“The Jethros–a well tasty mob of old hippies from Exeter–are going up the West End to start trashing Oxford Street, waterfalls of glass cascading everywhere. The Jethros had some idea about crashing a load of cars together at the junction of Oxford Street and Tottenham Court Road and torching them but they’re talked out of it in case innocent bystanders get blown away. One of them mutters Emile Henri’s famous line “there are no innocents!” The Jethros line was either fight with us or get what’s coming to you. Oxford Street is duly trashed. All the out-of-towners act the same, forming little hit squads with their mates, coalescing, melting away and striking again. The cops are ill-prepared for the diversity of the actions and completely taken by surprise.”

After reading the June KSL Bulletin which included a review of Ian Bone’s memoir Bash the Rich: True Life Confessions of an Anarchist in the UK, I decided to pull the book from my shelf and start reading.

Bash the Rich is a lively read, covering seminal incidents in Ian’s anarchist life (there are very few personal details here), and Ian’s sense of humour seeps through on every page. On page 66, I knew that I was going to really enjoy this book:

“One of the best compliments I had in my Alarm-writing days was that I wrote just like I talked. Since every other word I use is ‘fucking’, to write without swearing would have been impossible. The swearing caused a lot of arguments - some people thought we’d be restricting our audience to youngsters or politicos or punks (this was 1977 by the way!) or men. I stuck firmly to the ‘let’s have lots of fucking swearing’ line. If you call a council leader a ‘wanker’ in print that was fine, but if you called the council leader a ‘fucking wanker’ that was even better. If you called the council leader a ‘FUCKING WANKER’ and stuck it on the front page, that was better still.”

After finishing the book, I felt as though I’d spent a few hours with Ian having a chat–him with a pint in one hand, and me listening as he recounted the story of his life from his birth in 1947 to where the book ends in 1985.

Ian’s father came from mining stock and would have been down the pits like everyone else if he hadn’t had the ‘lucky break’ of becoming a servant. Ian’s father rose from the dizzying heights of third footman to butler by the time Ian was born, and so he grew up in a succession of “big houses” as his parents passed through a series of employment situations as butler and housemaid. It was certainly this exposure to the lifestyles of the rich and famous that put Ian onto the path of Class War. A few pages are spent establishing Ian’s Class War roots as he explains the ‘tied cottage’ system and early exposure to instances of gratuitous selfishness on the part of his parents’ wealthy employers.

After discovering anarchism at 15, Ian later attended Swansea University and remained in Wales for 17 years. Producing leaflets, mingling with Welsh nationalists, anarcho-punks and members of the Angry Brigade, as well as attending marches, and selling papers in an ever-growing anarchist scene, Ian went on to co-produce the Swansea Solidarity paper with its emphasis on “encouraging workers on strike or facing redundancy to organize sit-ins and take over the running of their workplace and kick the bosses out.” Another highly successful venture Ian was involved in was the Dole Express–a paper geared towards the unemployed. And some of the results from this anarcho-agitation make for hilarious reading.

In 1977, Ian along with some like-minded comrades began producing Alarm: “an organ of organised class hatred.” The paper amassed stories of scandal and corruption in local politics, and I had a good laugh when I read that Welsh politico Sid ‘Vicious’ Jenkins when (finally) arrested on corruption charges shouted to a TV reporter on the scene who had a copy of Alarm in his hand: “I haven’t read it but it’s all untrue. It’s all the work of anarchists.”

In 1982, Ian moved to London, and he really shook up the established anarchist scene, noting “the twin pillars of English anarchism Freedom and Black Flag and their respective gurus Albert Meltzer and Vernon Richards. The labyrinthine feuding between the two stretching back over 30 years had been a major factor in rendering the English anarchist movement impotent.” The book’s implication is that the anarchist scene was–well more or less dead–and needed a swift kick in the bum: “Apart from trawling through the obscure anarcho-periodical section at Compendium and Housemans, Freedom Bookshop and 121 Railton Road were the anarchist bookshops where you might hope to pick up signs of any sentient life in the anarchist movement.” And with Ian Bone’s arrival in London, the anarchist movement certainly livened up, and by 1983, The Sunday People newspaper ran the headline stating that Ian was “unmasked… the evil man who preaches hate to children.” Ian’s response: ” ‘Evil man’ and ‘children’ have a kind of Gary Glitter feel about it rather than your Che Guevera ‘dangerous revolutionary’ kind of tag.’ “

With Ian’s move to London came the creation of Class War–a no-holds barred, confrontational tabloid style newspaper that was “pro-action and violence.” The book includes some of the Class War headlines, cartoons and articles. Ian’s description of the goals of Class War includes the following: “It would be big and tabloid brash, lots of short articles and graphics, no long boring shit. It would be fucking funny as fucking fuck. It would plagiarise and pinch like there was no yesterday.” I’ve never seen any of the Class War newspapers, so it was great to see these clips included in the memoir. Details here include: The rise and fall of Class War–the triumphs, the problems, and the arguments with other anarchists and anarchist groups that began to emerge over issues such as heterosexuality.

