On behalf of the people (some divergence between Patrick and

Patrick Bond pbond at SPAMwn.apc.org
Tue Jan 23 08:14:37 MST 2001

I think I'm the target, today, of Mark's (>) scathing tripple >s
(having recently endured my fair share of surprise Xmas whacks from
Jonesy on his Crashlist):

> From:          "Mark Jones" <jones.mark at btconnect.com>
> > > Still, in a more practical vein,
> Oy, vey, spare me this 'practice' of yours.

Damn Mark, I used to get this kind of cynicism from Louis, prior to
Seattle. Then he got smart and now leaves me alone when I talk about
radical social movements.

> > > the Dakar 2000 meeting of radical
> > > African grassroots groups (Francophone, Lusophone and Anglophone,
> > > together in such a setting for the first time in `civil society'
> > > history as far as I know), a month ago, aiming at debt, trade,
> > > neoliberalism and imperialism was apparently quite an inspiring step
> > > forward for the multitudes, if reports are correct... That's the
> > > future of politics here, comrade, and the MugabeKabilaMbeki crew are
> > > really in the way, no?
> Ah, meet the new boss... same as the old boss, hey?
> No, that's not the future but the past you're revisiting. It goes back to the times
> of the first Venetian and Portugese gold and salve traders. No, it goes back to the
> first *Arab* gold and slave traders.

WHAT are you on about, mate?

> No-one's reinventing the wheel, not in Africa
> anyway, where it continues to grind down the faces of the masses as it has done for
> 800 years and more. The people sitting astride this obscene wagon, axle-deep in
> blood, are not the foreigners but the chiefs and kings themselves.

Gee, what a compelling line of argument. You know Mark, I was
enjoying my G&T one afternoon just over a week ago, on the verandah
of a quaint wee place called the White Horse Inn, up in the
beautiful Bvumba (Shona for `misty') mountains in eastern Zimbabwe,
eavesdropping on a couple of classical local colonialists -- 73 years
old, with regulation-pressed khaki short-trousers, starched white
shirts with epaulets, handlebar moustaches, cropped white hair, oh
and of course knee socks perfectly folded at the top, with veldskoon
shoes, the whole spiel -- and you know, comrade Mark, that's exactly
the line I heard from these two old geezers! Extraordinary echo on
this marxism list.

(Or have you got some Rhodesian uncles or something?)


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