line of
designs celebrating St. David’s Day on the search engines website dating
back to 2004.
Google says today’s Doodle that shows the traditional Welsh red dragon curled up in some long grass, with a white castle in the background. which is illustrated by Welsh guest artist Elin Manon was inspired by the legend of Dinas Emrys—one of Wales’ most famous historic tales—celebrating St. David’s Day.
The artwork relates to a Welsh myth about a Celtic king named Vortigen,
who accidentally tried to build a castle on a hillside above the lair of
two sleeping dragons – one red, one white.
He awoke the dragons and they fought, with the red one ending
victorious. The red dragon has come to be Wales and St David’s most
famous symbol, along with the daffodil, which you can see surrounding
the dragon in the doodle.
Google’s doodle website says “Myth has it that in the fifth
century, a Celtic king named Vortigen discovered what he thought was
the perfect place to build his castle on the Welsh hillside.’
‘However, Myrddin Emrys (Merlin, the wizard) convinced Vortigen that there was a catch—a large fire-breathing one!’
‘The spot he had chosen was directly above the lair of two slumbering
dragons; one red, one white. Upon the castle’s construction, the two
dragons were found in a fierce battle.”
“The red dragon emerged victorious and returned to rest in his
subterranean lair, allowing Vortigen to complete the building of his
fortress once the dust had settled.”
“The red dragon has since become an immortal symbol of the Welsh
people and St. David’s Day, along with the daffodil—the yellow flower
surrounding it in the Doodle artwork.”
“Although the tale of Dinas Emrys may sound like nothing but fantasy,
a 1945 excavation of the site found remains of a fortress dating back
to Vortigen’s time.”
“So take caution if you ever plan to venture to the ruins of Dinas Emrys… you may awaken a dragon.”
The doodle takes pride of place on the Google UK front-page until midnight tonight.
St David's last words to his followers came from a sermon that he gave on the previous Sunday: 'Be joyful, and do the little things that you have heard and seen me do,The phrase “Gwnewch y pethau bychain” or “Do the little things” are considered to
be St David's most famous words, and potentially his final ones and are still a well known maxim here in Wales. St
David believed that the people of Wales should do the small, considerate
things that often make a big difference. During the difficult days of the pandemic, this is exactly what the people of Wales have been doing, making small sacrifices to keep each one another safe. Doing the little things have made our communities stronger in such dark times.
In her St David's Day message the Bishop of St Davids Joanna Penberthy said :
" And let all of us, in this difficult time, as St David asks, do the
little things. Let us keep the faith of kindness, truthfulness, honesty
and justice. St David spent his life nurturing his community. As we
gradually come out of Covid, let us work together, wanting for everyone
else no more and no less than we want for ourselves. Let us make Wales
the place where no one is left behind."
In the latest yearly
St. David’s Day Poll, support for Welsh independence has risen again with 11% supporting independence in a multi-option
question compared to just 7% last year. The dragon awakens.
Let's do the little things that can lead to big change. A better society that makes a difference every day. We can offer help to those fleeing from persecution of any kind. We are all
beneficiaries of the generosity of others in this Country for many of
our ancestors were in desperate need of shelter, safety or simply
wanting a better life, and though we may walk different paths and hail from different beginnings you cannot break the bond that is our shared national identity. On May 6th. Vote for Wales. Dydd Gŵyl Dewi Hapus! Happy St David's Day everyone!
Lawrence Ferlinghetti,,poet, painter, activist, publisher (and co-owner) of the world-famous City Lights Bookstore and
literary icon died on Monday at his home, his
son Lorenzo Ferlinghetti said. A month shy of his 102nd birthday,
Ferlinghetti died " in his own room," holding the hands of his son and
his son's girlfriend, "as he took his last breath." The cause of death
was lung disease. Ferlinghetti had received the first dose of the
COVID-19 vaccine last week, his son said Tuesday Ferlinghetti epitomized the soul of San Francisco counterculture for
generations of artists and writers. As the founder of City Lights, a
bookstore and publisher that grew from a small, avant-garde press to a
literary institution, he provided a bedrock of support for scores of
groundbreaking writers, from the Beat Generation onwards, staunchly defending the work that risked erasure
and oppression from authorities.
“We intend to build on Ferlinghetti’s vision and honor his memory by
sustaining City Lights into the future as a center for open intellectual
inquiry and commitment to literary culture and progressive politics,”
City Lights said in a statement“Though we mourn his passing, we
celebrate his many contributions and give thanks for all the years we
were able to work by his side.
We love you, Lawrence.”
Often concerned with politics and social issues. Ferlinghetti's work countered the
literary elites definition of art and the artists role in the world.
Though imbued with the commonplace, his poetry cannot be simply
described as polemic or personal protest, for it stands on his
craftmanship, thematics and grounding in tradition. An activist who was brave
enough and daring to challenge peoples beliefs.His life saw him act as a
catalyst for numerous literary careers and for the Beat movement itself,
publishing the early work of Allen Ginsberg,Jack Kerouac and Gary Snyder.
Making poetry accessible to all, with his lucid views he has long
watered my senses. I've admired his work since getting hold of copy of Penguin Modern Poets No 5 (where he was alongside Ginsberg and Gregorry Corso)https://teifidancer-teifidancer.blogspot.com/2019/04/penguin-modern-poets.html His bookstore quickly became an iconic literary
institution that has embodied social change and literary freedom. A
truly remarkable person, and a great inspiration.
The youngest of five children he was born Lawrence Monsanto Ferling in Yonkers, N.Y., on March 24,
1919. His Italian father, an estate agent who changed the family name after arriving in
America, died before Lawrence was born. Soon after, his mother was
hospitalized with a nervous breakdown and his family was split up.
Lawrence
was sent to live with an uncle, Ludovic Monsanto, and his
French-speaking wife, Emily, when he was 2. When the Monsantos’ marriage
collapsed, Emily took Lawrence to France. When they returned to New
York, she put Lawrence in an orphanage (of which
his sole memory was "undercooked tapioca pudding") but later retrieved him.
She took him to live in the Bronxville household of the wealthy
Bisland family, which had hired her as a governess. But his life was
ruptured again when Emily disappeared mysteriously, never to return.