Ian describes the principles of Class War, the paper’s growing circulation, the mistakes made and its phenomenal successes. Also covered are the Class War Conferences, the riotous Stop the City action, the Bash the Rich march, and Class War solidarity with the striking miners. And through it all Ian unabashedly admits: “Our real political influence was the English mob and we intended to be the proud inheritors of that mob tradition stretching back to the Peasants’ Revolt but finding its first real form in the London mob of the civil war period.”

Irreverent, unapologetic and with flashes of witty wisdom (many points taken), Bash the Rich also includes some great lessons learned: “Delusional triumphalism has been refined to perfection by the SWP which keeps its members in a permanent state of retarded ejaculation by news of a cleaner’s strike in Barnoldswick, five papers sold in Rugby or a tide of global events interpreted by the leadership as proof of that their cogent analysis of capitalism has, yet again, been demonstrated correct by events.” Ian, if you read this, we need part II of your True-Life Confessions. To quote Ian: “Those were the days my friend. Oh yes, those were the days.”

Ian Bone just sold the rights to Bash The Rich for the whooping sum of 10 pounds to British filmmaker Greg Hall www.bashtherichfilm.wordpress.com  Can’t wait for that one….

For Ian’s blog and to read about what he is up to these days: www.ianbone.wordpress.com

To buy the book: www.akpress.org

“That’s the problem when you play war in a civilian environment.”

We’ve all read about police fuck ups in the paper. The police raid the wrong house, and shoot and kill an innocent resident. Photos appear in the papers and on the internet of walls so filled with bullet holes, the house looks like Swiss cheese. Well of course, after the funeral(s) the shooters are placed on administrative leave, there’s an ‘investigation’ perhaps even a lawsuit, but nothing ever changes….

I’ve often wondered just what the thinking is behind the tactics of sending in a SWAT team into a home in the middle of the night to capture, for example, a man who has outstanding warrants against him while he sleeps in a home filled with children. This seems an awfully clumsy tactic to employ–unless of course, casualties are not really a consideration. I just finished watching Matt Ehling’s film URBAN WARRIOR and everything makes a lot more sense to me.

The film examines the alliance between the military and the police and tracks the steady militarization of the police force over the past few decades. Arguing that this all started under Reagan and his so-called War on Drugs, the police began using military weaponry in an increasing number and range of situations. This explains the whole ROBOCOP paramilitary look we are seeing increasingly whenever protestors show up.

I used to think that SWAT teams were called in for hostage situations only, and I’d been vaguely aware that this had changed, but the film argues that police departments all over the country are increasingly using their SWAT teams for inappropriate situations. This highly informative documentary includes interviews with various experts–authors, retired police officers, a retired police chief and Stan Goff–who at one time trained L.A. SWAT. Goff walks us through a SWAT raid, explaining what they do when they arrive on your doorstep at 2 or 3 in the morning. 80% of SWAT raids are ‘No Knock Warrants,” so you may very well have your front door blown open with explosives as part of SWAT’s “dynamic entry techniques.” Woe betides the resident who grabs something for protection, because as Goff explains, you will end up dead. There’s also an interview with an advocacy group regarding a deadly SWAT raid that left a man blown to pieces, and we see footage of his bullet-ridden apartment.

While SWAT teams were initially supposed to contain potentially violent situations while negotiations took place, the role of SWAT has changed dramatically and this is all part of the “increasing use of military methods by civilian police.” The police and the military have traditionally been separate entities, but the film notes that in 1995, the Department of Defense and the Department of Justice forged a Joint Technology Program that permitted the transfer of military technology. This so-called “convergence in the technology needs of the law enforcement and military communities” accounts for the overuse of the nasty little toys, the “less lethal” weapons for an ever-growing number of completely inappropriate situations (protests, for example). And as the film explains, these weapons are NOT non-lethal–that’s a complete misconception; they are less lethal.

The film argues that these incidents of unnecessary carnage are increasing at an alarming rate as SWAT teams armed to the teeth are called in for things such as civil disturbances. Examining the bloodbath of Waco, the film also records the police use of sophisticated weaponry for WTO protests, for example. Incidentally, Delta Force Soldiers were on site at both locations. And this takes us to the WTO protests in Seattle, 1999–an egregious example of the realities of brutal ROBOCOP squads replacing the bygone notions of neighbourhood policemen. Watch the startling footage, and recall these are just regular police armed to the teeth, firing rubber bullets at the crowd and ripping off gas masks of protestors while they shoot tear gas indiscriminately into the faces of those people they are supposedly ‘protecting and serving.’

