[Reader-list] well...

[yasir ~يا سر]

On Sun, Aug 3, 2008 at 12:02 PM, yasir ~يا سر <yasir.media at gmail.com> wrote:
> Unusual as this declaration seems at first sight, by the end of this
> book I found myself wondering whether it was not perhaps insisted upon
> by the lawyers, as a kind of indemnity clause. In Defense of Lost
> Causes is mostly concerned with a critical diagnosis of the current
> progressive political climate. According to Žižek, the contemporary
> left is in a bad way, weakened by an enervating cocktail of Western
> Buddhism, jogging, bodybuilding, "hedonist permissivity" and
> multicultural orgies. But this immoral and decadent situation is
> temporary. "The time is coming," he says, "for the Left to
> (re)appropriate discipline and the spirit of sacrifice: there is
> nothing inherently 'fascist' about these values." Not even pausing to
> invent a marching song, Žižek goes on to propose that the left take
> over the Catholic cult of martyrdom and canonize Che Guevara--as if
> the millions of Che posters and postcards plastered all over
> university student dorm rooms (I myself used to own one, before moving
> on to a shelf full of Žižek books) haven't already secured him pop
> sainthood enough. Žižek's search for redemptive change also leads him
> to the Nazi party for inspiration. "There is a lesson," he writes, "to
> be learned from Hermann Goering's reply, in the early 1940s, to a
> fanatical Nazi who asked him why he protected a well-known Jew from
> deportation: 'In this city, I decide who is a Jew!'... In this city,
> it is we who decide what is left." The term 'counter-intuitive' is
> often pinned to Žižek's chest like a medal. In this case I propose
> either a Grand Cross of the Iron Cross, or else a Purple Heart.
> http://www.thenation.com/doc/20080721/miller
>
>
>
>
>  This is the update from Naveena Textile Mills, Thokar Niaz Beg,
> Lahore. Following is a detailed account from Comrade Taimur:
>
> ---------- Forwarded message ----------
> From: Taimur Rahman <redpak2000 at yahoo.com>
> Date: Aug 2, 2008 9:11 PM
> Subject: [cmkp] An account of a strike and our arrest
>
> Defense Road which is on the outskirts of Lahore is a massive
> industrial area where thousands of workers are employed. Since it is a
> long way from the city, it is a lawless area where the police and
> local administration is often in collusion with local gangsters,
> capitalists and landlords. Poor people have little or no rights in the
> area. The working class in this area is almost completely
> non-unionized (in fact most don't know what a union is). Most workers
> in the area are first generation workers that have arrived from
> various villages all over the Punjab and live together in small
> cramped quarters. They send money back to their families in villages
> and try to eke out a meagre existence in the cities.
>
> The CMKP has been working in this area for the last 12 years. We have
> seen the area change slowly. We have seen the roads develop. Farm land
> change into estates for the wealthy. Massive schemes that have robbed
> people of land in order to feed the land mafia. A flyover is now being
> constructed over the area. When we started work in the area more than
> a decade ago, it was nearly impossible to form any sort of collective
> action. Workers were illiterate and most believed that there was no
> possibility of standing up to the ruling class, police, or local
> badmash.
>
> We continued our work patiently and with great persistence. Gradually
> our organization began to expand from a handful of individuals to a
> group of workers. We endlessly leafleted the area. Hundreds of
> thousands of left-wing leaflets have been distributed in the area on
> workers problems. We performed plays in the area. We performed musical
> programs in the area. We organized left-wing mushairas (poetry
> recitals) in the area. We lobbied the labour courts on specific
> issues. We distributed left-wing photocopied books in the area. We
> have had an endless number of study circles, corner meetings, hotel
> meetings, quarter meetings, house to house visits, and so on in the
> area. We participated in election campaigns in the area. Gradually we
> became strong enough to even build a worker financed party office.
> Today we are proud to say that we have members and sympathizers in the
> entire area. Our supporters run in thousands and we have built a
> left-wing working class
> constituency.
>
> The comrades of the All Pakistan Trade Union Federation, Working
> Women's Organization, and Communist Mazdoor Kissan Party, who enjoy a
> very close working relationship under the banner of the Mazdoor Action
> Committee, decided to launch a concerted campaign on the issue of the
> provision of minimum wages. The minimum wage of Rs. 6000 is rarely
> paid in the area.
