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Erased: Get Over It Vanessa, It’s a White Man’s World

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Instead of seeking fame by association with white people, Nakate must run her campaign from the continent of Africa and create a groundswell of African climate activists who can challenge the orthodoxy that Africans are not capable of addressing issues that affect them.

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Erased: Get Over It Vanessa, It’s a White Man’s World
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When an insensitive photo editor at the Associated Press (AP) erased the image of a Ugandan climate activist from a photo that included the Swedish climate star Greta Thunberg, it created a stir and led to accusations of racism against the news organisation.

It all started when Vanessa Nakate posted a tearful video of herself where she lamented the fact that she, unlike the white activists attending the World Economic Forum in Davos, had not been recognised for her efforts on account of her skin colour. By removing her from the photo (the cropped version of which showed Thunberg with three other young white activists), she said on Twitter, AP had not only erased a person, but the entire African continent.

AP responded by explaining that Nakate was cropped from the photo because the building behind her was a distraction. As an amateur photographer myself, I can see why a photo editor would want to use a perfect background of the Swiss Alps and not an unsightly building in an image. Maybe racism had nothing to do with the decision to remove her; it was merely an aesthetic choice. However, even the AP’s editors had to finally concede that they had made a journalistic error.

Nakate is still young, so probably she doesn’t know yet that being a woman of colour means being constantly erased, ignored, ridiculed, humiliated, harassed or ghosted by those in power – usually white men. She should have known that black people, and especially black women, rarely get the credit for the work they do, even when it has global impact. She might want to recall that the #MeToo movement was started by Tarana Burke, an African-American woman, but only gained momentum when white Hollywood actresses started using the hashtag and started talking about their own experiences of sexual harassment and abuse. White people not only steal non-white people’s ideas, they appropriate them, make them their own, and then take the credit.

Being a woman of colour means being constantly erased, ignored, ridiculed, humiliated, harassed or ghosted by those in power – usually white men

Nakate may have heard that the civil rights movement in the United States only gained credence when white presidents like John F. Kennedy embraced it, and that Nelson Mandela gained “saintly” status only after he forgave his white tormentors.

Nakate made the mistake of naively believing that she is an equal partner in the fight for the climate; she thought that she would not only be recognised for her efforts, but would be rewarded as well. I applaud her for her optimism and faith, but as she gets older (and more cynical) she will realise that black and brown women – or what we now call women of colour – rarely get to sit at the high table unless they are “anointed” by the white Western world.

Often black people don’t get recognised even in their own countries until a white person or institution endorses them. The Kenyan environmentalist Wangari Maathai, for instance, was considered an irritating busybody by the Kenyan government and its leaders until she won the Nobel Peace Prize, after which she was accorded star status.

You see, this is the problem with us black and coloured folk. We are so desperate for white people’s approval and attention that when they reject or erase us, we are crushed. For many people in Asia, Africa and Latin America, recognition from one white person means more than a million accolades from our own people. It is the kind of self-hatred that makes us use skin bleaching creams and adopt foreign (usually British or American) accents. Nobody criticises French people for speaking with a French accent (which many consider “sexy”) or speaking English badly. But if as an African you appear at a public forum with a heavy Luo accent to explain your brilliant new scientific invention, you will be dismissed as an idiot not just by white people but your own people as well.

Nakate was desperate to be seen as a climate activist in the mould of Thunberg, but she failed to see that Thunberg has many advantages that she might never have.

For one, being a white European, Thunberg doesn’t need a visa to enter most countries around the world, a privilege that Nakate does not have. This means that the Swedish climate activist can go to another country and hold a protest rally at the drop of a hat. This gives her enormous social capital internationally. To get a visa to a Western country, Nakate would have to jump over many, many hurdles and prove beyond doubt that she has no intention of overstaying her visa. As she is a young single African woman, most countries in the West will view Nakate as a risk – as someone who will not return home after her visit and who will become part of the growing group of illegal immigrants in the West. Her activism credentials will be doubted, and her age, gender and skin colour will be held against her.

