Monday, May 26, 2008
Utah Phillips
"Utah Phillips is a legend on the folk music circuit. A great storyteller and an unapologetic activist, Phillips sings about both current events and the old days of labor unions, hobos, trains, and tramping. Phillips, sixty-eight, has produced twelve albums and has appeared on seventy-three audio anthologies, doing both music and spoken word.Utah Phillips is a legend on the folk music circuit. A great storyteller and an unapologetic activist, Phillips sings about both current events and the old days of labor unions, hobos, trains, and tramping. Phillips, sixty-eight, has produced twelve albums and has appeared on seventy-three audio anthologies, doing both music and spoken word. One of his most recent efforts, The Past Didn't Go Anywhere, is a collaboration with the younger feminist folksinger Ani DiFranco. They met while both were boarding together in the same house in Philadelphia early in DiFranco's career. As her Righteous Babe Records company flourished, DiFranco asked Phillips to send her his material. "I want my younger audience to hear these stories," she said.
Born in Cleveland, Ohio, into a family of radicals in 1935, Bruce Phillips and his family moved to Salt Lake City in 1947, where he learned to play the ukulele. He hopped his first train as a teenager, and after serving three years in the army in Korea (where he says all that he learned was how to be a pacifist), he continued to roam the nation via the rails. Phillips found both inspiration and kinship from the hobos and Wobblies he encountered in his travels, and he morphed the stories and poems he learned into verse. He took on the nickname U. Utah Phillips as an homage to one of his favorite country singers, T. Texas Tyler. The son of labor organizers, Phillips was active in labor and leftist politics in conservative Utah during the 1960s and ran for the U.S. Senate in 1968 on the Peace and Freedom Party ticket. He garnered more than 6,000 votes but was blacklisted. Unable to find employment because of his radical views, he left the state in 1969 and hopped freight trains to get to his coffee house and campus gigs.
Phillips lives with his wife, Joanna Robinson, in Nevada City, California, where both are still active in the local peace movement. On March 20, they were arrested, along with forty others, for blocking a road and unlawful assembly in the largest peace action ever held in Nevada County. I met with the bearded, silver-haired Phillips at his home, a comfortable cottage filled with books. Looking somewhat like a rabbinical Kris Kringle, he is full of vim and possesses a great sense of humor, despite a heart condition that has severely curtailed his once-active performing schedule.
Question: What is the risk of folk music being commercialized?
Utah Phillips: Folk music isn't owned by anybody. It is owned by everybody, like the national parks, the postal system, and the school system. It's our common property. There is nobody's name on it. Nobody can make money on it. It's not copywritten.
A song has many different versions as it is passed through the generations. But this deep well of our people's tradition loses songs at the bottom. They are irrelevant. They are forgotten. Nobody knows how to sing them. So the well is going to run dry unless people are adding songs at the top to our common treasury. But you have to have the courage to take your name off it, to give it up, to give it a life of its own.Folk music deals with every aspect of human existence, political, religious, moral: dying dogs, old ships, an old rocking chair, the mystery of the number five, the lightning express, rack and ruin, death, earthquakes, and train wrecks.
Q: People used to learn about culture from their elders, and this knowledge was passed down in an oral tradition. Now in this electronic age, this passing-down method has changed. How do you feel about that? What have we lost?
Phillips: Joseph Campbell, late in his life, said, "All we really want is to be completely human and in each other's company." Everything in this country is unilaterally against that--our best and most natural selves.
The world I created for myself, and it was deliberate, was a world made out of speakers and listeners. Many times, going to the missions, going to the flop hotels, I'd get a line from some old Wobbly, some old communist, some old socialist, some old person living on short money, a lot of time alcoholic. I'd start asking questions. The first thing I'd ever get was suspicions. Because these old workers, the only question they'd ever been asked was how come you are late or how soon can you get out. I found thoughts and feelings and ideas and experiences that had been locked inside their heads for years. Once I overcame their suspicions, and they realized I was really interested in what they had to tell me, it opened up like a floodgate. So that's why I created my world, speakers and listeners, because it makes the country that I love so much so rich. The wellspring of my fascination and the endless carnival of America are the voices of people who will share their lives with me.
