Red Pepper » Radical cities

Naples: A city centred

admin — Tue, 04 Jun 2013 10:00:00 +0000

DAMM, ‘Italy’s most beautiful social centre’. Photo: Nick Dines
Naples offers visitors an intriguing urban experience. With its dense web of narrow alleyways, ancient tenement blocks and crowded piazzas, the city’s sprawling centro storico (historic centre) is one of the few large urban centres in Europe to be dominated by lower-income residents. Here the taken-for-granted features of the contemporary neoliberal city assume a different hue. Over the past 20 years would-be gentrifiers have invested in sunlit, top-floor apartments, only to backtrack to the post-war suburbs when the lumpen dominance on the streets becomes too much to handle.
An urban waste crisis recently placed Naples under the global media spotlight. Much of the coverage was riddled with inaccuracies and preconceptions: the piles of uncollected trash were supposedly the work of organised crime, while the protests against landfills and incinerators were, at best, acts of irrational nimbyism and, in any case, merely served to aggravate the problem. In reality, the Camorra mafiosi had very little to do with the debacle, which was, more prosaically, the upshot of corporate negligence and institutional complicity. Moreover, the intense mobilisations and awareness-raising campaigns effectively hastened the collapse of the local political establishment and influenced a radical volte-face towards a zero waste agenda.
In terms of its grassroots politics, Naples has always posed conceptual dilemmas and strategic challenges. For the orthodox leftist, the city once boasted a highly organised working class concentrated in outlying factories but was otherwise constrained by the contradictory social allegiances of an unruly populace. For the more astute activist, Naples possesses alternative collective traditions and insubordinate tendencies that have, on occasions, turned the city into a vibrant political laboratory.
During the heady 1970s, as in other Italian cities, Naples was the site of radical neighbourhood-based movements that organised, among other things, the self-reduction of utility bills and, following an outbreak of cholera in 1973, fought for improved sanitary conditions. Out of these experiences emerged the organised unemployed movement, which at its peak in 1975 amassed 15,000 members. In their pursuit of regular work, activists would occupy public buildings and principal traffic arteries so as to bring the city to a standstill.
Today the movement has splintered into various factions. A few ‘lists’ have capitulated to clientelistic practices or have gravitated towards the far right, but most groups remain committed to self-organised struggle. These include the Coordinamento di Lotta per il Lavoro, whose headquarters on Via Rosaroll , in the east end of the city centre, is named in honour of Carlo Giuliani, the activist killed by police in Genoa in 2001. Tactics essentially remain the same as in the past. In other words, if you suddenly find yourself in the middle of traffic pandemonium, the chances are that it is the result of direct action by a few hundred disoccupati.
Naples has often played a prominent role in national movements such as general strikes, anti-war marches and student protests. In 1990 students across the country occupied university faculties in opposition to proposed privatisation in higher education. The Panther Movement, as it came to be known, had long-term repercussions in Naples. Besides producing a new generation of activists, it led to the revitalisation of large swathes of the centro storico that after the 1980 earthquake had become desolate outside office hours. Today’s busy bar scene around piazzas San Domenico, Gesù Nuovo
and Bellini has its origins in the mass reappropriation of public space by young people during this period. The city’s universities themselves continue to accommodate a series of radical spaces, including the long-established self-managed third floor in the
architecture faculty on Via Monteoliveto , which hosts the militant radio station Radiolina .
The momentum created by the Panther Movement also led to the occupation on 1 May 1991 of Naples’s most famous social centre, Officina 99 . Located in a former factory in Gianturco, one mile to the east of the city’s central railway station, Officina 99 is nationally renowned as the original base of rap group 99 Posse, and more recently it has become home to the micro-TV project insu^tv. Together with its sister occupation in the centro storico, Lo Ska , Officina 99 has often been at the forefront of local struggles over unemployment and migrant rights as well as being heavily involved with a number of international issues, such as Palestine and the Zapatista movement.
There are numerous other social centres in Naples, each with its own position and agenda, but without the mutual hostilities that sometimes exist in Milan, Turin or Rome. Insurgencia , a two-storey structure first squatted in 2004 in the northern district of Colli Aminei to the west of the giant Capodimonte park, played an instrumental role in the anti-landfill protests in near-by Chiaiano in 2008, and has continued to be particularly active around urban environmental issues. Insurgencia is affiliated with the national Global Network that grew out of the post-Genoa Disobbedienti movement and has, unlike Officina 99, built strategic working relationships with local institutions.
Returning to the centro storico and scaling its westerly slopes, we come to DAMM , first occupied by local people in 1995 and once declared to be ‘Italy’s most beautiful social centre’ on account of its panoramic views over the Gulf of Naples and the island of Capri. DAMM, which stands for Diego Armando Maradona Montesanto (the last word refers to the local neighbourhood), is located in a building at the top of a bizarre network of terraced gardens designed after the 1980 earthquake. Less overtly political than Officina 99 or Insurgencia and preferring the label ‘multiple self-managed zones’ to the somewhat obsolete term ‘centro sociale’, DAMM’s energies have been channelled towards campaigning for the upkeep of the park, theatre productions and running out-of-school activities for local children.
From DAMM it is a 15 minute downhill walk into the ancient Greco-Roman heart of Naples to the Ex Asilo Filangieri , the most recent addition to the city’s catalogue of self-managed spaces. The 16th-century former boarding school for orphans was ‘re-inhabited’ in 2012 to provide an open forum for culture and political debate. Loosely tied to a new national network of occupied theatres and cinemas previously threatened with closure, privatisation or redevelopment, the Ex Asilo has operated around the idea of culture and knowledge as commons and has drawn up a statute that guarantees collective participation in the structure.
All of the aforementioned spaces regularly organise public meetings and social and cultural activities, and are usually equipped with a bar and occasionally a kitchen (but don’t expect to find any vegan food!). The quickest way to gather information on latest events is to scan the posters pasted across the centro storico, especially around the university district. In doing so, you are also likely to come across murals by Cyop&Kaf, a writers’ collective that has spent the past decade embellishing the walls of Naples with Miró-esque bird-like monsters and anthropomorphised coffins, along with the odd piece of blunt social commentary, which together provide an offbeat backdrop to this at times rowdy and easily misunderstood city.
Nick Dines teaches at the University of Roma Tre and is author of Tuff City: Urban Change and Contested Space in Central Naples (Berghahn Books, 2012). His critical review of the British press coverage of the city and the rubbish crisis will shortly be published in the journal Modern Italy