>
> Workers at Naveena textiles (a very large company that exports shirts)
> were being laid off without proper notification. Moreover, minimum
> wages were not being paid to workers at this factory. The workers
> demanded that all their dues, including both wages and gratuity, be
> cleared on the basis of the recently announced minimum wages (i.e. Rs.
> 6000).
>
> As a result on the 28th of July we helped to organize a strike. The
> response by the mill administration was that the local police was
> called out and workers were beaten black and blue. Warning shots were
> fired at the feet of the workers. It was more than obvious that the
> police was totally partial to the mill owners.
>
> We helped organize a second strike on the 31st of July. However, this
> time the police had been called at 6 am in the morning and had
> completely occupied the entire building. The buses of workers were
> moved into the gates and under police supervision inside the factory
> they were made to work. Workers that had been illegally laid off
> assembled outside the premises and were beaten brutally. Four workers
> were taken into custody.
>
> CMKP comrades called the press. My wife and I arrived minutes before
> the press and we were greeted some distance from the factory by
> workers with a roar of approval, handshakes, hugs, smiles, tears,
> followed by militant slogans. After the arrival of the press, we
> decided to go back to the factory gate. The police did not dare attack
> in the presence of the press. We stood at the gate raising slogans,
> clapping, and chanting in rhythm. We could see from the factory gate
> that police men with guns were stationed on the roof top of the
> factory. Police also cordoned the smaller gate (the larger gate was
> shut tight). And police also stood behind us and to our sides. But we
> were not afraid.
>
> Then a new sight gripped our attention. Workers from inside the
> factory, having heard the commotion outside, left work and all came to
> the roof. We shouted out to them, if you are with us raise your hands,
> raise slogans with us. To our utter delight every single one of them
> raised their hands. The entire roof was now full of hundreds of
> workers and hundreds were outside with us. Waving to each other. But
> they could not come down because a heavy police presence was inside
> the factory.
>
> The managers of the factory came out and said "this is all a giant
> misunderstanding". But workers would have none of their sweet talk.
> Workers demanded that their comrades beaten and arrested that morning
> be released before any negotiations. Management tried to talk but they
> were drowned out by slogans. After some time management relented and
> released the workers to the roaring crowd. Management then invited the
> press inside the building. Some CMKP members and later the main labour
> leaders accompanied them to the office. Inside, the press grilled them
> with questions. One manager said that this was all the work of
> sharpasand elements (subversives). Another began to accuse the press
> of being biased (interestingly he is the father of a colleague of mine
> from the university where I am a faculty member (LUMS) -- it was Moin
> Cheema's father). The press demanded a tour of the premises. They
> argued that workers had signed a contract but they had to relent when
> we pointed out that their contract violated the labour laws of the
> country that guaranteed a minimum wage of Rs. 6000. They could not
> concede in front of all those cameras that they were willing to
> violate labour laws. Finally, they stated that they accepted the
> demands of the workers and informed us that they would speak to the
> owners and announce the date of the clearance. We were suspicious but
> decided to allow them time to talk to the owner.
>
> We came back outside and saw that comrades of the All Pakistan Trade
> Union Federation had also arrived. They gave us very sound advice.
> They said that we must immediately register the union and that we must
> request a labour court officer to come immediately to the factory.
> They called the labour court people and we announced this news to the
> workers.
>
> By now we were standing around in small dispersed groups in front of
> the factory gate (no one was even close to the road). Speeches and
> slogans had all come to an end. We were waiting for the factory
> management to announce the date of clearance. The press had gone away.
> We saw the police filing out of the gate. I thought that they were
> going back to the station since the matter had been settled. As a
> precaution I asked our main labour leader Azam Naqvi to come stand
> next to me and to not be alone at any moment. Suddenly and without
> warning the police charged at Azam. I instinctively jumped between him
> and the police and he grabbed onto me from behind for protection.
> Workers had formed a right group behind us to protect Azam and we were
> not letting go of each other. I protested vehemently. A rain of
> lathis, kicks, and slaps came towards me.
