I’m thrilled that Ireland voted for same sex marriage this week. I’m not, however, inclined to be swept up in the mass hysteria surrounding the landmark outcome. Women, even those who have been raped, are still deprived of their right to choose what happens to their bodies. As long as abortion is illegal in Ireland, any attempt to claim enlightenment, in terms of equality, is disingenuous.
The other reason I’m uncomfortable with the UK media frenzy surrounding the referendum outcome in Ireland, is that it eclipsed the plight of the beleaguered Rohingya population in Bangladesh. After some initial, belated coverage of those forced to drink their own urine while stranded for months on flotillas off the coast of Indonesia, Thailand and Malaysia, the media (with few exceptions) got bored and moved on.
The following are a list of actions that Physicians for Human Rights urged in a report issued last week. A report that was all but ignored by the mainstream media:
For the Government of Bangladesh to:
• Desist immediately from arbitrarily arresting and forcibly expelling legitimate refugees who have a well founded fear of persecution.
• Establish a national refugee and asylum administrative framework that guarantees the fundamental rights to safe-haven from persecution and non-refoulement and that allows access to life-saving humanitarian assistance.
• Allow humanitarian agencies full and unobstructed access to provide relief to this vulnerable population that faces critical levels of malnutrition and disease. This assistance should include the immediate distribution of food rations to all unregistered refugees and a blanket supplementary feeding program to prevent a high number of avoidable deaths.
• Condemn immediately and prevent the campaign of ethnic hatred and incitement against Rohingya refugees.
For the Burmese government to:
• Cease immediately its campaign of widespread human rights violations against ethnic minorities, including the Rohingya, which has led to the flight of millions into neighboring countries.
For the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees to:
• Assert its global mandate to protect and assist the unregistered Rohingya as a population of concern and press the Government of Bangladesh to stop the arrest and forcible refoulement of those Rohingya who have a well-founded fear of persecution.
• Press the Government of Bangladesh to allow immediate life-saving humanitarian assistance to this vulnerable population.
• Launch a coordinated appeal to regional and other donor nations for humanitarian relief and protection to this
Wednesday, 27 May 2015
Saturday, 16 May 2015
Five More Years Of Misery. The Tories Couldn't Have Done It Without Help from Labour & The Lib Dems.
This week a report revealed that EE is the UKs worst communications provider. It comes top of the list for customer complaints and rates abominably for customer service. I was reading this whilst on hold to said provider for the umpteenth time in a week that has been hijacked by EE’s excruciating incompetence. The time and income I’ve lost at the hands of EE’s ineptitude, compounded by a culture of contempt for customers (no apologies, no call backs, no interest) I’ll never get back. What’s worse, I still have no internet access and no indication of when or if it’s likely to be restored in the foreseeable.
Apologies therefore for the delay in this posting, which I’m submitting from an internet café, slightly high on caffeine (they don’t do decaf here).
“What’s a Miliband?” shouted my seven year old. “What’s the context?” I shouted back down the stairs as I multi-tasked (cleaning the toilet whilst fairy cakes burn in the oven). “Miliband’s in peril!” He was reading from the headline of a weekly news magazine. “That’s a long and tragic story” I said. I discarded the marigolds, took Tony Benn’s diaries off the book shelf and began reading it aloud to my child as he tried not to crack his teeth on my cake.
One week after the election, and I remain locked in a state that fluxes between delusional disbelief and catatonic anxiety. Like a lot of people in this country, I’m aggrieved. At the Tories, who have and will continue to annihilate human and worker’s rights, and for destroying the dignity of the most vulnerable in our society. I’m angry at the Lib Dems for selling their souls to the lowest bidder. Five years ago an all male Lib Dem contingent sat around a table and traded party principles in their personal pursuit of power. All five men emerged with top jobs and ministerial cars. For their moment in the limelight, the party and the public paid dear (e.g. the Health & Social Care Act couldn’t have succeeded without their complicity). All five of the Lib Dem architects of that stitch up five years ago got kicked out last Friday. Nick Clegg described the electorate’s response as “unkind”. One word that conveyed so utterly the bubble of oblivion and disconnect he had come to inhabit. My deepest anger though is reserved for Labour.