Tokyo, behind the bright lights

admin — Fri, 04 Jan 2013 10:00:10 +0000

Okamoto’s Asu no shinwa (Myth of Tomorrow). Photo: Mark Pendleton
Is Tokyo just shiny commerce, fast trains and polite people? That might be your impression if you have read any commercial travel guidebook. However, a visit to Tokyo also provides travellers with the opportunity to explore the history of Japanese and American imperialism in Asia and connect with radical communities organising against nuclear power, resisting the continued US military presence, and struggling with the two-decade long Japanese economic stagnation that has resulted in an increasingly precarious existence for many, particularly young people.
Landing at Tokyo’s main international airport in Narita drops international visitors right at the heart of this history of radical struggle. When the airport was being built in a rural area outside of town, residents and their allies from the cities physically (and violently) resisted large-scale acquisitions of their land. They were defeated after a multi-decade struggle, but as you catch the train or bus into downtown Tokyo and pass the few remaining rice fields or small vegetable patches, spare a thought for those that were forced off their land to give visitors a shiny, new landing strip.
Those aforementioned guidebooks will inevitably point you towards the popular destination of Shibuya, a busy shopping, entertainment and commercial district. Once there, head up to the raised concourse in front of the Keio Inokashira line station, which gives visitors a view of the world’s busiest pedestrian crossing. Take the obligatory happy snap, but also take a moment to turn around and view the opposite side of the concourse. A 30-metre long mural by prominent mid-20th century artist Okamoto Tar lines the wall, and reveals much about Japan’s past and present.
Okamoto’s Asu no shinwa (Myth of Tomorrow) has been described as Japan’s Guernica, with its anti-war representation of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Okamoto died many years ago and the mural itself was lost for several decades before being found and restored in 2008. In 2011, in the aftermath of the Tohoku earthquake/tsunami and the Fukushima nuclear disaster, Okamoto’s anti-nuclear message was updated by radical contemporary art collective ChimPom, who attached an additional Fukushima-themed panel to the Okamoto piece. While the ChimPom installation only lasted a few hours it caused a minor furore, alerting passersby to Tokyo’s contemporary fragility and its radical past and present.
Anti-nuclear activities such as those of ChimPom have long been a hallmark of Japanese activism, and in the months since that earthquake/tsunami saw the world’s greatest release of radioactive materials since Chernobyl, there has been something of a revival. Fear of exposure exacerbated by the increasingly obvious lies by nuclear operators and their allies in government and the media have fuelled a mass movement opposed to the reactivation of Japan’s nuclear industry, which had been progressively shut down after Fukushima. Friday evening protests at the prime minister’s official residence and adjacent parliamentary buildings (the Diet) continue, with thousands taking to the streets each week. Polls show that these activists have popular opinion on their side, with upwards of 70 per cent demanding that Japan wean itself off its reliance on nuclear power. You can check out the action by catching the subway to any of the stations near the Diet. Aim to arrive by 6pm to join the hordes of people flocking to the demonstration.
While you’re there, remember that you are in the middle of the largest public display of dissent in Japan since hundreds of thousands flooded those same streets back in 1960 to protest against the government’s forced passage of an extension to the US military treaty in the face of parliamentary and popular opposition. A young student activist, Kanba Michiko, was killed by police, reminding many Japanese of the ongoing power of the Japanese state, a power that people had hoped had dissipated after the collapse of the militarist governments of the first half of the 20th century.
The military alliance with the US continues to be a major flashpoint across much of Japan – particularly on the southern islands of Okinawa, which bear the brunt of hosting the bulk of the forces. Anger about the alliance also spills over onto Tokyo streets around the anniversary of the war’s end and in ongoing protests over Japan’s support for contemporary American military occupations in the Middle East.
History buffs may like to pay a visit to the preserved fishing trawler, the Lucky Dragon 5, which despite its name suffered a less than lucky fate when nuclear fallout from a US nuclear test at Bikini Atoll in the Pacific drifted across its bow in 1954. The radio operator died as a result of exposure, reminding the Japanese of earlier atomic atrocities and serving as a catalyst for the anti-nuclear politics that Japan has since become famous for. You can visit the ship at the Daigo Fukuryu Maru Exhibition Hall in Yumenoshima Park, down by Tokyo Bay.
Japan’s experience of nuclear war, along with post-war debates over the legacy of Japanese imperialism in Asia, has led to the creation of a range of radical peace museums across the country. A good option for a visit in Tokyo is the Women’s Active Museum on War and Peace in the Waseda area, which highlights the uneven impact of war on women, focusing particularly on testimonies from the so-called ‘comfort women’.
The inner western suburbs of Tokyo also contain vibrant contemporary activist scenes. A ten-minute walk east from Shinjuku station will find readers at the anarchist infoshop Irregular Rhythm Asylum. The crew at IRA have been in the mix of all things radical for several years now, including anti-war, anti-nuclear, precarious labour and alter-globalisation activities, and stock a wide range of materials on Japanese and international anarchist and other social movements. An irregularly produced guide to what’s on in Tokyo (the Nantoka guide) is often available at IRA, and you can also ask staff, who will usually do their best to point you in appropriate directions. The IRA website and blog contain some materials in English, including a map to the infoshop’s location.
Adjacent to IRA is Tokyo’s queer district – Shinjuku Nichome. While recent police enforcement of anti-dancing provisions in an antiquated occupation-era law has taken some of the edge off Nichome’s reputation for trashy nights on the dance floor, there is still plenty of cheesy music and cheap drinks for those so inclined. Tokyo’s largest HIV and LGBT community centre, named AKTA, can be found in Nichome as well as the usual mix of nightlife and queer community activities that you’d find in most major cities.
The district also houses a radical café called Café Lavanderia, which plays host to regular events and has a modest selection of food and drinks available. Lavanderia has an extensive collection of books and other material available to read in Japanese, English and other languages, and a couple of extremely friendly (if somewhat persistent) pet cats.
Heading further west, the area around Koenji also plays host to many activist groups, particularly those active in precarious labour and youth social movements. People associated with the ratbag collective, Shiroto no Ran (or Amateur Revolt), run an online radio station, as well as a series of event spaces, second-hand clothing shops and galleries just a short walk from the north exit of the main JR train station. Punk and other gigs are a regular feature here.
The Kotaka district, a short walk further north, had a large scene centred on the Kotaka Shoten group of studio, art and organising spaces, which unfortunately closed down after five years of operation in summer 2012. Keep an eye out, though, for additional activities in this area, particularly the occasional Mabashi Film Festival, which features alternative local and international film screenings.
While Tokyo has a reputation for being a bit of a tough city to break into, there is much for the radical visitor to explore. If you have time to get out of the city, a visit to Hiroshima or Nagasaki is also an essential visit for all historically and politically aware travellers.
Mark Pendleton teaches modern Japanese history at the University of Sheffield and has lived in Tokyo

