Don't Let My Past Be Your Future-Excerpt

Today, I am in the doldrums of long poverty, while I wait for a consult with a specialist in Respirologist to tell me whether my time to live is going to be as short as 3 years or as long as 10. I have waited 2 months for an appointment and still no date has been set. So, instead of publishing something new, I will provide you with a short extract from my dad's last book, Don't Let My Past Be Your Future, as I think it was rather prescient. As for me, the sun is warm today. I am off for a long walk because it gives me great pleasure to enjoy the return of Spring after such a long and dismal winter.

The longer Russia remains in the grasp of Vladimir Putin, the longer its own people will suffer the economic consequences of his dictatorship more than anyone else. If we don’t remedy inequality and the refugee crises; Putin’s Russia will be the external threat that pushes Western democracies over the edge- especially now America has Donald Trump for president. Our world teeters perilously between oligarchy and dysfunctional democracy, which has been made worse by the rise of leaders like Trump, Putin and Xi Jinping in China. Here in Britain, the EU referendum tore open the scab of globalisation. Decades of deindustrialisation in what was once Britain’s manufacturing heartlands as well as an exponential transfer of wealth to the 1 per cent was just too much for many people in this country. Brexit proved that our nation has been profoundly affected by globalisation, which gave great wealth to the top tier of society and economic insecurities to the rest. Brexit has shown Britain to be like a cornered animal, frightened, irrational and likely to bite what feeds it just as much as what punishes it. Inequality is the root of all revolutions from France in 1789 to Russia in 1917 and Germany in 1932. It’s why no one should be surprised at the rise of Donald Trump. The reality TV show maven who made his fortune not from hard work but from the inheritance of his father’s extreme wealth was able to tap into the anger of those abandoned by free-trade deals like NAFTA. Former assembly-line workers from America’s rust belt, evangelicals outraged by being led by a liberal black president and businesses trying to return to the glory days of the robber barons each sought affirmation in Donald Trump’s promise to ‘Make America Great Again’. Trump’s pledge and his political persona were forged in a cauldron of reality TV where reason is replaced by raw vituperative emotion. Sixty million people voted for him and did so neither with their heads nor their hearts, but instead used their spleen to secure him the presidency. Watching him be elected president was as chilling to me as my memories of the rise of Hitler. The politics of hate espoused by the Nazis and Donald Trump’s bigoted rhetoric against minorities were produced in a similar primordial sea of economic duress. Unemployment may be only 4.5 per cent in America but when working full-time doesn’t guarantee that you will have enough to put a roof over your head or feed your children, animosity will begin to boil over. Moreover, Obama may have fashioned himself as the president of hope and change but when corporate profits increased by 166 per cent and wages by only 3.4 per cent during his time in government, his message made many of his citizens more cynical about politics. I understand the anger that drove people towards the cliff of Brexit or into the poisonous arms of Donald Trump because poverty shrank my possibilities just like a prison cell reduces a person’s mobility and stunts their dreams. During the early 1930s, I knew I was trapped by my family’s lack of financial resources. I had no dreams about growing up and having a good job. No politician had to tell me I had no future. I knew from the day I started pushing a beer barrow at the age of seven that my education, my childhood and my human dignity were being sacrificed because my family needed to eat and the state was unwilling to supply us with what we needed to survive. Each time my mother watered down our porridge or made me go to a neighbour’s room to beg for bread, I knew that life is more than tough, it is unfair – similarly, a person today knows this when their gas or electric is cut off because of non-payment. Knowing that my poverty constrained not only my present but my future made me disgruntled by my circumstances even when very young. After my dad left, I began to grow outraged by our poverty and by what it forced each one of my family to do to get by. I was livid, ashamed and even disgusted at the way my mum had to ingratiate herself with her boyfriend, a man prone to violence when touched by drink.

As always, thank you for reading because I really need your help this month. Your subscriptions to Harry’s Last Stand keep the legacy of Harry Leslie Smith alive and me housed. This month is proving to be real scramble to get next months together. So if you can join with a paid subscription which is just 3.50 a month or a yearly subscription or a gift subscription. I promise the content is good, relevant and thoughtful. Take Care, John

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