I don't write. You see this house is full of books, but I keep them in their place. I've made it my task to seek out my elders and learn things to help me get through the world with some sense, some panache, some style, some grace, some courage. In your life, sooner or later, you've got to say what you are going to authentically inherit and what you are going to put into the world.
Q: Is there one event or defining point in your life that precipitated you taking on your life's work?
Phillips: The oral history started out purely as curiosity when I heard [philosopher] Ivan Illich in Cuernavaca say that reading and writing are a technological intervention in the natural thought process. Bingo, I said!
My pacifism came after I joined the army and was shipped over to Korea. There was a little one-room orphanage there called Song-do. There were 180 babies in there, and they were GI babies. The U.S. government would not acknowledge this, and the Korean government had nothing to do with them. They were living on a 100-pound bag of rice a month. Some of those kids, when they were old enough, would go out and shine shoes. They would show up at the gate of our compound to shine shoes, and you'd swear they were looking for their fathers. In the winter, when the paddies were drained, it was the coldest winter I ever experienced in my life. The kids living outside would scatter and go camp by the dikes. They would dig little holes. I would get duty in the guard tower, and I would spot their fires. And in the morning, I would take my canteen cup out full of cocoa to the kids to give away. One morning, I found one of the kids had froze to death, and I carried him back in, and our Non-com said, "Give him to the Koreans." So I took him over to the Korean barracks, and could see the way they looked at me, how much contempt they had, how much they hated me. Even though they were allies, they hated me.
So I get back from Korea really pissed off, and I didn't want to live in the country anymore. I got on a freight train, rode for a while, made up songs I will never sing again, and came back to Salt Lake to make my stand. I was working in a warehouse. There was an old guy picketing in front of the post office where I would deliver packages. He was protesting war taxes. That was Ammon Hennacy from the Catholic Worker. Dorothy Day, a founder of Catholic Worker, had sent him out there to establish a house of hospitality for transients, homeless people in Salt Lake. "Love in action," she called him. So he started the Joe Hill House. I worked at the Joe Hill House for the next eight years.
Q: What effect did Ammon Hennacy have on you?
Phillips: It was Ammon Hennacy who took over my life, told me that I really loved the country, that I couldn't stand the government, taught me why I needed to be a pacifist and taught me why I needed to be an anarchist, and taught me what those things really mean.
Ammon came up to me one day, and said, "You have a lot of anger in you, and you act out, you mouth off, and you wind up getting in fights, into brawls, here in the house, and you're not any good at it. You're the one who keeps getting pushed through the door, and I'm tired of fixing the damn thing. You've got to become a pacifist." And I asked, "What is it?" He said, "Well, I could give you a book by Gandhi, but you wouldn't understand it." He said you got to look at it like alcohol. Alcohol will kill an alcoholic, unless he has the courage to sit in a circle of people like that, and say, "My name's Utah and I am an alcoholic." Then you can accept it, you can own it, have it defined for you by people whose lives have been ruined by it, and it's never going to go away. You're not going to sit in that circle sober for twenty years and have it not affect you. He said, "You have to look at your capacity for violence the same way. You are going to have to learn to confess it, and learn how to deal with it in every situation every day, for the rest of your life, because it is not going to go away." And I was able to lay all of that down.
I didn't know what exhausted me emotionally until that moment, and I realized that the experience of being a soldier, with unlimited license for excess, excessive violence, excessive sex, was a blueprint for self-destruction. Because then I began to wake up to the idea that manhood, as passed onto me by my father, my scoutmaster, my gym instructor, my army sergeant, that vision of manhood was a blueprint for self-destruction and a lie, and that was a burden that I was no longer able to carry. It was too difficult for me to be that hard. I said, "OK, Ammon, I will try that." He said, "You came into the world armed to the teeth. With an arsenal of weapons, weapons of privilege, economic privilege, sexual privilege, racial privilege. You want to be a pacifist, you're not just going to have to give up guns, knives, clubs, hard, angry words, you are going to have lay down the weapons of privilege and go into the world completely disarmed."