Barcelona: Neighbourhoods of noise

admin — Mon, 04 Jun 2012 18:39:48 +0000

Photo: www.bernatrueda.info
On 15 May 2011, 10,000 people demonstrated in Barcelona under the banner of ‘Real Democracy Now’. Samba bands led coordinated dance moves involving entire streetfuls of people at a time, and the popular chant was ‘No hay pan para tanto chorizo’ – there’s not enough bread for so much chorizo, Spanish slang for thievery/corruption. That evening, protesters calling themselves the indignados (outraged) put up tents in Plaza Catalunya and started a movement that over the next month profoundly affected the city.
At the height of its popularity the acampada attracted thousands. The square was a sea of hands waving in silent but powerful approval at general assemblies. Many people with no previous interest in politics went to see what was happening and were impressed and often inspired by what they saw. Each evening at 9pm old and young participated in a caserollada, a local form of protest involving making as much noise as possible by banging pots and pans.
The occupation of Plaza Catalunya wasn’t the first time a wave of clanging saucepans was heard in the city. In 2003, every evening during the Iraq war protests, people took to their balconies, rooftops and windows to create whole neighbourhoods of noise. When the anti-sistema presence occasionally mushrooms like this, it encompasses a surprisingly large proportion of the city.
‘Associating’ is a deep-seated feature of Catalan society that is key to resistance. From castellers (the tradition of forming human towers), to Barça football club, to the squatter network, all social classes find ways to organise. Community-organised events, such as workshops, meetings and celebrations, take place in about 50 social centres and many more squatted spaces (okupas) around the city. You can recognise some of them in the Raval neighbourhood by brightly coloured murals up to five stories high. Info Usurpa is a website for the okupa network that has up-to-date information on events across the city – although it’s advisable to brush up on your Spanish before arriving unannounced.
Of particular interest is the legendary Can Masdeu perched up in the Collserola hills. This old hospital building has been occupied for ten years. It has a library and a fully equipped workshop that hosts various courses. It is open on Sundays for lunch, which is shared in the garden and is a chance to meet people involved in a wide range of projects.
Many radical associations have a more international membership, such as Barcelona en Transició , which supports decentralised autonomous groups working on ways to reduce their dependence on oil – for example, alternative energy plans and urban food production. L’Hortet del Forat , a vegetable garden in the Born neighbourhood , is an example of a successfully reclaimed green space. It started illegally when the land was an abandoned building site and is now accepted by the council. Regular get-togethers are organised to eat the food produced there. Also in the Born are two innovative theatres with more than just performing arts – RAI hosts exhibitions and dinners, and L’Antic Teatre offers a shady patio bar and occasionally organises activism gatherings. The free magazine BCNmes is a good resource for listings and left-leaning articles.
There is much discussion about whether the current resistance and community action is linked in any way with Barcelona’s anarchist past and the revolution of 1936 when, in resistance to Franco’s fascist coup, the workers fought on the city streets to hold back the armed forces. For a few months, until Stalin’s communist forces turned against them, the anarchists were in control of the city. Buildings were draped with anarchist flags and production was collectivised.
This period is excellently documented in George Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia, and background knowledge of these events gives you a better perspective on Barcelona’s most tourist-filled and tacky street, Las Ramblas . Nick Lloyd, a civil war historian, runs fascinating walking tours on the subject. In his opinion there is no real connection between resistance then and now because the social conditions are utterly different. Decades before the civil war the city was divided between the bourgeois, pouring money into the construction of the modern Eixample neighbourhood, and the workers, living in the filthy, overcrowded Raval. This was a hotbed of anarchism and by 1936 the poor had lived generations surrounded by it.
The anarcho-syndicalist CNT union was hugely important in the uprising. It was supported by the majority of the workers and the general strike was used as a political tool. They controlled the telephone exchange (now a Movistar shop) in Plaza Catalunya until the May Days when the state broke the anarchist power. Today the CNT is a tiny organisation and one of the only places you can see the anarchist flag is at their Rosa del Foc bookshop .
The two main unions, CCOO and UGT, traditionally linked to the communist and socialist parties respectively, have a broader base, and are currently embroiled in conflict with the new right‑wing government over labour reforms and public service cuts. A third union, the CGT, is smaller and still anarcho‑syndicalist. All three are housed in the same building, on Via Laitana , but relations have been tense since a government decision to push the CGT out. Its rooftop bar has great views down this famous avenue, which is the last leg of any protest march, and in 1936 was filled with people attending the funeral of the anarchist hero Buenaventura Durruti.
Durruti was buried in the Montjuic cemetery , where you can also find El Fossar de la Pedrera , a mass grave and memorial for nearly 2,000 people executed by the Franco regime. The air raid shelter Refugi 307 is another site worth visiting. Among other stories, you learn how it was dug out in a collective effort, mostly by the women and children who wanted to use it.
After the civil war, during the dark days of oppresion by Franco, the divisions between the rich and poor in Barcelona were even more brutal, the victors up high and the defeated left hungry and in squalor. Whole city blocks at the bottom of the Raval were left in ruins until the 1960s to remind people of their defeat. There were pockets of resistance, notably the tram boycott and subsequent general strike in 1951, and then walkouts during the 1970s. These were thanks to shopfloor organising, mainly by the CCOO, and continued until Franco’s death.
The transition from dictactorship to democracy, which officially started in 1977, has been documented from an anti‑capitalist, working-class perspective by the writer Vásquez Montalbán. He was a regular, along with other interesting characters, at the restaurant Can Lluis in the Raval. A nearby square is rather unfittingly named after Montalbán. It is next to a new luxury hotel and is an example of a continuing trend to mould Barcelona and its historical figures to fit the purposes of tourism, which often come at the expense of residents’ needs.
At all levels, local, national and international, radical Barcelona is feeling the pressure. In November 2011, the right wing PP won the general election with a huge majority, and in Barcelona the right – CiU, a nationalist Catalan party – got into power for the first time. The indignados left the square last year and took their ideals for a participative democracy out to the neighbourhoods. Although the movement has become more dispersed, activities by AcampadaBCN are continuing on an almost daily basis. Combine this with the action by the unions on unpopular government reforms and Barcelona’s current political climate seems set for turbulence.
Anna Gurney writes for various publications in Barcelona as well as running a sustainable tourism project. www.boodaville.wordpress.com
Nick Lloyd leads historical walking tours in Barcelona and his book A Radical Civil War Guide will be published in September. www.iberianature.com

