Christ almighty

About my earlier comments about the Harrods bomb: I still don’t see any logical reason for doing what the IRA did. I can’t see how maiming and murder in London achieve anything. They need to win the support of the British masses, not to alienate them. Dad sees the Irish War as a crude “race war” and even said it had “nothing to do with the IRA.” Mum, Dad and Robert all have prejudiced views about the Irish question, but I suppose its understandable never having been exposed to opinions other than those peddled by the newspapers and on television.

Today Mum condemned the violence of the ‘peace women’ at Greenham Common, who perhaps are expressing their frustration at the blatant failure of their ‘Ghandian’ methods at preventing the deployment of Cruise missiles and realising—all too late—that if all you do is sing songs and hold hands and paint peace symbols on your face no-one listens and no-one cares.

MLK only succeeded when the police started beating his marchers with clubs and setting dogs on them. Confrontation got things moving. It seems naïve to fight ruthless regimes with toothless actions. If the police in Mississippi and Alabama had been able to control the racist mobs and curbed their own racist tempers, then the Freedom Marches and protests would have failed to budge things one inch. Kennedy only acted because he was afraid of adverse world opinion at police violence, not because he was responding imaginatively or emotionally to King’s “Dream.”

As long as the Greenham women sit tight and not do anything then they remain a topic of mild ridicule throughout Britain (sexism seems a typical reaction). But as soon as they respond by pulling down perimeter fences and injuring policemen then public sympathy instantly shifts behind the forces guarding the base. The only way for them to win is by an orchestrated, nationwide campaign of massive strike action and popular rebellion.

More rain today. It has drizzled non-stop since I got back to Easterby and this afternoon the skies began to darken by quarter-past three. I went with Mum and Dad to visit Nanna P. who was in muscular form, interspersing her monologues with heartfelt Christ Almightys.