In theory, Labour is the party for whom I should (but don't) feel the most affinity. In practice, as documented forensically in the aforementioned Tony Benn’s diaries, it has gradually abandoned and betrayed its founding principles. Under Tony Blair, so great was the lurch to the right that the moniker “New Conservatives” would have been far more accurate than that of New Labour. Margaret Thatcher apparently cited Tony Blair as one of her greatest legacies. That left a situation vacant in the political arena for a worker’s party that speaks to and for those hit hardest by austerity. The Greens and the SNP (in Scotlland) provided a refreshing, progressive alternative to austerity whilst UKIP went after “the man in the street” vote. Had Labour not allowed itself to be engulfed in an identity crisis and had instead the confidence to assert a bold alternative to austerity, the election outcome could have been very different.
Five years ago I blamed Labour stalwart Jon Cruddas (MP for Dagenham) for his party’s defeat. I was absolutely convinced he was the key to Labour’s salvation. He came second to Harriett Harman in the deputy leadership election but he won the hearts and minds of the public. I tried my best to convince him to stand for the last Labour leadership against the New Labour contestants, to no avail.
A member of the shadow cabinet and a key Labour strategist, who better to vent my spleen to at last Friday’s results, than Jon. I sent him an “I told you so” email. In my defence, I had been up all night filing election results to an overseas news outlet.
“Had you listened to me 5 years ago and stood against Miliband”, I pontificated, “all this misery could have been avoided”. I told him the party had shot itself in the foot with Brown, then Miliband. The time had been right for the party to go back to its roots after Blair. There was a situation vacant for a worker's party, a party for ordinary people. Jon Cruddas ticked (& still does) all the boxes. He’s likeable, lacking in grating affectations, a voice and background that people can relate to. Yet, to my fury, he didn’t stand.
After 5 years of austerity, the Labour party could have decimated the Tories. The tough talk about tax evasion, energy companies and non doms was too little too late. Hedging bets and trying to be all things to all people means Labour has no meaning, no purpose, no soul and therefore, no relevance.
I am forlorn at Labour’s apparent inability to learn from mistakes. The only viable option for survival is to be the champion of workers, the poor and marginalised, as well as everyone else, from across all classes, who believes in equality of opportunity and fair distribution of wealth and power. Without fairness and justice, social order and economic stability will crumble. That is in no-one’s interest. Labour should be a party driven by principle and passionate, convicted leadership, as opposed to a "safe", albeit lacklustre, disconnected, pair of hands.
I’m not going to divulge Jon’s response to my email. On Monday, he resigned his post in the shadow cabinet in order to carry out a review of the party’s direction. No better man or woman for the job.
Until the Labour party is prepared to live up to its name and founding principles, it, as well as democracy and society, are doomed.
Apologies therefore for the delay in this posting, which I’m submitting from an internet café, slightly high on caffeine (they don’t do decaf here).
“What’s a Miliband?” shouted my seven year old. “What’s the context?” I shouted back down the stairs as I multi-tasked (cleaning the toilet whilst fairy cakes burn in the oven). “Miliband’s in peril!” He was reading from the headline of a weekly news magazine. “That’s a long and tragic story” I said. I discarded the marigolds, took Tony Benn’s diaries off the book shelf and began reading it aloud to my child as he tried not to crack his teeth on my cake.
One week after the election, and I remain locked in a state that fluxes between delusional disbelief and catatonic anxiety. Like a lot of people in this country, I’m aggrieved. At the Tories, who have and will continue to annihilate human and worker’s rights, and for destroying the dignity of the most vulnerable in our society. I’m angry at the Lib Dems for selling their souls to the lowest bidder. Five years ago an all male Lib Dem contingent sat around a table and traded party principles in their personal pursuit of power. All five men emerged with top jobs and ministerial cars. For their moment in the limelight, the party and the public paid dear (e.g. the Health & Social Care Act couldn’t have succeeded without their complicity). All five of the Lib Dem architects of that stitch up five years ago got kicked out last Friday. Nick Clegg described the electorate’s response as “unkind”. One word that conveyed so utterly the bubble of oblivion and disconnect he had come to inhabit. My deepest anger though is reserved for Labour.
In theory, Labour is the party for whom I should (but don't) feel the most affinity. In practice, as documented forensically in the aforementioned Tony Benn’s diaries, it has gradually abandoned and betrayed its founding principles. Under Tony Blair, so great was the lurch to the right that the moniker “New Conservatives” would have been far more accurate than that of New Labour. Margaret Thatcher apparently cited Tony Blair as one of her greatest legacies. That left a situation vacant in the political arena for a worker’s party that speaks to and for those hit hardest by austerity. The Greens and the SNP (in Scotlland) provided a refreshing, progressive alternative to austerity whilst UKIP went after “the man in the street” vote. Had Labour not allowed itself to be engulfed in an identity crisis and had instead the confidence to assert a bold alternative to austerity, the election outcome could have been very different.