The
Bislands, who had lost a son, coincidentally named Lawrence, raised
him like their own. They nurtured a love of books and sent him to
private schools, but they were emotionally reserved and Lawrence, who
would later dub himself the “Director of Alienation” in one of his
poems, often felt lonely.
His happiest time came during the
Depression when the Bislands sent him to board with another family, the
Wilsons, and attend a Bronxville public school. He formed a close bond
with one of the Wilson sons, played sports, had a paper route and was a
Boy Scout. He also engaged in minor hooliganism with a group of street
youths called the Parkway Road Pirates, whose activities brought certain
ironies into his young life:
I got caught stealing pencils
from the Five and Ten Cent Store
the same month I made Eagle Scout
The
shoplifting incident ended his idyll with the Wilsons. He was enrolled
at the Mount Hermon prep school in Massachusetts, where he led a
disciplined life of prayer, work and study. He discovered the work of
Thomas Wolfe and later studied at Wolfe’s alma mater, the University of
North Carolina at Chapel Hill, where Ferlinghetti earned a bachelor’s
degree in 1941.
Later that year, just before the attack on Pearl Harbor, he joined the
Navy. He commanded a 30-man
submarine chaser, part of the so-called "Donald Duck Navy" of tiny
wooden craft, which were nonetheless entitled to call in as many
supplies as a battleship – a loophole he used to request a full set of
the Random House Modern Library and copious amounts of "medicinal"
brandy. The war went by with Ferlinghetti "enjoying every minute of it",
until as part of the American occupation in Japan, he toured
Nagasaki after the atomic blast that killed 70,000 of its residents. The
monstrous sights (“hands sticking out of the mud broken tea cups hair
sticking out of the road”) turned Ferlinghetti into a pacifist and
political activist.
After the war, he earned a master’s degree on the GI Bill at Columbia University.In 1946 he moved to Paris to study at the Sorbonne where he received a doctorate.he met his future
wife, Kirby, on the ship over. They had two children, Julie and Lorenzo,
and separated in 1973, but remained close until Kirby's death in 2012.
Though Ferlinghetti settled with Lorenzo in North Beach, for much
of his life he travelled compulsively. "Why do I voyage so much? And
write so little?" he once wrote, on a bus to Mexico. The answer may come
from his nomadic childhood., Ferlinghetti moved several times
during his childhood.
In 1951, he arrived in San Francisco, where his work would pave
the way for a national literary movement while stoking a vibrant local
literary scene.In San Francisco, Ferlinghetti taught French, painted, wrote art reviews
and translated the poetry of Jacques Prevert and Guillaume Apollinaire. In a 2019 interview with The Paris Review, he described what he first encountered there:
When I arrived in town the only
bookstores were like Paul Elder’s, downtown. None of them had
periodicals. I felt right from the beginning there was no locus for the
literary community. These bookstores all closed at five o’clock, they
weren’t open on the weekend. What’s a literary person supposed to do,
where is he supposed to go? From the beginning, when Peter Dean Martin
and I started City Lights Bookstore in 1953, our idea was to create a
locus for the literary community. We used to run a one-inch ad in the
San Francisco Chronicle saying, “A literary meeting place since 1953.”
That was our original line.
He also launched a friendship with Kenneth Rexroth, dean of the avant-garde poets driving the city’s
literary scene. whose show on
the Berkeley community radio station KPFA captured his imagination. He
told Interview in 2012:
He didn’t just review books, he knew
every possible field-geology, astronomy, philosophy, logic, classics. It
was a total education listening to him. It was a radical position. I
used to go to his soirees on Friday nght. There were a lot of poets
that would show up. He lived in the Fillmore District, which was black
at that time. He lived at 250 Scott Street, above Jack’s Record Cellar.
Anyway, Friday night soirees at his house were old and young, but just
poets. That’s where I met Kerouac and [Neal] Cassady and Gregory Corso .
. .
Ferlinghetti and Martin each invested $500 to open City Lights Pocket
Book Shop in 1953 at 261 Columbus Avenue. The store sold only
paperbacks, a bold choice for a time when publishers were not
particularly invested in the format; the decision reflected
Ferlinghetti’s belief in making literature accessible to a mass
audience.The bookshop, renowned for its bohemian atmosphere and vast collections
of international poetry, fiction, progressive political journals and
magazines in 1956 spawned a literary press, City Lights Publishers, aiming to
encourage an “international, dissident ferment.”
He first encountered Allen Ginsberg’s "Howl"
at a reading that same year.https://teifidancer-teifidancer.blogspot.com/2017/10/7th-october-1955-allen-ginsbergs-first.html The following year, City Lights published
it. (Ferlinghetti had given notice to the American Civil Liberties Union
in advance.) Then, on June 7, 1957, the San Francisco Chronicle ran an intriguing
headline on page two: "Bookshop Owner Surrenders." A warrant had been
put out for Ferlinghetti's arrest, for printing and selling "obscene"
materials.
The prosecutor, a self-proclaimed "specialist in smut cases", ignored
Ginsberg's tragic, era-defining portrait of "the best minds of my
generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked", instead
totting up the four-letter words. Unexpectedly, the judge – a
conservative Sunday school teacher – found Ferlinghetti not guilty,
declaring that unless a book "is entirely lacking in 'social importance'
it cannot be held obscene".
This victory for freedom of expression would set a legal precedent for other
authors who faced obscenity charges in subsequent years, including
William S. Burroughs, D.H. Lawrence, and Henry Miller and cemented the idea of the Beat Generation. .
Ferlinghetti pointed out that the Beats were self-mythologising from the
start, because Ginsberg "was a very clever publicist for his group of
poets. Without Allen Ginsberg there would not have been the Beat
Generation. It was a creation in Allen Ginsberg's mind."
He notably did not think of himself as a Beat poet, though others would
assign him the label throughout his life; in a 2006 interview with The Guardian,
he called himself “the last of the bohemians rather than the first of
the Beats.”
When Ginsberg tried to push Ferlinghetti to publish more of his friends, he
replied: "I'm not out to run a press of Poets That Write Like Allen
Ginsberg." To his credit, he didn't. City Lights soon established itself as a vital publisher
of progressive, experimental, and high-quality literary projects, City Lights' eclectic list ranged
from Denise Levertov. Malcolm Bradbury, William Carlos Williams, Kenneth Patchen and
Pablo Picasso. As editor, Ferlinghetti had an eye for talent,
sensitivity and patience. He wrote Frank O'Hara https://teifidancer-teifidancer.blogspot.com/2017/07/frank-ohara-poet-of-intensity-and.html postcards for five years
saying he would "starve" without a full manuscript for his Lunch Poems,
before O'Hara finally handed one over. ("I am very happy that you have
stayed hungry," wrote O'Hara. "Lunch is in toaster and I hope you like
it.")