Radical cities: A guide to Nablus, Palestine

admin — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 10:47:52 +0000

Serving kanafe in Nablus Photo: Sarah Irving
What does it mean to be a ‘radical city’ in Palestine? And for the visitor, what is radical travel? Not so long ago, foreign visitors to the West Bank tended to be activists, journalists, NGO workers or perhaps pilgrims. But the comparative quiet of recent years has seen the New York Times exploring Ramallah’s lively nightlife and the Daily Telegraph’s travel section covering Christmas in Bethlehem (albeit in an article that termed the vicious, land-grabbing Jordan Valley settlements ‘villages’).
Leaving behind Ramallah and Bethlehem, with their expat communities and religious tour groups, what of the West Bank’s other cities? Sleepy desert Jericho? Hebron, struggling to maintain its culture and economy under the weight of soldiers and fanatical settlers? Jenin, with its pioneering fair trade organisations, understated and beautiful old city and the defiant Freedom Theatre in the heart of its refugee camp? Invited to pick a ‘radical city’, I chose Nablus.
Nablus, in the northern West Bank, is one of Palestine’s largest cities. It was once an important stopping-point on trade routes between Jaffa or Jerusalem and Damascus. It was especially famous for its soap, made using olive oil from the surrounding villages. In the 18th and 19th centuries major local families such as the Abdul-Hadis, Tuqans, Arafats and Shaka’as (whose names will still be familiar to any student of Palestinian politics or culture) built ornate palaces, partly on the profits of the soap trade. Nowadays, two factories open sporadically, and are most likely to welcome visitors in the morning. Inside, the liquid soap is poured onto wide floors to solidify, before being cut, stamped and stacked into high, intricate towers to dry.
Nablus’s historical roads through the Levantine hills have been cut by international borders, the separation wall and a series of Israeli checkpoints. This sense of isolation was reinforced in 2002, when a massive Israeli invasion of the West Bank cut off Nablus from outside contact. The old city was besieged and placed under curfew, while Palestinian fighters were chased through its crowded homes by the simple tactic of blasting holes in wall after wall. Next to the site of the Al-Shu’bi
home , a plaque on the wall commemorates the nine members of the family who were crushed to death by Israeli military bulldozers. The old city’s walls are still plastered with martyr posters – some of young fighters brandishing their weapons, others showing the children and old people who just as easily become victims of the Israeli military.
Nablus’s history isn’t just that of the Israeli occupation, although the two are closely meshed. Locals may point out the
old city window from which Yasser Arafat is said to have leapt sometime in the late 1960s, fleeing Israeli soldiers. At the magnificent Orthodox church of Bir Yaqub (Jacob’s
Well) , Father Justinus happily shows visitors the architectural glories of the building he has painstakingly renovated over the last 30 years – but also indicates the charred spot where his predecessor was hacked to death and burned by settlers in 1979. At Tel Balata , massive Canaanite walls and temple foundations attest to Nablus’s antiquity; just beyond the archaeological site is the huge, overcrowded Balata refugee camp.
But Nabulsis are also keen to emphasise the less political attractions of their city. Beautifully-preserved Roman coffins are on display at two sites on the edges of the city, and the Roman theatre is set into the side of the hill next to the Ottoman souq. The churches and mosques of Nablus are a mix of Byzantine, Mamluk and Ottoman architecture, and the old city’s bustling
Market (where you can buy everything from fake designer trainers to herbal remedies, precisely prescribed by a man who studied his craft in Southampton) is peppered with intriguing little shrines and tombs of half-forgotten local Islamic saints and teachers. The famous Al-Aqsa bakery serves hot, fresh kanafe (the opulent sweet for which Nablus is famous) to an unseemly scrum of customers. And for the true pleasure-seeker, Nablus is home to two traditional Turkish baths.
The 17th-century Hammam Ash-Shefa occasionally hosts music nights and even Palfest literary events in its luxurious lounge. The rest of the time male or female customers (depending on the day of the week) can enjoy shisha, Arabic coffee and pastries, before or after steaming themselves and being pummelled by an over-enthusiastic masseur. Nablus is even home to Palestine’s first slow food convivium, the Bait Al-Karama (‘House of Dignity’) cookery school run by a local women’s NGO in a beautifully-restored building in the old city.
Golda Meir told the Sunday Times in 1969 that ‘there is no such thing as a Palestinian people’, and in December 2011 Republican presidential hopeful Newt Gingrich repeated the line, calling the Palestinians an ‘invented’ people. Perhaps, then, to visit Palestine is in itself a radical act. To recognise Palestinian culture for what it is – a rich, vibrant, living indigenous tradition in this land – is to defy the project of the settlers and of the military occupation, with their aims of wiping Palestine and its people off the map, or of appropriating convenient pieces of Palestinian culture for their own ends.

Practicalities
Nablus can easily be reached by bus or shared or private taxi from Ramallah (or, via Ramallah, Jerusalem). A range of accommodation is now available in the city, from medium/upper range hotels such as the Yasmeen (www.alyasmeen.com), in the heart of the old city, or the Al-Qasr in Rafidia (www.alqaserhotel.com/firstie), to budget hotels like the Crystal (Hotel Crystal Motel on Facebook), or youth hostel-style options such as Damascus House and the International Friends Guesthouse (www.guesthouse.ps).
Nablus has little public nightlife, although Nablus The Culture (www.nablusculture.ps) runs occasional concerts and literary events and the park near the city centre sometimes hosts family concerts. Eating out ranges from high-end choices such as the Qasr Al-Jabi, Saleem Afandi or Saraya restaurants to street stalls serving kebabs or felafel. The Rafidia area and streets around An-Najah University are also home to plenty of cafes.
Dream Tours (www.dreamtours.ps) and West Bank Tours (www.westbanktours.com) are local companies that can organise day trips, longer visits and accommodation and have fluent speakers of English on their staff.

