So where were the mass ranks of the public?
Where were the hundreds of thousands who took a day off from work to be there?
To see their so-called well-loved Prime Minister home? Answer, they never came!
Indeed, far more turned out for the coaches of winning Olympian athletes and
the England World Cup Rugby Team. Even Football Association Cup winners have had
greater crowds cheering them on and that’s a fact. No, the public stayed away en
masse. Oh dear, oh dear, where was all
the respect? Indeed, many of those who showed up were simply tourists or dyed
in the wool Tory oldies for whom she could never do wrong, or youthful
Tory-boys straight out the shires. So it was a scattering of oldies,
goggle-eyed tourists all up for what must have seemed an English ceremonial
heaven they could tell all their friends they’d been to or a few hundred
protesters that made up the ranks!
As for the protesters it was all so very
Margaret Thatcher. As we all saw, anyone opening their mouths for too long were
immediately rushed by a police arrest mob in yellow jackets to say nothing of
the many plain clothes dicks tucked away in the wings ready to pounce. So taken
as a whole a fair percentage of all the respectful well-wishers must have been
the military or the police in one form or another. Alas, there weren’t any grateful
millions respectfully hanging their heads along the route, just the state
forces of law and order and a swell here and there of the ultra-patriotic, ever
deluded.
Naturally the television presenters for
such a ‘national’ ceremonial occasion were commentating with their usual hushed
reverential tones while lower order journalists were busy up and down the lines
asking well-rehearsed questions of those purposefully there to adore. Could the
answers then actually be anything less than expected…
She
made Britain Great… She made Britain Great Again… She
made Britain prosperous…
And from the ladies… She was the first woman Prime minister!
From the men… She was the longest serving Prime Minister of the 20th
century… Won three elections in a row… She made us feel good about being
British again… She was someone who always did what she said she said she would do!
Before
she came along no-one took us seriously anymore…
Such answers from her loyal supporters
deserve consideration. They contain a clearly evident patriotism, that’s for
sure, but underneath it all there’s something more disturbing. A kind of latent
inferiority, not only about their nationality but far more important, about who
they were. To them she was a strong personality. She made Britain a force in
the world. A force to be respected. She not only recreated a sense of national
pride but also gave it to them. It
wasn’t only that Britain could be respected again but they too! She not only
made them feel proud to be British again but returned to them a sense of
self-respect. What went for Britain went for themselves. If they’d become
something of a joke under Labour Government and endless trades union troubles, if
they’d been made to feel inferior in the eyes of the world, she’d removed it.
She’d made others listen to her, particularly in Europe. A Sun newspaper
headline said it all… UP YOURS DELORS! It
was her great moment of putting two fingers up to them all. On their behalf
much as anything!
To her admirers there on the street,
patriotism and self-respect went hand in hand. Their previous lack of it had
indeed been the cause of their sense of inferiority, both nationally and
personally. Now, because of her ‘strength’ they’d felt important again. Much
the same psychological process had occurred, let it be said, in Germany under
Hitler, who’d made Germany ‘great again’. ‘A voice to be reckoned with no
matter what’.
If she made them feel good about themselves
again she also made them feel prosperous. Made Britain feel prosperous again after all the union troubles so
called. It’s a consideration fraught with illusion. With the sale of council
houses at knock down prices and cheap mortgages at the ready, she created the
bubble of a property boom then denationalized a vast swathe of state owned
industries selling millions of people shares, also at knock down prices.
Psychologically, this too made people feel good about themselves. They were the
owners of private property, just like the rich! Owners of private wealth who could,
furthermore, continue to borrow money and spend on the back of the inflated
value of their homes!
People not only felt good about who they
were but also what they were. And with it in tandem came an explosion of
financial wealth creation in the City of London. Money washing around
everywhere to be made and spent with her many new working class followers part
of it all. Part of a Grand Illusion.
