1        Soul Bound 1.3      Making a Splash 1.3.3    An Unrequited Love 1.3.3.16 Sharpe Lecture: allies (part two)

Flashback to being a student in 2030s studying "Effective Political Activism" at University College London.

Fast paced words flooded the room as Dr. Sharpe strode back and forth across the stage with the unstoppable precision of a metronome.

"During the middle ages, Britain was almost exactly divided into those who had both money and social status, and those who had neither. But after the steam-powered looms of the industrial revolution put humans in control of machines that didn't depend upon the muscles or knowledge of the operator, the amount of money you could make no longer required vast tracts of land and the fealty of those bound to it. Any man of enterprise able to use wages to lure cottage workers away from their hereditary lords who traditionally exploited and protected then, and then cram them into the appalling conditions of the the city factories, could find raise funding on the new stockmarket to build yet more death-traps, populated with easily replaceable workers. Mice in a mousetrap, unable to return and left to starve on the streets if unwilling to work fourteen hour shifts or maimed beyond usefulness."

He spent the next few minutes bringing up slides with illustrations drawn from individual industries, while reading aloud testimonies taken down at the time. It needed little of the magic from his voice to bring each scene alive in her imagination, and she was particularly struck by one from an eight year old girl talking about her daily experiences chained half-naked to a heavy ore-cart, pulling it along on her hands and knees through wet low-ceilinged passages:

"I'm a trapper in the Gawber pit. It does not tire me, but I have to trap without a light and I'm scared. I go at four and sometimes half past three in the morning, and come out at five and half past (in the afternoon).. I never go to sleep. Sometimes I sing when I've light, but not in the dark; I dare not sing then. I don't like being in the pit.... I would like to be at school far better than in the pit."

-- Sarah Gooder, testimony before Lord Ashley's royal commission of inquiry into working conditions, 1842

"In 2015 people were shocked when it was revealed that hundreds of Filipino children were suffering from mercury poisoning, because their small size made them ideal for swimming in the tight spaces of flooded gold mines, and offers of daily wages paid in cash weighed more heavily with their parents than the potentially greater long term prospects that schooling offered. In Britain 200 years earlier? For the unprivileged majority, that was just normal life. The thought of it being unfair and undeserved, let alone protesting about it, didn't cross their minds.

For an activist to identify the problem, identify a solution, and to love others so much that they were willing to stand in opposition to the status quo just on a chance that they could help things improve? That took someone exceptional. Someone who questioned assumptions and who looked at the bigger picture with the eyes of a historian - realising that if things hadn't always been this way, then it wasn't inevitable."

He brought up a slide showing a respectably dressed man, with kind eyes and wavy hair.

"One such man was a self-taught Cornish cabinet maker named William Lovett. In the 1820s less than 5% of the British population were entitled to vote in elections and a succession of wars (against the Irish, French, and pretty much everybody else standing in their way) had left the empire with a constant thirst for soldiers. The resulting tendency for governments to ignore the rights of individuals (at least the ones too poor or low status to object) and forcibly draft them into becoming militia drew Lovett into becoming an activist but after The Great Reform Act of 1832 became law, Lovett turned his attention and newly developed skills to the question of working conditions.

What if workers from across the nation could cooperate with other workers, in the same way that factory owners already cooperated with other factory owners to support each other and shape legislation in their favour? What if each worker willing to join were to contribute just one penny per week, to be used collectively to campaign for working conditions that were less dangerous and arduous? To send eloquent and well briefed representatives to give voice to the workers' ideas and interest in the halls of power? Perhaps even to help educate workers and their children in the hope of future generations breaking this vicious cycle of inequality?"

Lovett tried assembling a crowd of workers in order to share his ideas with them, but before much could happen the authorities found him and threw him in Warwick Gaol, charged with sedition and incitement to riot. He and any who had listened to him were denounced as "traitors, humbugs and miscreants"; they were silenced, persecuted and vilified at every turn. Even respected vicars were preaching Sunday sermons on how just it would be if only someone were to kindly assassinate people trying to destroy the British way of life and everything decent people stood for, such as the obviously evil Mr William Lovett.

Poor Lovett. When he'd had the power to be heard, he'd used it not just to support those like himself, but also to speak in favour of votes for women and many other causes. But alas that period of his life was brief; he ended up deprived of any access to audiences and had settled for a quiet married life running a bookshop and working as a part-time school teacher. To those in power, it must have appeared like they'd won.