>
> Since I was in the front and was extremely vocal, I was getting the
> vast majority of them. The SHO Farooq Awam (a huge fat but strong man)
> let down a lathi squarely on my head. I don't exaggerate when I say
> that it only felt like I had been brushed with a straw. I was so angry
> and incensed at that point that I couldn't feel anything. I let out a
> few explicative and started fighting his subsequent strokes. Ali Jan,
> Rafaqat, and others jumped into the lathis to try and protect us. From
> behind I released that plain clothes police men were inside our group
> trying to separate our group. I grabbed one of them, he punched me in
> the face. Didn't hurt. Just made me even more angry. At one point I
> grabbed a lathi from one end but couldn't hold on to it as I need my
> arms to ward off the other lathis. From behind me I heard a sharp loud
> explosion. It was shots being fired into the ground. From the corner
> of my eye I thought I saw some smoke and workers running helter
> skelter. It took me a few minutes to realize that shots had been fired
> to disperse the crowds.
>
> By now our outnumbered (but unbroken) group was being pushed towards
> the police car (we were still being hit from all sides but it didn't
> hurt). By the time we reached the police car, both the police and our
> group were gasping for air. I thought to myself, I need to pace my
> stamina,  and exhaust these people (funny how one thinks these strange
> things in the middle of such situations). By now we were at back of
> the police van. I looked inside to see Ali Jan had already been
> arrested. I grabbed the railing of the van and resolved to not let go.
> The police pushed and pushed but could not budge us. Then one police
> officer cracked down on my left hand with his lathi. I got so angry I
> held out my hand and said "x,y,z phir mar, ley mera haath phir mar".
> He did not hit me again (in fact later he became quite sympathetic to
> us). Several policemen grabbed my arms and tried to lift us again.
> They forgot my feet. I hooked my feet at the bottom of the van and
> they failed to lift
> us yet again. Finally, they grabbed my legs and arms and lifted me
> clear off the ground. This time we were overpowered (as I think back,
> it must have been that our small linked group must have been broken
> from the back in order for them to be able to do that. My shoe came
> off. As they threw me into the van, I said "give me back my shoe" (as
> I think back I laugh at my own funny reactions and thoughts).
>
> Five of us had now been hauled into the van (Ali Jan, Rafaqat, Azam,
> Bilal, myself). Bilal was bleed from the ear. Azam's jeans were
> totally torn from the back. Ali Jan and myself held their hands and
> said "don't be afraid, we are with you". The van was moving and
> Rafaqat started raising slogans, we all joined him. The super cool Ali
> Jan started an entire speech in the van. He berated the police for
> their class biases. He started an entire CMKP study circle in the dam
> van. An argument broke out between the police and ourselves. We
> appealed to their working class roots and for them to realize that
> they were doing the wrong thing. On the one hand I was participating
> in the debate and on the other I was looking at and massaging my
> swollen left hand index finger thinking "I better get my guitar
> playing hand fixed for Laal, otherwise I won't be able to finish the
> recording" (incredibly stupid I know but such are the joys of being
> arrested, it takes a while to
> come to put things in perspective).
>
> When we got to the station the SHO (the man with whom I was in direct
> confrontation at the factory gate) turned to me and said "tera tay
> main hunain hi chitrol karan ga". My instinctive reaction was to say
> "x,y,z hunay kar" but I realized that would be pretty stupid. So I
> blurted "kis bunyad par konsa qanoon torra hai hum nay". He turned to
> one of the bulky police men and said "chitrol kar ida". He replied
> "nahin sir". "Ki matlab". He didn't explain just repeated "nahin sar"
> again (I assume the implication was that 'these are influential people
> it would not be a wise move'). He turned to Azam and said "jagga nahin
> lain diyan ga main tenu". Ali Jan said "Jagga kon sa ji, qanooni
> haqooq mangay hain". After a short argument they marched us to a small
> room. As I was walking I got a text from my wife "I love you, please
> don't fight them". It made me realize that she was safe and it gave me
> strength.
>
> Very soon comrade Ilyas of the All Pakistan Trade Union Federation
> also joined us. He had been kidnapped by the security guards of the
> factory. Taken inside. Beaten up, slapped around. And then they had
> dropped him to the police in their private car. When he came into the
> cell he said in his characteristically calm tone "at least I came in
> an AC car". We burst out laughing. Other prisoners were amazed that we
> were joking around.
