On Sweets Way the great ignored are finding ways to assert themselves
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Version 0 of 1. ‘They think we’re a piece of furniture,” Kauthar says, her tone one of defiance and incredulity. “We’re not a sofa or a table, we’re actually human beings.” She oozes determination. Along with the rest of her community, Kauthar faces eviction from Sweets Way estate in Barnet, north London, because a tax exile wants to bulldoze their homes to make way for luxury homes. Oh, and 59 “affordable” homes, an Orwellian attempt to rebrand rents only the comfortably off can pay as something else. Related: Sleepover protest led by Russell Brand draws 150 to Sweets Way estate Kauthar is just 13 years old, a year-eight student who is also a resolute, charismatic protester. When her family were booted out of their home, they were relocated to a house with no hot water, leaving them to spend weeks bathing with the help of a kettle. But she isn’t broken: far from it. “We just want them to listen to us,” Kauthar says. “We want them to come and be in our shoes because if they were in our shoes they would hate it. They’re living out a posh life and they’ve got money, but our parents didn’t choose to be in this situation.” The occupation of Sweets Way estate matters. It’s crucial, of course, for the dignity and security of its inhabitants, who were taken to court on Monday but won an adjournment until next week. It’s important, too, to confront a housing crisis that has left 5 million people languishing on social housing waiting lists, and countless families at the mercy of an unregulated, sometimes extortionate private rental market. But it is significant because it is a striking example of people deprived of any meaningful political voice in modern Britain. Lacking representation at local and national levels, benefiting from few allies in the mainstream media, they are forced to be creative when it comes to forcing the powerful to listen. Neoliberal society obliterates organised dissent. Ideologically, it breaks down solidarity, encouraging the idea that we all rise or fall as individuals based on our personal effort, or lack thereof. The shift from an industrial to a service-sector working class breaks down other organic forms of solidarity: jobs can be more precarious and short-lived, and communities tend not to be based around supermarkets or call centres as they once were around factories or mines. Trade unions have been weakened by anti-union laws, defeats in seismic industrial disputes, and mass unemployment. Working-class people were deprived of a voice; the notion of collectively organising to improve the conditions of individuals, communities and society as a whole has been eroded. The proliferation of home ownership was supposed to further inculcate a sense of individualism, and hinder protracted strikes because of the need to pay mortgages. Trade unions and local government gave working-class people political experience and knowhow; their decline, along with the general professionalisation of politics, has ensured the dominance of the professional middle classes in Westminster. The decline of the left, and with it a sense of a coherent alternative vision for how society could be run, saps the will to fight. It should be so different. A broader labour movement would organise the unemployed and those living a precarious existence. There would be more local councillors hailing from the circumstances of those facing eviction from Sweets Way. Members of parliament would find themselves directly accountable to a thriving movement from below. There would be far more journalists from such communities, instead of a media transformed into a closed shop for the privileged, thanks to unpaid internships and expensive postgraduate qualifications. Democracy would be a far more effective counterweight to corporate interests. Of course, in such a Britain it is unlikely the residents of Sweets Way estate would find themselves in their current situation in the first place. But deprived of effective representation, they are forced to resort to any means possible to be heard. The residents cannot rely on mainstream media that are largely the plaything of a few privileged owners. And so they bypass it with social media, increasingly becoming a great hope for those seeking to democratise the means of dispersing information in modern Britain. They tweet out their situation, argue their case, appeal for solidarity and resources, ask others to build pressure on both their corporate tormentors and local and national politicians. They enlist the support of Russell Brand, who has become an important ally of this grassroots campaign because his social media following and celebrity makes him a highly effective megaphone. I found a courage and determination in that 13-year-old girl that is infectious Democracy no longer listens to the likes of Sweets Way residents, let alone caters for their needs. That leaves many Britons in desperate circumstances feeling resigned and hopeless, sensing the odds are too great, lacking faith in collective struggle as a solution. But the likes of Sweets Way – following struggles over housing led by working-class women in Focus E15 and the New Era last year – demonstrate that the apparently voiceless are increasingly finding ways of asserting themselves. We won’t hear voices like Kauthar’s in the general election campaign. A coup by the privileged in politics and media ensures that they are simply not listened to or taken seriously. But I found a courage and determination in that 13-year-old girl that is infectious. From Brixton cinema workers fighting for the living wage to the New Era tenants, the great ignored are finding ways to win despite a decaying democracy that excludes them. It should give hope to others in similar circumstances. And if not, Kauthar has a warning. “When we grow older, we might be controlling them. They never know.” |