Other Writing
A section featuring texts I have written in my notebook.
A Rant about Kier Starmer and Capitalism.
This morning I saw a video of Sir Kier being interviewed. In the video, Sir Kier is asked to “define working class”.
Sir Kier looked puzzled, as if he’d just been asked the hardest question of his entire career. His answer, as expected, not only because it was Sir Starmer answering, but because of the look on his face - was dogshit. So - I’m not going to get into why Sir Kier should have answered the question better and why his and his party’s politics should have a better grasp on what it actually means to be in the position that they supposedly represent. I am only going to mention in this next sentence the crap he spouts about his dad being a toolmaker. His dad was a toolmaker!! And I am not going to be hung-up either on the fact that the question obviously caught him off guard; the answer is complex and perhaps, like I sometimes do, Sir Kier had an entire sea of answers he wanted to say - but got muddled up in his enthusiasm for working-class justice. Instead, I will break down Sir Kier’s stale remarks and provide something which resembles an answer from my own experience and knowledge, which, as it is coming from someone who is not leader of The Labour Party, and someone who doesn’t study politics, should be inferior to that of Sir Kier’s.
Initially, when I tried to sum up the working class in a short sentence or interview-friendly phrase, I came up with, “those who are exploited by capitalism”. It is clear however that higher classes are too exploited by capitalism; lawyers and doctors etc on higher wages and who wear suits to work and drive a nice car home to the house they own, cannot define themselves, (and I’m sure they wouldn’t) as the same class as the supermarket worker or the waiter at their third favourite restaurant. But these people work long hours and exert their labour-power into their profession for the exchange of capital. These people rely on that wage to live and without it they would at least struggle. This is a similar form of labour blackmail that the working-class deals with. So, to say that “those who are exploited by capitalism” defines who is working class, is incorrect.
Naturally, my next answer was, “those who are exploited by capitalism the most”, but who am I to say that because I earn less than somebody, that I am exploited more? Here me out here… A common point within Marxism is that the working class often exerts more effort into their profession than their superiors and certainly to people like shareholders and executives. This is mostly the case, but so too is that, many workers have climbed their way up the class ladder through hard work and dedication; a system that capitalism teaches is the admirable way to success. ‘Common Sense’ according to Antonio Gramsci, indicates that Capitalism manipulates workers into believing that all high achievers are there through graft and sheer will. This then in turn would suggest those without this success are those least applying themselves, or those without talent or willing. This is the toxicity of capitalism that exploits workers the most: those in higher positions in the workplace becoming ahead of themselves - middle-management changing personalities shortly after promotion, men in their twenties with financed BMWs driving up your arse until they can overtake you etc.
The promise of capital success and the way we are conditioned into thinking this is everything in life is a manipulation of the working class. When you finally achieve, perhaps you feel you have wasted your life dedicating everything for your job? Maybe you missed out on a social life or a family, but now you’re offshore or an executive so it balances out? My original point here is that those who may feel like they are successful after suffering for years, because they are financially stable are also clearly exploited by capitalism. It is like hanging the carrot on the stick in front of Bugs Bunny for fifty years before giving it to him and letting him retire, he is happy he has the stick, but he realises he has just spent his entire life chasing something which, maybe now he has, wasn’t really worth it?
“That is the ordinary hope of the working class. To have a decent education, to get a decent secure job, to get a car, to have a nice holiday… Many people go on their journey from what you might call working class to middle class”.
This was the response Sir Kier came up with when trying to define what it is to be working class and how it differentiates from middle class. The question put to him by Nick Ferrari was to define the working class. Starmer’s answer is pretty and glamourises the class system in the eyes of the capitalist.
- We have classes because some are better than others, maybe one day, if you work hard enough, you too can achieve the middle-class dream of financial security and a nice car to show for it. Who knows, you might even make it to upper class and beyond, if capitalism gets something in return from you that is.
I am sure Sir Starmer doesn’t realise just how conditioned that answer is. Going back to Gramsci and his notions regarding the common sense of capitalism and the hegemonic ways in which capitalism achieves its manipulation and maintains order, you can clearly see a correlation with what Starmer is relaying. If you work hard, you will be rewarded. But what if you work hard and you are not rewarded, or what if the reward is not what capitalism promises? Capitalism sees to it that, your reward for labour must be in some way or another, economical, through the blackmail of labour. You must work, because everything costs money, even water or heat or wi-fi. Everything you need you must pay for and to pay for it you must work. This is the blackmail of labour. Workers such as teachers or nurses, who are fundamental towards society, are often not rewarded financially for their hard work. Many in the NHS for example are leaving for similar or better paid jobs which require less labour power. Capitalism makes it so hard for the working class to simply live, that many are trading their profession, which they are passionate about, for other jobs because their payroll in correlation to their labour output is more beneficial. For many, it is not a choice but a necessity as they have families, they require time and money for, or disabilities or simply they are exhausted from being over-worked. Many are using foodbanks and are even homeless. Is this then the definition of the working class? Those for whom capitalism is not only exploiting, not only not working for, but is actually controlling and denying the accessibility of general necessities and chance to live without fear of bankruptcy? Of course, many workers are not in this position, but I feel that the fear of this is what keeps workers in line. The black mail of labour. The working class are those who fear the black mail of labour. Does that make more sense? Perhaps the middleclass fear this too, especially in these times of inflation, austerity and the cost-of-living crisis. I think it is safer to assume that the middle-classes have things like savings and possessions of worth, which would prevent them from immediate impoverishment should they lose their jobs or are unable to work. I think a better way to phrase it would be the working class are those who fear the immediate black mail of labour. Those who have to work and cannot afford to lose their jobs for too long, as capitalism is hot on their tails.
