They Marched in Silence and Their Voices Weren't Heard.
It was a cold October morning in England's north. Their goal? To walk to London, over 300 miles ( about 500km ) from their dying home in Jarrow. It was not a journey for the faint of heart or the meek of mind. It was a march for their right to work. Their right to feed their families. Thousands volunteered, but only 200 were chosen. Their job? To represent the people to the government that apparently represented them.
The British government had decided to close the shipyard and steelworks.
It was the act of defiant men in great need.
How many men today would march for the RIGHT to work? Or are they too busy gluing themselves to the road for climate change?
In the gloomy autumn of 1936, a procession of determined and desperate men embarked on a historic journey that would etch their names into the annals of British working-class history—the Jarrow Hunger March. Fueled by economic despair and a fervent desire for change, these men, mostly hailing from the industrial town of Jarrow in northeast England, embarked on a courageous march to London, symbolising both their determination and the depths of their desperation.
The town of Jarrow, ravaged by the economic downturn of the 1930s, found itself at the epicentre of unemployment and poverty. The once-thriving shipbuilding industry had crumbled, leaving countless families destitute. Unemployment soared to unprecedented levels, and hunger became an unrelenting companion to the working-class residents of Jarrow. In the face of this adversity, the decision to march on the capital was born out of a collective sense of frustration, anger, and the desperate need for attention from a government seemingly indifferent to their plight.
The determination of the Jarrow marchers was evident from the outset. These men, mostly shipyard workers, miners, and labourers, understood the challenges that lay ahead. Undeterred by the daunting 300-mile journey that awaited them, they set out with a singular purpose—to draw attention to the economic devastation wreaking havoc on their lives and communities.
As they marched, the determination of the men manifested itself in various forms. Their resilience was visible in the solidarity that bound them together, a fraternity of men united by a common cause. Their banners bore slogans that echoed their desperation, demanding the restoration of dignity and the right to work. The rhythmic thump of their footsteps symbolised a steadfast determination to be heard, a determination that transcended the physical toll of the grueling journey.
Yet, underlying their determination was an undeniable desperation. These were men pushed to the brink by the harsh realities of unemployment, poverty, and a seemingly uncaring government. The desperation that fueled their march was not only for their own survival but for the survival of an entire community on the brink of collapse.
Yet, only 3 years later, shipyards and steelworks were once again in great demand due to the outbreak of World War II. The government had not acknowledged it was coming. They, in short, stuffed up.
Despite Hitler having taken power in Germany, the world economy still reeling from the fallout from the Stock Market crash in 1929, despite the Great Depression, in spite of all of this, the government decided to shut down an industry that gave men employment, dignity, and the ability to take pride in their work. And, an industry that would eventually save the country. So much for government wisdom.
“During the last 15 years Jarrow has passed through a period of industrial depression without parallel in the town’s history. Its shipyard is closed. Its steelworks have been denied the right to reopen. Where formerly 8,000 people, many of them skilled workers, were employed, only 100 men are now employed on a temporary scheme. The town cannot be left derelict.”
The Jarrow Crusade – Speech by Ellen Wilkinson, MP for Jarrow, in the House of Commons on malnutrition, 1936.
Steel was in their blood. Today? Who knows what, following the vaccinations from Covid.
What did they achieve? Well, Jarrow did eventually see some new industry opening.
A ship-breaking yard and engineering works established in 1938.
The industry of destroying their past, their present and their future. Much like what we see today.
Here is a song, long forgotten and rarely heard anywhere these days. It was about the breaking down of the ships and the lament of those that were forced to participate in the destruction of all that they held dear.
The song, " Goodbye Old Ship of Mine " was written in 1935 during the Great Depression when ships were being broken down for their steel and parts. Jarrow is in County Durham. This was not only about the loss of the ship , the Mary Ann, but more importantly about the loss of their jobs and their livelihoods. It is still apparently regarded as the song of the people of Jarrow and there are very few recordings of the song. Words by Rod Arden
Today, as the Governments around the world close down coal mines, oil pipelines and people's ability to earn a living, I cannot help but wonder why we have hundreds of thousands globally being cast out of work while our governments invite millions in to feed off the taxpayer's hard work.
Thousands came out to welcome the Jarrow marchers.
The Jarrow Hunger March was an expression of the social and economic injustices of its time. It became a powerful symbol of the resilience of ordinary people in the face of adversity, a testament to the indomitable human spirit. The men who undertook this arduous journey were not just marching for themselves; they were marching for the collective voice of the marginalised and downtrodden, a voice that demanded recognition and change.
I believe that we are on the cusp of a similar situation. As our politicians fly off to curry favour over climate change; invite millions of migrants to our already stressed communities; close down industry and pat each other on their backs for a job well done, I feel the ominous message of Jarrow nearly 90 years on.
As our world descends into chaos with World War III looming on the horizon, we are shutting down the very industries that would see us survive the incoming tsunami of metaphorical and actual assault.
We are being forced into a disaster that is beyond imagination. Hot on the heels of still enduring the horror of the vaccinations and lockdowns. Our economies are in the toilet and our societies fractured by racial and religious chasms that I can't see being mended. Unemployment and homelessness are rising and all our "rulers " can see is the ultimate goal of destroying our nations.
Surely this is the time we should be building?
Australia is being bled of jobs as are other nations around the world. This time around, will it take hunger marches to change things? Or will it, like Jarrow, mean nothing?
We, like many countries around the world, are being fed sugary syrup words that, at face value, seem sincere. But when viewed through the lens of reality, we are being spoon-fed lies, deception, and downright hypocrisy.
In short, our politicians are dismantling our shipbuilding, our steelworks, our coal mines, and our ability to feed ourselves so that we have no alternative but to feed off the government teat.
Have things improved?
Something seems wrong here.
I fear that we will see more hunger marches from unemployed and deserted citizens who head down roads and will be cheered on by the mocking glances of the newly imported " refugees " who will be occupying their homes and taking their money and laughing as the poor disenfranchised workers march by.
Or will we be too cowered and too legislated against - that we will never march again? Arrested before we ever leave home because " COVID " or " Hate Speech " has stifled our ability to speak, hear and see anything that does not fit the political narrative?
In America, the Keystone pipeline was shut down; the border wall at the Mexican border was abandoned; the borders flung open, and in Australia, we are a shadow of the country we once were.
It is Open borders for migrants. Open borders for " anything goes " when it comes to sexual depravity, abortion and indigenous rights. Yet the people who built the nation are, like the good ship Mary Ann, being sent off to the scrap heap to be recycled.
In order to make way for the New World Order.
We have proven that our voice can be heard after the referendum. The left screamed loudly. And we rarely said a word.
Is the silent majority about to march? Sometimes, the Voice of the Silent Majority has great power. The Sound of Silence can be a mighty thunder.
But you just have to listen.
To the sound of silence.
And we are quiet. But the thunder is rolling in and I suspect that governments have no idea what a storm is about to hit.
Shit and fan spring to mind.
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