The need for a new class-based analysis of politics

Some facts over the last few weeks have struck me as providing an important call to action for progressive-minded people throughout the European Union, particularly after the record low turnouts at the European polls from Britain to Poland and from Hungary to Italy over the weekend.

For the first time in history, a far-Right party, the British National Party, had its leader, Nick Griffin, voted in as a Member of the European Parliament for the North West region. The BNP are well-known as a fascist party with racist policies who openly proclaim the superiority of the 'indigenous population' and who have a checkered history of involvement in violence and riots in tinderbox areas such as Bexley in East London, and Bradford in Yorkshire.

The BNP cynically targets political disaffection in communities where there are large White populations but where non-White groups have moved into nearby communities, stoking fear of 'newcomers' in generally working and lower middle class areas. Insodoing, they take advantage of a large section of the population who feel utterly ignored and let-down by the mainstream political elite of Westminster and are frustrated through lack of representation.

The BNP portray this legitimate frustration to be a result of immigration policies and 'political correctness,' at the expense of Whites, and thereby foment violent politics in run down areas. They create a cause, a seemingly legitimate call-to-arms for young White people who feel they lack opportunities and a stake in modern society. In Bexley, kids end up joining gangs called 'RA' - 'Racist Attack' - and violence is on the up. Tensions are stirred and our communities are slowly becoming separated, with young people scared to cross territorial lines across the country.

The Rightward Swing of Mainstream Politics

The rise of the BNP would be less concerning if it has just happened as a freak one-off within Britain, the result of frustration with recent revelations about MPs expenses and a general lack of trust in politicians. Yet, this is not simply the case, and a broader analysis of the politics of the New Labour Party over the last 12 years must be considered as the context.

New Labour was founded as a reaction to the Labour Party going through the dark days of Margaret Thatcher's "Greed Is Good" era of privatisation, the rise of private home ownership and the provision of greater powers to the police in response to the Poll Tax Riots. The New Labour leaders - Tony Blair and Gordon Brown - believed that the socialist tendencies of what subsequently became known as Old Labour had made them unelectable. They believed there had been a paradigm shift in the nation which meant that private wealth was a public good, and duly reshaped the Labour Party along these lines. This view came from their own liberal backgrounds, whereby they represented a much more Right-wing message than that which had been espoused by the Unions and the Party over the previous 80 years.

New Labour's True Impact

In dramatic fashion and with New Labour's landslide victory in the 1997 election, New Labour, lead by Brown and Blair (for all their public battles) set about reshaping Britain into a liberal home-owning democracy. Early moves included the incredibly aggressive development of public-private finance initiatives, on the argument that the private sector was more effective at the delivery of public services; the de-regulation of financial markets; and the fastest development of criminal and immigration laws in this country for a generation.

In the 10 years of Tony Blair's leadership of New Labour, almost 1,500 imprisonable criminal offences were ushered in through annual Criminal Justice Bills - at a rate that even the judiciary could not keep up with - and a doubling of the prison population to bursting point. Wealth inequalities have grown at unprecedented levels whilst New Labour passionately fought the case for laissez-faire economics.

But why should the rise of the BNP have anything to do with the rise of New Labour? Well, in decisively siding itself with the liberal middle class earning population, the Labour Party historically turned its back on the essential base of its power - the White working class majority, the Unions and people with socialist values.

Never before has the working class in particular been so feared and maligned by the very party which historically represented their interests. The message to White young people up and down this country, for example, is clear: stay off the streets, if you don't then you'll be arrested and possibly tagged (under the Anti Social Behaviour Act, for example) whilst your parents constantly remind you that Labour no longer represents them.

Evidence for this cannot be clearer. With the Labour Party under Gordon Brown achieving less than 15% of the vote on a turnout of less than 35% in the European Elections, its painfully clear that Labour's traditional base has finally decided it can't take any more. And, contra the scare-mongering of the Labour elite, this has not given a massive boost to the Conservative Party (who have basically stuck in the polls. In actual fact, people have been voting for fascist and nationalistic policies of parties such as the UK Independence Party (who also cash in on the anti-immigration tone of modern politics) and the BNP.

This rise of the BNP has, in my view, come as a direct result of the Rightward shift of mainstream politics, combined with the homogeneity of the major political parties. With around 13% of the vote, the BNP is becoming a serious national contender in country where there is now widespread dissent with the increasingly fractious political scene, with no end in sight.

And, if that isn't enough, the European context is just as concerning.

The Rise of the Right Throughout Europe

This widespread disenchantment with mainstream politics is not just confined to Britain. Right across Europe the picture is worryingly similar. As a reaction to the liberal economic mismanagement by the Alliance of the Democratic Left - and its strong belief in the economic case for Poland joining the EU - hard Right-wing parties emerged to take power in the form of the Law and Order and Civic Platform. Their policies are nationalistic, authoritarian and economically conservative. At the same time, race crimes have risen massively and there is new talk of the need for engagement with Russia.

In Italy, the state-based kleptocracy of Silvio Berlusconi's political party, the People of Freedom movement, has arisen from the ashes of Berlusconi's previous existence after just a year of the political mismanagement of the widely condemned government of Romano Prodi. Prodi's failure to tackle corruption and inability to make public services work was rapidly taken advantage of by Berlusconi's Right-wing coalition. Political debate in Italy is now concerned with tightening immigration policy severely and has given rise to a concerning onslaught on Eastern European and gypsy groups, particularly after a couple of overhyped crimes committed by people from these backgrounds.

After years of failed promises on the part of the liberal and socialist parties of Bulgaria since it entered the 'democratic era' when the Communist Party gave up exclusive power, the political makeup has moved decided Rightward. Suffering a severe brain drain through its membership to the EU, and stunted economic growth due to serious corruption, far Right parties have gained a foothold for the first time since the Second World War.

From the successes of Pim Fortuyn's anti-Islamic party in the Netherlands, to the growing strength of the Nationalist Party in Malta, the 'frontline against the flood of North African immigration into the EU,' fear and mistrust of others, and racism is decisively on the rise, often in the name of nationalism and often as a reaction against perceived double standards of liberal ruling parties. The disconnect between socialist and liberal parties across Europe from their historic bases has never been greater, and there has never been such a great opportunity for racist and fascist powers to grow in strength and number.

The Dangers of a Forgotten Majority

It is in this context that the rise of Right-wing fascist parties across the continent becomes at once alarming and a true call to action for all of those who have values of freedom, equality (not merely of the failed neo-liberal concept merely of economic 'opportunity') and humanitarianism.

Its clear, for example, that one of the first actions of the extreme racist and Right-wing parties who have been elected to the European Parliament may find a leader in the appalling rhetoric of Nick Griffin. With the Left in disarray due to failed economic liberalism - in France with the divisive infighting of the Socialist Party, in Poland with the eradication of the Left, in Britain with the decisive damage suffered by the Labour Party - extreme Right-wing parties are coming to power in a way they haven't done since before the Nazi power grew in strength.

We should also be concerned about the relics that the Left have left behind which can only be to the benefit of the extreme Right. For example, the normalisation of states of emergency which have justified unprecedented attacks of civil liberties will surely prove to be a concerning weapon in the hands of parties such as the BNP. And with tagging, ID cards and the use of imprisonment growing across the EU, it is right to feel worried about what our communities may look like in the next 5 years.

Now is the Time for a New Political Analysis

It would be easy in the current climate to think that the battle of true liberalism and the fight for equality may be lost. Yet, to do so would only be to hand greater power to the racist ideologies which have already been described. I however, choose to view the current era as a critical time for those of us who believe that a fairer, more just society is not just possible but is a responsibility for us all.

Many friends of mine in the last couple of days, appalled and concerned at the dangerous new direction which Britain has taken in electing UKIP and the BNP at the European Elections, have blamed the majority of the population who chose not to vote in the elections (65% in total). Yet, this position is naive.

Anyone, like me, who works in schools and local community settings around the country consistently, will be able to tell their own stories about rising disaffection in our communities and youth, about the power of the police and state in locking young people up, and the deep disdain of the materialism which has taken hold across the country. The failure of those in power to argue against such issues - indeed to create the conditions for their development - have created the disconnect.

Yet, what is fundamentally clear is that the majority of those who are not voting are actively choosing not to, rather than passively failing to do so. supporters of the ultra-Right parties are growing in number due to the powerful political ideologies of parties such as the BNP who find a niche in the space between economic liberal values and the failure of these values to provide for people who have traditionally been referred to as the working class.

On the macro-level, the International Labour Organisation (ILO) estimates that 1.3billion young people under 30 will be in the global job market within 10 years, yet only 400million jobs are likely to be available for them. That mean that, within 10 years, we will be faced by a global underclass of young people under 30 totalling almost a billion people, the interests of whom will be unrepresented under the current materialist individualism of the global era.

This class-based analysis, whilst giving us an understanding of what is happening, also gives an indication of how to combat the problem. Those who have been forgotten by mainstream politics must be re-engaged by people who actively challenge racism and fascism as being against their own interests. Immigrants and White working class communities fundamentally suffer from the same problems - marginalisation, the enforced importance of materialism, and scape-goating for all social ills.