Since the WTO protests and the treatment of the protestors crossed new boundaries and set new standards of acceptability in America, this is vital footage. And what’s so particularly interesting here is the decision to move the protesters out of down town. The protestors left, and their ROBOCOP enforcers followed, and this brought them to the Capitol Hill area, a neighbourhood largely not involved in the protests until the police drove the protestors into the area. Residents of the neighbourhood, who just stepped out of their front doors to see what all the commotion was, found out the hard way just how brutal police work against protestors is these days. With those handy dandy military weapons, and with the police thugs itching to use them, residents and even a King City council member became victims of police violence. Perhaps it takes being an innocent bystander and being brutalized by police in order for people to wake up and realize the legalized thuggery tactics at use here.

According to the film, we can only expect more inappropriate violence as police departments across the country implement use of their SWAT teams and their ROBOCOP outfits against the public. And after reading some of the headlines, I have no trouble believing this prediction. These paramilitary SWAT teams exist in 90% of American cities with a population of 50,000 or more.

Urban Warrior is a really informative and highly relevant documentary, and if you’re interested in the subject, you can get a copy at:
www.etspictures.com

June’s KSL bulletin (number 54, in case you’re interested) includes the following:

Beer and Revolution: The German Anarchist Movement in New York City 1880-1914 by Tom Goyens is reviewed by Ian Bone

City of Quartz by Mike Davis is reviewed by Paul Stott

Bash the Rich: True-Life Confessions of an Anarchist in the UK  by Ian Bone is reviewed by Benjamin Franks

The Making of the English Working Class by E.P. Thompson and Live Working or Die Fighting: How the Working Class Went Global by Paul Mason are reviewed by John Patten

Fiction:
My Revolutions by Hari Kunzru and Johnny Come Home by Jake Arnott are both reviewed by Judge Mental

Thomas Pynchon’s gargantuan novel Against the Day  is reviewed by John Barker

The Poetics of Anarchy: David Edelshtat’s Revolutionary Poetry by Ori Kritz is reviewed by “JP”

Last but not least, the Bulletin includes a list of KSL’s latest pamphlets added to the ever-growing and impressive list of oldies but goodies.

For more information on subscribing contact www.katesharpleylibrary.net

As for me, I’m going to get Ian Bone’s book off my shelf and start reading….

“I’m talking about throwing out the current criminals we’ve got at the public trough.”

The documentary Access from filmmaker Matt Ehling examines the phenomenon of cable access television by focusing on three people who use this medium to “push the envelope.” There’s preacher Homer Giles, “Militia Man” Mark Hanson and political candidate Richard A-Bomb Klatte.

One of the things that leaps out in this fascinating documentary is the fact that both Hanson and Klatte–while at opposite ends of the political spectrum–agree on a number of issues, and end up joining forces as the Fusion Party when Klatte runs for Governor of Minnesota with Hanson as a running mate for Lt. Governor in 1998. These two very strong personalities have their own theories on the subject of just where government goes wrong and how it should be corrected, and they both coalesce around the idea that government is completely out of control and a far cry from the antiquated notion of a so-called entity that is ‘of the people, by the people, and supposedly for the people.’

Both Hanson and Klatte are extremely engaging subjects for documentary material–although Hanson steals the film. Hanson, a navy veteran describes how he “used to follow the party line” but that all changed. Listing off Waco and Ruby Ridge, he throws down the challenge to “name a crime the federal government hasn’t committed against the citizenry.’ Indeed Hanson’s predictions for the future are not pleasant, and while he admits that most American’s “love their chains” he states “I refuse to live under the illusion that we’re free men.” Hanson sees the alliance with Klatte as an alternative to the current political fiasco. Hanson states: “The Demorats and the Republicans. There’s no difference. They’re just stooges for the corporations.”

There are excerpts included from Klatte and Hanson’s televised Christmas Special, clips from callers, and clips of an interview with Klatte and Jesse Ventura. At one point Klatte and Hanson discuss exactly what their joint platform is, and in another part of the film the two men go off shooting together. Some of the best scenes in the film occur when Klatte and Hanson take to the streets of Minnesota in an effort to campaign and hand out flyers. The filmmaker captures the surreal qualities of the moment, and while on one level we see Klatte and Hanson very seriously attempting to educate people on the issues, we also see people dressed in costume studiously avoiding contact. This avoidance is both literal and symbolic, and the director captures these layers of meaning on film.

Given how things have changed in America in the last decade, I hope director Matt Ehling does a follow-up film on Hanson and Klatte. I bet they both have a lot to say….