>
> They came to take down our names. I was still so angry that when they
> asked me for my quom (caste) I replied I had none and that I did not
> believe in such things. When they asked me again Ali Jan responded
> "likh dain insaaniyat". Then they came to take our mobile phones. At
> first I resisted but then I realized that it was pointless (I didn't
> have any credit in it anyway and our comrades knew where we were and
> must be working for our release). So I gave in when they came back a
> second time for it.
>
> To boost our morale we started singing songs and reciting poetry. It
> is difficult to remember the words to songs when one is in such
> situations. Even tunes get jumbled up. But they immediately brought a
> calm to our nerves and lifted our spirit. From our small window we
> heard a policemen remark "aye qaidi bathain nay?". We laughed and said
> "aye labour leader bathain nay".
>
> I looked out the window and saw a black car. I said "its 's car"
> (although I wasn't 100% sure). We called out from the window. Maana
> radical saw us. The other prisoners said don't let them know that you
> have communicated, stay quiet. In a little while we saw Farooq Tariq
> walk in. This lifted our spirits even more. We knew that news was out
> and it would be impossible now for them to beat us. M. managed to get
> some GEO and other media people into the cell. By now we were fully
> relaxed. I jokingly remarked "I hope they haven't told my mother, unho
> nain police ko bhi tun daina hai aur humain bhi". We all laughed.
>
> A young policeman came and sat with us and we had a long discussion
> with him on politics and the police. He was defending his actions
> against workers and abusing the rich, defending torture in police
> custody and speaking about his own misfortunes at the hands of
> stronger men, defending the Taliban and the attack on Laal Masjid,
> defending the Saudi monarchy and Musharraf, waving the nationalist
> flag and cursing the country. All contradictory positions that he kept
> in stead to pick and choose from depending on what his superiors
> decided. All these positions were, nonetheless, supporting one or
> another form of authoritarianism. He pointed to one of the four people
> that was in the cell and told us proudly that he had tortured one
> person to confess his crime. Their crimes were having stolen some
> goats two years ago. One boy from Multan had come from work. The hotel
> he worked at said that he had to give Rs 500 security to work. So he
> made an attempt to steal
> something from a factory but failed. The tortured boy submissively
> responded to the policeman's humiliating questions in a self-effacing
> manner that was difficult for me to absorb. But as soon as the
> policeman turned he murmured a punjabi gali under his breadth. His
> spirit was not broken and I could feel his hatred exuding from his
> eyes. We offered them drinks that our comrades had brought for us, Ali
> Jan sat on the floor with them (the rest of us were sitting on a bed
> and some broken chairs). Rafaqat said "agli dafa factory tu chori na
> karo, munazam ho jao, factory hi tuwadi ho jai gi".
>
> Then the door opened and in stepped my mother looking like she could
> eat up any policeman that so much as looked at her. She came and sat
> down and said in a loud voice "han ji kiya tamasha banaya hua hai
> yehan". The policeman responded "madam mujhay tu kuch maloom nahin".
> She said "tu phir mera waqt kyun zaya kar rahay ho, jao us khotay ko
> lay kar aao jis ko maloom hai". They went running and produced the
> second in command Ghumman. He said "ji baji aap kyun ayeen hain
> yehan". She said "yeh main aap ko batao, aap mujhay batai keh main
> kyun aye hun yehan. Kidhar hay SHO?" "Vo ji baji round par gaye hain"
> he very meekly responded. One of the workers said "Naveena factory
> wapis gaye hai". My mother forcefully said "Paisay khain hain tum sab
> logon nay malikon say, ghareeb logon ko haqooq nahin daitay ho, hum
> sab jantay hain, daikhna tum logon ko mun ke khani parrhay gi, hum
> kais karray gay, tum daikhtay raho".
>
> Then she left to meet the investigating officer. We could hear the
> shouts in our cell. Investigating officer ki tu vo ke that even Farooq
> Tariq came to our cell (I assume because he couldn't contain his
> smile). He expressed solidarity and said with a smile "aap ki walda
> bhi larr rahin hain". We laughed and said "han ji, aasarat yehan tak
> puhanch rahay hain". Farooq was on the phone constantly ringing up the
> DSP, the SP and all his contacts (including AMP contacts). Brigadier
> Rao Abid of the HRCP called and took the whole report.