He died in 1970 and is still a headache. If there is one struggle that animates my life and why I do what I do, it's that. I am still at it. That is what pacifism means to me.
Q: Who are some of your other heroes?
Phillips: Pete Seeger, because he invented my trade--what we do, going from town to town to perform. Pete Seeger's gift to my life is my life. And Daniel Berrigan saved my bacon. I had a very important question for him. Johnny Cash had called me and wanted to record an album of my songs. I said no, I eschew the entertainment industry. But friends urged me to take that money and give it to some cause that can use it. I asked Berrigan, and he said, "Yeah, they'll always tell you how much good you can do with dirty money." Dorothy Day once told me, "Fame corrupts the health of the soul." I found out, as I matured in the trade and was taken in by this enormous folk music family, that I don't need fame, I don't need power, I don't need money, I need friends. And that's what I found: deep, abiding friends, like Judi Bari [Earth First! organizer who was severely wounded in a suspicious car bombing and later died of cancer], who was full of joy, full of life, and laughed incessantly in the direst of circumstances. She was a consummate organizer and understood that it was essential to bring the environmental movement and labor movement together.
Two other great organizers who were also heroes of mine: Fred Thompson, who edited Industrial Worker newspaper, and Miles Horton of the Highlander Center. And I always admire Joe Hill. In 1915, when he was about to be executed by the state of Utah, he wrote to Elizabeth Gurley Flynn, who was raising funds for a new trial, "They've got me, and they are going to kill me whether I'm in jail or out of jail, so stop spending money on me. Put that money into the work, into keeping the presses rolling or getting workers into a fighting union." He wrote himself off. We don't have leaders like that.
Q: What do you think about the way labor history is taught in schools today?
Phillips: It is a shame and a crime that a young person can graduate from high school not knowing what a scab is, not knowing workers have the absolute right to collective bargaining, to form a union, to join a union. Why? Because the boss doesn't want them to know this. Who is on the school board? Who is in charge of the curricular process? Who owns the textbook company? The boss does. The boss wants young people to come trained with the answers but not asking questions. Every good educator knows that true teaching is to teach kids how to ask the right questions.
These kids are coming in untrained in fair labor practices. For the most part, most of them are not going to own the tools they work with, they are not going to own the workplace, they will simply be selling their own labor energy and trying to get a decent deal for it so they can get by. Some of them are going to go to college, going to go to community college, they are going to apprenticeship trade school to enhance their labor energy so they can make a better deal, and live better. It is still the same; you are a wage worker. How do you control the condition of your labor? How do you make a deal on a job that isn't going to kill you? Where you are adequately compensated? How are you going to make sure that when you get sick that you are just not out on the street? Or if someone in your family gets sick that you are not out on the street? What do you do about health insurance? What do you do when you are too old to do the work? None of that is taught in school. The district labor councils absolutely have to get to work teaching this in the public schools to make sure that our true history is taught to our kids.
These kids don't have a little brother working in the coal mine, they don't have a little sister coughing her lungs out in the looms of the big mill towns of the Northeast. Why? Because we organized; we broke the back of the sweatshops in this country; we have child labor laws. Those were not benevolent gifts from enlightened management. They were fought for, they were bled for, they were died for by working people, by people like us. Kids ought to know that.
It's a heroic, passionate, beautiful, richer, and more useful history than any history they are getting from the history books right now. The gift from my elders. I never got that history before I talked to people who lived it. That is one of the missions of my life: to make sure kids know these things, and respect the dignity of other people's labor. If you talk to people working on the job, and you ask them what is the most important issue, as a wage worker, you know what comes out first? Respect. We need to respect the wage workers. They contribute more to my quality of life than I do to theirs. I have to respect and honor that. I want to make sure that those tasks that enhance the quality of my life are done well. That the people doing that work are happy. They shouldn't have to worry about a sick child or an elder getting properly cared for, or job security, or proper retirement benefits. There is nothing unreasonable about that. I want people to go out and ask their garbage person for an autograph.
