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Yemen’s state-funded thugs

President Ali Abdullah Saleh has played up the threat of al-Qaeda in Yemen to receive military aid f

One Friday in February, after the noon prayers, a straggle of Yemeni students and activists met in front of a small roundabout by Sana'a University and marched in solidarity with Egyptians who were frustrated with Hosni Mubarak's refusal to resign. Fewer than 20 people took part in this protest in Yemen's capital city; only two were women. Many carried pictures of Gamal Abdel Nasser, the late Egyptian leader and symbol of Arab nationalism. They called on the youth to awaken, and for the fall of Mubarak.

They passed throngs of people who ignored them or looked on bemused, carrying on life as usual and buying khat, the mild, stimulating narcotic that nearly all Yemenis chew. One onlooker asked another who the man in the picture was; a traffic policeman spat out that the demonstrators were sons of whores and nobodies. A Yemeni Red Crescent car followed them. I asked one of the first-aiders why they were there. "For them," he told me, gesturing at the protesters. A lone policeman on a motorcycle and two sanitation trucks full of young men with sticks and rocks also followed.

Abruptly, more security forces arrived. Some had clubs. The trucks, each holding at least 20 men, pulled up, ready to attack the demonstrators, who scattered. But Tawakul Karman, a leading female activist, smiled and shouted, "Down, down with Ali [Abdullah] Saleh!" - the president of Yemen since 1978.

The country Saleh rules is the poorest of the Arab nations. It is an uncomfortable amalgam of North and South Yemen, which were united in 1990. In the north, he has been fighting his own Zaidi Shia people, who seek autonomy, bombing their villages, displacing thousands, and then attacking the displaced civilians. In the south, too, he is at war with secessionists.

Saleh delegates control over much of Yemen to tribal sheikhs whose loyalty is tenuous. The country's powerful Saudi neighbours are deeply involved in its internal affairs; their money has purchased officials and helped to spread Wahhabi Islam. The president has used members of al-Qaeda to battle his domestic foes, yet he has also played up its threat to extort money from the Americans, who see the Muslim world only through the prism of the "war on terror".

As in Egypt, Tunisia and Bahrain, Washington has had a close relationship with Yemen's dictatorship through the crackdown on terrorism. Barack Obama increased military assistance for Yemen from $67m in 2009 to $150m in 2010. Documents released by WikiLeaks showed that the US-backed Yemeni security forces, which were supposed to be fighting al-Qaeda, were targeting Zaidis instead. I have seen evidence suggesting that they are also fighting southerners, journalists and students.

Al-Qaeda is marginal in Yemen, its activities amounting to little more than the failed Underwear Bomber attack in 2009 and a couple of package bombs that failed to detonate last year. Yet action against it has provided a pretext for suppression of dissent. Terrorism might be a primary concern of the US government and the global media, but it is far from the biggest problem facing Yemenis.

Broken promises

On 2 February, in response to the revolt in Egypt, Saleh promised not to run again in 2013 (a promise he made and broke before the 2006 elections). He also said that his son would not succeed him.

In Sana'a, as in the rest of the Arab world, it was not the establishment parties that started the revolution, but the youth. On 11 Feb­ruary, the night Mubarak resigned, thousands of Yemeni students, academics, activists and citizens gathered at the university roundabout. They shouted: "One thousand greetings to al-Jazeera!" They wanted the powerful satellite network to focus on them, as it had on the uprisings in Tunisia and Egypt.

As the demonstrators grew in number, they gathered in Tahrir ("liberation") Square, Sana'a. Most of it was blocked off by security forces and the tribal factions with which they were col­laborating. At least ten army trucks carrying dozens of men dressed as civilians soon arrived. Hundreds of reinforcements carrying sticks, knives, automatic weapons and pictures of Saleh turned up, too. These were the balataga, thugs paid by the state to crush dissent.

In a series of skirmishes, the balataga charged the youth, forcing them to flee, then sang, banged drums and danced. It was a symbolic victory: the regime had no intention of letting them occupy Tahrir, unlike in Egypt. "This is the problem," Karman told me. "They send these balataga with their knives. Since the Tunisian revolution, we have organised 11 demonstrations. The revolution is getting bigger. The [balataga] occupy Tahrir so we can't take it, but we will sleep there one day."

Big sticks

By this time, Karman had been arrested twice. Her brother, who was close to the regime and recited poetry at official events, got a phone call from Saleh. "You have to control your sister and put her under house arrest," the president said, adding an Arabic expression: "Whoever splits the stick of obedience, kill him."

“This threat and the arrests empowered the human rights movement and strengthened my will," Karman told me. She was aware of the WikiLeaks revelations about state security. "The national security bureau was founded after 11 September to fight terrorism in Yemen but it fights journalists and human rights acti­vists. It oversees terrorism instead of fighting it."