Sarah Irving is the author of the Bradt Guide to Palestine. Red Pepper reader offer: use the coupon code RP35 at www.bradtguides.com to receive a 35% discount off the retail price of £15.99 (p&p free to UK addresses). Sarah Irving also runs palestineguesthouse.com, which lists small-scale and community tourist accommodation in Palestine

Toronto tales

admin — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 20:54:45 +0000

As the largest Canadian city – with much wealth, much poverty, a significant urban indigenous population and large-scale immigration – Toronto remains a hotbed for Canadian radicalism. In the summer of 2010, it was the scene of the biggest mass arrest in Canadian history, with 1,100 people – from activists to passers‑by – arrested during protests at the G20 summit. The radical community is still reeling from the trauma of those summer days.
Toronto has long been a focal point of radical politics in Canada, its history marked by struggles for labour rights, public transport, housing, healthcare and LGBTQ rights. For those wishing to explore the city and its radical past, there are three excellent labour walking tours. Much of the history of Toronto’s working people has been buried beneath ice rinks and office towers, so the tours require a little imagination, but the initiated can still unearth evidence of past workers’ struggles.
A trip to the Toronto Street railway stables (now the Lorraine Kisma Theatre, 165 Front Street) puts you at the site of a historic union battle. When, in 1886, the Toronto Street Railway refused to recognise the Knights of Labour as the workers’ union, thousands of citizens boycotted streetcars driven by scabs. It was the city’s first big streetcar strike. The original horse barn for the Toronto Street Railway still stands. It was built in 1886–7.
Terauley Street was where the Ward was once located. It was Toronto’s best-known slum and served as a gateway neighbourhood for immigrants seeking refuge from the the Irish potato famine, the failure of the 1848 revolutions and oppressive regimes in Russia and eastern Europe. Many of the lanes and streets have disappeared as the Ward was razed for the construction of the Toronto General Hospital. To find a visible record of the city’s many immigrant workers, visit Elizabeth Garnett’s Memorial to Chinese railway workers (Blue Jays Way), dedicated to the people who helped construct the Canadian Pacific railway. Between 1880 and 1885, 17,000 Chinese men worked on the project in dangerous conditions and intense social isolation. More than 4,000 Chinese workers died.
The building that housed the Toronto Labor Lyceum (346 Spadina Avenue) still stands. Emma Goldman spoke here in the 1930s, and on the day after she died, in 1940, this was the location of a three-hour memorial. The Post Office (Terminal ‘A’, 40 Bay Street) marks the site of more recent union struggles. In 1981 the Canadian Union of Postal Workers (CUPW) demanded maternity leave. After a 45-day strike, CUPW became the first national union to win this right.
It is also possible to discover the people’s history behind traditional tourist spots. When the construction of the CN Tower (301 Front Street West) was finished in 1975, two workers conducted a daring celebration when one, assisted by the other, parachuted to the ground. Both were fired.
If all that history leaves you thirsty, then a visit to Kensington Market should revive you. This multicultural neighbourhood is home to independent cafes, radical bookstores, hippy clothing shops and vegan food. Favourite hang-outs include Wanda’s for great sweet pies and Ideal for coffee. Alternatively, head to The Stop (1884 Davenport Road), a community food centre that runs one of Toronto’s most accessible food banks as well as a drop-in space offering workshops and legal advice on employment and housing.

Come As You Are (701 Queen Street West) is an awesome co-operative sex store that is worker owned and operated, offering a wide range of sex toys, tips and literature as well as workshops on everything from rope bondage to female ejaculation. The 519 community centre (519 Church Street) runs a range of anti-oppression, anti-violence and anti-poverty programs and is located at the heart of Toronto’s gay neighbourhood, where the American Queer as Folk was filmed. Bike Pirates (1292 Bloor Street West) is a volunteer-run, DIY bike shop – just don’t come here expecting to have your bike repairs done for you!
If it’s books you’re after, Toronto has a great selection of radical bookstores. First stop is one of Toronto’s oldest LGBTQ bookstores, Glad Day Bookshop, found at 598 Younge Street. At 73 Harbord Street is the Toronto Women’s Bookstore, a non-profit bookstore dedicated to promoting anti-oppression and feminist politics. Finally, mosey over to A Different Booklist (746 Bathurst Street), where this ‘black power’ bookshop is a centre of activity for Toronto’s African and Caribbean diaspora.
To sense the character of Toronto as a radical city, you don’t have to look further than last year’s G20 protests. The Toronto Community Mobilisation Network ensured that protest was firmly rooted in ongoing local community struggle. Dedication to the principle of community organising by those who are directly affected by an issue is one of Toronto’s most notable strengths (indeed, the term ‘organiser’ is far more common here than ‘activist’).
This principle, with its corollaries of radical democracy and self-determination, forms the foundation of three organisations that account for much of Toronto’s radical activity: No One Is Illegal (NOII), Ontario Coalition Against Poverty (OCAP) and the Coalition Against Israeli Apartheid (CAIA). These groups constitute much of the pulse of contemporary Toronto radicalism (at least in the downtown core): explicitly striving to involve and empower the marginalised communities that they work in, and being infused by anti-colonial, anti-capitalist, and anti-racist identity politics.
NOII-Toronto, led in large part by women of colour, has changed the face of Toronto activism over the past decade, bringing an anti-racist and migrant justice analysis to the fore. One of its major victories has been passing a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy in Toronto schools, making schools here the only ones in the country that don’t ask parents about their immigration status to enrol their kids.
CAIA struggles for Palestinian self‑determination in a city with a strong and committed Zionist presence.
OCAP, recently celebrating its 20th birthday, continues its direct action casework against poverty, homelessness, and police repression. A major recent campaign was to sign up thousands of welfare recipients for a special diet allowance (a relatively unknown welfare provision that enables poor people to get a couple of hundred extra dollars per month for medical reasons). Thanks to OCAP and supportive medics, poor people managed to squeeze almost $30 million out of the system before the liberal government cut the programme in the wake of recent austerity measures. Following OCAP’s example, there are now CAPs all across the country.
Another feature particular to radical Toronto is an almost complete lack of political party organising, with nearly all the major organising groups operating on broadly anarchist principles of social movements and community self-determination. Of course, while these groups operate without a formal ‘leadership’, the activist community here, like elsewhere, still struggles to find ways to resolve the invisible hierarchies that constantly creep into ostensibly horizontal, participatory organisations.
Toronto’s tradition of non-hierarchical organising has made it fertile ground for the recent Occupy movement, and Occupy Toronto has sprung up as an important space for activism. The spirit of autonomy and self-determination is thrilling. Whether the movement is able to set roots remains to be seen. But here’s hoping.
Tom Malleson and Juilette Daigre are social justice activists and community organisers in Toronto. Tom is co-editor of Whose Streets? The Toronto G20 and the Challenges of Summit Protest