>
> By now they released us from the little room and allowed us roam
> around in the courtyard. Ali and I were limping from a knee and ankle
> sprain but we were happy to be sitting with our comrades U., Maana,
> M.. The other four needed to go to the toilet. The toilet was in the
> hawalat (jail). When they went inside the policemen shut them inside
> (they forced Ilyas into the hawalat). Ali and I discovered after a few
> minutes what had happened and it made us very tense. We knew then that
> the plan of the police was to separate us from the workers and to
> later beat the workers.
>
> In a little while my father, Gulzar Chaudhry of the All Pakistan Trade
> Union Federation, more media people, and the SHO all arrived. Gulzar
> sahib said to me "chalo acha hua Taimur tum pakrray gaiy, is tarrha
> mulakat tu ho gaye. Fiqr na karo, if they don't release you by tonight
> hum pooray union ka zor lagain gay."
>
> Negotiations began. The police said "take one person you consider most
> important, take Taimur, but we cannot go of the rest." My father said
> "you mean you think my son is a bhagorra? Do you think he will go or
> we will ask him to do that? We support him 100%. He has raised the
> voice of the oppressed." When the DSP said the same thing to my mother
> she responded "aap ka khiyal hai main nay chuya pala hai, vo
> principles ki larray larr raha hai, aur yeh na samjhain kay hum us kay
> saath nahin hain, hum bhi us kay saath hain." The SHO said "daikhain
> ji main tu kuch nahin kar sakta main tu aik SHO hun, officer kahin tu
> SHO phook say urrh jata hai". My father responded very calmly (Al
> Pachino style) "phoonk say hi tu bachanay aye hain hum". I swear I
> have never been more proud of my parents in my entire life.
>
> I had another altercation with the SHO when we discussing the
> conditions of the release. He said "Taimur sahib yeh criminal elements
> aap ko shield bana kar use kar rahay hain. Aap putli banay huay hain".
> I responded "SHO sahib, aik baat main aap ko bata dun, chahay aap ko
> achi lagay ya burri, putli main nahin, aap banay huay hain" and I
> walked out of his office. (Qasam say I should sell my dialogue to a
> hindu movie).
>
> Finally, after many phone calls from various government offices
> (including the CM), they decided that they will let us go for the
> night but only on the condition that we come back to the police
> station in the morning and surrender to the magistrate.
>
> They had cut an FIR against us for four charges (one of which it turns
> out has been repealed anyway). These included blocking the road,
> beating up a police officer in a pathrao, burning tyres on the road
> (all lies). They led us to believe that they will drop the case. But
> they were tricking us yet again. They were trying to negotiate the
> pressure from both sides. Obviously they had been taking a lot of
> money from Naveena textiles. Nonetheless, they released us at night
> and we came home to sleep.
>
> In the morning we went back to the station. However, when it came time
> to go to the court they placed us in handcuffs. They said "oh this is
> a formality, we have to follow court procedures". We didn't know that
> the crimes we had been charged with were minor crimes that did not
> require handcuffs. They did this to humiliate us. But at that moment,
> we unaware of their intention and were joking around. Taking pictures
> and in high spirits. In the van, we sang revolutionary songs (we sang
> them completely out of tune but it didn't matter at all, the louder
> the better). At this time the sangli of the handcuff was in our own
> hands. We were buffed in pairs (Ali and myself, Rafakat and Billal,
> Azam and Ilyas).
>
> When we were herded in to the magistrate office, one of the HRCP
> lawyers Asad was outraged. He said "how dare you handcuff these
> people. None of the crimes registered against them are serious
> offenses. This is totally ridiculous. Remove the handcuffs." The
> police refused. It was then that we realized that this was not a
> formality but a deliberate intent to humiliate us (little did they
> know that we wore those handcuffs with pride). DAWN news was present.
> We went to the camera and said "We asked for minimum wage, and this is
> what we got" (we raised our handcuffs). Then we burst out into
> revolutionary slogans, songs, and poetry. The courtyard rang out with
> socialist slogans.