But a well stated idea can have a life of its own, independent of its originator and able to survive their death or disgrace. Lovett had written a book while imprisoned, in support of "The People's Charter" that he and other activists used to summarise their core demands, and the century which followed can be viewed through the lens of one issue: did the general public think it was fair for workers to act collectively to stand up for their own interests as a class? How and why did that perception change from initial demonisation and persecution, to the eventual situation where certain polite and well defined types of striking became assimilated into British Tradition and even receiving legal protection? Which of the tactics tried by activists were effective and why? Why did things happen so differently in America, which was one of the first countries to industrialise after Britain? Was the difference due to the actions of specific groups and individual activists, or due to some other factor in the culture, tradition or history of the two countries?

The great facts of present industry are the displacement of human skill by machines and the increase of capitalist power through concentration in the possession of the tools with which wealth is produced and distributed.

New machines, ever replacing less productive ones, wipe out whole trades and plunge new bodies of workers into the ever growing army of tradeless, hopeless unemployed. As human beings and human skill are displaced by mechanical progress, the capitalists need use the workers only during that brief period when muscles and nerves respond most intensely. The moment the laborer no longer yields the maximum of profits, he is thrown upon the scrap pile, to starve alongside the discarded machine. A dead line has been drawn, and an age limit established, to cross which, in this world of monopolized opportunities, means condemnation to industrial death.

The worker, wholly separated from the land and the tools, with his skill of craftsmanship rendered useless, is sunk in the uniform mass of wage slaves.

In this helpless condition he is forced to accept whatever humiliating conditions his master may impose. He is submitted to a physical and intellectual examination more searching than was the chattel slave when sold from the auction block.

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This worn-out and corrupt system offers no promise of improvement and adaptation. There is no silver lining to the clouds of darkness and despair settling down upon the world of labor.

--IWW Manifesto, Chicago, 1905

Nadine felt confused, her thoughts barely able to keep up. Dr. Sharpe seemed all over the place today, talking about ancient tyrants one moment and about trade unionists the next. Yet he obviously thought they were deeply connected. What was she missing? His next words rolled over her, filled with a level of outrage that raised hairs on her skin and put all other thoughts out of her head.

"Wage slavery? They dared to compare the experience of workers free to choose where to live and work, with the experience of the black people held to involuntary servitude by a skin colour they had no choice over whether to inherit? If they had truly cared about injustice and so deserved that others care about their own plight, wouldn't they have worked twice as hard, no matter the personal cost, until the biggest wrongs had been righted first?"

He left the question hanging, glaring around the room and daring anyone to disagree or even meet his eyes. There was a lot of uncomfortable shuffling, as people matched his claim against the definitions they'd collectively agreed to just minutes earlier. Nobody spoke up.

Over the next twenty minutes thing just grew worse, as he quickly took them through events and dozens of tactics, from concrete ideas such as the logistics of floating pickets and practical sleeping dragon formations, to abstractions such as precision 'work to rule' slowdowns that could turn production bottlenecks into chokepoints. Technically it wasn't bad teaching or even biased. He gave examples of both successes and failures, even likely enemy response and work-arounds to them, with sources all neatly referenced in the electronic notes on the course website, but something was different - he presented them as a list of facts stripped of personal stories or human context. It wasn't fun, and he became increasingly merciless in the control he exerted over the lecture and the students, leveraging his position of authority, control over the microphone, the perceived endorsement of the other students who complied with his dictates and any other tool available to him.

Or rather, nearly any other tool. Despite the topic, he noticed that not once had he claimed a special right to not be opposed due to his being the son of black immigrants from Jamaica. Nor did he lock the door, let alone use violence or threaten it, though judging by the fear on their faces as they stumbled out of the theatre while clutching half-packed bags, that hadn't stopped a few of the students from making assumptions. Probably they were new to the course and didn't know him well.

Nadine, on the other hand, knew him better than most because of their shared womble activities outside lectures. He was too good at acting to give any outward clue he wasn't being sincere, but something (whether her knowledge of how far his current behaviour differed from his norm, or just gut instinct) made her certain his current behaviour was just a performance. One he was putting on for a purpose, and which would only get worse until the thing Dr. Sharpe was waiting for happened.