Five years ago I blamed Labour stalwart Jon Cruddas (MP for Dagenham) for his party’s defeat. I was absolutely convinced he was the key to Labour’s salvation. He came second to Harriett Harman in the deputy leadership election but he won the hearts and minds of the public. I tried my best to convince him to stand for the last Labour leadership against the New Labour contestants, to no avail.
A member of the shadow cabinet and a key Labour strategist, who better to vent my spleen to at last Friday’s results, than Jon. I sent him an “I told you so” email. In my defence, I had been up all night filing election results to an overseas news outlet.
“Had you listened to me 5 years ago and stood against Miliband”, I pontificated, “all this misery could have been avoided”. I told him the party had shot itself in the foot with Brown, then Miliband. The time had been right for the party to go back to its roots after Blair. There was a situation vacant for a worker's party, a party for ordinary people. Jon Cruddas ticked (& still does) all the boxes. He’s likeable, lacking in grating affectations, a voice and background that people can relate to. Yet, to my fury, he didn’t stand.
After 5 years of austerity, the Labour party could have decimated the Tories. The tough talk about tax evasion, energy companies and non doms was too little too late. Hedging bets and trying to be all things to all people means Labour has no meaning, no purpose, no soul and therefore, no relevance.
I am forlorn at Labour’s apparent inability to learn from mistakes. The only viable option for survival is to be the champion of workers, the poor and marginalised, as well as everyone else, from across all classes, who believes in equality of opportunity and fair distribution of wealth and power. Without fairness and justice, social order and economic stability will crumble. That is in no-one’s interest. Labour should be a party driven by principle and passionate, convicted leadership, as opposed to a "safe", albeit lacklustre, disconnected, pair of hands.
I’m not going to divulge Jon’s response to my email. On Monday, he resigned his post in the shadow cabinet in order to carry out a review of the party’s direction. No better man or woman for the job.
Until the Labour party is prepared to live up to its name and founding principles, it, as well as democracy and society, are doomed.
Friday, 1 May 2015
Being Mistaken for a Terrorist by the BBC (parts 1 & 2 )
Maybe it was my Irish accent, which, to the uninitiated could be from anywhere. Perhaps it was my scarlet boots with matching finger nails, but I suspect what alerted the BBC to my radical tendencies was the badge on my lapel which read, “I Love the NHS”.
That’s pretty much the explanation the editor gave for editing out my question at a local hustings, despite the question provoking cheers of support from the audience (it’s the single biggest issue for this community), uniting people across all political hues. Our local A&E is under threat of closure and the Tory candidate, (in a seat that’s so safe he’s built a moat around it), is the only one to declare he wouldn’t fight it.
Thousands of locals have signed a petition against closing our A&E, so our position is clear. I told the Tory candidate that the most important criteria for this job is that he works for us and if he’s not prepared to fight for our A&E, why on earth should we vote for him. The audience's reaction did get a bit rowdy, to be fair. They booed and heckled when he mentioned the “business case” (hello, the NHS is a service, not a bloody business) as his defence, which, the BBC must have thought was jolly irreverent. And who sparked the riotous booing rebellion? Moi.
Perhaps precisely because my question was delivered in mellifluous tones, the BBC suspected my tactics as a sinister inversion of fundamentalism. After all, what could be more incendiary than a loaded question shot from a velvet gun? The question and the embarrassing heckles ended up on the BBC cutting room floor.
The editor had forensically researched the issue of A&E closure in this constituency (she spent a couple of hours outside a supermarket on the outskirts of town) ahead of the programme. Not being from here herself she obviously felt honour bound to exert the utmost rigour. She concluded that my question on A&E wasn’t relevant because people around here aren’t that bothered. The reaction of the hoodlums (not her exact word) at the hustings was not representative, she said. They could have been bussed in by Al-Qaeda for all she knew, in a bid to destabilise the state.
But what of all those petitions and posters in the shop windows saying “Hands off our A&E”? How was she supposed to corroborate and authenticate their true source. That butcher’s shop could be a safe house for the Taliban, and the baker next door is a known Green Party activist, for god’s sake. When you work for the BBC, you simply can’t allow yourself to be hijacked as the voice piece of ordinary people and their NHS fundamentalism. It could result in even more people engaging in the democratic process, which would completely undermine the hard earned ground in the fight for autocracy.
As I chipped away at the editor's logic, she grew impatient (she’s not used to having to account to us licence fee payers) and in a fit of unguarded rage, the truth was out. She knew who I was and had strong views about me. “And, and (she puffed), you strike me as someone very passionate and, and campaigning”. She spat the words passionate and campaigning out as though they were egregious character traits, indicative of social deviancy akin to, well, terrorist activities.
