Iain Rodgers
The Zima Confession
About the Author
Iain M. Rodgers was born in Glasgow. He sometimes has difficulty describing himself as a Glaswegian because for most of his life he has been pinged around like a pinball. The list of places he is associated with includes Glasgow, Manchester, Lagos, London, Sheffield, Dublin, Helsinki, Stockholm, Rotterdam, Amsterdam and Moscow.
His cover story is that he was a Civil Servant for a while, which got him into I.T. One day he decided to give that up, teach English in Moscow and try to write books. His cover story is a fabrication.
1. God Save The Queen
(Glasgow 1977)
Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world.
Harriet Tubman
A dark orange paper lantern, hanging from an elaborately decorative centre rose of the high Victorian ceiling, provided barely enough light to illuminate the languidly twisting coils of silver smoke that filled the room. The air was thick with the smell of cannabis.
Young men and women, a mixture of long-haired hippies and short-haired punks, were sprawled over the floor smoking joints and drinking from cans. In one corner of the large room, looking either like a witch or a puritan, an earnest young woman in a high-necked maxi-dress was kneeling to roll a joint on a low, half-broken side table. She did it carefully and ritualistically. Several people nearby watched with interest, as though her performance formed part of an important ceremony.
A guy with a guitar was slumped in a beanbag trying to play Leonard Cohens famous blue dirge Famous Blue Raincoat, though no one was interested in his depressive mumbling. Eventually, someone decided hed heard enough. A kid with spiky hair and an imitation leather jacket pierced with hundreds of safety pins and button badges skipped through the bodies strewn on the floor and pushed poor Leonard off the beanbag.
Thats shite by raway pal. The punk sneered in a rough Glasgow voice. Then he shouted back over his shoulder: Moira, put ra Pistols oan. Lets get some life intae ris party.
Meanwhile, Stuart and Richard were quietly discussing something in the corner opposite the young woman rolling the joint.
Youre all just wasting your time you know. All this marching and selling newspapers will never get you anywhere, Richard stated.
History, man. Historys on our side.
History bollocks. You guys are just kids. Youre just playing at this.
Eddies totally serious. Mibby worryingly serious.Stuart spoke with a slight Glasgow accent which, though mild, sometimes influenced Richard to imitate it to some extent. After pausing to think for a moment he added, I guess ye could say Im more interested in an academic way myself.
I know that, man. See that PhD youre doing, all that theory shit, German philosophy from Hegel to Marx, I dont really get it. I wish Id done some proper subjects myself; engineering say, instead of this politics and sociology crap. Richard thought morosely for a few moments before perking up a bit. Imagine if, years from now, your education finally pays off and you find yourself in a half-decent job. Lets say no one even knows youre a commie. What would happen if you could reconnect with all your comrades from the Party and put yourself at their disposal?
What could you do then that you cant do now?
Who knows, man? But I bet you could do a damned sight more damage, or good I mean, than a hundred of these silly pot-smoking kids that think theyre being so cool and radical.
Mibby youre right, but youre not even a Party member. Youre just a guy who tags along; a fellow traveller. Youre not even interested in what the Party wants.
Youre right Stuart, Im not. Im not interested in all this posturing and posing, but, see if I thought I could do any good I would definitely do whatever it takes.
Like fuck ye would.
Course I would! And me not being a Party member would help anyway. Im not on anyones radar. Ive never even had my picture taken on any of your half-assed marches or demos.
Half-assed marches? Yeah, right-e-o! How come youve never even come on a march or demo, ya bastard?
Waste of time man. Take all those stupid asses that demonstrated to save every last job in the shipyards. All it did was make sure that the yards couldnt compete. Instead of saving jobs they made sure they all went.
Stuart was eyeing him with suspicion. They had argued on this subject a number of times already and agreed to differ. Richard didnt bother to bring the same old arguments up yet again but was dismayed that even Stuart didnt seem to understand him. He was well aware that nobody in the Party took him seriously. For one thing his background was against him. But, more importantly, there was an ideological divide between him and the others. If he had to explain to these Marxists in terms that would be acceptable, it was the difference between Das Kapital and Der Grundrisse. Properly reading either Das Kapital or Der Grundrisse was not something he had bothered to do, but he believed the difference between them explained the difference between himself and the others. Ultimately, he was reluctant to describe himself as a Marxist of any kind. An anarchist called Kropotkin had more attractive ideas. But that was something best not mentioned at all.