Ferlinghetti would also release Jack Kerouac's Book of Dreams, prison writings by Timothy Leary and Frank O'Hara's Lunch Poems. Whist Ferlinghetti had risked prison for Howl, he rejected William Burrough's classic Naked Lunch worrying that publication would led to 'sure premeditated legal lunacy.
As a gathering space for artists and intellectuals, the City Lights
Bookstore its events, along with Ferlinghetti himself, became a hub
of collaboration, artistic invention, and literary dialogue.City Lights became a meeting point for Bohemian writers who refused to
accept what Ferlinghetti dubbed the "Coca-Colonization" of America.
City
Lights' goal was not to promote "our gang" but to start "an
international, dissident, insurgent ferment", open to hepcats and "Red
Cats" (Soviet poets) alike. Shunning the "Beat" label, Ferlinghetti
always preferred the term "wide-open" – which is how Pablo Neruda,
another City Lights poet, described Ferlinghetti's verse when they met
in Cuba in 1960.
There,
over dinner, Ferlinghetti looked up to see a "big guy with beard
wearing fatigues and smoking cigar come out of restaurant kitchen". It
was Fidel Castro. The poet realised they had an acquaintance in common:
"Soy amigo de Allen Ginsberg." This was enough to win him a "big smile"
and a "soft handshake".
A self confessed moral anarchist and socialist, Ferlinghetti never shied away from making his political beliefs
known and using avenues such as poetry to express them. He has been
credited with helping to bring poetry out of the academic arena and back
to the public. He travelled widely, and in the ensuing years, Ferlinghetti intensified his political
activities. He visited Chile and Cuba. He demonstrated against the
Vietnam War and was arrested with 67 others, including folk singer Joan
Baez, after participating in a 1967 protest at an Oakland Army induction center. Ferlinghetti's activism did not fade away like that psychedelic summer of '67, it lived on in his words and deeds. In 2012, he turned down a literary award partly funded by Hungary’s
government due to concerns about human rights in the country. , And on the day in 2003 when the U.S. invaded Iraq, he closed the
bookshop in protest.
“To be disengaged is to be dead,” he once said in a critique of the Beat philosophy of detachment.
City Lights expanded in 1987 to
include a revered poetry room
which encourages readers to enjoy their books before purchasing. Ferlinghetti also defied history. The internet, superstore chains and high
rents shut down numerous booksellers in the Bay Area and beyond, but
City Lights remained a thriving political and cultural outlet, where one
section was devoted to books enabling "revolutionary competence," where
employees could get the day off to attend an anti-war protest.
"Generally, people seem to get more conservative as they age, but in
my case, I seem to have gotten more radical," Ferlinghetti told
Interview magazine in 2013. "Poetry must be capable of answering the
challenge of apocalyptic times, even if this means sounding
apocalyptic."
The
bookstore is so important to San Francisco culture that during the coronavirus outbreak, when it was
forced to close and required $300,000 to stay in business. A GoFundMe
campaign quickly raised $400,000.
Ferlinghetti published more than 30 books of poetry in his lifetime. His
work, including the well-known poem “Tentative Description of a Dinner
to Promote the Impeachment of President Eisenhower,” often explicitly
dealt with the social and political upheavals of the late 20th
century,his collection A Coney Island of the Mind
published by New Directions in 1958, received mixed reviews from critics. Typical was Harvey Shapiro’s
critique in the New York Times, which called it “a grab bag of
undergraduate musings about love and art, much hackneyed satire of
American life and some real and wry perceptions of it.” Yet it remains
one of the most-read books of modern American poetry, and is one of the best-selling poetry
collections of all time, according to City Lights. A well thumbed copy is among my bookcases. In “A Coney Island of the Mind” he wrote several poems with jazz
accompaniment in mind. He recorded two of the poems , “Autobiography”
and “Junkman’s Obbligato” with the Cellar Jazz Quintet of San
Francisco on a 1957 album with Rexroth called “Poetry Readings in the
Cellar.”
Serious critics and even some of his friends dismissed him. Corso and
others in the Beat circle “consider me a business man with a loose
pen,” he wrote in a letter to Ginsberg included in the 2015 volume “I
Greet You at the Beginning of a Great Career: The Selected
Correspondence of Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Allen Ginsberg, 1955-1997.”
His
admirers (which I definitely consider myself to be one) have been vociferous in their admiration. Well into his 80s,
Ferlinghetti performed his poetry on college campuses, where audiences
greeted him like a rock star, shouting out the titles of favorite poems.
Hundreds showed up at City Lights for his 100th birthday in 2020. To celebrate Ferlinghetti's birthday, its storefront displayed a
line from his manifesto "Poetry as Insurgent Art" (2007): "Paper may
burn but words will escape."
Among the events at City Lights' was a celebration of Little Boy,
Ferlinghetti's newly released, stream-of-consciousness novel.
Ferlinghetti had been working on the book for close to a dozen years
before it was released in 2019. It was mostly written by hand, due to
his dwindling eyesight, but otherwise he was known to be in fairly good
health. The book was a fictionalized account of the author’s life
growing up. Ferlinghetti's assistant, Garrett Caples, also an editor and
poet, said in an interview back then that Little Boy showed
how the author filtered through his own experiences as he wrestled with
the cosmic questions facing a 100-year-old man, such as "What is life
all about?" The publisher Doubesday
said it was “a story, steeped in the rhythmic energy of the
beats, gleaming with Whitman’s visionary spirit, channeling the
incantatory power of Proust and Joyce.”
Ferlinghetti, tall and bearded, with sharp blue eyes, could be
soft-spoken, even introverted and reticent in unfamiliar situations. But
he was the most public of poets and his work wasn't intended for
solitary contemplation. It was meant to be recited or chanted out loud,
whether in coffee houses, bookstores or at campus gatherings. "I
have committed the sin of too much clarity,” he told a biographer,
reflecting on the critical neglect. Poetry, he wrote in “Americus, Book
I” (2004), “is eternal graffiti in the heart of everyone.”
