Writing in The New Yorker last month, the journalist Jon Lee Anderson posed a difficult and probably unanswerable question: “Does Henry Kissinger have a conscience?” Anderson’s query was prompted by the release earlier this summer of classified documents that shed new light on US involvement in Latin America during the 1970s. Specifically, the papers indicate that Kissinger – who served as Secretary of State under Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford – tacitly encouraged Argentina’s then military government to torture and kill its opponents. “If there are things that have to be done, do them quickly,” Kissinger told the Argentinian Foreign Minister Admiral Cesar Augusto Guzzetti in 1976. “The quicker you succeed the better.”
This disclosure would not have surprised the late Eric Hobsbawm, who spent a sizeable if largely overlooked portion of his career as an academic and historian detailing Washington’s “neo-colonial” policies in the region. Viva La Revolucion is a collection of Hobsbawm’s essays and articles on Latin America stretching over four decades from 1960 to 2002. According to his publisher, it is also the last posthumous anthology of his work that we are likely to see: Hobsbawm left instructions for its publication, along with a separate volume, Fractured Times, shortly before he died in 2012.
“Drama at the absolute rawest edge.”
That’s how Irish writer Fintan O’Toole characterises the 1981 IRA hunger strikes in director Brendan J. Byrne’s powerful new documentary 66 Days.
I was born in 1986, the year of Margaret Thatcher’s Big Bang deregulation of the British banking system, and I was 22 when the global financial crash hit in 2008. For most of my adult life, the UK economy has been in crisis. First recession, then austerity, and now stagnation, with the prospect of another serious, Brexit-induced downturn on the horizon. Economists anticipate a decade or more of lost growth; a semi-permanent, Japanese-style slump. Prepare yourself, they say, for disappointment. That job you wanted? Gone. That house you’ve been saving for? No chance. That mountain of debt you’re carrying? You can keep it. Forever. It’s yours – along with flatlining wages, part-time employment, and income-eviscerating rents.
I belong, in other words, to the so-called ‘millennial’ generation, a category that includes people between the ages of 18 and 34 – or, more broadly, people who reached adulthood after the turn of the millennium. Millennials are significant for two reasons: they are the first age group in recent history to experience a standard of living lower than that of their parents, and they are really, really leftwing.
Gregor Klaus moved to Belfast in 2008 as a student, from a mid-sized town – Halle – in eastern Germany.
After nearly a decade in the city, he speaks fluent English, but with a German accent that carries the distinctive twang of his adopted Northern Irish homeland.
Until June or July of last year, Jeremy Corbyn had never expected to lead the Labour party and probably never wanted to. A veteran backbencher and diligent constituency MP, the 66-year-old socialist would probably have been content to go on championing the various causes – from trade union rights to Palestinian solidarity – that had defined his modest career up to that point. In his spare time, he might have tended to the vegetable patch in his north London allotment or cultivated the olive tree in his back garden.
But history had other ideas. As Richard Seymour shows in this laser-sharp analysis of British Labourism and its contradictions, Corbyn found himself, almost by accident, in the right place at the right time. (Or in the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on your perspective.)
Ben Judah’s new book This Is London is an exhilarating account of the British capital as a nerve centre of global culture and of a metropolis transformed by the effects of mass immigration.
Judah embeds himself with Roma beggars in Hyde Park, Romanians labourers in a North Circular doss house, and African ‘pickers’ (cleaners) slogging through the late shift on the Tube. He “doesn’t trust statistics” and so insists on soaking these experiences in at first hand. His writing is visceral, and at its best echoes the immersive style of the great Polish reporter and author Ryszard Kapuściński.
Bushwick in Brooklyn is a remarkable distillation of inequality in America. Walk five minutes west from Jefferson Street towards Manhattan and you’ll find white students in coffee shops tapping away on expensive MacBooks. Walk five minutes east and you’ll encounter all the familiar markers of metropolitan – in this case black and hispanic – poverty: inadequate housing, understocked grocery stores, and big plots of empty, overgrown land.
Bernie Sanders grew-up on the other side of Brooklyn, in Flatbush. Once a predominantly Irish, Italian, and Jewish neighbourhood, Flatbush is today a broader mix of American immigrant communities. One of the largest ethnic minority groups in the area is Haitian. Sanders left Brooklyn in 1960, transferring from Brooklyn College to the University of Chicago, where he studied politics, before decamping permanently to Vermont, the small north-eastern state for which he is now a two-term United States senator. But he is still every inch the Brooklynite. You can tell by the way he talks. “He speaks Brooklyn,” one of his former high school classmates told The New York Times recently. “He’s not a phoney, and that shows.”