Starmer does not get this, for him the working class is a sort of romantic tail of those working hard to achieve the next step which is the middle class. Those who dedicate their life to achieving financial success and maybe allowing themselves one holiday a year. It does sound admirable, go for it, who am I to say anything about the way other people live their lives?
Before Caffeine
Before caffeine before life before work and day and worth and order and demand. Before the boss before the customer before the government. Before the brain the doubt the optimism the possibility. Before the journey, and how. Before traffic before obstacle before division before anxiety. Before caffeine before caffeine before food before alcohol before happy and sad and the pressure. Before you wake. Before the next day. Its dark and warm – before you leave before you live before you earn. Before you express you must not express. Before caffeine before light before day before
Before Caffeine II
A day of mountains each bigger than the last
Weeks from payday and weeks from payday
Cold and miserable but what difference does that make?
The thickness of thought the limit of sleep and the insanity of dreams life-like and existing.
​
Before caffeine there is an arena of pity and weakness
Where slugs fight and sharks wonder
The gravity in the pillow and the lead of the air. The sickening (lights turn on)
Zombie walks with eyes welded
The roof caves with ideas but somehow they
Thoughts at work
At work we can see on the till how much profit we have individually made the company that day, which to me is fucking crazy. Why would I want to see how much I have made somebody else when my wage is a tiny fraction of that? Why do I, 8 hours into my 10 hour shift on a Saturday, want to see how much the company made off my back, when what I have to show for it is fuck all except hot sauce down my trousers, exhaustion and a tiny bit of coin, enough only when accumulated over a month, to keep me fed and clothed so I can return to work? They literally pay “the living wage” which is a horrible sentence. THE LIVING WAGE?? The money needed to “live”? But what is the capitalists definition of living? Is it happiness? Is it free days to spend with friends, buy nice things and be stress free. Have a family and holidays and go to the cinema once a month to see something good? Can anybody achieve any of that on whatever dogshit living wage some rich bell-end think is acceptable? Not a chance. The capitalist definition of “living” is, as I mentioned earlier; alive enough to come to work and make money for someone richer than you. Does the capitalist give a fuck about stress and fatigue and loneliness and condition and wellbeing of the worker? The answer is; only if it effects their ability to work. Only if it prevents their profit and only if it means the hassle of having to hire and train the next poor bastard. What’s offit as well, in fact what is even more offit, is that the legal minimum wage is lower than the “living wage”. Think about that. The capitalist is legally allowed to exploit the worker for less than the wage deemed just enough to “live”. The worker is often grafting for a wage which isn’t even enough to live off. How is that allowed? Millions go to work, earn money by exhausting their labour power by dealing with customers or building or cleaning or handling or whatever, under the control of management who will replace in an instant, and at the end of the month, they still don’t have enough to actually live off.
What is the fucking point?
Thursday Night: Hospitality in Central London
I walk in to start and already its rammed. Thursdays are full
of suits larfing and spilling their upbringings all over our floors,
parading their privilege through the tills as if theyre doing us a favour by funding our living wage.
How can I go from the day long build-up of dreading a ten-hour close
to friendly and welcoming towards these fucking bloody legends?
I suppose theyre not all bad people
but they know where they sit and they certainly know where I stand.
Round and Round
The disc spins and cuts and with malice and with purpose, sparks cover arms and holed trousers that are weathered and hard and worn -
Stories of razor like days which hack away and deteriorate
Stories of unpaid breaks and Honest stories of firing and rehiring
And of paydays interrupted because the manager wanted Monday off
Stories of overtime forced and accepted, of bullies and bullied and of pressure so heavy the impossibility of Monday infects Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday like a plague or a lifestyle
Stories of sickness and exhaustion
Stories of the red-faced screamer when the delivery is late or the product is damaged, or the worker is late or the worker is damaged
Stories of cowering in toilets again to claw back another five minutes
Stories of burnt necks and hands and feet and shins, splintered and shiny
and of turpentine palms and coal-like nose crust and
slagged down t shirts and singed chest hair and scabbed arms and scalps and scarred wrists and thighs and knees
Stories of eyes that wont open without caffeine, that are saw and are crusted with eyelids so thin you can see the germs of reality infesting in your dream
Stories of aches that get worse
Stories of liars and exploiters and profiters
Stories of manipulation
Stories of greed with no shame and no bounds, but with goals and aspirations
Stories of nine-to-fives which are sixes until the jobs dones
and its still not enough
Stories of this and that, and that’s life, and it is what it is, and living the dream and making ends meet -
and living a life for somebody else’s pocket. Stories of fearing the alternative worse, of fearing the curb or the bottle or not posting stories of holidays in Marbella or missing those dog shit views of Dubai. Stories of life doing what youre told and being told if you do it well enough you are a success
Product
A room of heat and sweat, of struggle and exhaustion
and of fear and dirt and steel and broken chairs and holes in the ground with garbage in the corners
and a brittle cold air that snaps your jaw first thing
with coffee like molten juice bled from the owner’s pocket
and with discs and wheels and routines that are dark and frozen and lifelong
and that are dangerous and scary and hostile and profitable
you work here and its home and you hate it here of course but you do it anyway because you must do it anyway
You grow old here and you grow tired here and you give way here and you lose yourself here, you become here, you are here,
your mother is the grinder and your father is the saw,
and your children are your product and your friends are your tools and your hobbies are breathing and your passion is gain
Now you are dirt and you are steel
and frozen and hostile,
now you are profitable, now you are profitable
now you are perfect