Q: What has your friendship with Ani DiFranco provided you?
Phillips: My access. She knew it was going to happen; she has a ferociously powerful intellect. She is a visionary. When posters go up for my shows, we get not just veteran folkies, but a whole new generation of music lovers, who would never have turned out were it not for my relationship with Ani. She has given me access to young people, and they are ready. I always hang out in the lobby after my shows, and young people come up to me and they are really bright and intelligent. It isn't the X generation, it's the Y generation, because everybody is asking why.
Q: How would you describe your life's purpose?
Phillips: I'm here to change the world, and if I am not, I am probably wasting my time.
Q: What can people do to defend their civil liberties?
Phillips: I'm a pacifist, but the most American thing you can do is to dissent, and the most un-American thing you can do is to stifle dissent. When you feel threatened by the suppression of your liberties, you exercise them to the nth degree, you scream your head off every chance you get. You talk to people you don't agree with. Really good advice: Every day, talk to at least two people who don't agree with you. It's the only way it is going to get done.
Here in Nevada City, where I am kind of marooned (due to my congestive heart failure, I can't travel nearly as much as I used to), we sent seven buses down to the recent anti-war demo, and afterward, I said, "Let's do a debriefing meeting." But my real idea was to have a continuing peace presence in our county and start a peace center. Everybody lit up. Now we have a peace council and working committees. We are involved in the schools. There is a high school peace organization, the young anarchists, who are tabling. We have brought in combat Vietnam War vets in the classroom. We've been in local parades like the Fourth of July. We are working very vigorously here. I honestly believe that if you can't do it where you live and work, where are you supposed to do it?
You know, every city, every town I go to, for the past forty years, big or little, I have found cooperative child day care, an organic food store, alternative medicine services, all of the interventions, none of which existed when I was in high school. Anywhere. Now they are everywhere I go. Taken together, that is a massive amount of energy. A tremendous amount of energy! That is why I am so optimistic. There are too many people doing too many good things for me to afford the luxury of being pessimistic. I'm like Desmond Tutu says, I am a prisoner of optimism. I cannot betray that kind of optimism.
-- David Kupfer is a writer whose work has appeared in The Progressive, Whole Earth Review, Adbusters, Diva, and Earth Island Journal. He lives and works on an organic farm in Northern California. He interviewed Martin Sheen in the July issue.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
[Mexico] Freedom for the Five Prisoners in Nueva Castilla !
Labels: land struggles, Mexico, Nueva Castilla, Scotiabank, solidarity
Support the Indian Guest Workers on Day 7 of Hunger Strike!
Labels: immigrants, India, Jobs With Justice, labour, New Orleans, solidarity
CANADIAN ANARCHIST MOVEMENT- MONTREAL:
THE MONTREAL CHILDCARE COLLECTIVE:
Molly has often mentioned on this blog about how the anarchist movement is not just expanding geographically and in terms of numbers but is also "maturing" ie becoming less of a subcultural phenomenon and more a movement of ordinary people. After awhile the childish pretenses of primitivism, insurrectionism, pseudo-intellectualism and "post-leftism" become rather tiring and boring. Anarchists grow up and hopefully stay in the movement and become better anarchists for rejecting the fantasies of their youth. Eventually such an evolution leads to a situation where anarchism is more and more able to reach out and inspire the great number of people who are sympathetic to the idea but are repulsed by the unnecessary trappings that it is often draped in.
One of the obvious points in this maturation is that anarchists eventually become parents (those of my generation are grandparents or more). The gift of children tends to shift your worldview tremendously, and in the end it leads to nothing but good from the point of view of the movement- fewer vicious and silly fantasies and more long term realism. As this situation develops anarchists more and more see the need to both return to one of their traditional concerns-libertarian education- and also see the need for a more modern concern-childcare- while the parents are out being radical.
