The TUC rally, hummus and me

Those of us who were proudly and peacefully protesting in Hyde Park resent being associated with the

I don't like hummus. In fact, I despise hummus. I prefer going straight for the main "dead animal" course in my local Lebanese -- a shawarma, perhaps, or even a lamb chop. But hummus? Never.

So the claim that those of us who preferred to go on the TUC march -- rather than vandalise a state-owned bank or throw paint at the police -- were just "munching houmous in Hyde Park and listening to some speeches" would have offended me if it wasn't so silly.

But my fellow NS blogger Laurie Penny is allowed to be silly if she wants to. If she wants to hang from a set of traffic lights in Oxford Circus, then that's her prerogative. She's entitled to her views -- and her "riot boots".

But I'm entitled to my views -- and I'm annoyed with the violent "protesters" (thugs?) who tried to wreck an important and historic march by rewarding right-wing, pro-cuts media outlets with the negative headlines and imagery that they had so craved. Then again, what else does one expect from a bunch of outraged kids who prefer to gesticulate for the sake of the Murdoch-owned television cameras? For whom "solidarity" is merely a word to daub on the side of Topshop, rather than a lived act of joining fellow citizens on a mass scale? In my view, solidarity isn't about smashing windows in a co-ordinated manner. (Oh, and I refuse to refer to those louts as "anarchists" until I see any evidence that the disgruntled youth I saw kindling that pointless bonfire in the middle of Oxford Street has read even a page of Kropotkin.)

Here's my rather simple and old-fashioned view: the trade union movement persuaded 500,000 people to turn out on Saturday to protest against the coalition's spending cuts and "march for the alternative" -- the Robin Hood Tax, green investment in education and jobs, reform of the banks and tax justice. Five hundred thousand people. That's half a million people for those of you who can't count.

There were dozens of speakers at the Hyde Park rally -- from the leader of the opposition to elected general secretaries of Britain's biggest and smallest unions; from the National Pensioners Convention to Operation Black Vote; from poets to freeminers. There was a call-centre worker who'd walked all the way from Cardiff to make his voice heard. And, no, I didn't spot a pot of hummus in his hand.

So why was there a need for an "alternative" protest, away from the main march in London and the rally in Hyde Park? Why did UK Uncut -- a group, incidentally, whose aims, principles and even tactics I have wholeheartedly supported since its creation last year -- decide to stage a sit-in at a posh shop no one's ever heard of on Saturday afternoon? Don't get me wrong: UK Uncut had nothing to do with the violence at the weekend and have since been wrongly maligned by much of the mainstream media, but why consciously opt out of a march involving -- one more time -- 500,000 of your fellow citizens? Couldn't the well-heeled shoppers in Piccadilly have been rudely interrupted on Sunday instead? Or Friday? Or Monday? Any day other than the day of the TUC march? This scene from the Life of Brian comes to mind . . .

It's a point that Anthony Painter makes this morning over at LabourList. Like me, he objects to Laurie's blog post on the NS site and I can't help but agree with much of what he writes. Having said that, I was amused to see Anthony, an intelligent and informed blogger, whose posts I often enjoy and admire, making an idiotic demand via Twitter for an "apology" from the New Statesman. Referring to Laurie's post, he says: "A hasty apology and retraction of that part of the piece would be welcome."

First, isn't it odd that centre-left bloggers should be demanding such brazen censorship from a centre-left magazine? We're a broad church here at the NS; plural and proud of it. Second, I'm astonished that a clever, web-savvy guy can't seem to distinguish between the New Statesman -- the award-winning current-affairs magazine, founded in 1913, employing dozens of writers -- and a single blogger on the New Statesman website. Third, I think it is remiss of Anthony to write a blog post in which he takes a potshot at the New Statesman on the subject of the march/rally without acknowledging that the senior politics editor of the magazine compered the final section of Saturday's TUC rally (the video, if you want proof, is below). In return, I could now demand an "apology" from LabourList. But I won't waste time.