Yet, the White working class are not simply the cause of these social ills - of rising crime and fear in our communities, and of ever-increasing ativistic individualism - but are its greatest victims. It is time someone came out and said that we are all failed victims of economic liberalism, and that a new social ideology must be developed to give voice to the voiceless and power to the downtrodden. The consequences of us not doing so are truly troubling indeed.

Labels: class analysis, left, race, right, rise of bnp, white, working class

http://justice4sandra.blogspot.com will explain why I haven't been posting here much recently. Please sign up to receive email alerts when that blog is updated.

Steven

Sleep.

It's the one thing I need more than anything else at the moment. But its also the one thing that currently grips me with complete and utter fear at the moment. I'm yearning for a sleep that's not so terrifying, hoping that I can relax into sleep as I used to, as opposed to feeling utter terror when I can no longer keep my eyes open. The worst part of the night comes for me now when I can feel the sting of my eyes drying out through lack of sleep - that means that its coming, but that isn't so good when I feel so scared of this thing I need so much.

Why? It's hard to say exactly. I've always had a phobia of darkness for one. As a child I used to be terrified of night monsters and demons, of being grabbed in the night, of being taken from my family. No doubt any psychologist could come up with a hundred different explanations and causes for this sort of behaviour, but explanations were never what I needed - I could always come up with those myself. No, the thing I wanted most was to be with someone, near someone - anyone - who would simply give me their presence. Its the one thing I still need now, but never have I felt so lonely as now.

The last couple of weeks have been very rocky for me. I have been skirting the ridge of my sanity, feeling on the edge so to speak (a phrase I have little understood until recently). In part it is self-inflicted but, moreover, a deep unhappiness has taken hold of me leaving me without my insides. I am not eating and chastise myself for the smallest of pleasures that I grant myself. I feel as though I am revelling in sadness - the only thought that will do since my mum died in October. I'm not eating and am developing a lethargy like none I have experienced before. I am dropping out of my Law Degree and have moved back into living with my father. My mobile phone has been cut off because I can't afford to pay the bill and I am now starting to become insular too.

Where it will all stop I cannot be sure at the moment.

In classic terms I guess you could characterise all this as a form of depression. Having experienced a great deal of contact with problems of the mind in my life I am sure its not simply this. It seems to be more the grieving process, mixed with my very own form of self-flaggelation that I can neither explain nor justify in words. I seem, in short, to be condemning myself to my own 'hard treatment' and, at the moment, I am unconcerned with stopping it.

So, whilst I feel 'on the edge' I also know that I have it in my power to pull myself away from it. I alone can do it, despite what my friends and family think they can do for me. I am the master of many things in my life and have always had a strong control over myself, however the one thing that I need a bit more control over - my sleep, which will doubtlessly help me to get out of this state - I seem to have none. I yearn for it and yet it only comes to me when my body forces it upon me. I am looking forward to the time when I can regain the control that I am so used to and hope I can get a grip on my sleep soon. It might just be my salvation.

I hope my future posts are not so dull.

"hey lovely, how are you?"

"Heya mate, Feeling cold as it goes - not enjoying this wintry snap which is freezing me to my bones and, seemingly, beyond. Otherwise I'm caught trying to escape the inexorable inertia of procrastination and the ill-winds of autumn malady, presenting, unfortunately, something of a bleak edifice of coughs, colds, aches, pains and lugubrious self-pity. Here's to hoping for the happier thoughts of Spring. But, anyway, mustn't grumble too much. How are you doin dude? Steven"

An email conversation I've just had with a friend. And the more time I have to think the more I seem to slip into an abyss of dull self-pity, it drawing me in like a migratory bird in winter to the plains of Africa. I am getting caught in the merry-go-round of living with a misty mind which, being somewhat exposed at the present time, seems to seek solace in sadness. Sadness seems to be the only justifiable thought allowed unqualified access to my mind, anything else feeling an insult to my mother's life. Indeed it appears that I have introduced a self-imposed, dull, though seemingly consistent throb into my own brain with the efficiency of a surgeon.

I am, of course, still in a state of mourning after the death of my mother at the beginning of last month. Since then I have almost been caught in the theatre that is Death - a grim play that has ensued ever since. Solicitors and coroners, pathologists and nurses seem to enter the stage and leave with the impact of classically-trained actors, laying the ground for the climax which will eventually be the Inquest into my mother's death. Rabbis and Jewry have entered into my life with a gusto unbecoming of their place in my mind, seeking to colonise the memory of my mother 'in the name of God'. They enter my mind even during my defiant act of refusing to drop the 'o' in my typing of the word 'God'.

I have been thrown face-to-face with the previous impossibility of the death of my mother.

In a way it feels like I have lost the only consistency in my life - the irony, of course, easily identifiable. My mother suffered from a significant mental condition for much of her life, a condition which had no meagre effect on the path my own life has taken thus far. There was an uneasy though somewhat comfortable simbiosis in my family which consisted of my mother taking centre-stage in all our lives, the rest of us holding bit-parts in supporting the main actress. My family's physical and mental energies went in great measure towards my mother, though not always, I should add, in a positive light. Sometimes we would laugh, sometimes we would cry, sometimes we would be exceptionally poor and sometimes we would be at the height of anger; often my mother would be a foundation and recipient to all these things whether in fact or in a form of self-imposed fiction.

My mother's ascendancy as the defining factor in my family's life cannot be overstated; neither can it be properly expressed with the imperfect tool of the pen. It is not the simple rose-tinted ascendancy gained by all souls after death - it is something infinitely more visceral. And so my family are left with the invidious position of continuing our bit-parts long after the main actress has left the stage, never to return again. To others it may seem like an almost imperceptible change when they see us about our daily business - to us it feels like we have lost our function. And, of course, while we will go on, it feels that we have been filleted, left with an intractable emptiness in our combined heart.

Sorrow has such sweet temptation.

The weather, on the other hand, bears no little blame for reinforcing the above; of course it's a difficult thing whenever a person dies, but I'm sure it is made distinctly less tolerable by the enroachment of winter, a winter that appears to be reaching further than the climatic conditions outside. In a way the jolted onset to this winter over the last couple of weeks has been somewhat consolatory, a diminutive reminder that the motions of the universe have not yet stopped, bringing with it the glimmer of a hope for that which has yet to come. It is with angst-ridden trepidation that I find no option but to tread the path that I am now on.

I deeply love my mother. And whilst I am trying to understand the grief that has overtaken me I am also trying to understand the concept of living without her. How can such a thing be possible? I guess I have no option but to find out.

I hope to be able to post more here of a less forlorn nature in the days to come.

My mother died on Yom Kippur, 2nd October 2006. May she rest in peace. I am unable to write any form of eulogy at the moment but here is a poem written by my father for my mother.

A Sonnet for Sandra Jean

Now go play your music in heaven above -
Play it with joy and infinite love,
Tell them all of your journey in life
Its pleasures, its lovings, its problems, its strife
Your blessed children will always be near
As will your husband you met yesteryear
And when your hosts ask who you are
Just turn and say:
I'm Sandra - here to carry King David's star.

I love you Mummy

I've just been reading about the so-called 'Immigration Debate' and I can't help but be rather bemused by the rhetoric behind the politics of it all. There seems to me to be very little justification for the harsh immigration procedures that have been and are still being ushered in by our government, the basis seemingly being the populist, if rather badly informed, tabloids. It doesn't even seem to be party-political these days, with parties seemingly wishing to point-score on who can be the harshest on probably our society's most vulnerable grouping.

The benefits of immigration, on the other hand, seem overwhelming: immigration is a significant driver of our economic growth, bringing culture, talent and diversity to a nation that has historically lauded itself as a safe-haven for all. Immigrants make up massive shortfalls in our service industries as well as compensating for the massive (but less spoken of) emigration of British nationals abroad.

Talk of benefits-scrounging seems over-egged in that people who do enter the country as asylum seekers are not allowed to work here legally, and, in any event, the benefits given to immigrants does not even meet the minimum income guarantee which we give to our elderly people. And there's also the (not so) small detail that there is, in fact, no truly viable and legal method for those entering this country to claim asylum. It is a marker of our present politics that people have to commit an immigration offence simply to claim asylum here and gain protection from persecution abroad.

Instead of being a bastion of egalitarianism, we now have an immigration system that is ill-prepared to deal with the immigrants that come from within the EU (the bureaucracy is truly staggering), let alone those originating outside of it, and that frequently desecrates the human rights of entire families who haven't even committed 'immigration offences' in their own right.

We have our government trying to sidestep the provisions of the European Convention on Human Rights as well as the Refugee Convention and which continues to pump billions of taxpayers money into a system that is widely regarded as failing by people on all sides of the debate. And the judiciary seem less than willing to challenge even blatant breaches of human rights, allowing themselves to acquiesce to our government's quasi-political 'memorandums of understanding' with some of the worst human rights abusers on this planet, to allow people to be deported.

And so one has to ask oneself why our politicians and so many people in Britain are so against immigration and, specifically, immigrants, be they refugees, asylum seekers or so-called 'illegal overstayers'. I can hazard some guesses though I wouldn't like to be accused of being unfair. However, with a Home Secretary that is legally required to have a presumption for deporting those 'without legal authority' to be in the country, it seems that we may be losing all touch with any overarching, principled system based on reality.