Nakate was desperate to be seen as a climate activist in the mould of Thunberg, but she failed to see that Thunberg has many advantages that she might never have

This is not to say that Thunberg does not endure ridicule. The world’s most powerful president, Donald Trump, has dismissed her as a young woman with “an anger management problem”. Climate change deniers will no doubt paint her as a pessimist out to destroy the world’s economy. Because of her age and gender, she will face a backlash from the old male establishment. However, Thunberg doesn’t have to face the kind of racism that people like Nakate have to face whenever they confront the white Western world.

Nakate will have to work twice as hard as a white woman to gain a place on the international stage. But even if she does, she will probably be a side show, not the main event. And if her views are considered too radical, she might never be invited again.

Some of us (and I include myself) have come to understand how little our views or opinions matter when we attend conferences where all the leading “experts” on a panel are white or male or both. Sometimes, for the sake of “diversity” or “representation”, a few African scholars or analysts may be included in a collection of essays or in panel discussions. However, in my experience, only those scholars or analysts who do not deviate too far from the traditional narrative about Africa (poverty, war, refugees, failed states, and the like) are invited to contribute; in other words, they gain visibility through conformity. Radical thinkers, or those who actively reject racist of distorted representations of African, are rarely invited. They are also denied jobs. I have been denied many jobs due to my gender, skin colour, nationality, ethnicity or age (yes, ageism is real). Shouting “Racism!” rarely has the desired effect. White people begin to actively shun you or describe you as over-sensitive or paranoid.

In her book Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race, the black British writer Reni Eddo-Lodge explains that she stopped having conversations about race with white people because most white people don’t even recognise that racism exists. “I cannot continue to emotionally exhaust myself trying to get this message across, while also toeing a very precarious line that tries not to implicate any one white person in their role in perpetuating structural racism, lest they character assassinate me”, she writes.

Eddo-Lodge says that white people often silence people of colour by pretending that the problem lies with the latter, and not with the former, or by accusing the non-white person of being overly sensitive about race. “They’ve never had to think about what it means, in power terms, to be white, so any time they’re vaguely reminded of this fact, they interpret it as an affront”, she says.

“I can no longer have this conversation, because we’re often coming at it from completely different places”, she adds.

If they cannot silence you by ignoring you, or by claiming that you are over-reacting, they co-opt you. For instance, the Kenyan writer Binyavanga Wainaina was actively wooed by the Western literary establishment after his satirical essay How to Write About Africa went viral. He lapped up the attention – but it came at a price. Never again would he write so passionately about how Africa has been misrepresented in the Western media, though it must be said that the essay profoundly impacted how Western journalists reported on Africa. After his essay went viral, the narrative on Africa changed from “The Hopeless Continent” to “Africa Rising”. Although people on the continent rejoiced, they failed to understand that neither of these narratives accurately depicts the complexities and nuances of Africa; on the contrary, they reinforce the “single story” narrative that Nigerian author Chimamanda Adichie spoke so eloquently about in a TED talk.

However, while Adichie can talk to the West about the danger of “a single story”, she would not be a literary star today if the West had not embraced her and given her a platform to showcase her work. The white Western establishment knows that her criticisms can only go so far – they cannot topple the power relations between Africa and the West. In fact, her success reinforces the reality that in order to succeed as an African in this world, one must have the support of the West – the very West that is the subject of one’s criticism.

Why are we so eager for the West to embrace and accept us? Why do we want them to like us? Why do we get so excited when Afro-pessimism is replaced with Afro-optimism? Maybe it’s because, as Franz Fanon says in Black Skin, White Masks, black people have been made to feel inferior for so long that they “want to prove to white men, at all costs, the richness of their thought, the equal value of their intellect”. We expend much energy trying to prove our worth to white people, believing that once we have proved our worth, we will be accepted as equals. This is rarely the case because racism is so ingrained in Western culture that it may take many more centuries to eradicate it. We must remember that European powers justified slavery and colonialism by claiming that Africans were not really human beings, that they were an inferior species that needed to be subjugated for their own good.

