By Sam Clemens
The strains of All You Need is Love rang out across White Hart Lane, where the crowd numbers resembled a well-attended village fete more than a music festival. Chaos appeared to validate the comparison as, at least at the accessible entrance, there were no programmes and the security staff had to send one person on crutches back 200m to the ticket booth when they couldn’t scan the ticket. This was quite possibly due to the difficulties of scanning a barcode from one mobile screen, by another mobile, in a brief sunny spell.
The activity, until I finally found a programme, appeared to focus on the main stage where DJ Nero and compere Robb Johnson were trying to whip a couple of hundred of all-ages into something approaching enthusiasm for the first act, Jermain Jackman. Jackman, winner of the 2014 The Voice, who credits Jeremy Corbyn for discovering him and apparently wants to be the first singing PM, should probably stick with music; despite the initially small audience, he managed to maintain his enthusiasm and attracted sufficient of the steady stream of attendees to swell the audience considerably during his regrettably short set.
Levi Roots (minus sauce, to the disgust of my friend,) and then Rae Morris continued the impressive array of musical talent, punctuated by Jennie Formby and David Lammy. Morris was particularly entertaining in a sort of whirling dervish way, stopping only to explain her commitment to the cause by virtue of her parents having been public servants. Jennie and David both made speeches carefully designed, apparently, to appeal to the broad church rather than lead them leftward. A point pregnant with irony occurred when David Lammy said ‘welcome to Tottenham’ as gates to the right of the stage opened and 10 police in stab vests and almost in formation marched into the arena!
The promise of neither Francesca Martinez nor the Hookworms could beat the hunger and cold (the raised accessible platform with no wind break to the bitter north wind hitting my back making me more exposed,) and we headed via the merchandising stall (hoody at £25 at least both salving my conscience at having been present free courtesy of Unite, and restoring some warmth) to a long queue for a veggie burrito.
I was keen to ensure I missed Eddie Izzard on the main stage and so we paid a visit to the ‘solidarity tent’ for a chilled can of Union IPA and a fairly asinine section on organising to win. Whilst there was some good coverage of basic principles, and reasonable if short contributions from Roger McKenzie, Unison Assistant General Secretary, and Ian Lavery MP, who was the first and I think only person I heard mention ‘class’, no one asked any thorny questions like ‘what do we do when our community is fighting a Labour council that is trying to close our nurseries/libraries or carry out social cleansing?’ – a real problem for left activists in the party at the moment. Needless to say, I wasn’t called! Apparently, the party has now set up a Community Organising Unit with the laudable aim of training community organisers. Let’s hope they don’t all turn into MPs and leave their communities for the easier life at Westminster.
Back to the main stage to an aging Glen Matlock of Sex Pistols fame, who took me back to my youth with slightly less pogoing than I remembered, followed by Kate Osamor (embarrassingly spelt Osmar on the projected backdrop), before a great set by the Magic Numbers. To their own backdrop that stated: “This is our music, these are rebel songs, are you in or out?” the crowd, by now several thousand strong, (with thousands more in the other tents or queuing to be served ice-cream from the Unite Ice-cream Van by Len McCluskey) made it quite clear they were in.
Jeremy’s arrival, complete with entourage, pulled only a few away from the edge of the crowd as he appeared from the back of the arena making his way backstage. He reappeared soon enough, introduced by John McDonnell, who reminded us of the Grenfell march that had just taken place across the city. The all-too familiar refrain of Oh Jeremy Corbyn was taken up by the majority of the crowd, now in excess of 10,000 as far as I could see. I say majority as, partly due to hoarseness, and partly to increasing concern over the tension between support for Jeremy and support for the ideas he (once?) represented, I for one abstained. Personality politics is just another dangerous continuation of the atomisation of society into competing individuals, and too many times I heard reference to getting May out of Downing Street without linking it to getting the Tories and their class out of power.
Items I would have liked to have seen but missed, partly due to not being able to clone myself and partly due to leaving early: Discussions in the Literary Tent on Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners, The Rise of the Robots and The Return of the Socialist Solution; events in the Solidarity Tent including Young Workers Fighting Back (TGIF and McStrike), People’s Question Time, Maeve MacKinnon and Hip Hop Karaoke with the promise of a not-to-be-missed performance by Len McCluskey; Potent Whisper in The World Transformed Tent (a kind of microcosm of the whole event in one tent; and Clean Bandit headlining on the Main Stage.
Forgettable memories? The dishing out of small plastic white(!) flags printed in deep pink, to wave when Jeremy arrived; and the mass circulation of Bollocks to Brexit Stickers by a few people.
I left early for a pre-arranged drink with my brother, and a much more far ranging discussion with him and his partner that took in the Italian political situation, Trump’s opposition to AT&Ts takeover of Time Warner, the literary prowess of pro-Trump internet trolls, the smoke and mirrors of May’s ‘£20bn’ for the NHS and much in between. I am glad I went to Labour Live – the entertainment was good, but let’s have some real politics, get away from pro- or anti- personality campaigns, stop pretending that All You Need is Love. Oh, and hold it a bit more centrally?
June 18, 2018