Access is available from www.etspictures.com

“When I am dead, let this be said of me: ‘He belonged to no school, to no church, to no institution, to no academy, least of all to any regime except the regime of liberty.’”

The documentary Gustave Courbet directed by Romain Goupil is an interesting–albeit slightly superficial overview of the life of this 19th century French painter who was labeled as both an “innovator” and a “revolutionary.” Told mainly through voiceovers of Courbet’s letters to his family and various friends, the film also includes some background details and, of course, views of his gorgeous paintings.

The film begins with a letter written by Courbet in 1839 and continues through to his last letter written in 1877. Using his paintings, the film explains how he defied the conventions of the time. For the painting The Burial at Omans, for example, Courbet used as models the people who’d attended a funeral, and the painting in some sense suggests that its subjects are royalty (the film compares this painting to a tableaux of Napoleon). Courbet’s painting of the plebs rather upset the art critics who preferred to look at paintings of the ruling classes, but there was a great deal more to come. Coming under fire for not placing gloves on the hands of his females subjects, and–heavens above–allowing their petticoats to show, Courbet’s work was considered scandalous. Over time Courbet’s paintings became increasingly erotic, and critics were highly offended by his nudes, his partial nudes and his painting of female genitalia (The Origin of The World). At the time, the French art world was more or less a closed shop. Painters had to have their work approved by the Academie in order to be included in exhibitions. In opposition to the Universal exhibition of 1855, Courbet financed his own parallel exhibition. Subject to a great deal of criticism–and some of this was due to his radical politics–Courbet stated that when it came to art “I must be free even of governments.”

Sadly, there’s a distinct lack of personal details about Courbet’s life in the film. At one point, for example, a letter mentions that his wife of 14 years has remarried someone else, but the voiceover narrative hasn’t even mentioned a wife–let alone marital problems before that point. There’s also very little about his political beliefs. The film mentions, however that Courbet rejected the Legion of Honour from Napoleon III, and made the statement: “Honour lies neither in a medal or a ribbon.”

The film mentions that Courbet was a friend of Proudhon (in fact he painted Proudhon’s portrait), and that Courbet lived through the Paris Commune. The film explains Courbet’s involvement in the Commune; he was a delegate from the sixth arrondissement and later served as a member of the Conseil de la Commune. He served on the Commune’s committee for public education and worked to reorganize the museums and art schools. After the destruction of the Commune, he was held personally responsible for the destruction of the Vendome Column. Imprisoned for 6 months, he was then expected to pay for the column’s rebuilding, and he went into exile in Switzerland.

Ultimately, the film concentrates on Courbet’s art, and while there are many details regarding Courbet’s struggle with the ‘accepted’ art critics, there’s only a slight emphasis made on his personal life and his politics.

“This dump looks like an anarchist hangout.”

I’ve become used to the overwhelmingly negative and inaccurate portrayals of anarchists in film and books, but Les Brigades du Tigre (The Tiger Brigades) is a first–well a first for me at least. This French film directed by Jerome and Francois Cornuau is ostensibly about the first motorised police force, and it portrays anarchist Jules Bonnot in a favorable but still wildly inaccurate light.

Somehow after reading Richard Parry’s account of The Bonnot Gang  I can’t help but think that if Bonnot could see this cinematic version of part of his life, he’d be really annoyed. But then again perhaps he’d have a good laugh. Well whatever Bonnot’s reaction would be to this glossy portrayal of the French Illegalist as some sort of latter day Robin Hood, the film still ignores the reality of what Bonnot and his fellow anarchists were all about.

Here’s the plot:

Jules Bonnot (Jacques Gamblin) and a group of fellow anarchists knock off a bank delivery showering money in the streets while they make off with a secret coded ledger. This ledger assumes vast importance, and while the first mobile police brigade searches for Bonnot, something just doesn’t add up for Commissaire Valentin (Clovis Cornillac). Valentin has a soft spot for anarchists noting that they “aren’t like crooks. They’re quiet, sober, don’t beat women.” Valentin and a handful of other policemen become involved in the hunt for Bonnot, and they soon become aware that there’s skullduggery afoot.

The film uses the real-life character of Bonnot and some of his actions and then spins the facts sending the truth off the deep end. For example, scenes depict the police surrounding Bonnot in a farmhouse at Choisy-le-Roi. While this much is true, the film depicts Bonnot as killed when the police dynamite and storm the building. In reality, he was still barely alive but shot to death by police at the scene. The film also depicts Bonnot’s body being carried out with honour–ceremonial style, shoulder high when the reality was that the mob gathered at the site wanted to lynch Bonnot.