We expend much energy trying to prove our worth to white people, believing that once we have proved our worth, we will be accepted as equals

The late Toni Morrison said that the main function of racism is distraction – to keep black people so busy explaining themselves to white people that they would not have time for anything else:

It [racism] keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language and you spend 20 years proving that you do. Somebody says your head isn’t shaped properly so you have scientists working on the fact that it is. Somebody says you have no art, so you dredge that up. Somebody says you have no kingdoms, so you dredge that up. None of this is necessary.

My advice to Vanessa Nakate would be to stop seeking the approval of the white Western world and to not be too bothered if the white Western establishment doesn’t give her the recognition she deserves. She must not seek fame by association with white people. She must run her campaign from the continent of Africa with fellow Africans and for the benefit of future generations of Africans. Climate change in Africa is real, and will have devastating consequences because Africa is least prepared for it. Nakate must forge relationships with like-minded African organisations to create a groundswell of African climate activists who can challenge the orthodoxy that Africans are not capable of addressing issues that affect them.

Nakate must run her campaign from the continent of Africa with fellow Africans and for the benefit of future generations of Africans

Vanessa Nakata gains nothing by being photographed in Davos at a conference where the very people who caused the climate change crisis in the first place meet every year. Their acceptance of her means little. If she is going to bring about a climate revolution in Africa, she must look to her own culture, history, environment and people to find solutions. No one can save Africans except Africans themselves.

So Vanessa, please understand this: White people will constantly erase you. Stop asking them to put you back in the picture. You do not need their endorsement.

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Rasna Warah is a Kenyan writer and journalist. In a previous incarnation, she was an editor at the United Nations Human Settlements Programme (UN-Habitat). She has published two books on Somalia – War Crimes (2014) and Mogadishu Then and Now (2012) – and is the author UNsilenced (2016), and Triple Heritage (1998).

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Education in Rwanda: A Long Walk to the Knowledge Economy

If Rwanda is to attain its stated ambition to become of a middle-income country by 2035 driven by the knowledge economy, then it must inject significant investments in the education and related sectors.

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Rwanda has shown commitment to bring improvements to its education sector. The development of Human capital that involves the enhancement of the education and health sectors was one of the main pillars of Rwanda’s development programme launched in 2000 to transform the country into a middle income state driven by the knowledge economy by 2020. Many developed countries joined in to financially support Rwanda to fulfil its development ambitions.

But while Rwanda did not meet its target to transform into a middle-income state by 2020, it has nevertheless made progress in the education sector that should be recognised. The country has now near-universal access to primary education with net enrolment rates of 98 per cent. There are also roughly equal numbers of boys and girls in pre-primary, primary and secondary schools in Rwanda. Compared to other sub-Saharan African countries, Rwanda has made great improvements in the education sector based on the gains made in primary school gross enrolment, out-of-school and retention rates and considering that the country came out of a genocidal civil war in the 1990s. Those of us living and travelling across the country can also see that the government of Rwanda has built more schools across the country to address congestion in classrooms.

However, education in Rwanda is faced with serious challenges which, if not addressed, the country will not attain its ambition to become a middle-income by 2035 and a high-income by 2050. The World Bank’s comparison with middle- and high-income countries, to whose ranks Rwanda aspires to join, shows that Rwanda lags far behind in primary and lower secondary school completion levels.

The gains made in education are not equally distributed across Rwanda. There are, for instance, wide disparities in lower secondary education by income and urban–rural residence. Whereas lower secondary school gross enrolment ratio level is 82 per cent in urban areas, it is only 44 per cent in rural areas. Moreover, transition rates between primary and lower secondary education are 53 per cent in urban areas, and 33 per cent in rural areas. School completion is 52 per cent among the richest quintile while it is 26 per cent among the poorest. Any future development strategy is unlikely to succeed if it does not provide basic equality of opportunity for all in Rwanda.