So, why don't we just open up our borders? It seems to me that it would cost us less (even taking into account the NHS, benefits, &c. that may be required), help our nation prosper and, ultimately, truly make us a safe haven in a world where we continue to be the 4th most propserous nation on earth. Any dissent must surely be borne of the strongest possible basis to ensure that we don't end up persecuting the very people who we should be sheltering and valuing as human beings.

Hey there, its been a long time since I've updated my blog, and still all I am able to give is a partial update! Mainly, I wanted to post the writing below - its a response to an online discussion about the treatment of young people in prison. I have a particular interest in this at the moment as I regularly work in one young offenders institution in a voluntary capacity. I hope the thoughts in the article will at least provoke some thinking. Best wishes to you all!

...

Wow, the reactive temperances of some people on this website never fails to shock me. Saddening that people can have such violent tendencies towards other human beings, especially when many of the opinions are so ill-informed.

So, maybe it is time to do a bit of a reality check. Because, you see, this thread seems to be turning into a race to see who can be toughest on what are, actually, some of the youngest and most vulnerable people in our society. (Of course, at this point, I await the "they're not human, let alone children, they're evil, let them die in hell" comment.)

Prisons, if anyone has ever stepped a foot in one will know, are not nice places. Regularly working in one young offenders' institution, I would challenge any single person on here who chooses to demonise the children in them - and yes, they are children - to have a walk around one of the wings of an evening, to speak to some of the prisoners and to see what these places are like themselves. Anyone who is deluded into thinking that a). prison is a joke, or b). that the people in them are evil people beyond redemption really aren't very aware of the realities of our system of criminal justice.

To give you an idea of what its like, you can hear kids shouting out of their cell windows, some bullying others, some shouting in desperation, others screaming. Then you can hear kids that can only talk violently, and others that don't seem to talk at all. And, just in case people are forgetting, these are children once again.

Lord Carlile gave the conservative estimate [in his report on his Inquiry into the usage of physical restrain, strip searching and segregation of children in prison] of 50% of young offenders having diagnosable mental health illnesses. I say conservative as I have seen official internal statistics stating that 65-80% of children - I use the word children again - have mental illnesses severe enough to require Sectioning under the Mental Health Act. (Anyone, by the way, that isn't aware, Sectioning under the MHA isn't a joke, or about people that feel a bit anxious now and then).

Yeah, there are murderers inside them - I've met and spoken to many. However, 50% of young people that are inside at any one point are on Remand - in other words, unconvicted of any crime. A further 50% of these children are then found to be not guilty at trial - so a total of 25% of children at any one time are inside without even ever having broken any law. Now, try to justify the use of force on these young people please. But what do these kids get when they get out? Not so much as a sorry from a society that has been so quick to brutalise them. But what do they come out with? New skills in criminality that they'd never have come across before, and the loss of any innocence they may have once had.

When a child is received into custody, they are immediately taken to the side by officers, assessed to see whether they are likely to commit suicide and are then strip searched (often with anal examinations taking place) before being placed on a wing where they often will not know anyone, awaiting their movement elsewhere in the system. These children can be as young as 14 or 15. At any one time, 10% of young people in prison are on open ACCT documents - this is those young people on suicide watch. Most children and teenagers - those young men with the most energy, and often the least stable people in our society - are then locked in their rooms (yeah, you're not allowed to call them cells) for 18-20 hours a day. Is it any surprise that some prisons employ one or two officers specifically to run around prisons with the equipment to cut people down who have tried to kill themselves by hanging?

But this isn't what is most shocking. Most shocking of all is that if you walk around some of the wings in a prison, you will doubtless note a distinct over-representation of young people who are black or minority ethnic, or that can barely string a sentence together. Anyone that is naive enough to think that they're all in there for a 'good reason' or that the criminal justice system is fair probably won't be able to stick by that sentiment very long.

And, ya know, what is most upsetting about these sorts of threads [discussion boards] is that people on here think that those inside prison deserve absolutely everything they get, and that all them inside are evil human beings. That is precisely the logic that is used to accommodate the practices of physical restraint, segregation and strip searches (insert here humiliation) in the first place. The irony, of course, is that many young people are inside for relatively minor offences, or lots of minor offences which should have raised flags much earlier on. And, increasingly after the Antisocial Behaviour Act was passed in 2003, young people are being put into prison for breaking civil 'ASBOs' and haven't even committed a 'crime'.

So prisons have become a place where we can hide our societal sins. Young offenders institutions, in particular, should serve as an indictment on our notion of 'justice' - the fact you can have kids of 11 locked up for theft, or even robbery, is truly astounding in my view. But personally, I find it more frightening that we then let them out, expecting them to be in some way 'fixed', all in the name of protecting our society. The irony being they all come out brutalised. Is it any surprise that so many of them then go on to be revolving door cases, so angry with a society that has treated them with such contempt, even in childhood?

More upsetting, however, is that people are so easy to lock them up and then justify the use of force - and even enough force to kill them - because, well, hey, they're evil. I just hope that those people who espouse the old dictum "if you can't do the time then don't do the crime" really understand what they mean by that. A sentence in prison doesn't just last for the length passed down by a court.

Sadly, it seems many people don't quite understand or even care about these facts. Either that or they are so disconnected from the world that they don't understand the brutality in their own views. I just hope one day that they will.

I hate the artificial gender roles and power associated with sex in our society. It really pisses me off to think that men have to be a certain way, women have to be a certain way, masculinity means a small list of attributes which men need to sign up to in order to be accepted and women have their own list, and there isn't supposed to be any sharing.

And all this bollox about increasing gender equality - what about gender role-equality? - really is an attempt by some people to iron over the issues and just back up a system that already doesn't work. It's really, really frustrating.

So, why is this getting to me now? Well, just a tiny anecdote really, but I think it has implications much wider than just the setting in which it occurs. It is also inextricably linked to my sexuality and personal view of myself, and the power of the individual and their right to expression.

I am currently working on an estate in North London in an area with absolutely no local provision for the local children and young people, and massive social problems of petty criminality and an area which is being ignored by everyone, which is leading to a feeling of unease for the whole community. Children and young people are increasingly seen as the enemy and adults increasingly put themselves in the position of policing. Of course, the social implications of this situation in itself is wide-ranging and I feel clearly shows a lack, by decision-makers, to work for truly sustainable communities where everyone is included. It's a picture that is copied many times in areas around the country and is, I feel, creating a climate of mistrust and potentially a form of working class revolution the like of which we haven't seen in this country to a significant extent since the massive Poll Tax revolts.

Anyway, back to my local estate. It was generally seen as one of the toughest estates in the area and there are significant problems for the local community to overcome. (Interestingly - apologies for veering off again - but I couldn't find the estate and had to get on a bus. I asked the bus driver if he knew where it was, at which he just grunted. A local 15-year-old promptly offered to help me find it coz he was going to the area. Community spirit really isn't as dead as some people will have you believe).

So I sat down with a group of these children from the local estate - all around the 8-11 years age range - and did some art on the theme of their local area. One young person in the group, a young boy of about 8 years of age, decided he wanted me to draw my name in graffiti, which I did, and then asked me to draw his name in graffiti below it. He then promptly coloured it all in and added his own finishing touches - two tiny words being 'for' and 'to'. They fitted around both our names and produced the final product of 'to Steven, from Jake' (name changed). I thought that was so sweet and lovely and really proved - if proof was needed - that these children really were caring people and just needed a bit of support.

Immediately, however, I felt a sense of guilt. This was a boy, I am a male worker, caring and stuff like that is really poofy and actually this was all a bit sad. For God's sake, I am a poof and I strongly believe that children and young people need to be shown support and caring - and love - as much as possible. However I got into the stupid mind-trap of believing it wasn't a male role to show caring in this way - even from a child - and immediately severed myself. How bloody mad! How nuts! And, when I thought about it a bit, worryingly I recognised that when Jake is a couple of years older, he will think the same too. His friends will find it inappropriate for him to act in such a way and he will, likely, take on the masculine trait of not showing caring, taking out a potentially massive part of his personality.

If there's one thing the situation taught me, it's that I shouldn't sever myself in this sort of way again, if for no other reason than it directly affects me. As a homosexual man, I have also built up a camp-acting attitude. I enjoy camp and have fun whilst doing it. I also know that lots of other people get fun out of it and it is generally a nice approach to life, as long as it is appropriate. By reinforcing gender roles, I am explicitly condoning discrimination against me for who I am, and severing other people's enjoyment of my personality, and I have a big problem with it. I am condoning a world which doesn't tolerate me or other people's full expression of their personality, and as someone totally committed to social justice I find this utterly despicable and work against it in most of my life. I also want children and young people like my little friend, Jake, to understand that it is OK to be who you are and that you shouldn't have to apologies to anyone for who you are.

I certainly have interesting personality traits that I don't even know about and need to explore and see if they fit with my general outlook on life. I guess I am committed to changing myself for the positive and the first thing to do in relation to this is to recognise the issues I do have. Wish me luck in trying to look at this and other issues more :-). And commit yourself to change too!

steven

I've had a lot to think about recently.