Bristol: Chameleon skin, seditious heart

admin — Fri, 02 Sep 2011 21:36:48 +0000

Bristol has been at the heart of radical movements in the UK for centuries. Historically it has been known as a location whose populous would act, often in riots, when they were pushed too far by the ruling class. The Bristol Bridge and Queens Square played host to large-scale riots in 1793 and 1831 respectively. The 1831 riot is one of the most famous in the lead up to the 1832 Reform Act, one of the first major steps to universal suffrage.
The riot is usually cast by mainstream historians as a raging drunken mob. However, there is clear evidence that the rioters carefully targeted symbols of the establishment, burning down three prisons, looting the customs house in Queens Square and attempting to destroy both the council houses and the cathedral. For the past five years the Bristol Radical History Group has been opening up the local history of ordinary people. If you are lucky, you can catch one of their radical history tours, which lead you through the various struggles Bristolians have engaged in.
The recent pro-local, anti-Tesco riots in Stokes Croft again demonstrate the simmering anti-establishment feelings that lie close to the surface in Bristol’s political culture. However this episode, largely provoked by the police, should not be viewed in isolation from the dense network of community-focused radical groups and institutions active in the city. Nor should Stokes Croft take sole ownership as the only radical hotspot in the urban jigsaw puzzle of ‘radical villages’ that make Bristol such an interesting place to live and visit. A range of social, environmental and political projects give areas such as Montpelier, St Werburghs, St Pauls, Easton, Southville and Bishopston an inspiring spirit.
To start with, a large chunk of the city’s radical culture is characterised by its fascination with music and art. The city bubbles at the forefront of Britain’s artistic radical talent. Indeed, just as the mainstream music giants envelop dubstep, a sound mined out of the Afro-Caribbean dub and reggae influences, the city has already moved on to new uncharted musical territory. The same feeling goes for graffiti, for even though Bristol is known throughout the liberal classes for the works of Banksy, it is the likes of 3Dom, Sepr, Rowdy, Andy Council and the collective known as St Just mob, whose vibrant paintings reclaim the streets with bright and political murals.
This graffiti gives Bristol a chameleon skin that is constantly in flux. There is an age old battle over visual space, where corporate symbols, rolled out by the council for quick cash, are constantly subvertised. It is a continuous cause of satisfaction that billboards that were once celebrating Coca Cola’s 125th birthday or Vans new urban shoe now host a range of well thought out political messages. Indeed, in some parts of the city, notably Stokes Croft, artistic ‘vandalism’ is so set in that the council is helpless against the tide of creative talent. Here you can wander around and see graffiti artists freely take turns at painting the boarded up derelict buildings, bringing to life an area that could so easily look run down if left to the council alone.
The people of Easton
Our radical tour should start in Easton, an area that has been denied the investment set aside for improvements in the white middle class areas of Redland, Clifton and Hotwells. This village is dotted with community-owned projects and typified by the plaque on the wall of the Easton Community Centre which reads ‘This stone was laid by “the people” of Easton’. This centre is no usual community centre and often plays host to anarchist fundraisers, cross-socialist conferences or refugee events. Every Sunday, the community gathers for a food handout with a twist, Bristol Foodcycle, a community initiative that reclaims food that supermarkets throw away and cooks up tasty meals in an effort to bring people together around healthy eating.
The area is also home to a community sports venture, The Easton Cowboys and Cowgirls. This group strives to build social ties between the diverse ethnic backgrounds in the locality. Walking down Chelsea Road, you reach the community permaculture project of East Side Roots . This project has transformed Stapleton Road railway station from a seldom used suburban railway link into a community hub where people can grow food, share gardening skills and most importantly talk and build community links. Along with its sister project at the Trinity Centre , on the other side of Easton, East Side Roots provides vital volunteer work and meeting space for disempowered refugee populations in projects also coordinated by Bristol Refugee Rights.
Down St Marks Road, you reach the anarchist social centre on Robertson Rd, the Kebele Community Co-op . The centre aims to provide a living example of the anarchist ideals of collective decision-making, non-hierarchical structures, cooperation and mutual aid, and direct action. It hosts a number of activist groups and collectives covering issues ranging from squatting to immigration, animal rights, permaculture and bike workshops.
On foot from Easton, you can reach the largely Jamaican community of St Pauls . This is the location of the UK’s first riots in the 1980s, where locals attempted to raise their voice against police oppression and the social injustices exacted by Thatcher’s government. Now it is the host of the St Pauls carnival, a yearly expression of Bristol’s vibrant and multicultural community. On Portland Square, St Pauls, is the squatted social centre The Factory . This is one of the most famous squats in Bristol, offering space for activist meetings, film nights and community meals.
Stokes Croft
From here, it is only a five minute walk to the now-famous Stokes Croft , an area in a constant struggle against corporate developers and the inevitable gentrification. Even so, there is a high density of social centres and radical shops. At the start of the road you will find the Freeshop , a long-squatted building that attempts to question the dominance of consumerism by giving its products away for free. Next up is Hamiliton House, a building that has recently seen a large transformation and now gives space to both The Canteen and Coexist . This was once abandoned and coveted by only street drinkers, but now it hosts a buzzing bar and socialising space for the city’s progressively minded. It also acts as a decent venue for events such as the successful Anarchist Bookfair.