Oh jeezus! Stuart blurted out.
What? Stuart jerked his head to the side in the direction of the door, which was being closed again after opening briefly.
Line-up-Lindas just arrived. Shes probably heading straight upstairs to get her legs in the air.
Richard knew Stuart didnt like Linda MacKerricher. He thought she was a slut. So she was; but Richard didnt see anything wrong with that. She was a liberated and independent young woman. In fact Richard found her crazily sexy. He cursed his luck in not catching sight of her probably wearing those kinky wet-look boots and that purple mini-skirt. Liberated and easy though she was, Richard could never pluck up the courage to even talk to her, let alone join in one of the orgies she was reputed to take part in.
So why would a posh cunt like you even want to help? Stuart continued, snapping Richard out of the reverie that Linda MacKerricher had unknowingly evoked.
Lots of posh cunts are revolutionaries. Most revolutionaries are posh cunts in fact Marx himself, Lenin, Guevara you name it.
Yeah, sure thing, Guildford boy.
Fuck you Mr Kelvinside Academy. Richard knew that Stuart was as middle class as it was possible to be for a Glaswegian, but still had one over on him when it came to class-related, inverted snobbery. Richards parents now lived in Milngavie, having moved up to Scotland from Guildford when he was about three. In the mindset of most Glaswegians, Richard was a toff almost aristocracy.
OK Guildford boy. So you like to tag along to the odd meeting. You like to slag off the hardcore members but will we ever see you put your money where your mouth is?
If I thought it could do some actual good I would. I mean the way society is just now theres lots of things wrong. Systemic things. You know yourself how weve discussed it all; over and over again. Things that are wrong. Things that are wrong with the system itself and so cant be fixed by the system. He wondered if he was getting a bit drunk. He didnt usually use Glaswegian expressions like You know yourself. He would normally say As you know or whatever the correct expression was.
OK, agreed. So what do ye propose then?
Nationalise the banks without compensation. Step one.
You cant just do that though. Stuart said with the sort of patience usually reserved for small children, You can only do that after a revolution. Industries can only be nationalised after theyve failed. Or by force, after revolution.
Not true. Labours in power now and there are already mutuals, co-operative banks, the National Savings Bank. Why dont they just expand that sector and take over the banking system step by step?
Stuart shrugged. Step by step hasnt worked. The Left has already tried Parliament. Every time they do something the Tories just reverse it next time theyre in. Plus the Left never stick to their guns when they get into power; they always change. Weve had Keir Hardie, Aneurin Bevan, Benn. Even Harold-bloody-Wilson was supposedly hard Left and look what happened.
Stuarts attention was drawn to the door again. Richard looked too, hoping that Linda had come back. He was immediately disappointed. Instead of Linda MacKerricher wearing a mini-skirt and boots, someone wearing a duffle coat and a Partick Thistle hat and scarf was trying to push a bicycle into the room. It seemed that the Thistle fan was intending to ride the bike around the room as an amusing stunt. This was giving rise to a bit of an altercation because several of the punks were trying to prevent him. Their idea of anarchy in the UK did not extend to permitting people to ride bicycles in rooms.
OK, lets agree, as usual, that only revolution will really change things. So how do you do it? said Richard.
How would you do it?
Just what I was trying to say a moment ago. You need something to trigger it, an act that causes significant damage to the existing system so that its unable to function properly. Once that happens the socialists will rise up and the system will be unable to defend itself.
Stuart didnt say anything but nodded briefly in agreement. Then, remembering there were more important matters to attend to, he stretched his head back and began tipping half a tin of Tennents Super Lager down his throat, seemingly oblivious as Richard continued his monologue:
Were just kids right now, students. We know nothing. We dont know anybody who knows anything or has any influence. Even guys like Eddie are half-way to Walter Mitty; theyre kidding themselves. But all this education were getting might eventually be good for something. If we could keep in touch with the people we know who really want to change things and make a difference then one day we might be useful.