The standard of education in Rwanda is another major challenge. At the end of Grade 3, 85 per cent of Rwandan students were rated “below comprehension” in a recent reading test, and one in six could not answer any reading comprehension question. In my view, the quality of education has been partly affected by the abrupt changes in the language of instruction that have taken place without much planning since 2008.

Any future development strategy is unlikely to succeed if it does not provide basic equality of opportunity for all in Rwanda.

Learning levels in basic education remain low in Rwanda.  Children in the country can expect to complete 6.5 years of pre-primary and basic education by the age of 18 years. However, when this is adjusted for learning it translates to only about 3.8 years, implying that children in Rwanda have a learning gap of 2.7 years. This is a concern.

Education in Rwanda is also impended by high levels of malnutrition for children under 5 years. Although there have been improvements over time, malnutrition levels remain significantly high at 33 per cent. Malnutrition impedes cognitive development, educational attainment, and lifetime earnings. It also deprives the economy of quality human capital that is critical to Rwanda attaining its economic goals and sustaining its economic gains. In 2012, Rwanda lost 11.5 per cent of GDP as a result of child undernutrition.

Because of low learning levels and high levels of malnutrition in children under 5 years, Rwanda has consistently ranked below average on the World Bank’s Human Capital index since 2018, the year the index was first published. HCI measures which countries are best at mobilising the economic and professional potential of their citizens.

If Rwanda is to develop the competent workforce needed to transform the country into a knowledge-based economy and bring it into the ranks of middle-income states, the government must put significant public spending in basic education. This has not been the case over the past decades. According to the World Bank, Rwanda’s public spending on primary education has been significantly lower than the average for sub-Saharan African countries with similar coverage of primary school level as Rwanda. This low spending on primary education has translated into relatively modest pay for teachers and low investment in their professional development which in turn affects the provision of quality education in Rwanda. The government recently increased teachers’ salary but the increment is being eroded by, among other things, food price inflation in Rwanda.

Malnutrition impedes cognitive development, educational attainment, and lifetime earnings.

Going forward, Rwanda’s spending on education needs to be increased and allocated to improving standards. Considering that the underlying cause of the high rate of malnourishment in children is food insecurity, the government needs to spend more on the agriculture sector. This sector employs 70 per cent of the labour force but has received only 10 per cent of total public investment. Public investment in Rwanda has in the past gone to the development of the Meetings, Incentives, Conferences and Exhibitions sector rather than towards addressing pressing scarcities. This approach must be reviewed.

Increasing public expenditure in education and connected sectors should also be combined with strengthening accountability in the government institutions responsible for promoting the quality of education in basic schools and in promoting food security and livelihoods in Rwanda. This is because not a year goes by without the office of the Rwanda auditor general reporting dire inefficiencies in these institutions.

Strengthening institutional accountability can be achieved if the country adapts its consensual democracy by opening up the political space to dissenting voices. Doing so would surely enhance the effectiveness of checks and balances across institutions in Rwanda, including in the education sector, and would enable the country to efficiently reach its development targets.

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No Imperialist Peoples, Only Imperialist States

Adam Mayer praises a new collection, Liberated Texts, which includes rediscovered books on Africa’s socialist intellectual history and political economy, looking at the startling, and frequently long ignored work of Walter Rodney, Karim Hirji, Issa Shivji, Dani Wadada Nabudere, A. M. Babu and Makhan Singh.

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No Imperialist Peoples, Only Imperialist States
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Liberated Texts is a magnificent, essential, exciting tome that feels like a bombshell. This incredibly rich collection is a selection that is deep, wide, as well as entertaining. The book focuses on twenty-one volumes from the previous one hundred years, with a geographical range from the UK, the US, Vietnam, Korea, the Peoples Republic of China, the Middle East, Ireland, Malaysia, Africa (especially East Africa), Europe, Latin America, and the former Soviet Union, focusing on books that are without exception, foundational.