The Montreal Childcare Collective is a recent development in one of Canada's cities where there is a "critical mass" of anarchists and therefore a need for caring for the children while the parents are otherwise engaged in movement activities. As far as Molly can see the collective so far only operates as a "demonstration deployment", and one hopes that it will eventually expand to provide childcare on a regular basis for anarchists who are ordinary working people and have need of such an alternative from week to week. One also hopes that it will never sink to the level of cultism seen in the USA, but we are a different people and a different movement and this is unlikely. Even in the USA the influence of anarcho-cultism is declining as people become more mature, and better people are attracted to the movement(see one of the interviews on Andrew Flood's tour on "the decline of primitivism" in the USA).
There will be more and more of a need for such institutions as anarchism continues its expansion. The Montreal comrades have pointed out the way. here is their self-description from their website.
.................................
The aim of the Montreal Childcare Network is to offer strategic childcare as a response to the fact that childcare is frequently overlooked, under-appreciated, and unlikely to be prioritized. We want to challenge communities and organizations to consider childcare as a fundamental key to organizing and to making events and the work that they do accessible to both parents and children. Our intentions are to meet the special needs of parents, youth and children, low-income communities, non-status and immigrant communities of colour, queer and trans communities, etc.
..............................
And here is an interview from last March with two of the members of the collective on the part of the McGill Daily (the daily paper of one of the major universities on Montreal).
Daycare collective provides radical child care
Volunteers argue free collective childcare is a method of political organizing rather than a charity
Kelly Ebbels The McGill Daily
[Correction appended]
Staying active in community organizing as a parent is hard, but the Montreal Childcare Collective (MCC) is making life a little easier for the city's politically-minded moms and dads.
Formed in 2004, the collective consists of volunteers that provide free childcare for community groups during meetings and demonstrations, explained Leslie Bagg, a former McGill student and volunteer with the MCC.
"We provide help for groups that don't have a huge budget for childcare, but who want to make their organization more accessible for parents," Bagg said.
The collective works closely with groups working in the social justice field in Montreal that often need childcare – such as the Filipino Women's Centre, the Immigrant Workers' Centre, and Solidarity Across Borders.
MCC also runs workshops for groups that want to begin doing their own, autonomous, non-authoritarian childcare – such as the Montreal Urban Community Sustainment(???-Molly) Project's Free School in NDG, where they held a workshop last Sunday.
The collective functions out of the Concordia chapter of the Quebec Public Interest Research Group (QPIRG) as a working group, funded in part by Concordia students. In the past it has also functioned through QPIRG-McGill.
Volunteers stressed that the childcare network is first and foremost a form of political action, aimed at allowing more families to get involved in community organizing. It also provides a non-authoritarian approach to childcare.
"It's kind of a statement, that kids don't just exist in their houses and in their own families. They exist in the world," said Selena Ross, a former McGill student and organizer with the MCC.
"It's a more communal approach to child-raising, where the community can get to know the kids."
Both Bagg and Ross stressed that the very existence of the group allowed activism to become more open to families and women.
"Part of the goal is to get more families involved, and to make meetings more family-friendly," Bagg said.
"It's also about making community organizing more accessible to women, especially single moms," Roy added, saying there is huge demand for the MCC's services among new immigrants.
"It's a class struggle. So many people can't afford babysitters," Roy said.
Ross explained that a major influence on non-authoritarian childcare was the work of Haim Gibott, whose techniques for conversing with children have been taught for decades. Gibott stressed strong interpersonal skills, an emphasis on communication, isolating problems rather than people, and the importance of play.
But the collective is not all carefree fun and games. The organization faces major ongoing difficulties and questions, many of them ethical ones.
One is a question of money – by offering free childcare, some have questioned whether it lowers the value of childcare as a whole and suggests that childcare is something which should not be paid for. As well, volunteers are often offered money for their services – but the offerings are so random that it is hard to decide on a fair and equitable way of distributing the extra funds.
Another, more pressing issue is whether the volunteers should make themselves available for private, free childcare. Roy stressed that she has often personally offered free childcare for recent immigrants, for whom Quebec subsidized daycare may be impossible.
But on the whole, while the volunteers realize that childcare is inaccessible for many, a free, volunteer-run childcare system is at present unsustainable.