She
made Britain prosperous again, you heard people
say. For millions it was a wonderful feeling. Still lovingly remembered. For many
millions of others however without the fond memories, it was a gigantic
calamity of lost industries, lost jobs, broken communities, family dislocation,
loss of pride and endless years of intimidation and suffering. This was the
plight of so many industrial workers and their families. People who made things
sacrificed to the new economics of people who bought and sold money, or
furnished their houses on the back of an artificial property boom which
collapsed three years later.
She
made Britain prosperous again… Consider the
judgement. Ninety percent of the denationalized industries, from steel,
shipbuilding and water to electricity, gas, the railways, transport, automobile
production, power generation and more are now foreign owned. Their shares, once
millions of pieces of paper, quickly sold by the newly prosperous for a quick
profit to investors and speculators who in turn sold them on, have long gone. Only
the silly memory remains of supporters, once all hot to be prosperous owners of
shares so go and tell Sid! The heritage of this artificial prosperity, a plain
confidence trick in the mind of the greedy is with us all over again. Margaret
Thatcher Part Two! This time perpetrated by the jack the lad executives who
worked the banking bubble of 2004-2008 which collapsed likewise!
She
was the first woman Prime Minister! A massive
feather in her cap! This was a question specially for the ambitious, determined
go-getting woman. Sounds fine if you’re a stop at nothing self-seeking type
with iron in your soul who cares about nothing and no-one except herself and
her plans. Where’s the feminine warmth,
the kindness, the generosity of spirit, the humanity, the personal conscience,
the honor and tenderness of the caring generous heart? Ladies, if you want none
of that and prefer instead to be a pushy cold fish then you know who it is to
admire!
Most of those protesting there on the day
had their voices and their emotions drowned out, not by her loyal admirers but
by the endlessly soporific gush of slush pumped out by the media. The
procession to St Paul’s was essentially military and surely delighted the
hearts of her party, a ceremony, indeed a pageant capped by the attendance of
the reigning monarch as its highest accolade. As a showpiece of Tory grandiosity
and tribute she’d been roped into a piece of party political activity but then
you’d have thought that such a splendid occasion had required some Tory guru,
some adoring Tory publicity mastermind to have conceived of it as a tribute to
one of their own. Alas you’d be wrong! The whole idea for this Tory militaristic
parade and Service was conceived years earlier by the architect of today’s
national economic collapse, Labour’s very own Gordon Brown! Yes indeed, the
architect of today’s attack on the Welfare State by the Cameron-Clegg Coalition
Government was that former dour master of prudence!
It was Gordon, don’t you know, who invited
Lady Thatcher to his Prime Minister’s Residence in Downing Street for tea and a
chat! Was there no greater love shown from a Labour Prime Minister than to
design such an outrageously camp piece of eulogizing for a Tory predecessor!
Gordon of course has gone down to political oblivion and ignominy along with
his ship so let the dead bury the dead in best groveling style.
He organised it all and sat in St Paul’s
along with a tearful George Osborne, dear boy! So who also attended the
Memorial Service? Naturally you heard it all in those very BBC hushed tones as
only that sniffy organisation can muster. You were told about many of those
there sure enough but maybe not too much about those who weren’t! No members of
the current Governments of leading world powers such as the United States,
Russia, China, Japan or Brazil. Even former soul mates like Gorbachev cried
off. And no-one important from France or Germany either. She’d insulted those
countries and their leaders too many times. Alas, no respectful attendance from
those quarters and no dignitaries from the EU or the Arab League either. No-one
really important at all from the political world of today for such an
‘internationally respected figure’. THERE’S
JUST NO RESPECT ANYMORE… NO RESPECT!
Instead, scores of her old political
cronies along with current and past Labourites and Lib-Dems. From the top only.
Countless other Labour MPs who knew her only too well stayed away along with
trades unionists. The greatest mystery of all though among the 2000 bums on
seats was the matter of family and friends. Where were her personal friends
from childhood, university and today? Old mates from the factory she once
worked in, and where were her family connections? Sure, her children and two
grandchildren were there but a family’s much bigger than that. Why no
descendants of uncles and aunts from her or her husband’s side of the family?