With Bonnot out of the picture (literally) the film concentrates on the policemen, and they become the heroes of the piece. There are a few real names here: Octave Garnier (Marc Robert) and Raymond Callemin (Pierre Berriau) and Jaures (Andre Marcon). Thrown into the blend is a Russian anarchist who shoots up with narcotics, and a Russian princess (Diane Kruger) who’s an anarchist on the side and Bonnot’s lover whenever she gets a chance.

Of course, it’s all extremely fanciful with its swordplay, crazed Russians, acid-throwing and torture thrown in for good measure. I had a good laugh at the way anarchists fold and yield information to Valentin whenever he asks a question. But overall I was puzzled more than anything else by the film’s portrayal of Bonnot. Author Richard Parry makes the point that given the social conditions of the times many of the French working class identified with Bonnot and his Illegalist decision to seize what he wanted. But the film seems to feel very comfortable creating degrees of French heroes as opposed to the Russian Nasties. Perhaps this explains why Bonnot is depicted as someone who wants to ‘right’ society by exposing corruption. Ultimately, however, the Russians are the villains of the piece with the French bureaucrats and bankers right next to them.

This film is an adaptation of a popular French television series that aired in the 70s.

“Sometimes the only solution is to disobey.”

From first time director Maria de Medeiros Capitaes de Abril (aka Captains of April, Capitaines d’Avril ) is the story of the 1974 coup that overthrew the 40-year fascist dictatorship of Portugal. The story is told through the eyes of two young captains whose stories are pivotal to events.

The film basically concentrates on a handful of characters including the two young captains Maia (Stefano Accorsi) and Manuel (Frederic Pierrot) who return from military service in Africa with the pact that they will never kill again. Major Gervasio (Joaquim de Almeida) who’s amused by the coup more than anything else goes along for the entertainment value.

The film follows Maia as he marches through Portugal with other soldiers and Manuel as he commandeers a radio station. Several scenes depict Maia’s influence on events–particularly the use of nonviolence in the coup (the PIDE did fire on and kill protestors). Manuel’s alienated wife Antonia (Maria de Medeiros) is oblivious to her husband’s involvement in the coup as she tries to extricate her left-wing lover from prison, torture, and the dreaded PIDE (Secret Police).

When Prime Minister Caetano finally surrenders, Maia “hands over” control to General Spinola (aka the Butcher), and Spinola refuses to negotiate with anyone beneath the rank of major. This scene shows how the old hierarchies remain, and while Portugal’s unpopular and expensive colonialization in Africa will end, the social order remains more or less the same.

Capitaes de Abril is vague on some issues, and concentrates on the Carnation Revolution by focusing on the actions of Maia and Manuel rather than trying to portray the strategy of the coup, those behind the Armed Forces Movement (MFA) or social conditions beforehand. The film does however make it clear that the Portuguese colonial war between Portugal’s military and various nationalist movements in African colonies was very unpopular and largely responsible for the Captains’ Movement and Carnation Revolution. The beginning of the film includes many black and white photos depicting the victims of Portugal’s attempts to squash African liberation groups. Almost half of Portugal’s annual budget went to fund the war in its Portuguese colonies, and Portugal suffered from astronomical inflation at the time–another contributing factor to the war’s unpopularity at home. And naturally since no one in their right minds wanted to volunteer to participate in these genocidal actions, conscription was enforced for up to four years, and conscripts could expect the most appalling conditions in Africa.

The war’s unpopularity at home is largely manifested in the film through the marriages and relationships of those forced to serve. Antonia, for example, feels that she and her husband became estranged thanks to his service in the Portuguese African Colonies, and the film makes a passing reference to Manuel’s diary in which he apparently mentioned that he had a relationship with an African woman. By the end of the film, the focus shifts to Antonia’s daughter and then the final scenes are played through her eyes.

In Portuguese with subtitles

“We would like to call into account the security forces and the police and the politicians in London, Dublin, and Belfast who have promised us so much but have singularly failed to deliver.”

Omagh is a made-for-television film directed by Pete Travis that examines the story behind the Omagh bombing that took place on August 15, 1998. The bombing–carried out by the Real IRA (a splinter group of the provisional Irish Republican Army)–killed 29 people and left approximately 220 wounded. The bombing took place in the middle of the Northern Ireland Peace Process.

In October 1997, the Real IRA or True IRA formed after splintering from the Provisional IRA and its ceasefire agreement. On August 15, 1998, the organization placed a 500 lb bomb in a stolen car that was parked in a busy downtown market area of Omagh. Bomb warnings were then called in, but in spite of the telephoned warnings, civilians were actually redirected closer to the bomb.

The film Omagh charts the bombing and its after effects on the families of the victims and concentrates its story on the family of Michael Gallagher, whose only son Aiden was killed in the blast. Once the bombing was over, both the British government and the Provisional IRA were determined to continue with the peace process, but the families of the victims wanted those responsible for the bombing to be caught and punished.