By mid-February, people from outside the activist network were joining the demonstrations. Among them was a mechanic, Muhamad Ali al-Muhamadi, who told me he did not belong to a political party and did not own a television. “I joined because I am against the regime," he said. "Humans are born free and are not animals to be guided by a stick."

On 12 February, Muhamadi joined more than a thousand demonstrators at the university. The balataga attacked them with daggers, clubs, axes and stun guns. Muhamadi was stunned several times.

The next day, there were larger protests in the capital where security men took pictures but schoolchildren and those in traffic cheered and waved. At least 20 demonstrators were beaten with batons and many were arrested. The journalist Samia al-Aghbari was attacked by guards who threw her to the ground. Her head hit the kerb and she lost consciousness. One security officer loaded his rifle to intimidate men trying to protect Karman. Others were stunned electrically, including Mizar Ghanem, 31, a student leader.

“We first came out on 16 January," he said. "Our first activity was to support the Tunisian revolution and call for the fall of the regime in Yemen. We are a peaceful youth and student revolution." This time, they could not reach Tahrir, so they renamed the square in front of the university Taghir, meaning "change".

By 16 February, the protests had spread even further. Hundreds of judges were protesting in front of the ministry of justice and new demonstrators had come out in response to a call by the student union. Police trucks dropped off dozens of balataga, who attacked the crowds with stones, chains and clubs and fired gunshots into the air. Policemen in plain clothes attacked the students. Amir al-Gimri, a medical student who is lame in one leg, was unable to escape. Police and balataga attacked him, calling him a traitor and spy, slapping his face and throwing him to the ground. They beat his head and legs with clubs as he lay helpless.

French leave

In the two months since the Yemeni protests began, the regime has responded as aggressively as other Arab dictators. But the people's fear seems to have gone and I feel that Saleh's days are numbered. That Friday in February, I was sitting in a taxi when a young man at an intersection threw a leaflet through the window. Youth organisations were calling for peaceful demonstrations on 17 and 18 February, it said.

It was 3pm and already the driver's mouth was full of khat. I asked him if there would be any demonstrations today. "He [the president] has to go," he said, "like in Egypt."

I fired questions at him. Did he expect a mass uprising in Yemen? "There has to be one," he said. How will Saleh go? "In a revolution." Does everyone think like this? "Yes." What about the army and security forces? "When there is a revolution, there is no fear." But what can you do when Tahrir Square is full of government supporters? "We'll remove them," he said, smiling and gesturing forcefully. "He has to go, to Saudi Arabia or France."

“God grant you victory," I said as I left. He smiled a big, green-toothed khat grin.

The demonstrations continue to grow, forcing the opposition parties to take a harder stance against the government and leading to defections of major tribal leaders. Meanwhile, the silence from the White House on the regime's abuses makes it likely that a post-Saleh government will be far less friendly to the Americans.

With the earthquake in Japan distracting the world's attention, the state forces intensified their crackdown over the weekend of 12 March, killing at least seven and injuring hundreds more. In a pre-dawn raid, the youth demonstrators camped by Sana'a University were ambushed with live automatic rifle fire, electrical stun guns and a gas that caused convulsions. The regime is now expelling the few remaining foreign correspondents covering the protests.

Still, there is hope here that Saleh's rule is near an end. Already, the optimistic chant is: "After Gaddafi, oh, Ali!"

Nir Rosen is the author of "Aftermath: Following the Bloodshed of America's Wars in the Muslim World" (Nation Books, £20.99)

This article first appeared in the 21 March 2011 issue of the New Statesman, The drowned world

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Why Jeremy Corbyn is a new leader for the New Times

In an inspired election campaign, he confounded his detractors and showed that he was – more than any other leader – in tune with the times.

There have been two great political turning points in postwar Britain. The first was in 1945 with the election of the Attlee government. Driven by a popular wave of determination that peacetime Britain would look very different from the mass unemployment of the 1930s, and built on the foundations of the solidaristic spirit of the war, the Labour government ushered in full employment, the welfare state (including the NHS) and nationalisation of the basic industries, notably coal and the railways. It was a reforming government the like of which Britain had not previously experienced in the first half of the 20th century. The popular support enjoyed by the reforms was such that the ensuing social-democratic consensus was to last until the end of the 1970s, with Tory as well as Labour governments broadly operating within its framework.

During the 1970s, however, opposition to the social-democratic consensus grew steadily, led by the rise of the radical right, which culminated in 1979 in the election of Margaret Thatcher’s first government. In the process, the Thatcherites redefined the political debate, broadening it beyond the rather institutionalised and truncated forms that it had previously taken: they conducted a highly populist campaign that was for individualism and against collectivism; for the market and against the state; for liberty and against trade unionism; for law and order and against crime.