Me and Kevin, the guy I've been with for 5 months, split up. And one of the reasons is that I think too much.

OK, let me try to make a little bit more sense. Me and Kevin had been going through a patchy time for quite some time. We'd be sparking each other off for no particular reason, looking for reasons to challenge each other. It was an absolutely classic case of a relationship turning sour.

But it's not particularly that I have a problem with us splitting up. When we discussed some of the reasons it would be better for us to part, one of Kevin's was that I think too much. Initially I wasn't very sure what he meant, though thinking back it is quite clear what he meant.

I always have an opinion. I have a strong belief that the world we live in is highly political. I am constantly aware of the impact that I have on the world, and try to ensure that everything I do is positive. I am a strong believer that the personal is political and I strive to change things where I see misjustice. I can't stand the status quo - especially if it looks oppressive - and I feel a strong sense of responsibility to the world and people around me.

This is me. However it became clear that this was one of the things that Kevin was struggling with in me. He explicitly said that he doesn't like to think some of the time. An idea I find scary and, to be honest, a bit lazy. But, looking into it, maybe I do think too much. Kevin certainly isn't the first person to have said it to me, and I doubt he will be the last. Maybe it is something I will have to work on. Even if I don't want to.

I am a strong proponent of change, but maybe changing myself is one of the biggest battles I will face. Maybe I need to think it over again...

Steven

It's been a couple weeks so I guess it is about time for another update.

Firstly I'm very proud. I ended up going out last night to a club called Popstarz which is a gay, alternative(ish) music club down by King's Cross in the Scala building. I went with a few guys I had met at a gay youth group that day and - though I really wasn't up for going out - had a great time.

But back to me being proud. One of the people I went to the club with was a young man who had only recently came to any gay group whatsoever, but with a lovely personality and a relaxed attitude. He'd never been to a gay club before and, when we had been safely inside for a while, he admitted that he was feeling very nervous.

I remember starting out, exploring my sexuality and meeting new people. It can, at times, be an incredibly daunting prospect and can cripple you with fear. On the plus side, however, it is exciting, opens your eyes, helps you to learn about the world around you and gives you more confidence to express who you are as a human being. The gay scene, with all it's problems, gives you the opportunity for validation regardless of your sexuality.

Anyway, we had a good night, dancing around, exploring all the rooms, getting slightly drunk and generally having a nice time. My young friend, despite being quite nervous, ended up showing his moves, relaxing and feeling the music and atmosphere around him. (Luckily Popstarz is a gay club with very relaxed attitude, unlike some others on the London scene, with young men who seem more interested in their image than anything else in their lives.)

By the end of the evening, my young friend had even gotten some attention from another young man on the dancefloor, who had led him away from it to sit down outside and have a chat. Whilst I realise that this probably was intense in many ways for my new friend, I am positive that experiences such as that will help him to grow as a man and grow confidence in himself as a person.

On the way out, I helped to walk him to the bus stop and got on a bus with him. Our chat, whilst walking, was interesting. I started out by congratulating him for getting some attention, whereby he said it had nothing to do with him and that he doubted he'd have the confidence to do that himself ("it was the other guy!") We discussed what it was like getting into relationships, virginity/sex, how I was terrified when I started going out with guys, how you can feel many emotions at once, and the utmost importance of always keeping yourself safe when it comes to guys coming onto you.

It reminded me what it is like to be newly out and having a million questions, but being too afraid to ask for fear of looking stupid. It reinforced for me the terrible homophobia that is still endemic in our society, making it difficult for any guys to come out in the first place, and showed me the importance of support and guidance for all young people, regardless of sexuality.

So I'm proud I played a part in another young man's experience, learning with him at the same time as supporting him. I certainly went to bed last night with a smile on my face, safe in the knowledge that I'd played a (very very small) part in another person's exploration of life. What more could you want?

Steven

Time for another post on here.

I'm pretty ill as I write this. I first woke up with a sore throat two days ago and thought I would be able to shake it off, but it continued all day yesterday and when I woke up today I felt literally like death warmed up (I'm never really able to understand that term when I'm well, but I certainly understand it now).

Nose was totally blocked, head throbbing and the tops of my eyes were aching like hell. As soon as I woke up I was in a bad mood, my body was aching and it was impossible to lie down in a comfortable position. I blew my nose and I honestly couldn't believe that that much gunk could come out. Awful.

I, obviously, have the flu, and I hate being ill.

I don't get ill that much, or if I do I generally try to shake it off and take no notice of it. Unfortunately this sickness is pretty virulent and I am not immortal - sometimes we all get ill and I'm trying to accept that (trying, but not necessarily being successful at it, hence being at the computer and making myself be active).

The worst thing for me about being ill is that it feels like such a waste of time. You can't focus when you're unwell and lying in bed feels like such a waste of precious time where I could be up and about actually doing something. (OK, I am no saint and not everything I do is valuable, but I hate being bored too!) But it is also true that illness makes you value wellness more (see some of my previous posts about that) and the more unwell you are, the more you value the subsequent wellness that will follow.

[Of course, as a slight aside, in the case of my mother she is never totally well. As such it's possibly more about valuing when she is less ill. Mental illness, of course, is not a simple concept to understand and there is a debate to be had about whether my mother is actually 'ill', or even if she is just disabled by society's view of her different behaviour. I tend to accept the latter view, but I also recognise the all-powerful restrictions that society places on each and every one of us, and hence me and my family's efforts to deal with my mum's perceived illness. There is, of course, a massive potential for me to get very angry at society for putting me (and, more importantly, my mother) in that position, though I also recognise that anger is not necessarily the most productive of emotions with which to work. It has always, and will always be, a tension that I will live with.]

But anyway, enough of all my moping for now. I might start to annoy myself!

I do, at this point, need to say thank you for reading this. My last post, which has been read by quite a few people, has lead to me getting quite a few responses commenting that the post was touching. If I am totally honest, it makes me feel valued when people write to me to tell me they find my blog interesting. Of course I am writing this blog so it can be read so thank you for reading it. But I also need to dispel a myth that I am a wonderful human being (and if my writing seems to say that then it is totally misleading!) I honestly believe that most peoples' lives are just as interesting, it's just that most people do not write about them. There is a true beauty to be found in the everyday occurrences in peoples' lives, it just needs to be seen.

I am also, of course, a total social slut!

I did promise, in my last blog, to tell you a bit about my oesophagogastroduodenoscopy which I had on December 24th last year. For those of you that read my previous post you will know that last Christmas wasn't exactly easy in my family. My mother got very unwell (partly) because my father got very unwell. Unfortunately I did not escape unwell and decided to get unwell too. Here's the story:

Just before Christmas day (December 21st it must've been), me and my brother Graham hopped across to Calais for one night to get away after all of the stress we'd been having. (Calais, by the way, is absolutely desolate and I strongly would advise against people going there for a break!) We had a nice time, but when we got back, that night I began to feel very unwell.

Not being able to sleep, I got up very early in the morning (3am?) and my stomach was very upset. Of course it eventually happened and I was very very sick all over the place. Not only was I sick but then came the final heave and up came at least 3 of 4 teaspoons of blood. Now I can be pretty blasé about my own health but when I start to see blood I know there could potentially be a bigger problem.

I went straight to my GP the next morning, just to be on the safe side. Annoyingly he decided to refer me to the local hospital "just in case". It was December 23rd and I really didn't want be ill over Christmas and thought he was just being over-cautious, but I did as he said and took myself up to the hospital.

I'm pretty familiar with hospitals, but I have never been admitted to one myself. It's also true to say that I am more familiar with mental hospitals that the more 'normal' side of the hospital, so it felt quite strange being made into a patient. I sat for hours until eventually a nurse came in a stuck a bolt in my arm in order to take some blood. I didn't have a problem with that, but then she left it in (and the amount of tape she used to stick it to my arm I knew that it was gonna hurt like hell when the time came to pull it off).

Eventually a doctor came along to tell me to go to a ward. I was very surprised because I expected to be out very quickly. I started to get very worried about being in hospital on Christmas day, but I did as said and got in the wheelchair and went to the ward.

The funny thing about this was that I felt well, felt like an idiot being pushed in a wheelchair, and ended up being put on the same ward that my father had been admitted to just a few weeks ago. All very strange.

That night I was left on a drip, with about three or four bags being attached overnight. Hospitals are such bloody noisy places with machines bleeping, people moaning in distress, the "whizz-click" of the drip machine monitoring how quickly the liquid flows into your arm, the noisy nebulizers being attached to patients with respiratory problems and clunky machines and beds being moved about constantly. And I wasn't allowed to eat because of my stomach problem.

In the morning they told me that I was to have an 'endoscopy'. This is literally a camera down your throat where they have a look to see what the problem is and decide what to do next. I can't say I was particularly enthused by the idea.

Eventually my time came and another wheelchair was ordered to take be up to the imaging department. I had a doctor ask me if I would like the full anaesthetic during the procedure, or if I would just like the mouth spray which numbs your throat. I did ask the doctor what he suggested but he said it was totally up to me.

Stupidly I accepted the throat spray.