At first the families are shown trying to seek arrests through the accepted channels. One Omagh resident patiently keeps writing letters to Tony Blair expecting to get some sort of personal response, but as time goes on, no one is caught and charged with the crime. Omagh residents become increasingly frustrated. A town meeting results initially in frustrated name-calling, but then Gallagher emerges as the chairman of the Omagh Support and Self Help Group.

But after all the official waves of sympathy passed away, the residents, survivors and families of victims were still left with nothing. Referring to British politicians, one resident concludes that “as long as the bombs stay out of London, they don’t give a damn.” In spite of the fact that the names of those involved in the bombing were known on both sides of the border, no one was charged with the crime. Mobile phone call records yielded names of prime suspects, but still no one was charged. And this is when the victims and their families get sick and tired of waiting for results and begin to do some legwork of their own. Amidst stories of multiple advances warnings from British agent Kevin Fulton, the entire Omagh episode becomes even murkier.

Omagh underscores the idea that the IRA and the splinter Real IRA are just as inaccessible, institutionalized, remote and largely disinterested as the British government. And as for the Real IRA members who carried out the bombing, this action proves the argument against using violence to further a political agenda. If the Real IRA were ‘counting’ on the British Government and the local police to warn the residents, we can see just where that illogical sort of reliance and trust led–right into the toilet. It’s a bit pathetic when you think about it. Here you are–the Real IRA devoted to kicking the British out of Ireland, and the best you can do is plant a huge bomb and then expect the police and the British government (institutions the Real IRA supposedly abhors) to do the honorable thing and warn the people. The British government wants one thing, the IRA wants another, but ultimately the people of Omagh were screwed. Was the Omagh massacre the result of police incompetence or was this a disaster that was allowed to happen in order to further a political agenda? Well watch this well-acted, riveting and eloquent film and decide for yourselves.

“You’re not feeling so cheerful now, with this talk of shock treatment. You start to think how it was all too good to be true. Now you’re finding out about the bad thing, the thing you knew had to be here though you didn’t know exactly what it would be. Shock treatment! It had a very bad ring to it. Especially the word ‘treatment.’ When they biffed you it was pretty bad, but at least you knew they were doing something they shouldn’t be doing. They knew it too. There was always a chance they’d get into trouble for biffing. Not much of a chance, but a chance. Also some screws didn’t agree with biffing, and they’d try to stop other screws who did it. But ‘treatment’ was different … they could do it with a clean conscience because they were trying to help you.

In 1966, nineteen-year-old Peter Kocan attempted to assassinate politician Arthur Calwell. Kocan failed and was subsequently tried and found guilty of attempted murder. Sentenced to life imprisonment, he was first sent to Long Bay Correctional Centre and then transferred to the Criminally Insane Ward of the Morisset Psychiatric Hospital. The novel The Treatment and The Cure (originally published as two separate novellas) is an autobiographical but fictionalized account of Kocan’s experiences told through the eyes of nineteen-year-old Len Tarbutt.

When the novel begins, Len, confused and disoriented, is freshly transferred from a prison to a mental asylum. At first the hospital seems a great improvement over Long Bay prison, but Len very soon discovers that the insane asylum has its own minefields to be avoided at all costs: medications that reduce the powerless patient to a zombie-like state and electric shock ‘therapy’ administered by the forgetful but enthusiastic doctor known as “Electric Ned.”

Len mingles with an assortment of patients with a range of problems–murderers, child molesters, and even peeping Toms. Lonely and withdrawn, Len soon learns the asylum system–where the number one rule is not to draw attention to yourself. But surviving in this system is easier said than done–especially when bored and sadistic guards often set up scenarios in which patients are guaranteed to be dragged off to shock therapy. Len witnesses many patients who were functional reduced to cretinism by the over-eagerness of Electric Ned.

The very best parts of this excellent novel describe how Len tries desperately to appear normal and rational, yet this is a game in which the inmates don’t make the rules. Even Len’s attraction to poetry becomes suspect at one point as it causes him to read and meditate in solitude–an activity that’s largely frowned upon. Sometimes when inmates come to the attention of the guards and the doctors, they’re questioned and boxed in with circular logic, and there’s always shock treatment as the inevitable outcome awaiting them. For example, a particularly sadistic guard named Smiler continuously persecutes one inmate named Sam. When the inmate complains about the persecution, it’s becomes a signal that he’s ‘paranoid’:

“Everyone knows that mentally ill people think they’re being persecuted, so Sam is sealing his own fate by accusing Smiler. Smiler is pleased at how beautifully it’s working out.”

In spite of the dark subject matter, Kocan manages to write with a humour that’s refreshingly innocent. Although Kocan writes in the first person, Kocan’s protagonist describes his environment by using the second person ‘you.’ This creates a numbing depersonalized distance between the narrator and his difficult experiences.