"We can't open ourselves up – there's just so much need," Bagg said.
Still, the volunteers stressed that collective childcare serves as a crucial political tool in making organizing more accessible, and making political work a community affair.
"It's nice to know how many of them can make it, and stay involved – moms, dads, and kids," Bagg said.
Groups wishing to get organized with the MCC should contact them at childcarecollective@riseup.net.
*The Daily first reported that MCC organizers considered its work partially a charitable gesture; in fact this is not the case. Also, it misspelled Selena Ross's name. The Daily regrets the errors.
Labels: anarchism, Montreal, Montreal Childcare Collective
Labels: anarchism, Andrew Flood, USA
May 29: Under The Volcano Festival Benefit: VANCOUVER
- POST FAR AND WIDE
Labels: anarchism, anarchist music, events, Joey Only, Under the Volcano Festival, Vancouver
Utah Phillips, a seminal figure in American folk music who performed extensively and tirelessly for audiences on two continents for 38 years, died Friday of congestive heart failure in Nevada City, California a small town in the Sierra Nevada mountains where he lived for the last 21 years with his wife, Joanna Robinson, a freelance editor.
Born Bruce Duncan Phillips on May 15, 1935 in Cleveland, Ohio, he was the son of labor organizers. Whether through this early influence or an early life that was not always tranquil or easy, by his twenties Phillips demonstrated a lifelong concern with the living conditions of working people. He was a proud member of the Industrial Workers of the World, popularly known as "the Wobblies," an organizational artifact of early twentieth-century labor struggles that has seen renewed interest and growth in membership in the last decade, not in small part due to his efforts to popularize it.
Phillips served as an Army private during the Korean War, an experience he would later refer to as the turning point of his life. Deeply affected by the devastation and human misery he had witnessed, upon his return to the United States he began drifting, riding freight trains around the country. His struggle would be familiar today, when the difficulties of returning combat veterans are more widely understood, but in the late fifties Phillips was left to work them out for himself. Destitute and drinking, Phillips got off a freight train in Salt Lake City and wound up at the Joe Hill House, a homeless shelter operated by the anarchist Ammon Hennacy, a member of the Catholic Worker movement and associate of Dorothy Day.
Phillips credited Hennacy and other social reformers he referred to as his "elders" with having provided a philosophical framework around which he later constructed songs and stories he intended as a template his audiences could employ to understand their own political and working lives. They were often hilarious, sometimes sad, but never shallow.
"He made me understand that music must be more than cotton candy for the ears," said John McCutcheon, a nationally-known folksinger and close friend. In the creation of his performing persona and work, Phillips drew from influences as diverse as Borscht Belt comedian Myron Cohen, folksingers Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger, and Country stars Hank Williams and T. Texas Tyler.
A stint as an archivist for the State of Utah in the 1960s taught Phillips the discipline of historical research; beneath the simplest and most folksy of his songs was a rigorous attention to detail and a strong and carefully-crafted narrative structure. He was a voracious reader in a surprising variety of fields. Meanwhile, Phillips was working at Hennacy's Joe Hill house. In 1968 he ran for a seat in the U.S. Senate on the Peace and Freedom Party ticket. The race was won by a Republican candidate, and Phillips was seen by some Democrats as having split the vote. He subsequently lost his job with the State of Utah, a process he described as "blacklisting."
Phillips left Utah for Saratoga Springs, New York, where he was welcomed into a lively community of folk performers centered at the Caffé Lena, operated by Lena Spencer. "It was the coffeehouse, the place to perform. Everybody went there. She fed everybody," said John "Che" Greenwood, a fellow performer and friend.Over the span of the nearly four decades that followed, Phillips worked in what he referred to as "the Trade," developing an audience of hundreds of thousands and performing in large and small cities throughout the United States, Canada, and Europe. His performing partners included Rosalie Sorrels, Kate Wolf, John McCutcheon and Ani DiFranco.
