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When enough is enough

Life in the teeming city is blighted by fear and anxiety. Even the latest Hindi blockbusters are pla

The scene resembled a city at night, observed from a plane as it comes in to land: a map of winking lights, in tight and not-so-tight clusters, creating an involuntary pattern of its own. But this was a city seen on the ground, not from the sky. This was Mumbai, scarred and bloodied by terror attacks, its people coming out to mourn the dead in an overwhelming show of solidarity for the victims of 26 November.

Near the Gateway of India, on the edge of the Arabian Sea, thousands of candles lit up the gloaming on the evening of Wednesday 3 December.

India is no stranger to terror attacks and Mumbai is hardly new to catastrophe. Yet the scale and the intensity of this candlelit vigil were unprecedented in the history of contemporary India. No one in particular had organised it; there had been no official announcement. Word had spread by text message and the internet, and tens of thousands of people had turned up hours before 6pm, the scheduled start of the march.

In the event, there were as many as 50,000 people out on the streets, the most unlikely congregation of people to have marched in this city. People stood on the tops of cars and vans. They lit candles on the roads and the pavements, creating mini-shrines for the departed in the usually chaotic and frenzied southernmost tip of the Mumbai peninsula.

People were wearing T-shirts with slogans such as "I love Mumbai" and "Enough is enough". Every other person seemed to be wearing one, making the marchers on the move seem, from a distance, like a gently undulating sea of white. There were national flags so large that ten people were required to hold each one aloft. There were street plays. There were chants of "We want justice". There was anger directed at the ineptitude of politicians. This felt like the most concerted and urgent call for participatory democracy in recent times.

Above all, there was a sense of a devastated city, a city having found a way of showing emotions that had been building up for the past week.

Fear permeates life in Mumbai now. Security has been bolstered at schools, colleges, malls, cinemas, stadiums, airports and offices. But husbands still ask their wives to call every 15 minutes, and people become panicky when loved ones have been out of touch for longer than that.

People are staying together, and, given the choice, they are staying home more than ever before. Newspapers have reported how flight bookings have dropped for travel within India; how blockbuster Hindi movies are playing to nearly empty theatres on their opening weekends; how occupancy at hotels has declined; and how restaurants and bars that are usually packed have many tables empty on any given evening. Several luxury hotels have cancelled their New Year's Eve parties. Eid celebrations were muted.

Azam Amir Qasab, the lone terrorist who survived the murderous onslaught, and who is now under arrest, has spoken of how he and his nine partners were chosen, trained and directed. India says the evidence that the terrorists were from Pakistan is incontrovertible, and has asked its neighbour to hand over certain men they suspect are involved in masterminding the attacks. Pakistan, having already arrested a commander of the jihadist organisation Lashkar- e-Toiba, is under pressure to act - not least from the US (FBI officers are in Mumbai). Manmohan Singh, the prime minister, has talked of setting up a US-style federal investigative agency.

But the Indian people, weary of bluster and wary of rhetoric, are not ready to believe in promises until they see them fulfilled.

The attacks have done something else to Mumbai: they have altered its self-image. This is India's most triumphantly self-absorbed city. It is a city which thinks that being insular is not merely what it is, but a right that it has earned for itself. Yet the attacks are forcing Mumbai not only to look inward, but out to the political capital, Delhi, to see what help might be forthcoming. The people of Mumbai are also looking to other cities in the world to find out how they have dealt with extreme terror attacks.

Has something definitively changed about Mumbai? Or are we witnessing merely a response to terrible events that the city has not yet come to terms with? As it has been little more than a fortnight, it is still too soon to tell.

Soumya Bhattacharya is the editor of the Hindustan Times in Mumbai and author of the memoir "You Must Like Cricket?", published by Yellow Jersey Press (£12)

This article first appeared in the 15 December 2008 issue of the New Statesman, The power of speech

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The New Times: Brexit, globalisation, the crisis in Labour and the future of the left

With essays by David Miliband, Paul Mason, John Harris, Lisa Nandy, Vince Cable and more.