Further up is the workers’ co-op that is Cafe Kino . This serves delicious, ethically sourced vegan and vegetarian food and is the meeting point for many radical groups. Away from the main road is one of the most interesting spaces Bristol has to offer.
The Cube, a collectively-run radical cinema, is a great place to go for documentaries and discussions on climate justice, food sovereignty and other global issues. It has also been running a cinema space over in Haiti, in an effort to build community and provide entertainment to a population under constant social stress.
In its entirety, Bristol is an incredible place to live. It acts as a stronghold for activists and social projects. At the same time, it provides a cultural outlet for one of the country’s most diverse artistic communities. Home to a great many radical thinkers, artists and activists, it is no wonder Bristol is considered the nation’s most accessible melting pot for radical activism.

www.eastsideroots.org.uk
www.brh.org.uk (Bristol Radical History Group)
www.foodcycle.org.uk/bristol.php
www.eastoncowboys.org.uk
www.kebelecoop.org

Copenhagen: Something radical in the state of Denmark

admin — Sun, 24 Jul 2011 04:21:07 +0000

It is hard not to be impressed by the sheer number of radical cafés, bookstores and social centres in Copenhagen. Despite its relatively small size (approximately one million residents), the city has at least a dozen different radical centres, not including the semi-autonomous area of Christiania, which is currently fighting a last ditch battle with Denmark’s right-wing government to stop the state reclaiming the area and selling it off to property developers.
This huge infrastructure is not a recent development; a fascination with the idea of fristeder (free places) has long been a dominant tendency in the Danish radical left. This tendency dates back to the squatters’ movement, the slumstormere, that developed in the 1960s. This died down after the authorities allowed squatters to live in the buildings they had occupied until they were demolished, but it has been revived in recent years.
Despite this background, radical centres in Copenhagen tend not to be squatted buildings. Tough laws make squatting difficult, while there are many legal alternatives for groups attempting to establish a space. On the one hand, many former squats still have plenty of space that can be repurposed for new projects, while on the other, it is possible to get grants from government cultural funds for radical social centres and other such projects. All of these different spaces have something to say about contemporary and historical radicalism in Copenhagen.
It’s well worth getting a bike to visit Copenhagen. It is one of the best cities in the world to cycle in and its wide bike lanes and sensible drivers offer a welcome relief from the perils of cycling in more car-centred cities. Unfortunately, it is hard to find bikes to rent and the city-bikes provided for tourists are clunky monstrosities, designed to be as unattractive as possible to steal.
Any radical tour of Copenhagen starts in Nørrebro. Historically a workers’ quarter and later a home to the squatters’ movement, it is now rapidly being colonised by an array of raw food restaurants, posh cafés and gourmet beer bars. Despite this development, Nørrebro is still studded with left-wing outposts.
A good place to start is Demos, an anti-fascist bookstore in a prime location on the corner of the now uber-trendy Sankt Hans Torv with a good selection of books, magazines and t-shirts. The shop is run by an anti-fascist collective, who publish a magazine of the same name.
From here, one can walk ten minutes down the road to Cikaden, a café, library and bookstore run by the International Forum, a group that organises international solidarity work. There you can browse the library, buy a souvenir t-shirt, or have a chat with the activists on duty. The building next door is the headquarters of the Socialist Youth Front. On a typical Friday evening passers-by might be greeted by the sounds of pop music and heated arguments about the Spanish Civil War.
At this point, it might be worth taking a break for a coffee at Café Under Konstruktion (CuK), on the ground floor of Folkets Hus (The People’s House). Open five days a week, CUK was started as part of the wave of activism that followed the eviction of the Ungdomshuset (Youth House) autonomous youth centre in 2007. During weekdays it offers a relaxed atmosphere for meeting friends and hanging out, without the price tag attached to most café culture, while on weekends there are often concerts and film showings. On a Sunday, you can get your bike fixed at Cykelværkstedet 71, a cooperative bike workshop also on the ground floor of Folkets Hus.
After a coffee, it might be worth buying a few flowers on Nørrebrogade and walking to Jagtvej 69, the site of the evicted Ungdomshuset. The building that formerly stood at Jagtvej 69 was first built by the workers’ movement in 1897, and functioned as a headquarters and social centre for the labour movement, hosting dances and boxing matches, as well as speeches by guests such as Vladimir Lenin and Rosa Luxemburg.
In 1982, the then-derelict building was gifted to the squatters’ movement by the city council for use as an autonomous youth cultural centre. For nearly 30 years it functioned as a concert venue and a home for Copenhagen’s ‘autonome’ movement.
However, in 2007, after a protracted court battle and failed negotiations, the building was evicted by a huge force of police and torn down to prevent it being re-occupied. Riots lasting several days broke out across Copenhagen. Despite thousands of arrests, the police failed to kill the movement and a year later the city council offered the youth a new building as compensation.
This new building is located at Dortheavej 61, in the Nord Vest area, further out of town. It’s well worth paying a visit, either for the excellent vegan People’s Kitchen on Thursday evenings, a concert during the weekend, or simply to hang out and read a book in the well-stocked library and bookstore.
Also in Nord Vest are two other recent additions to Copenhagen’s radical cityscape, Bolsjefabrikken (The Candy Factory) and Ragnhildgade 1. Both are non-profit and non-commercial cultural centres run with support from city cultural funds. Ragnhildgade 1’s Thursday cafe is a good place to finish the day with a few beers after the vegan dinner.
You can start the next day with a falafel at one of Nørrebro’s many kebab stores before heading down to Christiania, the now legendary autonomous community. Christiania was founded in 1971, when squatters occupied a derelict military barracks close to the harbour. Since then, it has been run collectively by weekly general assemblies, although its existence has continuously been threatened by conflicts with the state over their right to use the area.
The first thing that strikes the visitor to Christiania is the thriving trade in hash and weed on Pushers Street. Walking a little bit further on, you can stop at Månefiskeren for a coffee or continue on for a walk around the lakes. Despite its centrality, Christiania is one of the most beautiful areas in Copenhagen. Trees and plant‑life are allowed to prosper and the area is bounded by water. The architecture is also worth admiring; the majority of residents live in repurposed military buildings, but there are also many new houses, which are often interestingly designed.
On another note altogether, Copenhagen’s Frihedsmuseet (the Freedom Museum) is an interesting spot to spend an hour or two. The museum documents the history of the Nazi occupation during the second world war and the resistance movement against it. Most interesting for lefties will be the exhibition about the Folkestrejke (People’s Strike), a strike movement against occupation and government collaboration. Also of note is the Danish people’s remarkable success in helping Jews to escape Nazi persecution.
The museum is located right next to a large section of well‑preserved fortifications from the 17th century. Formed in the shape of a pentagram, they were originally built as a defence against Sweden. They later proved singularly useless in defence against the British navy, which responded to the Danish refusal to enter an alliance against Napoleon by seizing the Danish navy and firebombing the civilian population.
All-in-all, Copenhagen is a great spot for a bit of radical tourism. The radical left’s long love affair with free spaces and independent culture means that there are plenty of interesting places to see around the city. Foreign activists might also use the opportunity to think about the role of free spaces and ‘autonomous culture’ in radical politics: are they a necessary part of a revolutionary movement or a distraction from the real struggle? Are they a model for a better society or a Neverland for escapist youth? After four years in Copenhagen, I’m still not sure of the answer.