The collection is nothing less than a truth pill: in composite form, the volume corrects world history that Howard Zinn’s The People’s History of the United States offered for the sterile, historical curriculum on domestic (US) history. The volume consists of relatively short reviews (written by a wide collection of young and old academics and activists from every corner of the globe) but together they reflect such a unified vision that I would recommend Liberated Texts as compulsory reading for undergraduate students (as well as graduates!) Although the text is a broad canvas it speaks to our age (despite some of the reviewed book having been written in the 1920s).

Each review is by default, a buried tresure. The writer of this very review is a middle-aged Hungarian, which means that some of the works and authors discussed were more familiar to me than they would be to others. For example, Anton Makarenko’s name was, when the author grew up in the People’s Republic of Hungary, a household word. Makarenko’s continued relevance for South America and the oppressed everywhere, as well as his rootedness in the revolutionary transformations of the Soviet experiment, are dealt with here marvellosly by Alex Turrall (p. 289). In loving detail Turrall also  discusses his hero the pedagogue Sukhomlinsky’s love for Stalinist reforms of Soviet education (p. 334).

There is one locus, and one locus only, where death is given reign, perhaps even celebrated: in a Palestinian case (p. 133) the revolutionary horizons are firmly focused on the past, not on any kind of future. The entire problematic of Israeli society’s recent ultra right-wing turn (a terrible outcome from the left’s point of view) is altogther missing here. Yet it is difficult to fault the authors or editors with this (after all, they painstakingly included an exemplary anti-Nazi Palestinian fighter in the text, p. 152) but it might be in order to challenge a fascination with martyrdom as a revolutionary option on the radical left.

In every other aspect, Liberated Texts enlightens without embarrassment, and affirms life itself. Imperialism is taken on in the form of unresolved murders of Chinese researchers in the United States as a focus (p. 307), and in uncovering the diabolical machinations of the peer-review system – racist, classist, prestige-driven as it is (p. 305).

The bravery of this collection is such that we find few authors within academia’s tenure track: authors are either emeriti, tenured, very young academics, or those dedicated to political work: actual grassroots organizers, comrades at high schools, or as language teachers. This has a very beneficial effect on the edited volume as an enterprise at the forefront of knowledge, indeed of creating new knowledge. Career considerations are absent entirely from this volume, in which thankfully even the whiff of mainstream liberalism is anathema.

I can say with certainty regarding the collection’s Africanist chapters that certain specialists globally, on African radical intellectual history, have been included: Leo Zeilig, Zeyad el-Nabolsy, Paul O’Connell, Noosim Naimasiah and Corinna Mullin all shed light on East African (as well as Caribbean) socialist intellectual history in ways that clear new paths in a sub-discipline that is underfunded, purposely confined to obscurity, and which lacks standard go-to syntheses especially in the English language (Hakim Adi’s celebrated history on pan-Africanism and communism stops with the 1950s, and other works are in the making).

Walter Rodney, Karim Hirji, Issa Shivji, Dani Wadada Nabudere, A. M. Babu, Makhan Singh are the central authors dealt with here. Rodney is enjoying a magnificent and much deserved renaissance (but this collection deals with a lost collection of Rodney’s 1978 Hamburg lectures by Zeilig!) Nabolsy shows us how Nyerere’s Marxist opposition experienced Ujamaa, and Tanzanian ’socialism’. Nabudere – a quintessential organic intellectual as much as Rodney –  is encountered in praxis as well as through his thought and academic achievements in a chapter by Corinna Mullin. Nabudere emerges as a towering figure whose renaissance might be in the making right at this juncture. Singh makes us face the real essence of British imperialism. Nabudere, Babu and even Hirji’s achievements in analysing imperialism and its political economy are all celebrated in the collection.

Where Shivji focuses on empire in its less violent aspect (notably NGOs and human rights discourse) powerfully described by Paul O’Connell, Naimasiah reminds us that violence had been as constitutive to Britain’s empire, as it has been to the Unites States (in Vietnam or in Korea). An fascinating chapter in the collection is provided by Marion Ettinger’s review of Richard Boyle’s Mutiny in Vietnam, an account based entirely on journalism, indeed impromptu testimony, of mutinous US soldiers tired of fighting for Vietnam’s landlord class.

