The disaffected young white male population gravitated towards the Front with undue haste. Barely a decade after the summer of love/height of the swinging 60’s, the UK had crumbled into a bitterly divided nation. A class war had erupted in the shape of the struggle between the miners and the government. The 3-day week and recession helped incubate resentment. And whilst the wealthy remained untouched, the white unemployed populace looked for someone to blame and the National Front found plenty of scapegoats for their rage… West Indian, Indian, Pakistani, Bangladeshi, African and Jewish communities were targeted and violence was never far away.
Eastbourne, sleepy old Eastbourne, the sun trap of the south and home to the largest collection of white over 65’s in Europe at that time hardly seemed a relevant recruiting ground for the NF. There were less than 20 BAME families in the town at the time and there was hardly anything to suggest that the situation would change. But the NF continued to peddle their ‘truths’and they went on a recruitment drive to turn the rather weedy youth of the town into some kind of elite Freikorps. A rather simple strategy of identifying the intellectually immature but physically intimidating was the way forward. And so, it came to pass that our school got its very own playground brownshirt – NaziBoy!
It began with a badge. Badges being quite high on the teen boys currency list. A little NF badge, if you were none the wiser, might seem like just another band badge – white red & black. The badge provoked interest and provoked a conversation or two. The recruitment process had begun. After the badge, some stickers. They’d start appearing on bus shelters, in the school toilets, on desks and noticeboards. The message was simple “PAKIS GO HOME”. The message was repetitive. The message was of course, repulsive!
The follow up was then the newspaper. ‘Bulldog’ full to the brim with odious, ill-concealed racist rhetoric left the reader in no doubt who was to blame and what should be done. Terrace humour mixed with a mangled manifesto hewn from off cuts of Enoch Powell’s ‘rivers of blood’ speech. Battle-lines had been drawn.
Fortunately, to the eternal credit of all but two of my classmates, the message was received, understood and swiftly rejected. Membership of the Anti-Nazi League/Rock against Racism skyrocketed and robust debates were had on every bus home, the untruths were confronted at each and every turn. Admittedly the significant shoeing that was meted out to NaziBoy helped to sway any of the undecided.
The point of sharing this little snapshot of a political awakening on the South Coast of England is twofold:
1) Recognition of my schoolmates who swiftly and rigorously rejected the doctrine that NaziBoy had been championed with spreading.
2) To also recognise that it was easy to confront such an obvious affront to common decency because the tactic of playground recruiting was so route one.
The problem of course now is that, the same enemy has become far more sophisticated in their branding, message and approach. Route one is no longer viable, these tricky fuckers are far more subtle. The use of well-worn tropes is still happening, not least because the rebuttal portals are no longer geared up to respond. The significant leap to the right by media houses has left rigour and context trailing behind all those chasing clicks. The various techniques and approaches to get people on their own (the digital equivalent of getting somebody round the back of the back sheds and threatening them with a right kicking) are so marvellously subtle thanks to targeted EDM’s, FB Posts etc.
What I’m trying to say is that the bastards aren’t wearing badges anymore and it makes it easy for the weak and embittered to join the slipstream of hate…
It is our duty to call them all out. Every single one of them, every single time. If we don’t before you know it, NaziBoy and his chums will not only run the playground, they’ll own the whole damned country!
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