"He was like an alchemist," said Sorrels, "He took the stories of working people and railroad bums and he built them into work that was influenced by writers like Thomas Wolfe, but then he gave it back, he put it in language so the people whom the songs and stories were about still had them, still owned them. He didn't believe in stealing culture from the people it was about."
A single from Phillips's first record, "Moose Turd Pie," a rollicking story about working on a railroad track gang, saw extensive airplay in 1973. From then on, Phillips had work on the road. His extensive writing and recording career included two albums with Ani DiFranco which earned a Grammy nomination. Phillips's songs were performed and recorded by Emmylou Harris, Waylon Jennings, Joan Baez, Tom Waits, Joe Ely and others. He was awarded a Lifetime Achievement Award by the Folk Alliance in 1997.
Phillips, something of a perfectionist, claimed that he never lost his stage fright before performances. He didn't want to lose it, he said; it kept him improving. Phillips began suffering from the effects of chronic heart disease in 2004, and as his illness kept him off the road at times, he started a nationally syndicated folk-music radio show, "Loafer's Glory," produced at KVMR-FM and started a homeless shelter in his rural home county, where down-on-their-luck men and women were sleeping under the manzanita brush at the edge of town. Hospitality House opened in 2005 and continues to house 25 to 30 guests a night. In this way, Phillips returned to the work of his mentor Hennacy in the last four years of his life.
Phillips died at home, in bed, in his sleep, next to his wife. He is survived by his son Duncan and daughter-in-law Bobette of Salt Lake City, son Brendan of Olympia, Washington; daughter Morrigan Belle of Washington, D.C.; stepson Nicholas Tomb of Monterrey, California; stepson and daughter-in-law Ian Durfee and Mary Creasey of Davis, California; brothers David Phillips of Fairfield, California, Ed Phillips of Cleveland, Ohio and Stuart Cohen of Los Angeles; sister Deborah Cohen of Lisbon, Portugal; and a grandchild, Brendan. He was preceded in death by his father Edwin Phillips and mother Kathleen, and his stepfather, Syd Cohen.
The family requests memorial donations to Hospitality House, P.O. Box 3223, Grass Valley, California 95945 (530) 271-7144 www.hospitalityhouseshelter.org
Jordan Fisher Smith and Molly Fisk
Molly Fisk, 530.277.4686 molly@mollyfisk.com
Word document here: http://www.utahphillips.org/utahphillipsdeadat73.doc PDF version: http://www.utahphillips.org/utahphillipsdeadat73.pdf
Labels: Catholic Workers Movement, folklore, IWW, obituaries, people, Utah Phillips
Where is the balance in P3 reporting?
The May 14th Legal Post ‘special report’ in the National Post entitled “The P3 Boom” only exposed how P3s are as much a windfall for the legal community as the financial one.
The ‘report’ contains articles and advertising describing how lawyers “love public-private partnerships, known as P3s”, and why they should.
We wanted to weigh in on this curiosity, and to challenge proponents of P3s to consider alternate views to those put forward in that ‘special report’. After our repeated requests for a full-length opinion piece went ignored, we were invited to submit a short letter-to-the-editor. So we did. It never got published. (Molly Note- shrewd editors have a tactic that they use. They DON'T refuse to publish any and all letters that dissent from their editorial line. They actually DO publish some- the stupid ones. Intelligent disagreement is sent to the wastebasket.)
Of course, it’s the prerogative of the National Post to endorse and print what it will. So, too, is it our prerogative to call on the broader media community – mainstream and alternative – to do better with the P3 story.
We expect more transparent and balanced debate about privatization and P3s, a lively discourse that includes all perspectives. Why should consumers of Canadian media deserve anything less?
The subject of P3s has garnered increasing media attention in the past few years as more and more projects are pursued and as various concerns mount from all sides. All the while, CUPE has been identified as the country’s most prominent and credible opponent of P3s, by any standard. Yet our voice – and those of countless other P3 critics – is absent from the discourse currently perpetuated by the National Post.