There are some wonderful passages that describe patients who appear cured, but they’ve simply learnt the game well enough to give the ‘authorities’ exactly what they want to hear. Zurka, for example, doesn’t seem like the sort of person who chopped up several passengers on a train, but that’s exactly what he did. After spending several years at the asylum, he appears ‘cured,’ but there are some instances in which Len retains nagging doubts about some of the inmates’ preparedness to be returned to society:

“Zurka is obviously very sorry and sad when he’s telling you about the last bit, about the train. You are quite sure he’d never do anything like that again. You’d bet your bones on it. If it was up to you, you’d let Zurka go to the open section. Yet when he’s talking about the psychiatrists who took all his money for pills and fees, or about his Polish countrymen who wouldn’t help him, you get a faint cold feeling of worry. There’s an edge in his voice that makes you think he’s spent the years here remembering the wrong they did him. It’s probably nothing. You’d still let him go to the open section if the decision was up to you. Yet, you’re glad somehow, that it’s someone else’s decision.”

Those who learn the rules and a superficial degree of conformity are judged ‘normal’–and as long as the inmates pay satisfactory attention to these rules, those in charge are happy with the inmates’ progress. It doesn’t seem to occur to those rule-makers that perhaps the inmates have learned to mimic the behaviour the doctors, nurses and guards want to see:

“You’re talking to Zurka about what he did to the people with his butcher’s chopper. He doesn’t mind talking about it now. He’s pretty sure he’s to be transferred to the open section and he wants to show that he understands about his crime and why he did it and that it was a dreadful act. The screws say that being able to talk calmly about your crime shows you’ve gained insight. Of course, you mustn’t talk about it too much, or too calmly, or they’ll say you’re dwelling on it or that you aren’t showing a healthy remorse.”

Strangely enough, some of Len’s hardest times are when he’s transferred out of maximum security. He falls under the ‘care’ of a sadistic nurse nicknamed Blue–a woman who torments some of those who fall under her jurisdiction. One of the ubiquitous ideas in the novel is the degree of mental illness inside the asylum. Whereas the patients are diagnosed and labeled with terms, some of the more sadistic employees are able to mentally torture inmates and twist reality with impunity to such a degree that the more fragile inmates escape the only way they can–through suicide.

There are escapes, the moments of joy, and small but powerful acts of human kindness, and the few people who reach out to Len makes all the difference in the world. There’s the overwhelming idea that no one really gets ‘cured’–even though that’s supposedly the goal held for all the inmates, and the system recreated here in these pages would most likely push anyone in a fragile mental state over the edge. Since this is basically a coming-of-age novel, this is not only a fictionalized memoir of asylum life but also an account of Len’s gradual ability to self-heal when given the fragments of opportunity.

All of the employees at the asylum inherently believe in different approaches to mental well-being. For example, the librarian believes reading provides healing, Electric Ned believes a cure can be found in shock treatment, and the therapy supervisor, Mr. Trowbridge believes that work is therapy. Although Trowbridge is a thoughtful man, one of Len’s few advocates, his dogmatic belief has little flexibility. To Trowbridge, the road to mental health is found through employment and functionality, and the ability to work is the measure of mental health. Similarly, the sadistic nurses and guards use the systems they embody (medications and rules) and create ways to subvert and sabotage any progress made towards mental health, and as in any closed system (school, for example) there are favourites and there are those who are picked on unmercifully. Institutional corruption is not included in this tale because for Len it doesn’t seem to exist; instead cruelty exists because of abusive power structures directed by banality and boredom. Cruelty is, therefore, the more devastating for its sheer disinterest.

On one last note, Kocan has published several books and has won awards for his fiction.

239 pages

Europa Editions

“To counter the threat of armed working class bandits, many bourgeois began to arm themselves; from dawn to dusk they queued up to buy guns and learn how to use them, while car-owners, feeling particularly threatened, offered their vehicles to the police until such time as the bandits were caught. Cars were not yet widespread, and the idea that workers could not only have access to them, but make this particular use of them was very worrying.”

The Bonnot Gang: The Story of the French Illegalists by Richard Parry is an excellent, highly detailed account of the notorious French anarchist gang–”auto-bandits” who were the first group to use getaway cars during the course of robberies.

Don’t even think about skipping the preface to the book because this is an essential part in understanding how the members of the so-called Bonnot Gang were a symptom of the times. The term ‘Bonnot Gang’ by the way, was the name given by the French press to a loosely connected group of French anarchists–some were friends and some only had the barest acquaintance with the others. The author points out that they “were not a close-knit criminal band in the classical style, but rather a union of egoists associated for a common purpose.”