Radical road round Dublin

admin — Sat, 07 May 2011 19:45:00 +0000

Here in Dublin, rumours of our demise have been greatly exaggerated. That image, of Ajaj Chopra from the International Monetary Fund passing the shell of Anglo Irish Bank on Stephen’s Green, gave the impression that Dublin was closed for business. The collapse of the Irish economy has brought about great challenges for the ordinary people of the capital, but these have been met with the attitude one could only expect from Dubliners. Dublin remains a city that embraces her own history, the arts and culture.

To historians, Dublin has always been known as ‘the city that fought an empire’. Indeed, at the General Post Office and the Royal College of Surgeons you can still see the bullet holes of the 1916 Easter Rising. That event, perhaps more than any other, shaped the identity of the capital. Striking in the middle of the Great War, a small band of rebels from the republican Irish Volunteers and the socialist Irish Citizen Army proclaimed an Irish republic and promised to ‘cherish all the children of the nation equally’.

It says a great deal about the Irish capital that prior to the ‘Celtic Tiger’, as our period of unprecedented economic growth was to become known, the tallest building in the Irish capital was Liberty Hall , the headquarters of the Siptu trade union group and the historic home of Irish labour. Now, with the arrival of the IMF and the economy in ruins, Liberty Hall remains our tallest building. We never built up. Dubliners always say we live in a large town rather than a small city, and Dublin moves at a relaxed pace. While the high street has seen a collapse, and ‘To Let’ signs stick out even from the most desirable business premises, below the surface, Dublin’s art and culture world has survived.

As a historian of Dublin, I have always considered the Temple Bar area among our greatest successes as a city. Temple Bar is today the bohemian quarter of the city, home to many independent record shops and bookshops, restaurants and theatres. In the 1970s, it had seemed that Temple Bar was doomed to a new life as a bus depot, when the state began purchasing large lots of property in the area for that purpose. But when a number of Dublin artists began purchasing studios in the area, and several restaurants and cafes followed, the seeds of modern Temple Bar were planted.

Today, the Project Arts Theatre in Temple Bar is just one example of the arts holding their own against the backdrop of the economic collapse. Next to it, at Essex Lane, is Connolly Books , Dublin’s longest established left-wing bookshop. The bookshop of the Communist Party of Ireland, it takes its name from the Edinburgh Marxist, James Connolly, whose political message was that the causes of Irish labour and Irish independence were inseparable.

Frequently, when providing walking tours of the city to tourists, I stop outside Connolly Books to read an extract from a 1947 guidebook to Dublin, which advised foreign visitors that a ‘subject not too safe for discussion is communism, which is most unpopular in Ireland, as the church is opposed to it’. We’ve come a long way!

Today, at the back of Connolly Books, you find the New Theatre , which has become a welcome addition to the performance arts scene in the capital, frequently playing home to smaller productions at very affordable prices.
The Seomra Spraoi autonomous social centre is located at 10 Belvedere Court, off Gardiner Street in Dublin 1. For many years those using the Seomra Spraoi centre found themselves on a musical chairs trip around the capital, with locations being changed frequently. But the centre now has a permanent home, with frequent film nights, discussions, musical and theatrical performances and more besides taking place within its walls, not to mention the excellent Seomra café .

For those of us who walk the streets of the capital, the They Are Us art project has been a welcome addition to the city landscape that has brought smiles to the faces of tourists and natives alike. A collaboration between musician Damien Dempsey and graffiti artist Maser, the project brings insightful messages (‘I’d rather trust a dealer on a badly lit street corner than a criminal in a three piece suit’) to the back alleys and hidden corners of Dublin, and sometimes to very prominent locations. A nod to Dublin’s old signwriters, and indeed perhaps barstool writers, has raised thousands of euros for the homeless of the city and added a touch of colour and wit to the cityscape.

Dublin has many thriving migrant communities, and these have all contributed to the city in unique ways. A favourite watering hole with the left is The Hop House bar and Kimchi restaurant at 160 Parnell Street. Just why this wonderful Korean bar and restaurant was adopted by the left is one of the great mysteries of life in the capital for me.

Moore Street , where the leaders of the 1916 insurrection made the decision to surrender, is today home to many small migrant businesses and these happily co-exist with fruit and fish stalls of native Dubliners. It is a real melting pot, though sadly under threat at present owing to plans to construct a large shopping centre that would destroy the spirit of this great corner of the city.

Similar to Moore Street, the Liberties area of Dublin is an essential visit. This great working class corner of Dublin, on the doorstep of the Guinness brewery, was once home to the tenement houses of the inner city. The most impoverished economic corners of the city had the proudest histories and a culture of song and humour, and real Dublin wit and character can still be found in the south inner city, on streets once walked by Jonathan Swift himself.

The National Museum at Collins’ Barracks is a must-see for anyone with an interest in the history of the Irish labour and separatist movements. One thing we did get right in Dublin was our museums, and access to all branches of the National Museum of Ireland is free. The ‘Soldiers and Chiefs’ exhibition looks at the many Irish nationalist, socialist, feminist and republican groupings that shaped Irish society in the turbulent years around independence.

What is the left like today in the Irish capital? Many feel that it has not capitalised fully on the economic collapse and the public’s growing anger towards the political class in general. One of the most active and visible campaigns in Ireland remains the Shell to Sea campaign, which campaigns for the nationalisation of Irish natural resources, which were essentially gifted to Shell and Statoil. The political scene in Dublin is a melting pot of left republicans, anarchists, socialists and more besides. Publications to look out for include RAG from the feminist grouping of the same name and LookLeft , a new effort produced by the Workers’ Party but essentially a broad left publication and platform for debate.

Recently I spotted a piece of graffiti up a laneway here which got me thinking. ‘Where have all the fighting Irish gone?’ it asked. They haven’t gone anywhere. They are still here in Dublin. Times are undoubtedly tough, and even unprecedented, but Dubliners embrace life with a wit and sense of determination that is rarely found elsewhere. It is a city with a proud and complex history, and a challenging future it is ready to meet.
Donal Fallon provides tours of Dublin city with the Historical Insights company. He writes for the award-nominated Dublin website ‘Come Here to Me’, online at www.comeheretome.wordpress.com