Once again the “new times” are associated with the ascendancy of the right. The financial crash of 2007-2008 – and the Great Recession and sovereign debt crises that were a consequence of it – were meant to have marked the end of an era of runaway “turbocapitalism”. It never came close to happening. The crash was a crisis of capitalism but not the crisis of capitalism. As Lenin observed, there is “no such thing as an absolutely hopeless situation” for capitalism, and so we discovered again. Instead, the greatest burden of the period of fiscal retrenchment that followed the crash was carried by the poorest in society, those most directly affected by austerity, and this in turn has contributed to a deepening distrust of elites and a wider crisis of governance.

Where are we now and in which direction are we heading?

Some of the contributors to this special issue believe that we have reached the end of the “neoliberal” era. I am more sceptical. In any event, the end of neoliberalism, however you define it, will not lead to a social-democratic revival: it looks as if, in many Western countries, we are entering an age in which centre-left parties cannot form ruling majorities, having leaked support to nationalists, populists and more radical alternatives.

Certainly the British Labour Party, riven by a war between its parliamentary representatives and much of its membership, is in a critical condition. At the same time, Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership has inspired a remarkable re-engagement with left-wing politics, even as his party slumps in the polls. His own views may seem frozen in time, but hundreds of thousands of people, many of them young graduates, have responded to his anti-austerity rhetoric, his candour and his shambolic, unspun style.

The EU referendum, in which as much as one-third of Labour supporters voted for Brexit, exposed another chasm in Labour – this time between educated metropolitan liberals and the more socially conservative white working class on whose loyalty the party has long depended. This no longer looks like a viable election-winning coalition, especially after the collapse of Labour in Scotland and the concomitant rise of nationalism in England.

In Marxism Today’s “New Times” issue of October 1988, Stuart Hall wrote: “The left seems not just displaced by Thatcherism, but disabled, flattened, becalmed by the very prospect of change; afraid of rooting itself in ‘the new’ and unable to make the leap of imagination required to engage the future.” Something similar could be said of the left today as it confronts Brexit, the disunities within the United Kingdom, and, in Theresa May, a prime minister who has indicated that she might be prepared to break with the orthodoxies of the past three decades.

The Labour leadership contest between Corbyn and Owen Smith was largely an exercise in nostalgia, both candidates seeking to revive policies that defined an era of mass production and working-class solidarity when Labour was strong. On matters such as immigration, digital disruption, the new gig economy or the power of networks, they had little to say. They proposed a politics of opposition – against austerity, against grammar schools. But what were they for? Neither man seemed capable of embracing the “leading edge of change” or of making the imaginative leap necessary to engage the future.

So is there a politics of the left that will allow us to ride with the currents of these turbulent “new times” and thus shape rather than be flattened by them? Over the next 34 pages 18 writers, offering many perspectives, attempt to answer this and related questions as they analyse the forces shaping a world in which power is shifting to the East, wars rage unchecked in the Middle East, refugees drown en masse in the Mediterranean, technology is outstripping our capacity to understand it, and globalisation begins to fragment.

— Jason Cowley, Editor 

Tom Kibasi on what the left fails to see

Philip Collins on why it's time for Labour to end its crisis

John Harris on why Labour is losing its heartland

Lisa Nandy on how Labour has been halted and hollowed out

David Runciman on networks and the digital revolution

John Gray on why the right, not the left, has grasped the new times

Mariana Mazzucato on why it's time for progressives to rethink capitalism

Robert Ford on why the left must reckon with the anger of those left behind

Ros Wynne-Jones on the people who need a Labour government most

Gary Gerstle on Corbyn, Sanders and the populist surge

Nick Pearce on why the left is haunted by the ghosts of the 1930s

Paul Mason on why the left must be ready to cause a commotion

Neal Lawson on what the new, 21st-century left needs now

Charles Leadbeater explains why we are all existentialists now

John Bew mourns the lost left

Marc Stears on why democracy is a long, hard, slow business

Vince Cable on how a financial crisis empowered the right

David Miliband on why the left needs to move forward, not back

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times