His other collections
include Pictures of the Gone World (1955) Endless Life(1984) Selected Poems (1981). These Are My Rivers: New and Selected Poems, 1955–1993, A Far Rockaway of the Heart (1997), Poetry as Insurgent Art (2007), and Time of Useful Consciousness (2012). He also wrote plays, novels and broadsides, notably “Tyrannus Nix” (1969), an attack on the Richard M. Nixon presidency.
Whilst the poets of the Beat Generation garnered much of the attention
at the time, Ferlinghetti’s own poetry was based firmly in the lyric,
narrative traditions of the past. His theme was often the common man and
the broken promise of democracy and how the individual thrives as part
of the masses.
Few poets of the past 60 years were so well known, or so influential.
His books sold more than 1 million copies worldwide, a fantasy for
virtually any of his peers, and he ran one of the world's most famous
and distinctive bookstores, City Lights. Although he never considered
himself one of the Beats, he was a patron and soul mate and, for many, a
lasting symbol.
Ferlinghetti began his career at a revolutionary time in arts and music.
In 1994, he still believed art could make a difference. "I really
believe that art is capable of the total transformation of the world,
and of life itself," he said. "And nothing less is really acceptable. So
I mean if art is going to have any excuse for, beyond being a
leisure-class plaything — it has to transform life itself."
Through more than half a century of writing and publishing, Lawrence Ferlinghetti did.
Despite Ferlinghetti's eyesight being poor in recent years, he continued to
write and to keep regular hours at City Lights. The establishment,
meanwhile, warmed to him, even if the affection wasn't always returned.
He was named San Francisco's first poet laureate, in 1998, and City
Lights was granted landmark status three years later. He received an
honorary prize from the National Book Critics Circle in 2000 and five
years later was given a National Book Award medal for "his tireless work
on behalf of poets and the entire literary community."
"The dominant American mercantile culture may globalize the world,
but it is not the mainstream culture of our civilization," Ferlinghetti
said upon receiving the award. "The true mainstream is made, not of oil,
but of literarians, publishers, bookstores, editors, libraries, writers
and readers, universities and all the institutions that support them."
"Poetry should be dissident and subversive and an agent for change" wrote Ferlinghetti in his 2007 book, Poetry as Insurgent Art "Question everything and everyone, including Socrates, who questioned everything, Strive to change the world in such a way there is no need to be need dissident, A natural-born nonviolent enemy of the state,"
Ferlinghetti also suggested
that every poet must decide whether birdsong is joyous or sad, "by which
you will know if you are a tragic or a lyric poet". Readers of
Ferlinghetti's poetry, often funny, always alive with music, and
"constantly risking absurdity" – might have imagined him to be in the
lyric camp. But the final words of Little Boy make his choice clear: "the cries of birds now are not cries of ecstasy but cries of despair"..
Throughout Ferlinghetti’s long life, the revolutionary poet and born
maverick had been beholden to none. Part of his nonconformist side was
revealed in the courage he displayed in defending freedom of the press
at a time when few did so. A poet and publisher with a
conscience, producing clear, direct, redeeming work about social
responsibility, beauty, and spirit. Ferlinghetti’s poetry welcomed me and millions of readers to art and
the idea that it can have a meaningful impact on the world.As an iconoclast and provocateur, he actually shared the same principles as the beats, in that poetry and literature and poetry can serve as a cultural counterforce for change
And though saddened immensely by his passing, Ferlinghetti at least gracefully outlived all his flashier friends and contemporaries. He never disintergrated ,like Jack Kerouac into 'drunk uncle ; rants about how 'hoodlums and communists' were infiltrating his Beat movement,; and he never grew obsessed with his own mythology, like Allen Ginsberg, endlessly recounting how the 'best minds' of his generation just coincidentally happened to hang out with him. He was a modest man of great dignity. And unlike many Fifties-era radicals, Ferlinghetti never shrank from promoting socialist principles on the world stage as a poet, an activist, a publisher and a businessman, repeatedly calling out the crimes of the American empire, from Eisenhower and Johnson to Obama and Trump,
Ultimately Ferlinghetti deployed his many talents in support of world peace, equality and justice, subsequently his rich legacy is guaranteed, he will forever be remembered as a significant figure in contributing to the betterment of society. Ferlinghetti is survived by his son, Lorenzo; a daughter, Julie Sasser; and three grandchildren. In these dark days I am reminded that some manifestos still matter, thank you Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Rest in power.
.
Populist Manifesto No,1 - Lawrence Ferlinghgetti (1976)
Poets, come out of your closets,
Open your windows, open your doors,
You have been holed-up too long
in your closed worlds.
Come down, come down
from your Russian Hills and Telegraph Hills,
your Beacon Hills and your Chapel Hills,
your Mount Analogues and Montparnasses,
down from your foothills and mountains,
out of your teepees and domes.
The trees are still falling
and we’ll to the woods no more.
No time now for sitting in them
As man burns down his own house
to roast his pig
No more chanting Hare Krishna
while Rome burns.
San Francisco’s burning,
Mayakovsky’s Moscow’s burning
the fossil-fuels of life.
Night & the Horse approaches
eating light, heat & power,
and the clouds have trousers.
No time now for the artist to hide
above, beyond, behind the scenes,
indifferent, paring his fingernails,
refining himself out of existence
No time now for our little literary games,
no time now for our paranoias & hypochondrias,
no time now for fear & loathing,
time now only for light & love.
We have seen the best minds of our generation
destroyed by boredom at poetry readings.
Poetry isn’t a secret society,
It isn’t a temple either.
Secret words & chants won’t do any longer.
The hour of oming is over,
the time of keening come,
a time for keening & rejoicing
over the coming end
of industrial civilization
which is bad for earth & Man.
