Rojava International Brigadiers honour the Legendary Bob Crow – Morning Star – 16/08/16 

“They went because their open eyes could see no other way.” So rang the words of Cecil Day-Lewis in the ears of manylast week as a photograph emerged online showing International Brigadiers in Northern Syria sending solidarity to the RMT Southern Rail strike.

RMT guards are striking on Southern Rail, which has been chosen by the DFT as a battle ground to smash the Transport Unions, to defend passenger safety and to keep a second safety critical member of staff on board trains.

The newly-formed unit of the International Freedom Battalion (IFB) are fighting the war against Isis just 30 miles from their stronghold in Raqqa, and have taken the name of the late RMT General Secretary Bob Crow for their banner.

Comprised of British and Irish volunteers, the brigade who will serve a minimum six months military service have assisted the Kurdish People’s Protection Units (YPG) in making significant territorial gains in the area.

Their aims are to defend the right of the Kurdish people to self determination, to defend the revolution in Rojava and to combat the fascism of ISIS.

They have decided to honour Bob Crow in this way because he was a working class hero, and the inspiration for a generation of socialists and trade unionists. He inspired all of them.

Speaking in a personal capacity, Steve Hedley, Snr. Asst. General Secretary of the RMT said;

“Bob would have been honoured that young people from Britain would fight the forces of evil in his name.

“A great admirer of the international brigades that fought in Spain, Crow would of course have drawn the parallels with the new international brigades fighting clerical fascism and defending Yazhidi ,Muslim and Christian workers from slavery and persecution.”

Speaking to the partner of a British volunteer, it is evident that this is a precarious and dangerous time. Like any family mindful of a loved one, there is fear and worry, but also great love, pride and hope;

“Having someone close to you in such a dangerous place – on the front line fighting ISIS is obviously worrying. I am however very proud of my fiancé, he is brave and dedicated in fighting against all forms of fascism, including the mysogynistic and oppressive Daesh.

“The Rojava revolution is a women’s led struggle in a region where women’s rights are few. So as a feminist and a socialist I understand the importance of the international volunteers and the support they provide to the revolutionary struggle.”

Although the legal status of volunteering is unclear, all of the brigade were inspired to answer the call put out by the IFB last year, and comparisons between the International Freedom Battalion of today and the Brigadas Internacionales of 1930s Spain are not lost on the volunteers either.

As communists and antifascists they understood clearly the threat of fascism posed by ISIS and the need to defend and spread the social revolution taking place in Rojava.

The communist international put the call out in the ’30’s to defend the Spanish republic from fascism, and they have answered the call to fight fascism today in the same spirit.

Although the Rojava Revolution has taken hundreds of volunteers over the last four years, YPG commander Cihan Kendal says they want to teach brigadiers more than they have previously.

As a result, on top of military training, all recruits now study at least a month of Kurdish language, history and culture and political and ideological classes. Classes are also taught by the women’s movement on their ideology and organisations.

Kendal says; “it is true that there are not so many female volunteers at the moment, but this will change… the main force of this revolution is the women’s movement and their ideology; so more women have to come, have to see it, and take part in their own emancipation.”

As the spectre of fascism looms large on the global stage, Gary Oak left a parting statement with a rousing message for us all.

“We must hold our values and analysis to be completely true at every step of the way; we must tell the people that our thought liberated us in the past, will liberate us now from confusion and dismay, and will ultimately liberate the whole of humanity; and we tell them by actions that demonstrate we believe this.”

He says it is no longer enough to traipse miserably through the rain, with placard in hand bemoaning our lack of power. It is not enough to sullenly sulk at the state of things. We have answered the call, and we answer it gladly, proud of our opportunity and our place in this struggle.

We must take our convictions in hand, and give dutily what is required, we must not fear or falter, we cannot let slip now – we must be the left that history demands of us.

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Comrade.

This is a letter I wrote to one of my closest and dearest friends when he made the decision to travel Syria to make his contribution to the Rojava Revolution. The link below it is his story.

Comrade, 
As the day marches toward us I feel it important, essential, to remind you of who you are to me and the immense and unique impact you have had on my life. I had not thought this would be as difficult and emotional to write as it was, but then I had not envisioned so soon such a necessity to do so. 

When first we met I was Tank Girl, lemming. No hair and less sense, with a whole host of “I’ve nevers” that you were thrilled to challenge, like a little Anarcho-Doolittle you loved to teach me from the start – cider, pop punk and life lessons filled the summer. Squatting evolved from cold floors and tinned soup to Neverland with the lost boys. We did what the fuck we wanted in Aden & Caspian House. You taught me to cook, or dared me to try. You taught me to look after myself in a lot of ways. I was so sheltered as a child, I had no idea this was to be such a momentous time in my life. 

We both had such energy, and that’s what drew us together from the start, but you saw something more – you sat their reading the school reports I had from when I was 15 that I’d been carrying indignantly to prove I wasn’t think, and your eyes twinkled. In a mixture of debate, mockery, and of course books you began to demand more of me than a the simplistic drop-out rebellion around us in the squats. You saw a kindred spirit. 

Of all the books you gave me, The Communist Manifesto was to be the next almighty earthquake. I didn’t understand what it was at the time, you gave me a lot of books I thought I couldn’t read. I remember trying and getting no further than the first page, but I kept it, and now it sits on my shelf full of memories and promises and solid gold truth. I read it, and it changed my life all over again. You have a talent for total disruption, for revolution. 