Where were they all to create a sense of family warmth and togetherness? Why
was everything so political, so military? Why so many dispassionate
relationships that were ultimately only user-friendly and chilling?
Biblical type words in a eulogy from her
Christian fundamentalist granddaughter to clad her soul and spiritual garments
in iron. A real biblical rendering of iron in the soul, but then iron for what?
If she was born into the world on a mission she spent most of her life letting
other people know and take note of her message just like any other evangelist.
Only there’s a time when people get tired of the same old tune and don’t want
to know anymore. Just like her own Tory Party who eventually said enough was
enough and booted her out on her arse.
The television presenters, journalists and
well-chosen pundits, from the slimy obsequious to the fawning raconteurs told
us little about who she really was. I mean as a person. Outside politics did
she ever have any real friends? On the day, despite all the words, it left a
great gap in our knowledge. We knew what she believed and knew what she did but
did anyone apart from her husband really know her? Or was there really nothing at all there except her endless political evangelizing?
Most newspapers the following day were full of adulation writ large. The
front pages of most could have come straight out of North Korea. The Beloved Leader etc etc… The
significance of the military carrying her coffin up the steps of St Paul’s
along with displays of mounted cavalry and armed soldiers created a war
leader-hero perspective and was ultimately a display of power. The military
plus the Tory Party equals state power. That was the image portrayed.
It begs a question. Portrayed by who? Let’s
not forget who these people are. Journalists who have a crucial job in a
democratic society and should, in theory, be purveyors of truth. Dedicated to
presenting truth or at worst both sides of a story, an image or a matter of
public interest. In this country we have quite a few national dailies yet the
day after the funeral how much more did we know about Margaret Thatcher? What
other images did we see apart from those of the military or the politicians and
religious at the Service at St Paul’s?
Two of these dailies are owned by her hard
right Australian former crony along with a major television channel while two
others are owned by those with Tory populist values. What then could we expect
from most of the mass circulation media? From journalists whose stories are often
littered with lies, who’ve been paying the police for stories in recent times
and who’ve hacked into the mobiles of endless victims or paid others to do such
dirty work? What else could we get from the Thatcher-loving owners of so much
of the mass media other than sentimental slush, half-truths, misrepresentation
or distortion with their well-paid hacks only too willing accomplices?
This ceremonial procession and service was
essentially a portrayal of power much as the political and media establishment had
wanted. A real triumph of fawning idolatry. In reality however it was an abject
failure. Most people saw this crowing as a symbol for what it actually was.
Crowing triumphalism, and the British people don’t like that. They prefer
dignity and modesty. Both speak louder than any words, especially those that
are hectoring, imperious and demanding. Besides, let’s take a longer view. A
wheel always turns. Politicians, their values and their evils come and go. What
fine values, what generosity of spirit, what noble deeds and genuine
humanitarianism will Margaret Thatcher be remembered for? Possibly, only for
the inculcation of greed and the hardship and misery of many who have long,
long memories for what people suffered passed down the generations as a
millstone of fear.
Seen from the distance of a many faceted
and much changing world it’s not looking good. In national well-orchestrated
terms, a spirit of triumphalism! In terms of our planet and its people over
time, a mere interlude of unpleasantness. She didn’t make people any better,
any kinder, any wiser, any the more human. Viewed from the longer perspective
of time and distance she strutted her mean stuff for a decade then vanished.
And finally, as for her playing a vital
role in destroying ‘communism’ and bringing down the Soviet Union with Ronald
Regan… really, who’s kidding who? Gorbachev did that, not Margaret Thatcher,
because that’s what he wanted to do. The so called Iron Lady was only iron at
home for a few years playing with tin soldiers. On the international scene her
raucous voice and poshed up supercilious tone was little more than a barely
tolerated joke. An international joke that in reality made the people of
Britain look foolish.
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