If being passionate and a campaigner makes me a terrorist, then I’m guilty as charged. My writing about human rights abuses has been cited as evidence by the UN in the International Criminal Court. Ten years campaigning (fitted in around my day job), armed only with a pen and some passion, has helped provide evidence against a genocidaire. The cost of which is constantly having to look over my shoulder. My charge sheet, obfuscated by a veil of repute, is lengthy. It's true that I am an unrepentant recidivist.
Having started my career as a therapist, I dug down deep and found the dregs of empathy lurking in a crevice of my red suede boots. The BBC cannot be seen as a recruiting sergeant for passionate people like me. It goes against editorial guidelines. Passion has no place on the BBC, unless you’re a right wing commentator such as David Starky or Katie Hopkins, being passionate about hating women, immigrants &/or people on benefits. Anyone passionate about inequality, corporate or political corruption and greed has no place on the BBC (section 196, para 50, subsection 1.2b). Celebrities passionately against tax on their mansions are allowed but not anyone who has any sympathies with people squatting to save their council homes from being sold off to developers. Leave that stuff to looney lefty, Russell Brand.
By way of neutralising my newly acquired persona, I declared my personal interest in preventing the closure of my local A&E. I told the editor that my child was seriously injured recently and it already took over an hour to get to A&E in an ambulance. All the medical evidence suggests the greater the distance, the increased likelihood of mortality. She lamented that, had I said that at the hustings she might not have cut it. She invited me to phone in and pose the question again at a BBC radio hustings a few days hence. When you come close to losing a child, it’s hard to talk about it publicly I said. I’m still feeling emotionally raw. But I agreed to do it in good faith.
When I phoned in to ask my question, I thought I had taken a wrong turn at the larder and strayed onto the set of Newsnight, where I was being cross examined by Paxman for crimes against humanity.
It occurred to me that I had inadvertently unleashed my secret weapon and the BBC editor immediately saw the error of exposing me to listeners. There was a very real risk that people might warm to my dulcet tones, thus indoctrinating and even converting listeners to my “cause”. I had to be stopped before I radicalised hitherto complacent listeners to NHS fundamentalism. The presenter tried correcting me on something I didn’t actually say in a bid to disarm me. He then went on to take out all the candidates who had pledged to support constituents in the A&E fight. He verbally AK47ed all of them for the crime of being prepared to fight on behalf of constituents and disagree with the Tory. Who needs to pay for a press officer when you’ve got your very own BBC henchman.
After my BBC appearance, people stopped me in the street and asked if they could join my terrorist cell. My status has been elevated in the community to that of Che Guevara. The school gates have become a recruiting ground for mothers wishing to don their fundamentalist credentials on their lapels. “I love the NHS” badges are selling like home made jam on the farmers market. Leafleting, petitioning and other radical activities, such as writing “passionate” letters to the press, have all become embedded since the BBC elevated community activism and passion to terrorist status.
Power to the people for whom the BBC is as irrelevant and disconnected as the party of hedge fund managers (locally at least) it favours to win the election.
Further evidence of my NHS fundamentalism can be found on the Huffington Post website.
http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/tess-finchlees/the-nhs-conspiracy-of-sil_b_7174328.html
My article, The NHS Conspiracy of Silence, was published this week. Health warning: Contains flashes of passion which some BBC editors may find disturbing.
That’s pretty much the explanation the editor gave for editing out my question at a local hustings, despite the question provoking cheers of support from the audience (it’s the single biggest issue for this community), uniting people across all political hues. Our local A&E is under threat of closure and the Tory candidate, (in a seat that’s so safe he’s built a moat around it), is the only one to declare he wouldn’t fight it.
Thousands of locals have signed a petition against closing our A&E, so our position is clear. I told the Tory candidate that the most important criteria for this job is that he works for us and if he’s not prepared to fight for our A&E, why on earth should we vote for him. The audience's reaction did get a bit rowdy, to be fair. They booed and heckled when he mentioned the “business case” (hello, the NHS is a service, not a bloody business) as his defence, which, the BBC must have thought was jolly irreverent. And who sparked the riotous booing rebellion? Moi.
Perhaps precisely because my question was delivered in mellifluous tones, the BBC suspected my tactics as a sinister inversion of fundamentalism. After all, what could be more incendiary than a loaded question shot from a velvet gun? The question and the embarrassing heckles ended up on the BBC cutting room floor.