Tracing the ideas and influence of Max Stirner and his book The Ego and Its Own, Parry credits Stirner as a powerful influence on anarchist-individualism and spends the marvelous first chapter describing the anarchist scene in France and the growth of anarchist-individualism. Following the debacle of the 1871 Paris Commune, the French government cracked down, and with “revolutionary organizations outlawed, and all forms of working class political activity banned, anarchists and trade-unionists were forced to operate in ways that were clandestine and outrightly illegal.” But in spite of this (or perhaps because of this), by the 1880s “there were an estimated forty anarchist groups in France with two thousand five hundred active members.”

The bitter aftermath of the Paris Commune “left a rich legacy of class-hatred” and Parry explains, “all anarchist activity and propaganda was centered on the class struggle which was especially bitter and violent up to the mid 1890s.” Since these were active times, a plethora of newspapers sprang up, and a number of anarchist groups emerged. One of the most prominent papers to emerge was L’Anarchie–considered the mouthpiece of anarchist-individualism–the paper “positively promoted crime and the theory of illegalism.” Co-founded in 1905 by Libertad, the paper’s position was that “there were not two opposed classes, bourgeois and proletarian, but only individuals.” Libertad seems to be a rather explosive character who quarreled with Syndicalists and was largely unwelcome–except in his own circle, and even then he managed to alienate friends and lovers.

Parry explains how Illegalism grew out of anarchist-individualism and points out that “almost all the Illegalists who were associated with the Bonnot Gang were born in the late 1880s or early 90s.” During this period, Parry argues, “the anarchist desire for the abolition of the state was translated onto an immediate practical level through individual acts of assassination and bombing.” Furthermore the idea of expropriation was “reduced to individual acts of ‘re-appropriation’ through the theory of La Reprise Individuelle.” Parry stresses the point that Illegalism differed from La Reprise Individuelle as the “illegalists stole not simply for the advancement of the cause, but for their own advancement.” And it was during these times that some infamous French anarchist criminals existed: Clement Duval, Marius Jacob and Ravachol. There’s a brief overview of their careers included.

Gangs began to emerge, and proceeds from burglaries and thefts were donated to the Cause, and naturally some donated more than others. Meanwhile an intellectual argument raged between anarchists regarding Illegalism and its moral justification, and eventually a split formed. While Illegalists argued that so-called “honest citizens, believers in the State and Authority” were part of the problem, others argued against Illegalism and the use of violence and force against ordinary citizens. Again Parry goes into some detail about this split–those pro and those con Illegalism, the major proponents and detractors, and their arguments for their beliefs.

There’s a clear sense of the social pressures of the time that helped create Illegalism. With mandatory military service, there were thousands of deserters roaming around France, unable to work, and even for those who could find work, often an eighteen-hour day of the most horrendous working conditions barely managed to put food on the table. (According to the book, in the early 1900s, there were approximately 70,000 deserters and draft dodgers.) One of the gang members, anarchist and draft dodger Octave Garnier was trying to make a living at age 13, but turned to crime. Working a “sixteen or eighteen hour day, seven days a week” on forged documents barely allowed survival. Garnier became increasingly disillusioned and frustrated with his situation and gradually came to loathe the system. Into this difficult social environment, Illegalism was born, and the Bonnot Gang became a major part of it.

Parry goes into significant detail describing the members of the gang–their relationships, their teetotalism and vegetarianism. The book details the “legendary” violent crimes the Bonnot Gang committed, the subsequent hysteria that swept through France, how the gang members were caught, the trials, executions and exiles. As the net tightens on the Bonnot Gang, there’s the sense that this is only going to go one way, and certainly most of the Bonnot Gang exited this life as spectacularly as they lived it. There’s quite an extensive list of characters, so it’s advisable to take notes. You may need them.

It always seems a little unfortunate when anarchists fight amongst themselves, and yet at the same time, criticism of anarchists by other anarchists is invaluable. The aftermath of the Bonnot Gang left many anarchists scrambling to explain their philosophical positions on Illegalism. Parry goes into some depth on the sticky role Victor Serge (Victor Kibalchich) played in the trial. While as the editor of L’Anarchie, Serge promoted Illegalism, he backtracked and waffled during the trial and later called Illegalism a form of “collective suicide.” Other anarchists at the time expressed the notion that the Bonnot Gang went off the deep end. Some felt that Illegalists were not anarchists at all but were “pseudo-anarchists who dishonour the anarchist ideal” and others resented the post-Bonnot Gang crackdown on the anarchist community. The story of the Bonnot Gang is an integral part of anarchist history and it’s a story that raises some intriguing questions and deserves attention. But part from all that, the book is an excellent read.

The book includes a bibliography, index and many black and white photos.

189 pages
Rebel Press