Click on the headline to link to updates from the Occupy Boston website. Occupy Boston started at 6:00 PM, September 30, 2011. I will post important updates as they appear on that site.
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We Created The Wealth, Let's Take It Back! Labor And The Oppressed Must Rule!
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To Those Born After
I
To the cities I came in a time of disorder
That was ruled by hunger.
I sheltered with the people in a time of uproar
And then I joined in their rebellion.
That's how I passed my time that was given to me on this Earth.
I ate my dinners between the battles,
I lay down to sleep among the murderers,
I didn't care for much for love
And for nature's beauties I had little patience.
That's how I passed my time that was given to me on this Earth.
The city streets all led to foul swamps in my time,
My speech betrayed me to the butchers.
I could do only little
But without me those that ruled could not sleep so easily:
That's what I hoped.
That's how I passed my time that was given to me on this Earth.
Our forces were slight and small,
Our goal lay in the far distance
Clearly in our sights,
If for me myself beyond my reaching.
That's how I passed my time that was given to me on this Earth.
II
You who will come to the surface
From the flood that's overwhelmed us and drowned us all
Must think, when you speak of our weakness in times of darkness
That you've not had to face:
Days when we were used to changing countries
More often than shoes,
Through the war of the classes despairing
That there was only injustice and no outrage.
Even so we realised
Hatred of oppression still distorts the features,
Anger at injustice still makes voices raised and ugly.
Oh we, who wished to lay for the foundations for peace and friendliness,
Could never be friendly ourselves.
And in the future when no longer
Do human beings still treat themselves as animals,
Look back on us with indulgence.
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Markin comment October 24, 2011:
Recently I have, as an old-time radical, a 1960s radical but don’t hold that against me, been commenting in this space about my favorable reaction to the creation of the Occupy Boston site (and the several hundred others set up here in America and world-wide in the wake of Occupy Wall Street). I have backed that favorable reaction with all kinds of support, including physical defense of the Occupy Boston site in the early hours of Tuesday October 11, 2011 when the Boston police raided and shut down the second site. During the course of various conversations over past couple of weeks, mainly with the young campers and their supporters, I have repeatedly made the statement that “the torch has been passed.” This statement has met with a certain amount of bewilderment and incomprehension on the part of some young listeners. All that the statement means, perhaps reflecting my own political origins as a left-liberal democrat who fiercely supported John F. Kennedy’s presidential victory in 1960 and was enthralled by his use of the term in his inaugural address in 1961, is that we older radicals now had young radicals to pass the lessons of the struggle on to. Unfortunately, until very recently, I and a fair number of other older radicals, were somewhat in despair because with a very un-radical “missing generation” (our sons and daughters, and today’s youth’s parents) the links to the past struggles might not get passed on. I breathe easier now knowing we have reinforcements, and plenty of them.
I breathe easier still knowing that like the narrator in Bertolt Brecht's poem above, To Those Who Come After, by my actions over a long political career, a career filled with its fair share of mistakes and wrong roads taken that I can post this poem in solidarity with the narrator. I have continued the fight for the “newer world” that I started out as a starry-eyed youth to fight for long ago in the early 1960s when I attended my first public demonstration in favor of nuclear disarmament. I, we, did not set the terms that we fought under, mostly the rich and powerful set the agenda and we reacted, fitfully, to their outrages in order to stop their wars, stop their violations of our civil liberties, and stop their hoarding of the common wealth. But mainly, well or poorly, I, we, fought. I, we, got up, stood up, stood up for my (our) rights as Bob Marley’s song of the same name would have it. So remember, as the last lines of the poem plead-“And in the future when no longer, Do human beings still treat themselves as animals, Look back on us with indulgence.”
This space is dedicated to stories, mainly about Billie from “the projects” elementary school days and Frankie from the later old working class neighborhood high school days but a few others as well. And of growing up in the time of the red scare, Cold War, be-bop jazz, beat poetry, rock ‘n’ roll, hippie break-outs of the 1950s and early 1960s in America. My remembrances, and yours as well.
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