Stuart had stopped gulping the lager. His head lurched back down to its default position as he crushed the empty can into his fist. He studied Richard for a long time, as though he was somehow having difficulty recognising him. But finally a glimmer of comprehension flickered to life.
What exactly would you do?
Sabotage. I mean something big. Something fucking big. Remember what I was telling you about Georges Sorel?
And youre volunteering?
Sure, why not?
Count me in, man.
A wall of sound slammed through the room as The Sex Pistols God Save The Queen blasted out. The punks immediately started pogo-ing in a frenzy, forcing the hippies lazing on the floor to reluctantly create space for them. The guy who had been singing Leonard Cohen songs left the room, meekly cradling his guitar to prevent damage. Stuart had to shout:
We should go and see Eddie with this idea. Hell know what to do about it, or hell know someone that does.
2. Eddies Kitchen
This idea of yours is aw very well but you realise it could put us aw in jail? Eddies mean, feral eyes stared at Richard accusingly through heavy black-rimmed glasses, making him look every inch the wee Glasgow hard-man he aspired to be. Richard had been invited round to his flat to go through the sabotage plan for the third time and it was becoming clear Eddie had little faith in either him or the plan. They sat in the cold kitchen to avoid disturbing Eddies dad who was watching TV in the living room.
It could, but this is what were here for isnt it? Handing out pamphlets to people who chuck them into the first bin they walk past will never get us anywhere. Were supposed to be a revolutionary party not a pamphlet distributing party.
They sat in silence. Richard wondered if hed pushed Eddie too far. Anyway, he was past caring. He looked round the cold, outmoded kitchen. There wasnt much there to soothe their nerves; an old-fashioned pantry, solid enough to withstand nuclear attack, had been painted yellow in an attempt at modernity. A worn-out Tricity cooker, covered in grease. Pitted brown linoleum on the floor. A ceiling pulley for hanging washing on.
The council had vowed to build modern flats fit for heroes but, somehow, they had created drab, grey schemes instead. Out in the street there were no facilities; no shops and nothing to do. Inside there was no comfort. Attempts to cheer up the interiors of these houses nearly always ended in tragicomic kitsch in this case exemplified by the wallpaper with its repeated pattern of crowing cocks. Perhaps the cocks had provided a few moments of jollity once, but they had been crowing at least since the mid-sixties and looked a bit worn-out. To top it all, there was a lot of tyre screeching and occasional gunfire coming from the living room. The TV was blasting out at maximum volume to compensate for Eddies dads deafness.
So what sort ay event do you thinkd be sufficient tae trigger revolution in the UK?
It would have to be big, Eddie.
So big its impossible? Eddie asked slyly.
It was clear Eddie thought he wouldnt or couldnt go through with it and was just looking for an excuse to avoid marching and agitating the sort of party work that Eddie thought was essential. Eddie, Richard was trying to contain his anger.
Eddie, when Marx was writing he expected a revolution eventually, but he never lived to see it. Well, weve had dozens of attempts since then. Weve got the USSR and China to show for it OK, Cuba and stuff like that too. None of these were good or real revolutions. We still havent seen what Marx was expecting. We need something better, more final. And it has to be in an advanced economy not a backward one. So if this puts me out of action for a while as far the Partys concerned even if it takes my whole life then so be it.
Richard, Eddie was obviously annoyed too, yur always making excuses. Nothing is ever good enough fur yuh. You think no socialist country ever succeeded in improving the lot of the people? Well yer wrong. The USSR is an improvement on the Tsarist Empire. Things huvney worked out perfectly but this is the real world.
Yeah, but
And dont forget the USSRs always been at war, Eddie said, ignoring Richards attempt to interrupt. They hud tae fight the revolution, then the counter revolution, then World War Two. Now weve got the Cold War. So theyve been fighting proxy wars all over the world. But in spite ay aw rat thur still making progress.
Yeah, but the USAs made greater progress.
The USA did well frae both world wars by sucking the British dry. All I ever hear from you is how great these Capitalist countries are, nothing about the achievements of Russia or China.
Richard could tell Eddie needed more evidence of commitment before he could take this risk. He wondered if he should perhaps tell Eddie about his Uncle Bobby who, according to family legend, had gone to the USA and had tried to start up a union to improve working conditions. He was immediately arrested and soon after that died in prison. Reason for death unknown.