Tag: Richard Seymour

Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Centre

by Richard Seymour   I. Nothing is forever, except absence. And if the bromides of the British pundit class seem timeless, that is because the political centre registers as an absence. Credibility, they’re saying. What Corbyn needs now, and sorely lacks, is credibility. How does one get credibility? A sharp swerve to the centre. The capitals of the European centre are collapsing around their ears, from London to Madrid to Athens to Amsterdam. Only Paris has averted the complete collapse of the centre through, as Perry Anderson put, a yuppie simulacrum of populist breakthrough. And even there, it followed

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The Left, Corbyn and Labour’s Future: An Interview with Alex Nunns

Alex Nunns interviewed by Richard Seymour Richard Seymour: Reading your book on Corbyn [The Candidate: Jeremy Corbyn’s Improbable Path to Power, O/R Books, 2016], one is immediately struck by the fact that you have opted for an incredibly detailed, textured history and analysis. There’s a sense in which a relatively minute but powerful historical moment, when you unpack it, seems to illuminate almost every dimension of British politics. It’s almost as if you’re painstakingly assembling the telling details, the moments, the testimonies, which otherwise might be lost. So the first question is what does this tell us about the

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What’s the Matter with the ‘White Working Class’?

by Richard Seymour I. On both sides of the Atlantic, there is one group of people who terrify and enrage the punditocracy. The legend that is the ‘white working class’, a trope long in gestation throughout the noughties, has finally struck back with a vengeance. Conservatives in government, Brexit, and now President Trump. The ‘white working class’ used to provoke mainly a form of sentimental nostalgia and patronising endearment. It was a tea towel memory, a commodity, not something that had real influence. But the terror arising from this wave of global reaction is producing an interesting anti-democratic backlash amongst

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Union Jacks Flutter Over a Widening Gyre

By Richard Seymour All the wrong people are cheering. Farage, bulbous eyes swivelling and moist, lauded a victory for “the real people, for the ordinary people, for the decent people”. The citrine-tinged Trump, with customary intuition, praises the Scots (who overwhelmingly voted for Remain) for taking their country back. Marine Le Pen, hailing a “victory for freedom,” demands a similar referendum in France. Certainly, George Galloway, having joined Farage in demonising ‘mass immigration,’ is also pleased, and there are a few saps who think that Tony Benn’s democratic socialist dream is on the brink of fruition. But the serried

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Talkers and Porkers – from multiculturalism to assimilation through the medium of pork

by Richard Seymour The Talmud tells a story of how Eleazar (2 Macc. 6) was tortured to death for refusing to swallow pork that was forced into his mouth by the Greek authorities. The forces of King Antiochus, determined to force the Jews to abandon their barbaric ancestral customs, were instructed to put to death every Jew who refused to assimilate to Greek culture. In the perverse logic of antisemitism, however, this came to mean that Jews were porcine, an idea which became the basis for folklore, stereotypes and proverbs. It was held simultaneously that Jews, by refusing pork,

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The First Test of Corbynism

by Richard Seymour Corbyn’s first nationwide electoral test was always going to be an anticlimax. Judging from the spate of news articles, psephological analyses and briefings from Labour sources in the run up to the local elections, the party was supposed to be on course to lose around 200 council seats, and score the worst result for a Labour opposition in thirty-four years. As in Oldham West, the media and punditry worked themselves up into a wholly unjustified lather. It was unlikely, given Labour’s incremental improvement in the polls nationally, that it would go into meltdown (outside of Scotland).

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They Don’t Represent Us: The Populist Moment

by Richard Seymour If a theory of populism could be inferred from the media’s coverage of the subject, it would go roughly like this. The majority of people outside the political class, which is the reasoning executive of the body politic, are essentially vulgar, corporeal beings, pushed around by basic needs and desires, and unable to engage in authentic political reflection. Sometimes, in difficult situations, the people turn their inchoate, mobbish, tendentially violent rage against their benefactors, and are led astray by false masters (‘demagogues’) promising false solutions. ‘Populism’, then, is what happens when the people no longer recognise

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The Ljubljana School of Radicalism

by Richard Seymour  Some interesting things have begun to happen while the old far Left has been ‘waiting for the upturn’. Although strike rates in most OECD countries remain at historic lows, there are modest signs of the beginning of a leftist revival. Syriza and Podemos are the most visible cases, and perhaps the most expected, occurring as they do in indebted southern-European social formations subjected to the most extreme variants of austerity, with indigenous communist traditions and experience, within living memory, of struggles in which the whole future of society was at stake. But even in the Anglo-American

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Living With Daesh

by Richard Seymour What is your solution, then? Or, to put it another way, what if there is no solution to the Daesh massacres? There was a moment, in the declension of the late Hitchens, when he scandalised his audience by suggesting that they were too soft, too susceptible, too easily impressed by jihadist massacres.  You should expect this, he said.  A hospital, an airplane, a government building, once a week at least.  This is war.  This is what you are signed up to.  Get ready for it.  And — implicitly — don’t feel so damned sorry for yourselves.

They’re not racist, but: UKIP and the crisis of Britain

by Richard Seymour And that will be England gone, The shadows, the meadows, the lanes, The guildhalls, the carved choirs. – Philip Larkin The British crisis has a human form. A shabby, caecilian smile. The rorty bray of an arriviste thug. The exasperated air of a lone trader fighting the Inland Revenue for every last penny. Some rehearsed off-the-cuff witticisms alleviating a tense sales patter. There is just something about Nigel, once a forgettable clown, that is now luridly compelling.