The editor had forensically researched the issue of A&E closure in this constituency (she spent a couple of hours outside a supermarket on the outskirts of town) ahead of the programme. Not being from here herself she obviously felt honour bound to exert the utmost rigour. She concluded that my question on A&E wasn’t relevant because people around here aren’t that bothered. The reaction of the hoodlums (not her exact word) at the hustings was not representative, she said. They could have been bussed in by Al-Qaeda for all she knew, in a bid to destabilise the state.
But what of all those petitions and posters in the shop windows saying “Hands off our A&E”? How was she supposed to corroborate and authenticate their true source. That butcher’s shop could be a safe house for the Taliban, and the baker next door is a known Green Party activist, for god’s sake. When you work for the BBC, you simply can’t allow yourself to be hijacked as the voice piece of ordinary people and their NHS fundamentalism. It could result in even more people engaging in the democratic process, which would completely undermine the hard earned ground in the fight for autocracy.
As I chipped away at the editor's logic, she grew impatient (she’s not used to having to account to us licence fee payers) and in a fit of unguarded rage, the truth was out. She knew who I was and had strong views about me. “And, and (she puffed), you strike me as someone very passionate and, and campaigning”. She spat the words passionate and campaigning out as though they were egregious character traits, indicative of social deviancy akin to, well, terrorist activities.
If being passionate and a campaigner makes me a terrorist, then I’m guilty as charged. My writing about human rights abuses has been cited as evidence by the UN in the International Criminal Court. Ten years campaigning (fitted in around my day job), armed only with a pen and some passion, has helped provide evidence against a genocidaire. The cost of which is constantly having to look over my shoulder. My charge sheet, obfuscated by a veil of repute, is lengthy. It's true that I am an unrepentant recidivist.
Having started my career as a therapist, I dug down deep and found the dregs of empathy lurking in a crevice of my red suede boots. The BBC cannot be seen as a recruiting sergeant for passionate people like me. It goes against editorial guidelines. Passion has no place on the BBC, unless you’re a right wing commentator such as David Starky or Katie Hopkins, being passionate about hating women, immigrants &/or people on benefits. Anyone passionate about inequality, corporate or political corruption and greed has no place on the BBC (section 196, para 50, subsection 1.2b). Celebrities passionately against tax on their mansions are allowed but not anyone who has any sympathies with people squatting to save their council homes from being sold off to developers. Leave that stuff to looney lefty, Russell Brand.
By way of neutralising my newly acquired persona, I declared my personal interest in preventing the closure of my local A&E. I told the editor that my child was seriously injured recently and it already took over an hour to get to A&E in an ambulance. All the medical evidence suggests the greater the distance, the increased likelihood of mortality. She lamented that, had I said that at the hustings she might not have cut it. She invited me to phone in and pose the question again at a BBC radio hustings a few days hence. When you come close to losing a child, it’s hard to talk about it publicly I said. I’m still feeling emotionally raw. But I agreed to do it in good faith.
When I phoned in to ask my question, I thought I had taken a wrong turn at the larder and strayed onto the set of Newsnight, where I was being cross examined by Paxman for crimes against humanity.
It occurred to me that I had inadvertently unleashed my secret weapon and the BBC editor immediately saw the error of exposing me to listeners. There was a very real risk that people might warm to my dulcet tones, thus indoctrinating and even converting listeners to my “cause”. I had to be stopped before I radicalised hitherto complacent listeners to NHS fundamentalism. The presenter tried correcting me on something I didn’t actually say in a bid to disarm me. He then went on to take out all the candidates who had pledged to support constituents in the A&E fight. He verbally AK47ed all of them for the crime of being prepared to fight on behalf of constituents and disagree with the Tory. Who needs to pay for a press officer when you’ve got your very own BBC henchman.
After my BBC appearance, people stopped me in the street and asked if they could join my terrorist cell. My status has been elevated in the community to that of Che Guevara. The school gates have become a recruiting ground for mothers wishing to don their fundamentalist credentials on their lapels. “I love the NHS” badges are selling like home made jam on the farmers market. Leafleting, petitioning and other radical activities, such as writing “passionate” letters to the press, have all become embedded since the BBC elevated community activism and passion to terrorist status.
Power to the people for whom the BBC is as irrelevant and disconnected as the party of hedge fund managers (locally at least) it favours to win the election.
Further evidence of my NHS fundamentalism can be found on the Huffington Post website.
http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/tess-finchlees/the-nhs-conspiracy-of-sil_b_7174328.html
My article, The NHS Conspiracy of Silence, was published this week. Health warning: Contains flashes of passion which some BBC editors may find disturbing.