Time now to face outward
in the full lotus position
with eyes wide open,
Time now to open your mouths
with a new open speech,
time now to communicate with all sentient beings,
All you ‘Poets of the Cities’
hung in museums including myself,
All you poet’s poets writing poetry
about poetry,
All you poetry workshop poets
in the boondock heart of America,
All you housebroken Ezra Pounds,
All you far-out freaked-out cut-up poets,
All you pre-stressed Concrete poets,
All you cunnilingual poets,
All you pay-toilet poets groaning with graffiti,
All you A-train swingers who never swing on birches,
All you masters of the sawmill haiku in the Siberias of America,
All you eyeless unrealists,
All you self-occulting supersurrealists,
All you bedroom visionaries and closet agitpropagators,
All you Groucho Marxist poets
and leisure-class Comrades
who lie around all day and talk about the workingclass proletariat,
All you Catholic anarchists of poetry,
All you Black Mountaineers of poetry,
All you Boston Brahims and Bolinas bucolics,
All you den mothers of poetry,
All you zen brothers of poetry,
All you suicide lovers of poetry,
All you hairy professors of poesie,
All you poetry reviewers
drinking the blood of the poet,
All you Poetry Police –
Where are Whitman’s wild children,
where the great voices speaking out
with a sense of sweetness and sublimity,
where the great new vision,
the great world-view,
the high prophetic song
of the immense earth
and all that sings in it
And our relations to it –
Poets, descend
to the street of the world once more
And open your minds & eyes
with the old visual delight,
Clear your throat and speak up,
Poetry is dead, long live poetry
with terrible eyes and buffalo strength.
Don’t wait for the Revolution
or it’ll happen without you,
Stop mumbling and speak out
with a new wide-open poetry
with a new commonsensual ‘public surface’
with other subjective levels
or other subversive levels,
a tuning fork in the inner ear
to strike below the surface.
Of your own sweet Self still sing
yet utter ‘the word en-masse –
Poetry the common carrier
for the transportation of the public
to higher places
than other wheels can carry it.
Poetry still falls from the skies
into our streets still open.
They haven’t put up the barricades, yet,
the streets still alive with faces,
lovely men & women still walking there,
still lovely creatures everywhere,
in the eyes of all the secret of all
still buried there,
Whitman’s wild children still sleeping there,
Awake and walk in the open air
The highly anticipated new work from
journalist and Bafta award-winning filmmaker, Adam Curtis premiered
exclusively on BBC iPlayer on 11 February 2021.
Spanning eight hours over six episodes, the series presents an audacious
and frequently mind-boggling attempt to explain how we got to the
present moment: turbulent and chaotic times in which nothing ever
fundamentally seems to change, during which those in power have lost the
ability either to make sense of it or offer a way out to something
better. It is an exploration of how, throughout history, different
characters from all over the world have sought to break through the
stasis and corruption of their time and transform reality – and how very
often in so doing, have unleashed powerful forces that would ultimately
lead to their destruction. And why both
those in power - and we - find it so difficult to move on.
The films trace different forces across the
world that have led to now, not just in the West, but in China and
Russia as well. It covers a wide range - including the strange roots of
modern conspiracy theories, the history of China, opium and opiods, the
history of Artificial Intelligence, melancholy over the loss of empire
and, love and power. And explores whether modern culture, despite its
radicalism, is really just part of the new system of power.
Adam Curtis says: “These strange days did not just happen. We - and those in power - created them together.”
The world is an exciting, maddening and confusing place. As a documentary-maker and visual historian, Adam Curtis' films have been a perfect cipher for those elements to run wild.
Packed with eclectic soundtracks and images that tantalise, horrify and
baffle, allied to Curtis' simultaneously soothing and scary narration of
his own scripts, his work begins with a grand theme and aims to throw
as much at the wall as possible in order to build up a picture that
persuades the viewer of his case.
The
joy of an Adam Curtis film resides in following his journey which is
never less than richly coloured and compactly detailed, with surprising
(and yes, extraordinary) stories of those who often played a marginal
role alongside the real players of history. So we have the tragic arc of
Mao's seemingly Machiavellian wife Jiang Qing, or social activist
Michael X, the UK's wannabe Malcolm X, who ended up paying a terrible
price for his own vaulting ambitions and psychological flaws.
We are indeed living through strange days. Across Britain, Europe and America
societies have become split and polarised. There is anger at the
inequality and the ever growing corruption - and a widespread distrust
of the elites. Into this has come the pandemic that has brutally
dramatised those divisions. But despite the chaos, there is a paralysis -
a sense that no one knows how to escape from this.
Few documentary filmmakers care more about music than Adam Curtis. Since his award winning 2002 film, The Century of the Self,
Curtis’ baroque style has returned – year on year – to haunt the BBC
airwaves like a spectre, each time supported by an extraordinary
soundtrack. Reportedly, Curtis delayed the release of his new six-part
series, Can’t Get You Out of My Head, because he couldn’t think of the right song to end it on.
If you sit
down to Can't Get You Out Of My Head to receive all the
answers about this mystifying planet, ultimate frustration lies in wait.Adam Curtis is after all a populist and a lot of what he offers is pure escapism.and a form of ambient soup. But nevertheless does allow us to learn some intriguing unheard stories and raise many questions it's also totally mesmerising, so different from the norm that we usually see, so much needed right now in the current climate, so cheers Adam Curtis.
Hans Scholl, Sophie Scholl and Christoph Probst, White Rose Society 1943
The morality of every person dictates the innate wrongness of genocide,
and yet the world stood by as the Nazis sent millions to the gas
chambers during the Holocaust. Historians and social scientists often
attribute this moral failure to the blissfully feigned ignorance of the
German people, enveloped in a blanket of fear propagated by the Nazi
regime, and the indifference and prejudice of other nations. Yet a few
brave college students in Munich proved to the world that
conscientiousness still existed in the Fatherland. It is for their
willingness to die to end the silence that The White Rose Movement has since become
legendary.
The White Rose Movement was an informal group made up of students who attended Munich University and their professor who sought to oppose the war, Hitler and the fascist Nazi regime with non-violent resistance. It was founded in early 1942 by Hans Scholl, Willia Graf
and Christoph Probst after the mass deportation of jews had begun, who were fully aware of the atrocities that were being committed against certain
non-Aryan minorities. They had seen clearly the loss of liberty, the
shredding of human rights, and the disturbing reality that the war was
probably already lost. By the summer of 1942, knowing that resisting Hitler in any form was a capital crime, and who were
fully aware of the existence of Nazi concentration camps and that
hundreds of thousands of Jews had already been murdered in them, to keep secrecy under these extremely dangerous circumstances kept membership of their group very small.They took their name, The White Rose, from the book La Rosa Blanca,
about struggling campesinos rising up against capitalist landowners in
Mexico.