The most important thing you gave me was the passion. The combination of love and rage that fills us and makes us what we are. Passion drives your politics, a desire to simplify the problems of the world so that the sides are obvious, and then build up our side with your ardent belief – you take a hackneyed song lyric and ask why it can’t be a political slogan; you take a working class single mum and ask why she can’t be a revolutionary icon. “There is a light and it never goes out”, and it bursts from you chest making everyone around you burn with the same intensity. 

You took my anger and passion and you taught me to direct it, at myself, to believe in my capabilities, and at the real enemies. You were my compass, an essential aid in navigating the politics of London, of the world, my own mind. I trusted you implicitly, from the start, and I still do. You have never steered me far wrong, always reliable, always true. 

You are often misunderstood, always locked someone or another’s set of sights, and I think I partly know why; not everyone can live up to your expectations, and even if you don’t ask them to, some people feel small and ashamed just to see your example. I want to tell you never to doubt that for every person who falls into this trap, you create five more who are inspired. 

As we move out of realm of lifestyle leftists, who feel so threatened in their tiny kingdoms, you will find more and more people like me, who respond like me, and see you as I do. I see is a man who has always loved passionately – his friends, his partners, his cause. Desperate for justice and understanding, desperate to find those people, places and moments that makes sense of a person like you. All your emotions you use as fuel, from love, to anger, to fear. 32 dead is 32 more reasons to go. 

You are the reason that Cherry Red exists, the reason I am a communist. The reason I am who I am today. My first source of inspiration, my constant companion in this struggle. I am so blessed and proud to call you brother, friend, comrade. You are the very definition of the word. Wherever you go, the world will surely be a better place for it. Nowhere could ever be the same. You will not falter. You will not fall. It is not in you. You will march ever forward, pushing on to victory, with the flag, dyed in the blood of the martyrs held high. I am so proud of you, and I will tell your story always and everywhere. 

Please make it home. 

You have so much more to do. 

In deepest Love & Solidarity, 
Your Comrade

CR

REVOLUTION IN THE MOUNTAINS:

 http://littleatoms.com/revolution-mountains-syria-kurdistan

Refugee Crisis

There they are again. Every time I see them I feel sick to my stomach. I scroll past them as fast as I can, but its unavoidable, every day there are more. They are horrifying, they instill in me a feeling of dread. Of panic.

Photographs of dead migrants. Dead refugees. Dead people. Dead children. Tiny bodies, so like my own little boy who at this second is tucked up safe in his warm bed, that it makes my skin crawl to look at them.

My little boy has never known war. Never known true hunger. Never known what it feels to be cold, terrified, homeless. I hope to god he never does. As I look at these people I cant help think of him, and what I would do myself to save him from that horror.

These people are desperate, running from war and death that we as a nation have imposed upon them. As America and the UK trot hand in hand through the Middle East, ripping it apart through greed. As we force our imperialism around the globe, as we ravage and decimate countries for profit, we scatter these people to… where? Anywhere. Anywhere that’s safe. The desperation is etched into their faces. They will go anywhere. Anywhere they can protect and care for their children.

All our leaders care about is how much money they can make. They let their own people starve and die, they certainly are not going to be concerned about these foreigners. They are directly responsible. This crisis is a direct result of capitalism. Of the perverse obsession with profit. Born of the notion that people are only worth what they can produce, what they can be bought for. Or what can be taken from them.

And what do we do, as we watch them? 73 dead in the back of a lorry. Boats capsizing at sea, children’s bodies washed up on Turkish beaches. What do we do? We tell ourselves they are after our houses, our jobs and our benefits. What sort of logical human being can honestly believe, that people would risk the lives of their families for a measly £30 odd a week – not even enough to live on, if it were safe to stay where they were?

As people in countries like Germany and Iceland open up their homes to these refugees, victims of an evil imposed by our government on a daily basis, as they give aid and shelter to them in their thousands, we have so far allowed into Britain a pathetic 216.** 

Less than the number it takes to fill one tube train. 

As we profit from their oil, from waging illegal wars on their soil, we are displacing them from their own land and forcing them to seek refuge wherever it may be found. And we offer none.

This is the greatest humanitarian crisis since the second world war, and we as a nation are doing nothing. I am utterly embarrassed and ashamed to be English under this tyrannical government.

These pictures make me sick, and I dont want to see them. But wether I see them or not, they are there. The grim reality remains. And so they must be seen. 

So look at those pictures. Look at those dead children, and know that this IS your responsibility. It is mine, it is Britain’s. Look at these pictures and imagine an England blown to pieces, you and your children on a sinking boat in the middle of the ocean, and no help to be found. Look at these pictures and know that something must be done.

This system that ravages the poorest nations, that sends to their death thousands of families as the world watches on – this media machine that has instilled in us for years the fear of immigrants, coming here to steal our lives. This great evil lie that we have been sold, it must be stopped. We cannot afford to sit idly by while these people die at our borders, just because we were lucky enough to be born in the land of the warmongers. They are no different from us, we are no better, they are worth no less.

This entire corrupt and diseased system must be dismantled, brick by brick. We cannot continue to enslave the many for the good of the few. We cannot allow this terrorism to continue in our name.

Look at those pictures, and know that it can be done. There is a better way, a way which can afford each and every human being their human rights, safety and security. We cuddle our children close and think how awful it looks, while they can scarcely bury theirs.

Look at those pictures, and have a fucking heart.

**accurate at time of writing