When he sprayed it in my mouth he sort of missed the back of my throat. I could feel its effects pretty quickly but I felt a bit stupid telling him that he missed so I just let it go and told myself I'd be able to handle it. I then had to lie on my side, got surrounded by one doctor and four nurses and prepared myself.

I should say now that endoscopies are not pleasant procedures and you lose all your pride when you're lying on your side going through one. Stop reading now if you are squeamish.

The doctor took hold of a long black pipe thing (there were a few of varying sizes on the wall, some up to 5 feet in length and probably an inch and a half in diameter). How the hell that was going to go down my throat I had absolutely no bloody idea.

He pushed my head back, told me to swallow and then immediately pushed the endoscope down my throat. Immediately I started to gag as my body rejected it. I started to cough and the liquid in my stomach immediately started to flow up my throat out of my mouth and onto the tissue which had been placed under my face.

It was absolutely disgusting, horrible. I kept gagging and he told me to try to breathe. He started to pump more liquid directly into my stomach (it's a very strange feeling to have liquid just appear in your stomach when it hasn't gone via your throat).

I could feel the endoscope poking about, going further and further in, with every push I gagged and more liquid flowed up out of my mouth. I just tried to focus on the end but it wasn't easy. I kept trying to breathe but every time he moved the endoscope I couldn't help but gag. "Try not to gag" he said to me. "You try to bloody have a pole down your throat and feel it moving in your stomach" I thought.

Eventually I could feel that he had moved down into my bowel. "Is he ever going to bloody take it out?" I thought. Then - heaven! - he started, slowly to pull the endoscope out. "Thank Christ" I thought. It had gone back up past my stomach and was now back in my oesophagus. Then, with a slight thrust I could feel him push it back into my stomach again.

"You bastard," I thought. I actually thought it was coming out but he totally dashed my hopes and pushed it back in again, making me gag all over again. "Bastard," I thought again.

Then it appeared he had found what he was looking for. He'd found a rupture and it was still bleeding. In fact he started to sound slightly worried and I started to worry then too. "Shit, this could be worse than I thought."

"I can't find where it's coming from," he said.

"Fuck," I thought.

All of a sudden he found it and asked me to try to stop gagging. "I must breathe," I thought, "must let him do what he's got to do. Please don't let me die."

It was then that he told me he was going to make an injection into my stomach to stem the bleeding. the only problem was that I must try to stop gagging so that he could get an accurate injection. He threaded a very thin tube into the top of the endoscope and told me I wouldn't feel a thing.

When I had got my gagging slightly more under control, he injected me once, missed, twice, missed again, and third time he was lucky. "Got it," he said. "Thank God," I thought.

Then he started to gently pull the endoscope out again me still gagging as it was coming up. Then all of a sudden it was out, it was over; I felt like I had given birth to my very own endoscope.

The doctor gave me a chance to sort myself out and then came over a few minutes later and showed me a picture of the tear inside my stomach. It turned out that I had had a 'Mallory-Weiss tear' which is where you get a tiny rupture just where your stomach attaches to your oesophagus. That wasn't actually a surprise because my GP thought it might be that right at the beginning (how on Earth he had a clue I didn't know).

I needed the wheelchair back to the ward.

It was the 24th December and I really didn't want stay overnight. When a doctor eventually came to see me she said that they would normally keep me overnight but that I seemed generally healthy and that I could go home in a few hours as long as I didn't have any adverse reactions in the next couple of hours.

Graham and Katie came to pick me up.

For the next few days I was terrified of eating in case I tore myself again, but luckily nothing like that happened again.

The moral of this story is to take the anaesthetic if you are given the option!

And so I shall sign off. Steven

So much for the regular updating of my blog… this one has been over 8 months in coming! But don’t worry, it’s definitely gonna be the most interesting of my updates so far.

What’s been going on in my life then? Well, absolutely tonnes… in fact, as I write this blog I feel that I’m a totally different person to the one who has posted previously on here.

Why?

Well, for starters, I’ve finally come out to my brother. If you’ve read my previous posts you’ll know that I was thinking about it for a very long time, but in February I finally bit the bullet and did it. We were sitting in a restaurant and I was planning to tell him for quite a while. In the run up to the actual coming-out, I went very quiet – he knew something was up. After a few failed attempts at encouraging myself to say it (“Graham… erm… how’s your food?”) I had to go to the toilets to splash some cold water and take some deep breaths. I had to do it on that day, I couldn’t let it end up being another failed attempt.

Back at the table, I took a few more deep breaths (almost making myself dizzy in fact) and said “Graham, I have something to tell you… you were right.” He knew what I meant. His response will remain indelibly printed in my memory for the rest of my life – “I knew this day was coming: I’ve been waiting for you to tell me for over a year and it’s absolutely fine.” The love and understanding I felt at that point, along with the intense relief of sharing my little secret with him was absolutely euphoric. My eyes welled up and I knew then that Graham, my brother, was my best friend and just a beautiful human being. All at just 15 years of age. I love him so much for that. I’m smiling as I write this in fact.

But far from being the only life-changing thing in my life, I’ve had quite a few other experiences too that have made me see and interact with the whole world in a totally different way. Another one of these life-altering experiences was the severe illness and hospitalisation of my father.

Throughout the early part of November my father became bedridden. It wasn’t clear what was wrong with him but he kept saying “I’ll get up tomorrow”. ‘Tomorrow’ never quite came and he seemed to get more and more ill. God I wish I’d done something about it earlier.

It came to mid-November, just nearing the end of the Rugby World Cup and I finally decided enough was enough. He wasn’t getting up and I had to do something about it. His breathing was totally stifled and even getting up and going to the toilet was becoming too much for him to handle.

(To understand why it took so long for us to do something about him you need to know that my family is intensely private and proud, despite the prevalence of illness and poverty which me and my siblings have known since birth. My father is the proudest of all and will not allow any problems to be shown… with this backdrop you can understand why it took us so long to get outside people involved).

My father was adamant, despite his frailty, that he didn’t want us to contact the doctors. In mid-November I went into my father’s room, took my eldest sister, we picked him up and carried him up the stairs. He was unable to walk and was white and clammy. He looked almost dead but was still protesting that he didn’t need any help.

I was terrified, more scared than I have ever been in my life.

When we had gotten him upstairs, I phoned for an ambulance. Within 10 minutes the Rapid Response paramedic had arrived and given my father the once over. He couldn’t tell what was wrong (“possibly a respiratory illness”) but could see that my dad – Daddy – was in a bad way. The ambulance arrived momentarily after and my father was wheeled out in a wheelchair to the ambulance. He was immediately given oxygen and seemed to be totally dazed during the journey to the hospital. I was very, very scared.

In Accident and Emergency, a doctor gave my dad a thorough looking-at. My father was unresponsive and confused but it soon emerged that he had contracted pneumonia (“God, isn’t that supposed to kill people?”) but the doctor said it was not uncommon in his age group and at that time of the year. He questioned why it had taken so long to get him help but not too much. Machines were attached to my dad and everything moved at a bit of a blur, including the drip which was attached and the catheter that was installed. The rock that was my father, the rock that had never been ill, the man who had brought up a family in the face of incredible adversity was now very, very ill. It was incomprehensible.

He just went to sleep. Not in the final sense, but in the sense of great relief. I felt relief too, I knew it was the right thing to do in getting him to hospital.

My dad was in hospital for three whole weeks. He had caught Pneumonia which had gotten into both of his lungs (‘double pulmonary’) and had also developed tremendous problems with passing urine. But over the time he was there he steadily got better. In fact it’s true to say that he began to enjoy his experience in the hospital, having people look after him and having him as the centre of attention. He hasn’t had that much in the last 20 years.

Our relationship has now fundamentally changed, and changed forever. There is a natural growth in families whereby parents look after children, parents grow old and then children start to look after their parents. Whilst in most families this happens over a prolonged period of time, it happened within 3 weeks because of my dad’s illness.

Things at home got hard. I took lots of time off from work and my mother started to get ill while my father was in hospital. I had responsibility for looking after her and my younger brother and sisters.

Responsibility - a scary thing. I was thrown into looking after my whole family literally overnight, and it was not nice. It gave me an untold feeling of gratitude to my father for what he has lived through since he met my mother.

We had to get in the Mental Health Crisis Team to help with my mother. They started to visit twice a day to make sure she was taking her medication. She became very difficult to handle and the constant flow of nurses in and out the house became quite draining. This on top of my father’s hospitalisation was a mountainous task – I’m proud of myself that I actually got through most of it.

My dad was finally released from hospital on the 12th December but my mum did not get better with his presence. We struggled through a very difficult Christmas until the 8th of January when it was finally decided by us all that Mummy was too unwell to stay at home. We asked for a Mental Health Act review and she was hospitalised, voluntarily at first, in the Royal Free again. It wasn’t long before she broke out of hospital, had to be escorted back and was then Sectioned under the powers of the Mental Health Act.

I don’t think I have ever been so tired in my entire life.

After a couple of months, my Mum was released from hospital as she had improved a lot quite quickly. Two weeks later she had gotten very unwell again and was back in for another couple of months. She’s now been out for nearly 5 weeks but is already going downhill again, loosing all confidence and motivation and her stammer has returned. Won’t be long until she’s back in unfortunately.