Many readers of this anthology will identify with those veterans (since the collection appears in the English language) perhaps more than with East Asia’s magnificent, conscious fighters also written about in the book. Even in armies of the imperialist core, humanity shines through. Simply put, there are no imperialist peoples, only imperialist states.

Zeilig’s nuanced take on this important matter is revealed in Rodney’s rediscovered lectures. Also, the subtlety of class analysis in relation to workers versus peasants, and the bureacratic bourgeoisie profiting from this constellation (p. 219) brings to mind the contradiction that had arguably brought down Thomas Sankara, Burkina Faso’s anti-imperialist president who nevertheless found himself opposing working class demands. Rodney’s politics in Guyana invited the same fate as Sankara, as we know.

Nabolsy’s review on Hirji’s The Travails of a Tanzanian Teacher touches on very interesting issues of Rodney’s role especially in the context of Ujamaa and Nyerere’s idiosyncratic version of African socialism. Nabolsy appreciates Nyerere efforts but analyses his politics with great candour: Ujamaa provided national unification, but failed to undermine Tanzania’s dependency in any real sense. The sad realization of the failure of Tanzania’s experience startles the reader with its implications for the history of African socialism.

On an emotional and personal level, I remain most endeared by the Soviet authors celebrated in this text. So Makarenko and Sukhomlinsky are both Soviet success stories and they demonstrate that this combination of words in no oxymoron, and neither is it necessarily, revisionist mumbo-jumbo. Their artificial removal from their historical context (which had happened many times over in Makarenko’s case, and in one particular account when it comes to Sukhomlinsky) are fought against by the author with Leninist gusto.

Sukhomlinsky had not fought against a supposedly Stalinist education reform: he built it, and it became one of the most important achievements of the country by the 1960s due partly to his efforts. The former educational pioneer did not harm children: he gave them purpose, responsibility, self-respect, and self-esteem. The implication of Sukhomlinsky and Makarenko is that true freedom constructs its own order, and that freedom ultimately thrives on responsibility, and revolutionary freedom.

As this collection is subtitled Volume One, it is my hope and expectation that this shall be the beginning of a series of books, dealing with other foundational texts, and even become a revolutionary alternative to The London Review of Books and the New York Review of Books, both of which still demonstrate how much readers crave review collections. Volumes like Liberated Texts might be the very future of book review magazines in changed form. A luta continua!

This article was first published by ROAPE.

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We Must Democratize the Economy

In the UK, prices for basic goods are soaring while corporations rake in ever-bigger profits. The solution, Jeremy Corbyn argues, is to bring basic resources like energy, water, railways, and the postal service into democratic public ownership.

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Jeremy Corbyn: We Must Democratize the Economy
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On Thursday, December 15, the Royal College of Nursing went on strike for the first time in their 106-year history. Understaffed, underpaid, and overworked, tens of thousands of National Health Service (NHS) nurses walked out after being denied decent, livable pay rises. Hailed as heroes one year, forced to use food banks the next, nurses’ wages have fallen more than £3,000 in real terms since 2010; three in four now say they work overtime to meet rising energy bills.

People will remember 2022 as the year that the Conservative Party plunged this country into political turmoil. However, behind the melodrama is a cost-of-living crisis that has pushed desperate people into destitution and the so-called middle classes to the brink. We should remember 2022 as the year in which relative child poverty reached its highest levels since 2007 and real wage growth reached its lowest levels in half a century. (Average earnings have shrunk by £80 a month and a staggering £180 a month for public sector workers.) These are the real scandals.

For some MPs, this was the year they kick-started their reality TV careers. For others, this was the year they told their children they couldn’t afford any Christmas presents. For energy companies, it was the year they laughed all the way to the bank; in the same amount of time it took for Rishi Sunak to both lose and then win a leadership contest, Shell returned £8.2 billion in profit. SSE, a multinational energy company headquartered in Scotland, saw their profits triple in just one year. Profits across the world’s seven biggest oil firms rose to almost £150 billion.