These ideas were dismissed by the left as just an extreme version of the same old Toryism, entirely failing to recognise their novelty and therefore the kind of threat they posed. The 1979 election, followed by Ronald Reagan’s US victory in 1980, began the neoliberal era, which remained hegemonic in Britain, and more widely in the West, for three decades. Tory and Labour governments alike operated within the terms and by the logic of neoliberalism. The only thing new about New Labour was its acquiescence in neoliberalism; even in this sense, it was not new but derivative of Thatcherism.

The financial crisis of 2007-2008 marked the beginning of the end of neoliberalism. Unlike the social-democratic consensus, which was undermined by the ideological challenge posed by Thatcherism, neoliberalism was brought to its knees not by any ideological alternative – such was the hegemonic sway of neoliberalism – but by the biggest financial crisis since 1931. This was the consequence of the fragility of a financial sector left to its own devices as a result of sweeping deregulation, and the corrupt and extreme practices that this encouraged.

The origin of the crisis lay not in the Labour government – complicit though it was in the neoliberal indulgence of the financial sector – but in the deregulation of the banking sector on both sides of the Atlantic in the 1980s. Neoliberalism limped on in the period after 2007-2008 but as real wages stagnated, recovery proved a mirage, and, with the behaviour of the bankers exposed, a deep disillusionment spread across society. During 2015-16, a populist wave of opposition to the establishment engulfed much of Europe and the United States.

Except at the extremes – Greece perhaps being the most notable example – the left was not a beneficiary: on the contrary it, too, was punished by the people in the same manner as the parties of the mainstream right were. The reason was straightforward enough. The left was tarnished with the same brush as the right: almost everywhere social-democratic parties, albeit to varying degrees, had pursued neoliberal policies. Bill Clinton and Tony Blair became – and presented themselves as – leaders of neoliberalism and as enthusiastic advocates of a strategy of hyper-globalisation, which resulted in growing inequality. In this fundamental respect these parties were more or less ­indistinguishable from the right.

***

The first signs of open revolt against New Labour – the representatives and evangelists of neoliberal ideas in the Labour Party – came in the aftermath of the 2015 ­election and the entirely unpredicted and overwhelming victory of Jeremy Corbyn in the leadership election. Something was happening. Yet much of the left, along with the media, summarily dismissed it as a revival of far-left entryism; that these were for the most part no more than a bunch of Trots. There is a powerful, often overwhelming, tendency to see new phenomena in terms of the past. The new and unfamiliar is much more difficult to understand than the old and familiar: it requires serious intellectual effort and an open and inquiring mind. The left is not alone in this syndrome. The right condemned the 2017 Labour Party manifesto as a replica of Labour’s 1983 manifesto. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

That Corbyn had been a veteran of the far left for so long lent credence to the idea that he was merely a retread of a failed past: there was nothing new about him. In a brilliant election campaign, Corbyn not only gave the lie to this but also demonstrated that he, far more than any of the other party leaders, was in tune with the times, the candidate of modernity.

Crises, great turning points, new conjunctures, new forms of consciousness are by definition incubators of the new. That is one of the great sources of their fascination. We can now see the line of linkage between the thousands of young people who gave Corbyn his overwhelming victory in the leadership election in 2015 and the millions of young people who were enthused by his general election campaign in 2017. It is no accident that it was the young rather than the middle-aged or the seniors who were in the vanguard: the young are the bearers and products of the new, they are the lightning conductors of change. Their elders, by contrast, are steeped in old ways of thinking and doing, having lived through and internalised the values and norms of neoliberalism for more than 30 years.

Yet there is another, rather more important aspect to how we identify the new, namely the way we see politics and how politics is conceived. Electoral politics is a highly institutionalised and tribal activity. There have been, as I argued earlier, two great turning points in postwar politics: the social-democratic era ushered in by the 1945 Labour government and the neoliberal era launched by the Tory government in 1979.

The average Tory MP or activist, no doubt, would interpret history primarily in terms of Tory and Labour governments; Labour MPs and activists would do similarly. But this is a superficial reading of politics based on party labels which ignores the deeper forces that shape different eras, generate crises and result in new paradigms.

Alas, most political journalists and columnists are afflicted with the same inability to distinguish the wood (an understanding of the deeper historical forces at work) from the trees (the day-to-day manoeuvring of parties and politicians). In normal times, this may not be so important, because life continues for the most part as before, but at moments of great paradigmatic change it is absolutely critical.