>
> Meanwhile six lawyers argued our case voluntarily. Asad, Azeem
> Daniyal, Rabea Bajwa (and two others whose names I cannot remember).
> Interestingly, the case against us was cut by the police (i.e. the
> police was the complainant). Yet the lawyers that appeared in court
> against us were from Naveena textile. In fact, they were accompanied
> by the factory manager (hence the need for handcuffs on us, to
> humiliate us and show that their money was getting its worth). This
> demonstrates who was behind the entire police violence. It
> demonstrates that the local police has completely sold out to the mill
> owners. Naveena's lawyers argued that we had a lethal weapon in our
> possession during the strike and hence we should not be given bail but
> should be put in jail. The magistrate (Aasha Tariq) did not agree and
> the bail was set at Rs. 40,000 per person. The lawyers said "take our
> high court bar license as zamanat". They got us our bail without any
> difficulty. The court
> had now adjourned for the day. When our lawyers asked the police to
> open the cuffs. They at first delayed. There was a sharp altercation.
> Finally, they opened my cuffs but they would not open Azam's cuff.
> They said that there was yet another FIR against Azam hence he had to
> remain in custody. We were about to lose our cool when Azeem Dainyal
> saved the day. He said "produce the FIR, we will get the bail right
> now". He went inside the chamber and asked the magistrate to come out
> again (Magistrate Aasha Tariq). She immediately issued another bail
> and said to the police "release him at once". We were much relieved.
> The intention of the police was to get rid of the five of us but take
> Azam back to the station in order to beat up. But they failed and we
> are free once again.
>
> The case will go on and the struggle will also go on. Please do not
> think that the worst is over. Support our struggle for minimum wages.
>
> I also want to thank a number of people that had been working day and
> night to get us out. I want to thank as many people as possible by
> name for helping us get out of police custody. I want to thank
>
> The workers of Naveena who went back to the factory gate and continued
> to protest after the police arrested us. And are still struggling.
>
> Our ja nasheen comrades of the All Pakistan Trade Union Federation and
> Working Women's Organization that were not only working for our
> release but were in jail with us every step of the way.
>
> Asma Jehangir, Brig. Rao Abid and the HRCP that kicked into high gear
> and sent a team of lawyers for our defense.
>
> Our superb legal team, including Azeem Daniyal, Asad Jamal, Rabea
> Bajwa, Chaudhry Nawaz and one other whose name has slipped my mind.
> They were as amazing as we were clueless. Were it not for them, Azam
> would have been back in police custody recovering from torture. For
> them and others we raised the slogan "mazdoor wukla ittehad,
> zindabad".
>
> Afzal Khamosh of the Mazdoor Kissan Party, with whom we split in 2003
> and have been at loggerheads since then, held a press conference the
> very next day for our release. This act means a huge thing to us.
>
> Farooq Tariq who was present in the thana as soon as he heard about
> the incident and was with us for nearly the whole day. Furthermore,
> LPP that mobilized for our support in Karachi and other areas.
>
> Dr. Riaz and International Socialists, whom we have berated endlessly
> on our email list, demonstrated the very next day in Karachi.
>
> Somia Sadiq, who is no longer with our party, but was in constant
> contact with us, offering us help, support and solidarity.
>
> Nusrat Jamil, Jeelo Jamil, and Tehmina Durrani who moved the CM and
> the governors office to put pressure on the police from above. Ahmed
> Rashid, Samina Rahman, Zaki Rahman, Women's Action Forum, PILER,
> Anjuman Muzareen Punjab all issued statements or called us in
> solidarity.
>
> Last but not least, my parents who fought with us like Bolshevik
> agitators. Their fearlessness gave me even more courage and I have
> never been more proud of them in my entire life. My wife Mahvash who
> saw the entire episode of violence but refused to be intimidated.
>
> Finally my party comrades (too many to name) from all over Pakistan
> and internationally that rose up to defend us against state
> oppression. Although they would consider it somewhat of an offense if
> we thanked them "leh shuriya kis cheez ka, aren't we party members,
> this is our duty" they have all said to me. Nonetheless, thank you
> comrades. Without your support we could not have fought this struggle.
>
> In solidarity
> Taimur Rahman
>
> ------------------------------------
>
> fwd end///
>