Some of us have lived through the Thatcher times. Some of us have not, but of those later people, some of them have assimilated C20 history to an extent that would make Gove come in his own prolapsed sphincter of a mouth, (if he was only such a flexible worker).
I was born in 1971. Early enough to argue with schoolfriends about the Falklands. Early enough to argue with schoolfriends about the BOMB. Early enough to argue with schoolfriends about the Miners, the Working Class, the Unions, the Weak, the Dispossessed Poor...
I was old enough, although I was perhaps a prodigy. It does not matter. The symbol of all of that has passed away, but her heritage has turned my country and people into a place I have not wanted to live in for two decades.
It started earlier with Wilson, Callaghan, before Mrs T did the job. Monetarism came in tentatively with Labour. But she fucking finished the job, psychologically across the country. She was the evil psychotherapist that made every person I held dear sell out to a degree or twenty. That includes myself, you... how could it not? It is 'History'. I am glad she is dead. She was, in my book, evil. All the current crop are evil too.
The living outrage is still alive. There will be a riot tomorrow, and a pious piece of shit on Wednesday. But the outrage has to be kept living beyond then. They will try to make you forget. They will try to make to not care.
But even you, young people, born too young to remember... you have a sense of history. These moments only come around every twenty years... Get angry, and get angry now.
And if I laugh at any mortal thing, 'Tis that I may not weep; and if I weep, 'Tis that our nature cannot always bring Itself to apathy, which we must steep First in the icy depths of Lethe's spring Ere what we least wish to behold will sleep; Thetis baptized her mortal son in Styx; A mortal mother would on Lethe fix.
~ George Gordon Noel Byron ~ Don Juan, Canto IV, 4.
It is thus that the few rare lucid well-disposed people who have had to struggle on the earth find themselves at certain hours of the day or night in the depth of certain authentic and waking nightmare states, surrounded by the formidable suction, the formidable tentacular oppression of a kind of civic magic which will soon be seen appearing openly in social behavior. - Antonin Artaud