If the political journalists, and indeed the PLP, had understood the deeper forces and profound changes now at work, they would never have failed en masse to rise above the banal and predictable in their assessment of Corbyn. Something deep, indeed, is happening. A historical era – namely, that of neoliberalism – is in its death throes. All the old assumptions can no longer be assumed. We are in new territory: we haven’t been here before. The smart suits long preferred by New Labour wannabes are no longer a symbol of success and ambition but of alienation from, and rejection of, those who have been left behind; who, from being ignored and dismissed, are in the process of moving to the centre of the political stage.

Corbyn, you may recall, was instantly rejected and ridiculed for his sartorial style, and yet we can now see that, with a little smartening, it conveys an authenticity and affinity with the times that made his style of dress more or less immune from criticism during the general election campaign. Yet fashion is only a way to illustrate a much deeper point.

The end of neoliberalism, once so hegemonic, so commanding, is turning Britain on its head. That is why – extraordinary when you think about it – all the attempts by the right to dismiss Corbyn as a far-left extremist failed miserably, even proved counterproductive, because that was not how people saw him, not how they heard him. He was speaking a language and voicing concerns that a broad cross-section of the public could understand and identify with.

***

The reason a large majority of the PLP was opposed to Corbyn, desperate to be rid of him, was because they were still living in the neoliberal era, still slaves to its ideology, still in thrall to its logic. They knew no other way of thinking or political being. They accused Corbyn of being out of time when in fact it was most of the PLP – not to mention the likes of Mandelson and Blair – who were still imprisoned in an earlier historical era. The end of neoliberalism marks the death of New Labour. In contrast, Corbyn is aligned with the world as it is rather than as it was. What a wonderful irony.

Corbyn’s success in the general election requires us to revisit some of the assumptions that have underpinned much political commentary over the past several years. The turmoil in Labour ranks and the ridiculing of Corbyn persuaded many, including on the left, that Labour stood on the edge of the abyss and that the Tories would continue to dominate for long into the future. With Corbyn having seized the political initiative, the Tories are now cast in a new light. With Labour in the process of burying its New Labour legacy and addressing a very new conjuncture, then the end of neoliberalism poses a much more serious challenge to the Tories than it does the Labour Party.

The Cameron/Osborne leadership was still very much of a neoliberal frame of mind, not least in their emphasis on austerity. It would appear that, in the light of the new popular mood, the government will now be forced to abandon austerity. Theresa May, on taking office, talked about a return to One Nation Toryism and the need to help the worst-off, but that has never moved beyond rhetoric: now she is dead in the water.

Meanwhile, the Tories are in fast retreat over Brexit. They held a referendum over the EU for narrowly party reasons which, from a national point of view, was entirely unnecessary. As a result of the Brexit vote, the Cameron leadership was forced to resign and the Brexiteers took de facto command. But now, after the election, the Tories are in headlong retreat from anything like a “hard Brexit”. In short, they have utterly lost control of the political agenda and are being driven by events. Above all, they are frightened of another election from which Corbyn is likely to emerge as leader with a political agenda that will owe nothing to neoliberalism.

Apart from Corbyn’s extraordinary emergence as a leader who understands – and is entirely comfortable with – the imperatives of the new conjuncture and the need for a new political paradigm, the key to Labour’s transformed position in the eyes of the public was its 2017 manifesto, arguably its best and most important since 1945. You may recall that for three decades the dominant themes were marketisation, privatisation, trickle-down economics, the wastefulness and inefficiencies of the state, the incontrovertible case for hyper-globalisation, and bankers and financiers as the New Gods.

Labour’s manifesto offered a very different vision: a fairer society, bearing down on inequality, a more redistributive tax system, the centrality of the social, proper funding of public services, nationalisation of the railways and water industry, and people as the priority rather than business and the City. The title captured the spirit – For the Many Not the Few. Or, to put in another way, After Neoliberalism. The vision is not yet the answer to the latter question, but it represents the beginnings of an answer.

Ever since the late 1970s, Labour has been on the defensive, struggling to deal with a world where the right has been hegemonic. We can now begin to glimpse a different possibility, one in which the left can begin to take ownership – at least in some degree – of a new, post-neoliberal political settlement. But we should not underestimate the enormous problems that lie in wait. The relative economic prospects for the country are far worse than they have been at any time since 1945. As we saw in the Brexit vote, the forces of conservatism, nativism, racism and imperial nostalgia remain hugely powerful. Not only has the country rejected continued membership of the European Union, but, along with the rest of the West, it is far from reconciled with the new world that is in the process of being created before our very eyes, in which the developing world will be paramount and in which China will be the global leader.

Nonetheless, to be able to entertain a sense of optimism about our own country is a novel experience after 30 years of being out in the cold. No wonder so many are feeling energised again.

This article first appeared in the 15 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Corbyn: revenge of the rebel

Martin Jacques is the former editor of Marxism Today. 

This article first appeared in the 15 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Corbyn: revenge of the rebel

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