Between June 1942 and February 1943, they prepared, wrote and distributed six different leaflets, in which they called for the active opposition of the German people to Nazi oppression and tyranny and
clandestinely distributed them across Munich.
The leaflets of the White Rose contained messages, such as :- ”Nothing
is so unworthy of a nation as allowing itself to be governed without
opposition by a clique that has yielded to base instinct…Western
civilization must defend itself against fascism and offer passive
resistance, before the nation’s last young man has given his blood on
some battlefield.”
However, this was Nazi Germany which kept a high degree of surveillance on any resistance
activity and there were informants everywhere. After leaflets were found in the University of Munich, the
local Gestapo stepped up its efforts to catch the resistors. Hans, Willi
and Alex also began a grafitti campaign painting anti-Nazi slogans like "Freedom" and "Down with Hitler," and drew crossed-out swastikas on buildings in Munich.
On February 18, 1943, members of the group including Hans sister, Sophie Scholl were arrested distributing anti-fascist leaflets at Munich University. Sophie and Hans were interrogated by
Nazi officials and despite trying to protect each other, on February 22, 1943 were bought before the Peoples Court which had been set up try people accused of political offences against the Nazi state. The trial was presided over by Roland
Freisler, chief justice of the People’s Court of the Greater German
Reich. Freisler was an ardent Nazi and with great vigour and a manic
intensity, frequently roared denunciations at the accused.
Despite the hostility, and appearing in court with a broken leg after her interrogation. Sophie replied to the court,“Somebody,
after all, had to make a start. What we wrote and said is also believed
by many others. They just don’t dare express themselves as we did.”
She also said:“You know the war is lost. Why don’t you have the courage to face it?”
No
defence witnesses were called and, after what amounted to a short show trial, the judge
passed a guilty verdict, with a sentence of death. The sentence was to
be carried out early the next morning by guillotine.
Walter
Roemer, the chief of the Munich district court, supervised the
execution, he later described Sophie’s courage in facing her execution.
He reports that Sophie’s last words were:-
“How can we
expect righteousness to prevail when there is hardly anyone willing to
give himself up individually to a righteous cause. Such a fine, sunny
day, and I have to go, but what does my death matter, if through us,
thousands of people are awakened and stirred to action?”
Gestapo photographs of Sophie Scholl (18th February, 1943)
The
guards were impressed with the courage of the resistors, and relaxed
the rules to allow Hans, Christoph and Sophie to meet before their
execution. After the execution of Sophie, Hans and Christoph, the
Gestapo continued their relentless investigation.
Gestapo photographs of Christope Probst (20th February, 1943)
Later that same year other members of the White Rose, Alexander Scmorell, Willi Graf and Kurt Huber were also tried and executed. Most of the other students convicted for their part in the group's activities received prison sentences.
Before their deaths members had believed that their executions would stir other university students and other anti-war citizens into a rallying call against Hitler and the war, but accounts clearly suggest sadly that most university students continued their studies as usual, the public said nothing, many actually seeing the movement as treacherous and as anti-national such was the grip of madness in Nazi Germany at the time.
Yet reports of mass killings of Jews, were widely
shared by members of the White Rose. This features in the second
White Rose pamphlet :- "Since the conquest of Poland
300,000 Jews have been murdered, a crime against human dignity…Germans
encourage fascist criminals if no chord within them cries out at the
sight of such deeds. An end in terror is preferable to terror without
end.”
The members of the White
Rose remain heroes who sacrificed their lives for the basic principles of freedom and the preservation of human dignity, and a potent symbol of how people can take a courageous action
to resist,speak out ,even against the most brutal totalitarian regimes. Today again those with conscious must defend itself against the dark forces of fascism and offer resistance. This is an archive of their leaflets:
The celebrated Palestinian poet Mourid Barghouti, a
staunch supporter of the Palestinian cause, died on Sunday at the age
of 76.There has been no immediate announcement on the cause of his death. On his official Facebook page, his son, the well known poet Tamim Al Barghouti,
mourned his father.
Barghouti, was born on the 8th of July in 1944 in the mountainous village of Deir
Ghassanah, west of the River Jordan in Palestine. The cluster of villages was dominated by the Barghouti clan (the name
he delights in means flea) of politicians, poets and landowners. His
father worked the land, then joined the Jordanian army. Aged four when
the state of Israel was declared, Barghouti learned of the Palestinian
nakbah, or catastrophe,https://teifidancer-teifidancer.blogspot.com/2020/05/marking-72th-anniversary-of-nabka-day.html as non-Barghoutis with different dialects
appeared in his village. "I was told they were refugees. The story
unfolded of the destruction of villages, and the policy of ethnic
cleansing that drove them away." Hearing of a massacre at Deir Yassin https://teifidancer-teifidancer.blogspot.com/2019/04/remembering-deir-yassin.html in
April 1948 was "the nakbah for me as a child - stories of those killed
in cold blood that were disseminated all over Palestine. They were meant
to be, to encourage people to flee". The second of four brothers, he moved with his family to Ramallah,
aged seven. At school he admired the Iraqi modernist poet of the late
40s, Badr Shakir Al Sayyab, who broke the classical Arabic poem that had
survived for 15 centuries unchanged, during the surge of Arab
liberation movements against British and French occupation.
He moved to Cairo in 1963 to study English literature at Cairo
University and graduated in 1967, after which he didn’t go back to
Ramallah for 30 years. It was in Cairo that he met the love of his life, the Egyptian novelist Rawda Ashour who he married in 1970, staying together until her death in December 2014.In 1977 he was deported from Egypt after his opposition to the peace treaty between Egypt and Israel. The poet headed for Beirut, then left in 1981 for Budapest, where he
lived for 13 years. He returned to Egypt in 1994 to be reunited with his
wife and son.
He visited his birthplace in Palestine only after the peace agreement
signed between Israel and the Palestinian Liberation Organisation in
1993.The event inspired his autobiographical novel Ra’aytu Ram Allah (I Saw Ramallah),
published by Bloomsbury in 2004 in a translation by Ahdaf Soueif, that
first won him an international audience.It was translated to English by
his late wife..The book won him the Naguib Prize in Literature in 2017. The late Edward Said saw
it as “one of the finest existential accounts of Palestinian
displacement”
Reflecting on crossing the bridge from Jordan to his West Bank
birthplace in 1996 after 30 years' exile - a visit under Israeli control
that he refused to call a return - he described a condition of
permanent uprootedness and the harrowing experience of a Palestinian who is denied the most elemental human rights in his occupied country, and in exile alike. It provided a view of Palestine that has been dispossessed and changed beyond recognition by usurpers. All writing,
for him, was a displacement, a striving to escape from the "dominant used
language" and the "chains of the tribe - its approval and taboos".