What was so important? If any of the students who'd left made a formal complaint, he could be suspended or even lose his job. Someone had to put an end to it, if only for his own sake, but it would take more than just one person speaking up - Dr. Sharpe had the microphone and the longer people waited for someone else to act, the more evidence there was that the majority were willing to comply, and the harder it would become.

Even Alderney had stopped trying to fit the jigsaw pieces together and was looking concerned. Kafana reached over to nudge Wellington and whispered something to them both, before counting out 60 long seconds, steeling herself for the consequences of the two things she'd realised.

Someone had to speak up.

And, while none of the students had a microphone, there was one student present who had a trained voice that Dr. Shape could not prevent being heard in every corner of the room.

Alderney and Wellington reached the opposite ends of the room at nearly the same time, giving her a thumbs up to indicate her message had been passed on. Now it only remained to find out if she were correct. If she had the courage. But if she didn't, who would?

She stood up with slow dignity, trying not the tremble, the eye of every student upon her. Dr. Sharpe didn't pause or even acknowledge with a look that she was more than a piece of furniture. He wasn't going to make it easy on her, was he? She felt anger start growing inside her.

She raised a hand and, after he ignored her for five seconds, she spoke at a normal volume.

Nadine: "Dr. Sharpe. I have a question that cannot wait."

He continued to use the microphone to talk over her, explaining scarcity of factory workers in Britain during a World War, and the effects upon struggles of women and workers as ex-soldiers returned with a new view of their own self-worth and ability to stand up to the powerful.

She lowered her hand, took in a deep breath and started to sing. Not a song, just a single note, as intensely as she could. She knew the effect she wanted and started it gently, slowly increasing the volume in a controlled manner. 10 seconds. 20 seconds. Longer than an untrained singer could manage or would even expect. 30 seconds and now louder than the lecture theatre sound system. She cut it dead with a dramatic hand gesture after 45 seconds rather than letting it trail off, so she could appear powerful and fully in control. Dr. Sharpe stopped speaking and turned to face her, one eyebrow raised.

She repeated her statement in a normal voice, and this time he acknowledged her presence with a small nod of permission, still not giving an inch - the very picture of intimidating establishment authority.

Nadine: "Dr. Sharpe, a point of order. You are spending our time reciting material already in the online notes, but I feel the majority of students here are confused by the method you picked for them to communicate their opinions of those definitions, and lack confidence that your unverified interpretation of their displayed jigsaw cards is a fair process or an effective one. We would like you please to take your time to address this matter before proceeding further. I ask everyone here who agrees with me to show this by briefly standing up."

Well, she'd said it. Would she get kicked off the course? Hauled up by the university authorities for inciting riots? Was she an idiot, or would at least some people agree with her? She heard a general rustling sound, but didn't dare turn her head to check, keeping her eyes locked on Dr. Sharpe.

Dr. Sharpe: "Miss Sabanagic, you are disrupting my lecture. What gives you the right to tell me how to carry out my job? What gives you the arrogance to put your individual wants and opinions above the needs of the majority? Why should I treat you as an individual, listen to you in particular, when it is more efficient to focus upon the average well being of the group? Why should troublemakers like you be given rights at all?"

So much for remaining polite and dignified. She felt her anger boil over.

Nadine: "Because I am an individual, whether you find that convenient or not. Because unity can be useful, even important, but not at any price, not at the price of forgetting who you are and why things matter. Because no process, no law, no organisation is perfect yet, once they become a part of the status quo they'll never improve, never even be questioned, unless there are at least some people in society willing to take the risk of disagreeing with the majority, even when doing so is inconvenient. Societies need troublemakers!"

She sat down, stunned at the words she'd allowed to escape her mouth. She hadn't meant to say all that. It had just slipped out.

Then Dr. Sharpe smiled. Not a cold cruel smile suited to the authority figure he'd been playing the role of, but his genuine one with twinkling eyes and a mischievous twist to his lips that lit up his whole face with delight.

Dr. Sharpe: "Well done, Miss Sabanagic, very well done. And to those who stood in support of you. Because that's what political activists do. We look at the world and, when we discover an opportunity to take effective action affecting an issue, an issue whose injustice and oppression touches us so deeply we can no more ignore it than we can ignore an unconscious car crash victim bleeding unbandaged on the pavement before us, we take a stand. Or, as those in power, the police, and even the general populace may initially see it - we're trouble makers."

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