So, as you can see, things have been busy busy busy. But that’s not all that’s been happening!

I’ve had both my first sexual experiences and have gotten myself a boyfriend too! In February I met a guy called Matt who liked me quite a lot. We went back to his place and the rest is history, as they say, but it didn’t really live up to what it was cracked up to be. Ah well, never does, does it?

My boyfriend, on the other hand, is a totally different kettle of fish. I met Kevin three months ago and these three months have been the most loving in my life. He is from Ireland – Donegal – and it’s been a nice experience just to be wanted. He’s 26, nearly 27. I hope it lasts a long time (I think it will). Luckily he has just been given the all-clear by the brain surgeon. They thought he might have a brain tumour but he doesn’t, though he still has his epilepsy.

Illness is a big part of my life, but it has also made me attach much more value to health than I would otherwise. The last few months have been packed with illness but they have also been the most valuable. (I wouldn’t necessarily suggest illness as a cure-all though!)

I’ll tell you about my own endoscopy (oesophagogastroduodenoscopy if you want the full medical name…) in another post, but until then au revoir.

Steven

Another update! Hurrah!

OK, so I haven’t told my brother yet, but I promise I will soon… It takes a lot of time to build up the courage, as I explained before. I think I will get round to doing it and probably quite soon, but I just have to be comfortable in myself first.

I’m getting ready to jet off for a week tomorrow evening – I’m going up North to stay with James for one night, then we’re flying across to Dublin the next morning, staying there for a night and then back to Newcastle for a few days. Well, it’s not the most glamorous of breaks (even though we are staying in a very posh 4* hotel in Dublin) but I think the break will be really nice. It’ll be nice to be able to take my mind off my general skintedness, at least for a few days, this months (bills – I now truly understand why they are the bain of some peoples’ lives!)

And when I get back, I start my Open University Spanish course. I can’t wait, but to be honest I’m a bit worried about my capacity to learn languages! I wasn’t very good at my French at school (though I did come out with a C at GCSE), though this time I am doing it because it is something I really want to do. That should make a big difference I hope.

Finally, it seems as though the present-buying period is already smothering me! When I get back from Newcastle, it’s my little sister’s birthday who is expecting a big present (well, a holiday, but that’s a whole different story), and then it’s the run up to Christmas. I’ve already been receiving countless emails telling me about festive period special offers – oi vey. I am looking forward to Bonfire Night, however, when I shall get to take my little brother and sister to the firework display at Ally Pally. I wonder if I’ll have told Graham by then…

Et Voila! I’m getting better at these updates…

steven

Right, for for all the constant promising I have done about how often I am going to update my weblog, this one has taken over three months for me to get around to doing (see I have actually attempted starting quite a few times but I just end up running out of interest - and steam - after only a couple of sentences... which is unusual for me!)

So what's been going on? well, my mum is out of hospital norw and has been for the last three months or so. When she originally came out she was a lot better and seemed to be really heading in a positive direction, taking hold of the situation and committing herself to staying well. Of course nothing runs smoothly when it comes to mental illness and she is not back to the kind of low period that she sustained for a long period before being Sectioned. It's kind of hard seeing that happen but I guess I'm kind of used to it now. To be honest, I think the problem lays with the Community Psychiatric Services in that they are not adventurous or hands-on enough to support my mum in new ways. As long as she aint high, they think they're winning. Well they're not. And that is one thing that makes me so angry.

I'm also thinking hard about coming out to my brother. He's recently been giving me big hints that he knows my little secret but says he'd be more embarrassed than me to say what he knows. Yeah, so he know, now I just have to pluck up the courage to sit down and chat with him about it. I can honestly tell you that the thought terrifies me a bit - coming out is something you can never, ever take back. Once he knows, he knows, and he knows forever. Not that I think he'll have a problem with it. I just think confirming it will change our relationship - how much I cannot guess at. One thing I am confident about though is that he will be supportive, it's just what the extent will be.

World stuff - I went to a mass demo in trafalger Square a couple of weeks ago, the first since the end of major military bombardments in Iraq (the war, it seems, is still continuing) campaigining for the USA and UK to end their illegal occupation of Iraq. Nearly daily there is a casualty in the US/UK military forces in Iraq, but the thig that I find even more sickening is that there are numerous Iraqi casualties (numbers differ from 3 to 1 to 15 to 1) but these are not even mentioned in the mainstream media press. It's like there is a mass conpiracy going on in the press where the value of an Iraqi life is not worth even one tenth that of a British or American life. And that's not the only conspiracy in the world at the moment - the reasons that UK and USA originally went to war are being discredited almost constantly to a stage where it's clear that we were led into war under totally false pretenses (and, scarily, many people originally took at lot of these reasons at face value at the time). I really hope that tje lies of our governments catch up on them and that we can get rid of them as quickly as possible. It's even spurred me on to thinking of new ways of getting involved in politics in order to try to get my voice truly heard - but I'll let you know how that pans out.

OK, that's as far as my flow of consciousness will flow tonight - I'll try and update again soon!

steven

PS - I'm now in the middle of reading a biography of Gandi written by an American journalist who got to know him very well; Michael Moore's new book 'Dude, where's my country?' which looks good at first sight, and am also about to get immersed in my Spanish materials for my open University course. Should make an interesting, mind-expanding experience methinks (and I still have to fit in Harry Potter 5 at some point!). Steven

OK, here's another update for any of you that may be vaguely interested in me.

I'm setting myself up as a freelance consultant. I've had some cool business cards printed up and have bought a website name for myself - the not-at-all self-indulgent www.stevenallenconsultancy.com. I'm working on the content as we speak, at the moment its forwarding to a website I made about 3 years ago on children's rights. Whaddya think (apart from that the colours are shit - this I know...) I'll be offering all sorts of services and will have a cool little price-list - different rates for speaking at conferences, delivering training, providing consultancy etc. How posh am I? :D

My mum is coming home tomorrow and I can honestly say that I haven't seen her as well as she is for many years. It may not sound like much but she is now much more pro-active in creating conversation and has acquired a get-up-and-go that I don't think I've ever seen from her before. It's almost as if she's fed up of being passive in her own life and is wanting to use it. Thank God. I think the next few months are going to be a really interesting time.

On the work side of things, I'm in the middle of a massive amount of travelling for my job. Yesterday I was in Gloucester, tomorrow I am in Stroud, Thursday sees me arriving in Liverpool while on Friday I've got two nights over in Derby on a residential for some of the young people I work with.

Of course there's good and bad elements to all this travelling. Good is that I get to see new places, and I am (slowly but surely) loosing my London-centricness, which is quite cool. On the bad side, its making me absolutely knackered. I can't imagine how tired I'm going to feel next Monday :s. I'm really starting to value home.

But Gloucester was quite cool yesterday. I did some worky meeting stuff but then I had some spare time so went to the cathedral there. I was caught by the canon (I'm told you don't have vicars in cathedrals :s) who showed me to The Cloisters, where Filch's cat was petrified in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets film. That was quite cool.

But here's when the weirdness kicks in. The canon asked what I did and when I told him I worked for a children's charity, he said "When I worked in other parishes, particularly in The North, I sometimes felt that it would be better for us to take children away from their families to make them into better people". Now, forgive me for being a bit indignant, but I thought the family and support for it was enshrined as a basic ethos in the Christian religion. There was something slightly unnerving about a man of the cloth advocating the break-up of families. Not to mention the almost discriminatory way he was talking about people from 'The North'. Not that I think much of the Church anyway - I'm non-religious.

Anyway, the cathedral experience did get even stranger. I walked around the rest of the cathedral on my own. There was a massive organ being played (I couldn't see who was playing it tho coz the chair back was so high and it was raised off the ground). The music was extremely oppressive and dim - I felt like it was being played in a way so as to put the fear of God into you, if you'll pardon then pun. The music was almost frightening, and made me shudder. I noticed a few sarcophagi (not sure if thats the correct plural form of sarcophagus...) with statues of the people in them on top.

Now, forgive the blatant idiocy, but I wasn't sure whether those things really were sarcophagi, or if they were just monuments to people who were buried somewhere else. At one point I found myself surrounded by about 4 of them and I was hoping that the latter was true. It totally spooked me out that I could be surrounded on all sides by dead people with deep organ music playing that was shaking my bones. When I got home my dad confirmed there would have been dead people in them. Which slightly freaked me out. I did get to see the sarcophagus for King Henry III though, which sparked the nerdy interest in history in me that I rarely tell people about.

Anyway, this whole experience got me thinking about this religion thing. The cathedral was an amazing piece of architecture, massive in size, style and indeed personality. But the personality aspect of it particularly troubled me. It was almost as if the whole building was made massive in order to force you to bow down and accept its holiness and grandeur. Inside, all of the stained windows had pictures of (all white!) people, but not one of them were smiling - all were extremely serious. The sarcophagi were all grand in shape and size and seemed to be made so in order for you to get a sense of importance of the people inside. Everything seemed to be about how big and grand the church was, and how little and insignificant you were made to feel in consequence. I think this says something about the religion, something I'm not totally comfortable with - that Christianity believes dogma is more important than a person. I can never believe this, and so would never be able to accept religion. Amen.