I Saw Ramallah, was followed by another book I Was Born There, I Was Born Here after Barghouti returned to the Occupied Territories. Barghouti weaved into his account of exile poignant evocations of Palestinian history and
life - the pleasure of coffee, arriving at just the right moment and as
an exile, the importance of being able to say, 'I was born here',
rather than 'I was born there'.
In all Barghouti published 12 poetry books in Arabic since the early 1970s,
as well as a 700-page Collected Works (1997). Midnight and Other Poems was his
first major collection in English translation.
He reflected on the cruelty of the Israeli occupation of Palestine, in particular the siege of Jenin in 2002 and wrote, “We
have been subjected to massacres at intervals throughout our lives.
Thus we find ourselves competing in a race between quickly realized mass
death and the ordinary life that we dream of every day. One day, I will
write a poem called “It´s Also Fine.”
It’s also fine to die in our beds
on a clean pillow
and among our friends.
It’s fine to die, once,
our hands crossed on our chests
empty and pale
with no scratches, no chains, no banners,
and no petitions.
It’s fine to have an undusty death,
no holes in our shirts,
and no evidence in our ribs.
It’s fine to die
with a white pillow, not the pavement, under our cheeks,
our hands resting in those of our loved ones,
surrounded by desperate doctors and nurses,
with nothing left but a graceful farewell,
paying no attention to history,
leaving this world as it is,
hoping that, someday, someone else
will change it.
His poems were translated into several languages, including English, French, Italian, German, Portuguese and Russian. He read his poetry and exhibited his books around he world, and lectured on Palestinian and Arab poetry at universiiies in Oxford, Manchester, Oslo, and Madrid, among others.
Although he was a member of the Palestinian Liberation Organisation, Barghouti did not identify with any political party. He spent years as the body's cultural attache in Budapest.Few poets managed to evoke the existential complexities of living in
exile and being stranded from a homeland as eloquently as Barghouti did. Barghouti reflected on his life under many regimes, seeing and witnessing
in them all the corruption of power and at the same time the
indomitable courage and resilience of the Palestinian people, their daily acts of resistance to occupation who in
just trying to live a normal life is an act of resistance. .
“The homeland does not leave the body until the last moment, the
moment of death.The fish,
Even in the fisherman's net,
Still carries
The smell of the sea."” Mourid Barghouti wrote in his award-winning
autobiographical novel I Saw Ramallah. the quote is now one of many by Barghouti being shared online as people pay tribute to the Midnight poet.
The Palestinian Minister of Culture, Atef Abu Seif, mourned the late
poet, saying that Palestinian and Arab culture had lost with his death
“a symbol of creativity and the Palestinian national cultural struggle.”
Abu Seif pointed out that Mourid Barghouti was “one of the creative
people who devoted their writings and creativity in defense of the
Palestinian cause, the story and struggle of our people, and Jerusalem,
the capital of the Palestinian existence.”
He may have envisioned his homeland leaving his body upon death, but his
contributions to Palestine and Arab literature will survive long after
he is gone. However, his death marks a great loss not just to Arab poetry but to world literature as a whole. Mourid Barghotti Rest in Power.
“People like poetry only in times of injustice—times of communal
silence—times when they are unable to speak or act. Poetry that whispers
and suggests—can only be felt by free men.”
"Silence said:/truth needs no eloquence./After the death of the
horseman,/ the homeward-bound horse/says everything/ without saying
anything." - Mourid Barghotti
Thomas Paine was an English/American political activist, author and political theorist, whose words helped shape modern Britain and France, Born to a Quaker family of Thetford, England, on January 29th , 1737 ( or February 9th, 1737 according the Gregorian calender) ,the son of an artisan, he was well educated at Thetford Grammar School
but soon chafed at the constraints of his home town. His chequered
career eventually led him to the American colonies where he emigrated in
1774 with the help of Benjamin Franklin. There he found his calling, as
a revolutionary writer.
Thomas Paine played a
crucial part in the American Revolution of 1776 and the French
Revolution of 1789, after his popular pamphlets Common Sense and The American Crisis swept
through the Western worlds, both new and old, placing before the public
eye in simple, yet dramatic terms, the virtues of self-government and
individual liberty.
On January 10 1776, his pamphlet Common Sense was published for
the first time ( though anonymously,because of its treasonous
content.). Here he delivered his uncompromising message to the common
people, which set the seeds for the American Revolution.In this
important document, he passionately urged the American to create a new
form of government - a modern republic, based entirely on popular
consent. He believed all men were born equal, so saw no need for Kings
and Queens, he also distinguished between governments and society, at
the root of all governments is evil but the root of society lay good.
The pamphlet called for the end of British tyranny in the American
colonies and a break with a country ruled by kings. Common Sense made its appearance at a crucial moment as the debate for American independence reached a tipping point.
Common Sense ignited a wildfire.The numbers were astonishing—150,000 copies were in print within a
few months (roughly equivalent to 15 million copies today). But its real
impact can best be measured in the way that colonists from
Massachusetts to South Carolina moved in the direction that Paine
prescribed. “Without the pen of Paine,” as one contemporary wrote, “the
sword of Washington would have been wielded in vain.”
He became a champion of equality and liberty and went on to support
struggles in Britain and France, he despised tyranny and oppression, the divine right of kings, organised
religion, the death penalty and slavery. He loved reason, freedom, the
emancipation of mankind and was the first person to coin the term “the
United States of America” and to use the term “democracy” as something
other than a pejorative.
Paine thought the revolution in America did not go far enough since it
did not abolish black slavery and he thought the revolution in France
went too far since it became entrenched in medieval violence and
bloodshed. He took bold private stands in both revolutions against his
own friends, colleagues and comrades, never willing to compromise his
conscience, but always ready to go it alone if that’s where the courage
of his convictions took him – and it nearly always did.