Instead, I'll carry on marching and rallying with the mainstream. Some of us actually want to try to change things.

Mehdi Hasan is a contributing writer for the New Statesman and the co-author of Ed: The Milibands and the Making of a Labour Leader. He was the New Statesman's senior editor (politics) from 2009-12.

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The Women's March against Trump matters – but only if we keep fighting

We won’t win the battle for progressive ideas if we don’t battle in the first place.

Arron Banks, UKIP-funder, Brexit cheerleader and Gibraltar-based insurance salesman, took time out from Trump's inauguration to tweet me about my role in tomorrow's Women’s March Conservative values are in the ascendancy worldwide. Thankfully your values are finished. . . good”.

Just what about the idea of women and men marching for human rights causes such ill will? The sense it is somehow cheeky to say we will champion equality whoever is in office in America or around the world. After all, if progressives like me have lost the battle of ideas, what difference does it make whether we are marching, holding meetings or just moaning on the internet?

The only anti-democratic perspective is to argue that when someone has lost the argument they have to stop making one. When political parties lose elections they reflect, they listen, they learn but if they stand for something, they don’t disband. The same is true, now, for the broader context. We should not dismiss the necessity to learn, to listen, to reflect on the rise of Trump – or indeed reflect on the rise of the right in the UK  but reject the idea that we have to take a vow of silence if we want to win power again.

To march is not to ignore the challenges progressives face. It is to start to ask what are we prepared to do about it.

Historically, conservatives have had no such qualms about regrouping and remaining steadfast in the confidence they have something worth saying. In contrast, the left has always been good at absolving itself of the need to renew.

We spend our time seeking the perfect candidates, the perfect policy, the perfect campaign, as a precondition for action. It justifies doing nothing except sitting on the sidelines bemoaning the state of society.

We also seem to think that changing the world should be easier than reality suggests. The backlash we are now seeing against progressive policies was inevitable once we appeared to take these gains for granted and became arrogant and exclusive about the inevitability of our worldview. Our values demand the rebalancing of power, whether economic, social or cultural, and that means challenging those who currently have it. We may believe that a more equal world is one in which more will thrive, but that doesn’t mean those with entrenched privilege will give up their favoured status without a fight or that the public should express perpetual gratitude for our efforts via the ballot box either.  

Amongst the conferences, tweets and general rumblings there seem three schools of thought about what to do next. The first is Marxist  as in Groucho revisionism: to rise again we must water down our principles to accommodate where we believe the centre ground of politics to now be. Tone down our ideals in the hope that by such acquiescence we can eventually win back public support for our brand – if not our purpose. The very essence of a hollow victory.

The second is to stick to our guns and stick our heads in the sand, believing that eventually, when World War Three breaks out, the public will come grovelling back to us. To luxuriate in an unwillingness to see we are losing not just elected offices but the fight for our shared future.

But what if there really was a third way? It's not going to be easy, and it requires more than a hashtag or funny t-shirt. It’s about picking ourselves up, dusting ourselves down and starting to renew our call to arms in a way that makes sense for the modern world.

For the avoidance of doubt, if we march tomorrow and then go home satisfied we have made our point then we may as well not have marched at all. But if we march and continue to organise out of the networks we make, well, then that’s worth a Saturday in the cold. After all, we won’t win the battle of ideas, if we don’t battle.

We do have to change the way we work. We do have to have the courage not to live in our echo chambers alone. To go with respect and humility to debate and discuss the future of our communities and of our country.

And we have to come together to show there is a willingness not to ask a few brave souls to do that on their own. Not just at election times, but every day and in every corner of Britain, no matter how difficult it may feel.

Saturday is one part of that process of finding others willing not just to walk a mile with a placard, but to put in the hard yards to win the argument again for progressive values and vision. Maybe no one will show up. Maybe not many will keep going. But whilst there are folk with faith in each other, and in that alternative future, they’ll find a friend in me ready to work with them and will them on  and then Mr Banks really should be worried.