Tackling the cost-of-living crisis means offering an alternative to our existing economic model — a model that empowers unaccountable companies to profit off the misery of consumers and the destruction of our earth. And that means defending a value, a doctrine, and a tradition that unites us all: democracy.

Labour recently announced “the biggest ever transfer of power from Westminster to the British people.” I welcomed the renewal of many of the policies from the manifesto in 2019: abolishing the House of Lords and handing powers to devolved governments, local authorities, and mayors. These plans should work hand in hand, to ensure any second chamber reflects the geographical diversity of the country. If implemented, this would decentralize a Whitehall-centric model of governance that wastes so much of this country’s regional talent, energy, and creativity.

However, devolution, decentralization, and democracy are not just matters for the constitution. They should characterize our economy too. Regional governments are demanding greater powers for the same reason an unelected second chamber is patently arcane: we want a say over the things that affect our everyday lives. This, surely, includes the way in which our basic resources are produced and distributed.

From energy to water and from rail to mail, a small number of companies monopolize the production of basic resources to the detriment of the workers they exploit and the customers they fleece. We rely on these services, and workers keep them running, but it is remote chief executive officers and unaccountable shareholders who decide how they are run and profit off their provision. Would it not make more sense for workers and consumers to decide how to run the services they provide and consume?

As prices and profits soar, it’s time to put basic resources like energy, water, rail, and mail back where they belong: in public hands. Crucially, this mold of public ownership would not be a return to 1940s-style patronage-appointed boards but a restoration of civic accountability. Water, for example, should be a regional entity controlled by consumers, workers, and local authorities, and work closely with environmental agencies on water conservation, sewage discharges, the preservation of coastlines, and the protection of our natural world. This democratic body would be answerable to the public, and the public alone, rather than to the dividends of distant hedge funds.

Bringing energy, water, rail, and mail into democratic public ownership is about giving local people agency over the resources they use. It’s about making sure these resources are sustainably produced and universally distributed in the interests of workers, communities, and the planet.

Beyond key utilities, a whole host of services and resources require investment, investment that local communities should control. That’s why, in 2019, we pledged to establish regional investment banks across the country, run by local stakeholders who can decide — collectively — how best to direct public investment. Those seeking this investment would not make their case with reference to how much profit they could make in private but how much they could benefit the public as a whole.

To democratize our economy, we need to democratize workplaces too. We can end workplace hierarchies and wage inequalities by giving workers the right to decide, together, how their team operates and how their pay structures are organized. If we want to kick-start a mass transfer of power, we need to redistribute wealth from those who hoard it to those who create it.

Local people know the issues facing them, and they know how to meet them better than anyone else. If we want to practice what we preach, then the same principles of democracy, devolution, and decentralization must apply to our own parties as well. Local party members, not party leaders, should choose their candidates, create policy, and decide what their movement stands for.

Only a democratic party can provide the necessary space for creative and transformative solutions to the crises facing us all. In a world where the division between rich and poor is greater than ever before, our aim should be to unite the country around a more hopeful alternative — an alternative that recognizes how we all rely on each other to survive and thrive.

This alternative is not some abstract ideal to be imagined. It is an alternative that workers are fighting for on the picket line. Even before the nurses went on strike, 2022 was a record-breaking year for industrial action. Striking workers are not just fighting for pay, essential as these demands are. They are fighting for a society without poverty, hunger, and inequality. They are fighting for a future that puts the interests of the community ahead of the greed of energy companies. They are fighting for us all.

Their collective struggle teaches us that democracy exists — it thrives — outside of Westminster. The government is trying its best to turn dedicated postal workers and railway workers into enemies of the general public — a general public that apparently also excludes university staff, bus drivers, barristers, baggage handlers, civil servants, ambulance drivers, firefighters, and charity workers. As the enormous scale of industrial action shows, striking workers are the general public. The year 2022 will go down in history, not as the year the Tories took the public for fools, but as the year the public fought back. United in their thousands, they are sending a clear message: this is what democracy looks like.

This article was first published by Progressive International

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