OK, enough of the degradation of the Church. I'll be back soon to chat a bit more about my life (and I'm sure you'll also be back soon to read all about it too :D). See ya soon!

steven

"Love is something that cannot be forced upon you - it must come from deep inside." Me, today.

*Cough cough splutter cough and a bit o' phlegm (yep, I can spell it!)*

Yuck.

I'm sick.

Got a coughing type thing. Lots of coughing, snot and general yuckyness. Making me feel moody and not wanting to do any work (even less than usual) and generally a bit shit. Night before last I hardly slept a wink - I think I woke up every couple of hours to have a bit of a coughing fit and then having to deal with the accompanying intensity of throbbing in my already achy head. Bring on the sympathy.... please.

Good news about mummy though - she's been making excellent progress in the last couple of weeks and they're holding a 'discharge planning meeting' for her a week today. That means they'll be letting her out in the next couple of weeks. I'm slightly worried though because they've pushed her slightly too low with the drugs she's on, but have noticed this and are changing them accordingly. I'm flabberghasted at how they are being so... erm.... responsive to my mother's needs. Which is kinda unusual. But good.

Moving on to the state of the world - I think I want a bit more of a stake in it all. Now, I have to be careful here. I can see an easy route for me to get more involved in it all - by joining a political party, using my political contacts and writing a few articles for a few left magazines (first one here :s) and probably climb in that way quite quickly. It's easy to get a bit of profile when you know a few people. But this means me selling out some of my principles - of non-partisanship, of fundamental belief in human rights, of belief in equality and of my puritanism in these areas, none of which is particularly well-served by joining a political party. Though, of course, joining a political party can give a sense of achievement, even if it is a somewhat false and contained achievement.

But I don't want false achievement, contained achievement, falsely contained achievement or contained false achievement. I'm not even sure I want achievement - well at least not on a personal level (ha - well, maybe a little bit *Little man in head: "Be honest Steven"*). What I do want is change. Not just a little bit of change, but lots of it. And not necessarily overt change, but change to peoples' thinking, which hopefully will lead to more overt change generally. I've started by applying to be a school governor. It's a small but first step, and it's a step where I feel I can make a change. But we'll see about that when I get started.

Back to my more normal life, I'm going to quit my job. The Article 12 one. I'm bloody fed up with and... nope, I'm not gonna give the issues the time of day on here - suffice to say I'm pretty pissed off with it all. I'll let y'all know how it pans out.

Oh, the quarterly debate about whether or not to ban smacking has come around again in the media and in parliament. We've had two reports from two different select committees come out today - the Joint Committee on Human Rights and the Health Select Committee - both saying that the parental defence of 'reasonable chastisement' (legal-egal jargon for bashing your kid as much as you like as long as you can prove they deserved it...) to be removed. Of course I totally support this and think its an indictment on our society that we can ever allow our smallest and most vulnerable members have the least protection when it comes to physical abuse. Not that that's the only debate around smacking and the banning of it. There's the age-old debate about when a smack becomes a bash and when that bash can been seen as unjustified, as well as debate about whether smacking reinforces the use of violence as a way of solving problems in the child being smacked. I think we need to take a positive step and recognise that children are human beings, and no human being deserves to be physically punished. Full stop.

OK, rant over; thought for the day is "Eminem is cool". Where did that one come from :s? God knows.

Back to the coughing....

steven

Stop the Illegal Occupation!

OK, so if you thought my last post took ages to come up, think again - I haven't visited here for about two whole months :s. *Mental New Year's Resolution (well Mid-Year Resolution I guess): update the world more regularly about the goings-on in Steven-World*

So what have I been up to then? (Hmm, tis interesting how I use rhetorical questions in order to get myself chatting - I wonder what that says about my psychology). Well, I've started a new job. Yep, I've been working for the last couple of weeks with a new organisation in the Children's Rights field. I'm not going to University so I can do it. I will be managing the research and evaluation on a major national training scheme - I've never done evaluation before so should be an interesting process.

My mum is still in hospital. She has been transferred from the original dump they put her in (most mental health hospitals tend to be dumps) and have placed her in a slightly less dumpy dump. If that makes sense. The new doctors find my mum intriguing I think - I told them that she will be a tough cookie to crack, don't think they took me seriously. Well, I'm betting my mum can run circles around them all: she should be able to with 40 years experience of the mental health system. I'd be truly amazed if they every get her to agree to that brain-scan... Oh, and I'm starting to see my mum's personality - may not seem like much to you, but I've always known my mum as a patient, not as a mother, so this could be kinda interesting.

I guess my life is going through a bit of a re-emphasis (cool word huh?) at the moment. I'm trying (tho not always succeeding) to sit back and carefully plan things better than I have before. I've been getting in touch with old friends (especially AL and MG - oh and AP too), which was so nice. I'm learning to look out more for myself, whilst spending more and more time (and money :s) looking after my mum.

I'm as lazy and sloppy as ever but hey, some things never change. But I'm looking at setting myself up more formally as a freelance trainer. And I'm wanting to get much more understanding of the politics of power... and other random things (eat 10 chocolate donuts without puking?)

Oh, and I just heard today that Gordon Brown has ruled out the UK joining the Euro for the moment - grr, xenophobic, idiotic nonce...

Speak to y'all soon (well, probably in about two months I guess... *Mental note pops up*...)

steven

'Bush and Blair should be tried for war crimes'. Me, today.

OK, I owe you all a post on my blog considering my last one was over a week ago.

So, since I last spoke to you all I have been to Brussels. I went there with my Article 12 job - I went with 5 young people under 18 from across England. We went to represent England in a conference for children from across Europe on the future of Europe and the European Union.

11 countries from across Europe were represented at the conference: England, Ireland (Eire), Scotland, Wales, France, Spain, Greece, Sweden, Bulgaria, Romania and Belgium. In total there was about 45 under 18s in the conference. It was a truly amazing experience. All of the young people from each of the countries had done research about what it was like being a young person in their own countries, the results of which were submitted in national reports to the conference.

After learning about experiences of young people from all the other countries, the rest of the first day focused on working from these reports and finding the common themes for all of Europe's children. This we did in discussion groups, with full translation of course. The power of these discussion groups was amazing - children from different European countries were working together to produce a plan for the future of Europe from the child's perspective. Groundbreaking.

The next day was the main conference (the discussions that happened the day before formed the preparatory conference for this). The day started by young people from across Europe presenting their key priorities for change to the whole of the conference, attended by various European Parliamentarians. The day continued with discussions about the key issues raised. We finished with all the young people visiting the European Parliament to present these key issues to high-level delegates to the European Convention on the Future of Europe.

I came out of the two days of conference feeling satisfied. Whether the EU Convention members listened to the children or not (probably the latter to be honest), the conference was so good for getting the young people of Europe to communicate and network. If we strive to ensure all our societies work like this, I truly believe we can create a better, more understanding and truly inclusive world. Communication and understanding are the keys to creating a better world. Pie in the sky huh? Well, after watching the young people from around Europe really do this, maybe it is achievable. Yeah yeah, I know - I'm the eternal optimist, but optimism is much better than pessimism :).

Of course, the personal contacts made throughout the two days and three nights of the conference (yes, there were some very long night discussions too!) were amazing. I met a young man from Spain who - at the age of 12 - was more knowledgeable than any person I think I have met for a very long time. The Belgian girls were a pleasure and I especially enjoyed the philosophical viewpoint of the Greeks. The Belgian chocolates were good, though the difficulties with getting a place to eat on the second day were not. I also learnt that I need to learn at least one more language and ditch my 'everyone speaks English' way of thinking.

So now to boring, mundane life in England. Until the next time...

steven

'Stop the Invasion!'

Hi everyone. Here is another post giving you more insight into the world of me.

I'm 18 and I work in the voluntary sector for two children's organisations (well, in fact, I work for two projects of one organisation, but for all intents and purposes they are two separate things. Supposedly.) I work for an organisation called 'Article 12' (yeah, I know, not a very appealing name...) for 1 day per week as their Adult Support Worker, and the other 4 days a week I am Campaigns and Development Officer at the Office of Children's Rights Commissioner for London. Grand title and organisation name huh?

Both of these 'organisations' are projects of our parent organisation - the Children's Rights Alliance for England. As the name suggests, it is an umbrella organisation with membership of many organisations committed to the 'fullest possible implementation of the UN Convention on the Rights of Child (UNCRC)'. See, I'm involved in some pretty important stuff (.......).

So, in case you haven't worked it out yet, I'm pretty committed to children's rights work. I passionately believe in the child's right to be involved in all decisions that affect them (Article 12 of the UNCRC - and thus the name of the 'organisation'). As was the message of the children's forum at the UN Special Session on Children in 2002: "we [children] are not the sources of problems, we are the resources needed to solve them".

My strength of belief in children's rights and, particularly their rights to be involved in decisions made in their lives, comes back to my philosophy of childhood, a philosophy which goes against the grain of mainstream thinking in society at present. I believe children are able to make intelligent and correct decisions, and that they are not there to just be moulded into whatever adults require. Children are human beings, not possessions of their parents; children are not born evil, or are determined to be yobs; children are not expenses but investments. Finally, children are not appendices - they are the main theme. Without getting things right for them, we get nothing right, so our aim must be to make a world that is fit for children.