The new justification for P3s is that they transfer risk from the public to the private sector which is the better risk manager, they say. P3 promoters use even more financial chicanery to justify this argument, but downplay the need for public bailouts when P3s fail. The UK government's $4 billion bailout after the Metronet P3 failure should be cause for alarm, but has been all but ignored here in Canada, like so many homegrown P3 failures. Besides, the recent sub-prime financial meltdown and the Asset-Backed Commercial Paper scandal demonstrate just how little faith we should have in the superiority of the private sector’s risk management.
P3s pose a threat to public services – no wonder the private sector is all over them.
So why should any media outlet so unabashedly favour the business community? And why should we worry?
Fairness in media. The one-sidedness of the National Post’s P3 ‘special report’ raises critical questions about journalistic integrity. To allocate an autonomous section on a topic with as much bearing on Canadian communities as P3s and exclude a plurality of opinions is a problem and should be of grave concern to anyone who cares about balance in media, let alone public services.
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For further information: Pam Kapoor, CUPE Communications, 613.853.8089
Labels: Canadian labour, CUPE, labour, National Post, P3s
Saturday, May 24, 2008
I am writing to you to express my disappointment at British Telecom and the way the company is discriminating against its staff in the Republic of Ireland. Your staff in Northern Ireland enjoy the full benefit of collective union representation but you consistently refuse to treat the staff in the Republic of Ireland equally by recognising the Communications Workers Union (CWU) for collective bargaining purposes.
As the CEO of a Company that operates on an all island basis I fail to understand how you can justify the double standard you apply to your staff. As a business man you would not accept this kind of discrimination in the market place. Yet you appear to expect your staff and customers to accept that, as a single business entity on this island British Telecom will treat its staff in the Republic like second class citizens. This kind of discrimination is inexplicable and does nothing to enhance the British Telecom brand as representative of a dynamic and innovative company at the cutting edge of modern telecommunications.
In response to correspondence from the CWU you have stated that you prefer to deal with your staff directly via an internal company forum – BT Voices. However this is nothing more than a tried and tested union avoidance mechanism that, regardless of your claims that it is robust and fair, lacks the essential element of independence that is the hall mark of genuine collective bargaining. By denying its staff their legitimate request for access to fair and independent collective bargaining British Telecom is denying its staff a fundamental human right as set out in the ILO ‘Declaration on Fundamental Principles and Rights at Work’ and ILO Convention 98.
It is disappointing that a major multinational like British Telecom would treat its staff in this way. But it is nothing short of shameful that it does so on the basis that the staff being denied equal rights are being treated this way because they are Irish.
I call upon you to rectify this situation, take sensible and appropriate action to end this unsavoury treatment of your Irish staff and engage without delay in meaningful talks with the CWU with a view to concluding a recognition agreement that will provide for collective bargaining between both parties and ensure equal treatment for your staff on the island of Ireland.
Yours sincerely,
Labels: British Telecom, Communications Workers Union, Ireland, labour, Labour Start, solidarity
Memories of “Popular Power” in Venezuela’s Economy
* From false co-management and cooperatives to the deceitful EPS, we present a balance of what has happened in Venezuela after at least 7 years of pretending to build a socialist economy, where the available data and verifiable facts belie the failure of the Chavez administration.
Since 2001 we have heard the government’s promises to foster a production model where the Venezuelan state would create the conditions to enable and support the growth of a new endogenous economy – at first denominated popular or in solidarity, later socialist – started 4 years ago amid a plethora of promises to entice voters in the referendum of August 2004, and repeated in later electoral contests. As per the offer, the main actors and managers would be the workers involved via socialist co-management of already existing enterprises or newly constituted cooperatives. This discourse became more intense and radical as the years went by, when everybody, from Chavez on down to the last official voice would not cease to repeat that the irreversible construction of a revolutionary and participatory production structure had started, in which were invested all efforts and resources possible, as emphatically proclaimed every Sunday during the presidential TV show, from where the slogan “factory closed, factory taken” (by their workers) was announced and where we were told that we had become the country with the most cooperatives in the whole world.
Labels: anarchism, Chavez, El Libertario, leftism, tactics, Third Worldism, Venezuela