When
I first learned that Andrew Johnson had penned a
piece on a little known website denouncing The
Blanket's decision to reprint the Danish anti-theocratic
cartoons I was reticent about commenting, in print
at any rate. I feared that my letter box might once
again be the receptacle for the turgid paper someone
called Andy Johnson used to send me. Too rough for
use in the toilet each and every one of them, after
the first, routinely made its way to the bin. If
anybody asked what was in the post the stock reply
was something along the lines of: 'just the usual
nonsense about the tendency of the rate of profit
to fall and the death agony of capitalism.' As if
there were not more interesting things to do on
a Saturday morning than peruse through rubbish about
Trotsky's theory on Trotsky's theory on …
I
was surprised to hear the name Andrew Johnson again.
The personable one that I knew, Andy, had disappeared
off the radar screen for a while. Perhaps, I thought,
he had reinvented himself as Andrew. I was not alone
in my confusion. In 2005 a Socialist Democracy pamphlet
was published, penned by an Andrew Johnson. It prompted
a contributor to the Indymedia site to ask if the
author was 'the same Andy Johnson that was a member
of the Irish Workers Group in the early 80's in
Galway? It certainly reads like the type of stuff
he used to write.' Another poster wrote 'this shite
is a perfect example of why the loony left will
never be taken seriously.' In a bid to understand
further, this morning I opened up the Socialist
Democracy website only to be assailed with 'New
book on Trotsky published.' Great, what! I hastily
made my escape before making any more interesting
discoveries.
But apparently Andy and Andrew are separate beings.
Whether that is a bad or a good thing is a moot
point. That there are two of them is hardly reassuring
to those not yet inoculated against Trotzema. The
difference, a friend assures me, is that Andy belongs
to the League for a Fifth International while Andrew
belongs to the Irish Section of the United Secretariat
of the Fourth International. The latter claims to
be the Continuity vanguard - the true inheritors
of the Real Trotsky tradition. Quite unpretentiously,
it would have us believe, it claims to be world
party of proletarian revolution. And it is determined
to see off all pretenders to Trotsky's throne. To
get a handle on any of that, or display even the
vaguest interest, one would need what Johann Hari
calls 'the fine eye for ideological division that
comes from a life on the Trotskyite left.'
Trot
jabberwocky is not for the uninitiated. How many
times have activists been seen scarpering for the
escape exits at meetings once the Trot talk starts?
Deputy Editor of the New Humanist, Padraig Reidy
may well claim that these things are 'all quite
amusing, in the way that only Left-wing spats can
be' but I have long since given up on their incessant
squabbling. These days I avoid the 'brilliant, wonderful
and historic opportunities opening up for the working
class' merchants as I do the religious sandwich board men
in the city centre who shove leaflets into the hands
of the unsuspecting. Suffering such types gladly
is not my metier. My attitude to them is as it is
to circus clowns, alright to watch from a distance,
but not something I would want any closer or for
a prolonged period, unless it is strictly for purposes
of socialising when drink has a humanising effect.
Under the influence, some of them can be quite entertaining,
grow forgetful of democratic centralism, and can
discuss matters other then the need to combat deviationist
tendencies within bolshevism. Good old booze; it
dulls the eternal vigilance which spurs Trotskyites
against Trotskyism to look out for apostates and
heretics, and allows the stern faced sentinels to
take a night off.
When
the war on the cartoons - 'Kartoonacht', as one
reader of the Blanket put it - first broke out and
the Irrelevant Left threatened to goosestep over
those who thought for themselves and wanted others
to do likewise, I admit to entering a state of mind
which placed me beyond caring what they reckoned.
It simply did not matter. Their approval would have
been inconsequential; their disapproval amounted
to the same. And when Socialist Democracy and that
intellectual powerhouse Andrew Johnson took up the
baton, the sole thought to strike me was that I
had discovered a rest home for those in the advanced
stages of Marxeimers.
Commissar
Johnson suffers from that old Left ailment of snobbishness.
I say, Andrew old bean, not Andy, Tally Ho. Those
of us not washed in the blood of the ice picked
Trotsky should, in his view, concern ourselves only
with reading the Beano. If that is too taxing then
there is always Workers Power. The Enlightenment
and other intellectual affairs should be left to
the enlightened vanguard of the proletariat. We
dodos are not supposed to know anything about the
rupturing of historical paradigms and the emergence
of new epistemes. Let us have no pretensions about
ourselves. Commissar Johnson and the leadership
of the organised working class know best.
No,
we should submit ourselves to the majestic Nelsonian
vision of the Commissar who imagined those supporting
the Blanket decision to republish the cartoons to
be 'sundry racists and Christian fundamentalists'
whoever they may be. In a manner of speaking the
SWP may be seen as racist but it opposed the cartoons,
and presumably escapes the wrath of the Commissar
on this point. That the Left is divided on the matter,
the intelligent Left as well as the Commissar's
Irrelevant Left, seems to have gone unnoticed in
his reading.
If
the SWP won a reprieve, it was only temporary. Heretics
are never pardoned as Commissar Johnson's rapid
move from discussion to deception underlined. His
venture into fantasy land gave his fanciful imagination
the freedom to run riot. In that place both the
Blanket and the SWP have been 'in a series of secret
meetings with the PUP/UVF aimed at setting up a
new "left" party.' The SWP can speak for
itself but it is the first I have heard of any secret
meetings between it and the loyalists. The Blanket
has had none. But why take my word? Let the Commissar
put forth the evidence. The public has a right to
know about such meetings. The Blanket will carry
whatever he conjures up as evidence. But he will
provide nothing because he made it all up. Strange
that he should condemn the SWP on the grounds of
'why now' only complain about the Blanket not seeking
to unite the Irrelevant Left or 'why now' draw attention
to the supposed quality deficit of Blanket material?
Tu quoque Commissar. Why now only point out the
secret meetings?
Andrew
Johnson may have felt he scored a telling sectarian
blow on the SWP when he posed the question: do they
expect anyone to believe their nonsense? For that
he shall be rewarded with a standing ovation next
time he attends a global gathering of his mass movement
in some city centre telephone kiosk; full house,
standing room only. Victory to the proletariat!