Amen.

I go to Brussels for 3 days tomorrow with Article 12. I am going with young people from England to attend a conference on the future of Europe from a child's perspective. We have compiled a report on what its like being a child in England today (10 other countries from across Europe will be attending - it should be an interesting experience. I'll let you know.

Mum still in hospital, I think she's been sectioned but the doctors won't confirm over the phone. I'm going to visit her as soon as I get back from Brussels.

steven

OK, so a quick update for those of you who may have been missing me (and for those of you who haven't, here it is any way).

As I explained in my last post, my mum went missing the night before last. She went because she is ill with this Manic Depression. She's had it most of her life. She lives in an almost constant state of illness, and this is how I have always known her. The illness means she doesn't have a stable emotional state (hey, who does?), but in particular she will swing between extremes of depression and mania. When depressed she will have little or no motivation to do anything. When she goes into mania, or gets high, she tends almost to go into a fantasy world; experiences delusions of grandeur and can become intensely happy or upset. That's the clinical analysis of my mum's illness, though it doesn't go any way to explaining what this means in reality.

Because of my mum's illness, she has been in and out of mental hospitals for most of her life. She despises them, so do I. Usually my mum is in a state of depression or - as her doctors have accepted when I've questioned them - suppression due to her drugs. However, part of her illness means that she won't always stick to her medication. And when she doesn't she can go very high (she can also have absolutely no change, her illness responds in a very strange way to drugs - the doctors themselves don't even understand it). When she does go high, things go mad. My family will get upset, arguments will break out and my mother will not sleep. Things usually stay in the mad state for a couple of days until either she goes missing (as happened the other day) or me and my dad agree that we have to call in the authorities and ask for her to be admitted into hospital.

Last time she was in hospital was around three years ago. Before that, she was in hospital for a lengthy 20months non-stop. When in hospital, she is usually 'sectioned,' which is medical administrative garble for locking her in a mental hospital. Her last stay in hospital was her longest ever, and the last three years she has not been in hospital has been her longest time that I've known her as an outpatient. My mum's illness is cyclic (ie she gets ill, then well, then ill again and so on). However it appears that these cycles of illness and wellness (well, I should say 'suppression so she's not too difficult to handle') have been getting longer. I fear if she is sectioned this time she might have a huge stay, longer than anything before. She's 57; she shouldn't have to suffer that.

When my mum went missing two nights ago, we had no idea where she had gone. Every time she goes missing we have to report her missing with the police, as she is a vulnerable person. She was found by the police after around 18 hours, during which time there was a report she was seen in Battersea police station, but then we were told at about 6pm yesterday that the police had picked her up and taken her into the North Middlesex hospital. When she arrived they found she had gotten a respiratory virus that they were treating her for. Earlier today they transferred her to our local and her frequent haunt - the Waterlow Unit of the Whittington Hospital. She's there now. I don't know if she's been sectioned yet - the stupid ward nurse refused to tell me over the phone. Idiot.

My dad's been married to my mum for the last 20 years. In the last two I have seen him get really old with the stress of coping with my mum's illness. It's not fair, but its something we live with. And despite the problems, you wouldn't be able to find a family unit closer than ours. Illness tends to make you closer, and this is certainly true of my own family.

I'm not sure what happens next, we'll see in the next few days. It may be that the doctors will be able to control my mum's illness enough for her to come straight home. I really hope that happens, but I'm not sure that it will.

Moving on, I'm focusing less on the conflict in Iraq, though my opinions on it have not changed. To be honest, I feel as if news about the conflict has got to such a level that it feels like I can't get away from it. It's adding to the weird sense of weirdness I'm feeling generally at the moment. I hear that civilian deaths on the Iraqi side are mounting massively - it's sickening. Please God let it stop soon.

steven

Me, tired? Ha!

Mum went missing overnight. She sometimes does. She suffers from Bipolar Affective Disorder, otherwise known as Manic Depression. This means that, mentally, she is very unstable. She has to take many different drugs to try to control her moods - nothing really works.

Grrr, I just typed a huge long blog and then something went wrong and none of it got posted. V annoying. Well guess I'll have to type it all again...

It hasn't taken me long to choose what to write about in this, my second blog. I think I would like to make clear my stance of the current 'war' (probably better described 'illegal invasion' of Iraq by a 'coalition of the willing', lead by the mother of all mothers, the United States of America.

Just to make it totally clear, I am totally, 100% anti this illegal invasion (yes, I know Georgie Bush calls it a 'just war', but I just find it slightly hard to use that terminology coz it just aint true). Firstly, and most simply, the assault that is being waged on Iraq right now is illegal. According to the Charter of the United Nations, military force is not to be used until every peaceful means of solving the conflict is worked through. And, as it currently stands, the US has never been committed to solving this conflict - during the intense diplomacy leading up to the beginning of the invasion, what was the Bush administration doing? Well, apart from bullying some countries into accepting the looming invasion, they were building a state-of-the-art Command Centre in Qatar from where they could control the attack on Iraq. Can the Bush administration say that it has always been committed to a peaceful resolution to the conflict when they were drawing up maps for invading? Hmm, call me cynical but I think not. Plus, once you've sent hundreds of thousands of troops to go and fight a war (just in case you can't solve things peacefully mind! *wink*) it looks slightly silly to bring them home without seeing action. But it proves Cowboy Georgie was never really committed to peace.

"But," some people will say, "he is a tyrant and this is a just war. We are fighting for the good of humanity". Ha! Well, apart from the fact that it's not a war, it certainly isn't just. Maybe I'm just forgetful but I still don't remember any evidence being presented by the US (or anyone else come to that) proving Saddam deserves to have the entire forces of America unleashed up him. So he has a few weapons of mass destruction - who doesn't? And anyway, we can't really be that bothered about those weapons - we sold them to him. "Ahh, see, he does have weapons of mass destruction" the idiot might say. And? What's your point? He hasn't used them on anyone if he does have them, unlike the leaders of a country whose abbreviation is U.S.A.

Oh, but we're fighting a tyrant now. Yep, damn right! We put him there and that's exactly what we wanted when we (I use 'we' loosely, mainly to mean the Western leaders) chose Saddam to lead Iraq (oh yes, 'we' really did put him in power!) So why do we need to get rid of him now? Hmm, doesn't make sense to me. Oops, actually, of course it does. It all comes back to this question of oil. Ha! Of course we have to get rid of him - he's gotten a bit too greedy with that there oil we asked him to look after. Can't possibly allow that! Ugh, the leaders of the West are OK with you as long as you give them good, cheap oil. Simple. But that don't make it just.

But I'll tell you one thing that I personally find sickening. The fact that Iraq is now going to have to pay for the damage reaped on it by the 'coalition'. Yep, not only are we gonna bomb the crap out of em, we're also gonna make em pay, by supplying us with millions of tonnes of (when Saddam's gone) cut-price oil. Hooray! So the yanks win again. Nah, its all in the name of humanity and liberation really. Ha!

And who else wants this war? Hmm, America has announced a list of 30 countries that are 'for' the 'war'. But how do you think they got half of those? I'll tell you - by threatening cut all aid and support they give them if they don't agree with the invasion. Sounds to me like shaky 'international support' if you ask me. Oh yeah, Vive La France for its opposition.

Finally, there has been one thing I have not been able to stomach since the invasion started. I read on BBC News Teletext service today that 30 British troops had been killed since the beginning of the invasion (28 of which, by the way, were killed by so-called friendly fire from the Americans). Right at the end of the story it mentioned that the 'coalition forces' had killed around 300 Iraqi troops in the past two days. Excuse me for being antagonistic but doesn't that seem to be totally unbalanced? Doesn't sound to me like this invasion is proportional. And that in itself is illegal.

This anti-Muslim war (I used this phraseology advisedly) must stop now.

steven

"Stop the Invasion"

Well, this is my first blog (think that's the right word?) for all the world to see. So I guess the most polite thing to say is welcome and thanks for visiting. I truly hope you leave my blog pages having acquired a deeper understanding of the workings of the universe. You might also find out what I had for lunch if you're lucky!

So, guess I owe you all a quick description of me. I'm 6'7" tall, look like Tom Hanks, my parents are King and Queen of England and I excel in most things, including singing, dancing and inventing medical cures for some of the worst illnesses that have ever hit planet Earth (see, you probably haven't even heard of many of them coz my cures were so good...)

OK, coming back to planet Earth (damnit!) I'm actually about 5'10" tall, am 'slim', blue eyes, etc. So I don't really look like Tom Hanks, but hey, he's not really that good looking. I live with my parents in a council house in London. I am actually very good at dancing (especially of the line-dancing variety).

Right, that's quite a good start for you to get your teeth into. I'll see you around - I'm gonna have a bit of a think about what I want to write next...

steven

PS - I can't believe I got my own name on this blog! My name is almost always gone when I sign up for web thingies. Well, tis a good start indeed! sa

"The meaning of life is the life of meaning" <- Obligatory meaningful quote that should make you go "ooh, he's so cool!" If it doesn't then you're weird. Ha. sa