Imagine
by Robin Koenig
We invite readers to submit a short story imagining what a socialist future or revolutionary transformation may look like. We do this to spark ideas and debate, and to inspire readers to take the first steps towards this future by getting involved in the struggle for socialism. Submit yours to ecosocialistquarterly@gmail.com.
Flags, hundreds of them. Pride flags of every colour jostle with union flags, held by those who have joined from the pickets in the industrial estates, the train stations, the bus depots and the port. The general strike committee had put out the call on its Telegram channels that striking workers were to join today's march.
Banners and placards condemning the new “Competitiveness Act”, and the “Trade Union Regulation Act” side by side with slogans calling for the release of those arrested for helping people access black market HRT (the only option since the full defunding of the national gender service). The teachers union carries a huge banner denouncing the new requirement for all teachers in national and secondary schools to register their sexuality in the name of “children's safety”.
Intermingled with all of these are the flags of the political organisations, mostly different shades of red. Some legal, some semi-legal, some fully banned. Slogans for queer liberation and victory to the strikers next to slogans calling for the fall of the “National Unity Government”, “Free elections now!” and an end to the Pacific war.
The march is colourful as always. Corporate interest (and funding) has long since waned, so it’s very much a DIY affair. There are handmade signs, and there are almost no floats to speak of, except one flatbed truck, on which a group of drag queens put on a parody ceilidh, and wave around hurling sticks.
But despite the colour, and moments of humour, the atmosphere is tense. As the march approaches its endpoint at the square in the centre of the city, row upon row of police stand. Black-clad, riot helmets down, shields in front. Gloved hands twitch near their batons. Amongst these ranks, two trucks mounted with water cannons squat, like large black beetles surrounded by ants.
The forces of the state are not the only ones waiting.
Lurking beyond the massed ranks of the riot squad, there is another crowd. Some are in civilian clothing, others in paramilitary gear. They carry signs condemning “paedos” “groomers” “commies” “atheists” “invaders” “traitors”. Others simply carry baseball bats and improvised shields.
But there are less police than usual. They are stretched thin, policing the hundreds of pickets across the city, across the country. Many of them have been “on duty” for over 12 hours now, exhaustion threatens to overwhelm the default cop emotions of boredom, contempt and aggression. And with most of the civil service on strike and ground to a halt, internal communication is chaotic and slow.
There is the smell of electricity in the air, like the moments before a thunderstorm.
A police sergeant barks into a loud hailer, ordering the crowd to disperse under the expanded Public Order Act. The crowd does not disperse. Instead, the order is met with jeers. Over the years, violent encounters with an increasingly empowered police force has hardened many to the usual tactics of intimidation.
Orders are shouted from either side, the crowd stands firm. The police charge.
The city's stock of tear gas ran out weeks ago, and the dock workers have refused to unload the latest shipment. But that wouldn't have made a difference. The crowd is simply too big.
A drag queen knocks a fascist's teeth out with a hurl.
A crowd of bus drivers and a trans masc rugby team heave one of the water cannon trucks onto its side.
More police pour into the square, to find their colleagues being kettled by the crowd. Bricks are thrown. Batons crack against skulls.
Realising they are outnumbered, the police call for backup from the army. But the call goes unanswered. Army rank and file, catastrophically underpaid, largely from the same families that are now on mass strike, ignore the orders and stay in its barracks. Many have simply gone home. A few even made their way to join the march.
Demoralised, exhausted, on unpaid overtime, and outnumbered, the cops break. They slowly let themselves be pushed out of the square.
The fascists retreat soon after their friends in uniform.
Suddenly, the crowd of queers, workers and worker queers finds itself in control of the center of the city. There has been the usual internet blackout, but some news is getting through, rapid, chaotic and unverified.
Full scale rioting in the capital? Soldiers there forced out of barracks but refusing to fire on the strikers and Pride marchers?
Cabinet ministers leaving government buildings by helicopter?
People share an Instagram post, accessed by VPN, stating that the government has collapsed and elections (3 years behind schedule) have finally been called. But this isn't verified yet.
Suddenly many things are possible. If an election has really been called, it's almost guaranteed that the socialist opposition will win. But that's a big if.
Election or no election, the streets will have to be held.
Not all the rumours are positive. Shaky phone footage of troops firing on demonstrators in a larger provincial city is also shared around, as well as claims socialist and trade union offices are being set alight.
Nothing is certain.
By tonight, the city could be in our hands, or it could be burning. Or both.