Returning to Europe in 1787, and in response to Edmund Burke's Reflections on the Revolution in France, he published his most famous work, The Rights of Man, 1791-2, dedicated to Washington and the Marquis de Lafayette, Rights of Man extensively lays
out Paine’s Republican utopianism and envisions a society where man’s
natural rights are respected, all forms of hereditary government such as
monarchy and aristocracy are abolished, and the welfare of the poor are
taken care of. Paine’s work resulted in him receiving honorary French
citizenship as a reward, as well as a seat on the French Constitutional
Committee.
Paine fled to France and was briefly elected to the French
National Convention. Imprisoned in the Bastille for opposing the execution of Louis XVI
in 1793, Sentenced to death by Robespierre, he escaped his fate only by a
miraculous accident (the executioners marked his cell door on the wrong
side). Free again, Paine lashed out at President Washington, whom he
blamed for not coming to his rescue.This alone would have been
enough to secure his lasting ignominy in America, but Paine had more in
mind.
In 1795, he released the final, and most daring, chapter of his classic trilogy. The Age of Reason,
an attack on traditional religion and the Christian church, made him
one of history’s great apostates. He returned to America in 1802, his promotion of the concept
of human rights greatly influenced the American Constitution and the European
Convention on Human Rights.
However scurrilous attacks followed him
in his waning years. It was symbolically appropriate that, as he
tottered around New York City, he could find no place to be buried.
(Even the arch liberal Quakers spurned his request.) His last years in America often depressed, drunk and in poverty.
When he died on the 8th of Jine
1809, tragically only six people attended his funeral in New Rochelle, New York, and his
tombstone was desecrated soon afterward.
His isolated grave was all but forgotten until a onetime foe, then later
admirer, radical newspaper editor William Cobbett, dug up his skeleton,
without permission ten years after his death. Cobbett was horrified
when he visited Paine’s neglected grave in 1819
and deeply felt that the man had not been given his posthumous due. He
decided that since America had turned its back on its revolutionary
hero, he would rebury him in England,with grand plans for a memorial that would inspire England’s democracy movement.
After disinterring Paine’s grave, he shipped the bones in a common
merchandise crate and predicted their momentous effect. “…those bones
will effect the reformation of England in Church and State.”
Unfortunately for Cobbett, the bones failed to stir England and Cobbett
became a laughingstock, the subject of vicious caricatures and grim jokes.
Despite Cobbett’s noble motive, the public
responded in horror to the desecration of the grave, especially because
of the surreptitious way he went about it. Lord Byron even wrote about
the incident, which was quoted at the time:
“In digging up your bones, Tom Paine, Will Cobbett has done well; You visit him on earth again; He’ll visit you in hell”
The memorial never materialized and when Cobbett died a bankrupt in 1835, Paine’s bones remained above
ground, in debtor’s limbo. Surviving the auctioneer’s hammer as a matter
of taste, different fragments or parts of Paine’s bones were then over
time dispersed and scattered over four corners of the earth.Parts of Paine might still be in England, possibly in the form of
buttons made from his bones. There might be a rib in France. A man in
Australia who claims to be a descendant says he has Paine’s skull. No one really knows where the skull that held the
mind which one day long ago opined, “These are the times that try men’s
souls.” For such a 'Citizen of the World', his mortal remains have no final resting place.
Paine remains ,an icon of defiant, unorthodox idealism. and his promotion of the concept
of human rights influenced the American Constitution and the European
Convention on Human Rights.After his death, Napoleon is said to have suggested
that every ‘free-thinking city’ should have a gold-plated statue of
Paine. Instead, he is commemorated with a gilded bronze statue outside
Thetford town hall commissioned by American philanthropist Joseph Lewis,
who believed Paine was the true author of the American Declaration of
Independence. Paine’s work continues to be a great
inspiration to politicians and activists he was a truth-teller, contentious and bold, who was adamant about holding accountable the brokers of authorised versions of history,calling out their hypocrisy, omissions and mistruths. I wonder what he would say in this age of tyranny, the rage spreading across the land of liberty, the urgent global crisis that we collectively face.would he still be speaking truth to power?, His own basic philosophy, “The world is my
country, all mankind are my brethren, and to do good is my religion,” has
never been more timely. Hail to thee Tom Paine.
Here is Dick Gaughan singing about the revolutionary 18th century thinker and propagandist The song was written by Graham Moore.
Dick Gaughan - Tom Paine's Bones
As I dreamed out one evening
By a river of discontent
I bumped straight into old Tom Paine
As running down the road he went
He said, "I can't stop right now, child, King George is after me
He'd have a rope around my throat
And hang me on the Liberty Tree" But I will dance to Tom Paine's bones
Dance to Tom Paine's bones
Dance in the oldest boots I own
To the rhythm of Tom Paine's bones
I will dance to Tom Paine's bones
Dance to Tom Paine's bones
Dance in the oldest boots I own
To the rhythm of Tom Paine's bones "I only talked about freedom
And justice for everyone
But since the very first word I spoke
I've been looking down the barrel of a gun
They say I preached revolution
Let me say in my defence
That all I did wherever I went
Was to talk a lot of common sense"
Old Tom Paine he ran so fast
He left me standing still
And there I was, a piece of paper in my hand
Standing at the top of the hill
It said, "This is the Age Of Reason
These are The Rights Of Man
Kick off religion and monarchy"
It was written there in Tom Paine's plan
Old Tom Paine, there he lies
Nobody laughs and nobody cries
Where he's gone or how he fares
Nobody knows and nobody cares But I will dance to Tom Paine's bones
Dance to Tom Paine's bones
Dance in the oldest boots I own
To the rhythm of Tom Paine's bones
I will dance to Tom Paine's bones
Dance to Tom Paine's bones
Dance in the oldest boots I own
To the rhythm of Tom Paine's bones
The writer/artist Paul Fitzgerald from Hulme in Manchester also known as Polyp,has been busily working to take Tom Paine out of stuffy lectures on
politics and philosophy and onto the illustrated novel page.Important update: copies of Paine are now on sale here! The result of his labours is now out in the world, and is itself a cause for celebration. Paine: Being a Fantastical Visual Biography of the Vilified Enlightenment Hero, by his Ardent Admirer ‘Polyp’ quite lives up to its title.
The book was funded through a Kickstarter appeal,
