Finding and Making a Positive Case

 (This was my positive case for voting Remain in the UK European Referendum and for Scotland In Europe: first published on Kiltr 3 months ago)

I'm not one for reductive reasoning or the oversimplification of a meme or Facebook post; it's not that I don't think they have their place, a day job(s) whiich utilises a grounding in design as well as the semiotics of cultural anthropology means I appreciate the manipulation of signs and symbols to convey meaning just as much as the next person. Its just I know they are so often not the fait accomplit they are presented as in a contemporary context, through an Internet meme, job done, argument won etc, I prefer the nuance of full and positive debate. So, just like the wee graphic above, this is as close as I can get to making a 'positive case' for a 'Remain' vote in the EU referendum on June 23rd and what I think it means for Scotland, without resorting to any of the most obvious arguments being made by either official camp - or repeating myself from previous posts or comments, I'm aware enough of my tendency to 'waffle on a bit much' for everyone's taste, its stylistic, a rhetorical device, honest!

We don't get to hear the positive case for either side of the EU referendum debate much in the UK corporate media, it simply doesn't suit the prevailing narrative. It doesn't fit the trajectory of either official camp's manufacturing of consent for their future plans, its not the news where they think you should be!

That's why there has been precious little coverage in the UK press of the 'Another Europe Is Possible' campaign or the DiEM25 movement generally, despite the potential to provide a cohesion for the positive case to 'Remain'. That's why the 'masterpiece in stating the positive case' of a speech given by Yanis Varoufakis in support of the London Declaration and 'Another Europe Is Possible' (you can sign the Declaration here http://www.anothereurope.org/declaration/ ), was barely mentioned anywhere. Here it is, in full, I think it matters:

Likewise you would have heard little in the UK media with regard to the launch of the group 'Economists for Rational Economic Policies' 'Remain for Change' report, despite a general appeal in virtually every debate attended by the British public, for facts, figures and alternatives to the spurious churning out of opposing and manipulable, and therefore often easily discredited statistics by both official camps. You can download the report here, http://www.primeeconomics.org/erep/ , I think it matters too.

It matters if, like me, you've found the entire Conservative Party leadership referendum debate entirely facile, farcical and infantilising, with neither of the official campaigns, ably assisted by a compliant state broadcaster and corporate media, finding it within themselves to rise above the petty mud slinging politics associated with the Westminster and Old Etonian debating society cartels, for little else primarily than the refreshing experience of hearing a genuine positive case for either side put. It is not a novel or even telling observation in political, cultural or simple sociological terms that it has become clear, across the corporatocracy of the neocon project, that an integral aspect of its trajectory is maintained by the process of continuing to manufacture consent through disenfranchising huge swathes of the polity simply by creating a politics which disengages them from its processes. Low voter turnouts and political apathy, where those motivated to vote are more likely to support the status quo, have been part of the modus operandi of a corrupt and complacent ruling elite across Europe for decades. It could easily be argued that this has been the case in some of its constituent states, of which the UK is a prime example, since the inception of representative democracy and extending suffrage, masking what lies beneath with a veneer of democracy, accountability and respectability.
And yet, across Europe, challenges are being issued, and with some measure of largely unreported success and momentum, to what has been the prevailing narrative.

Unable to escape the burden of a national debt, largely accrued by representatives of a ruling elite in the French and German banks, Greece initially seemed to set up the boldest of challenges through the populist left movement, and now highly and publicly compromised party of government, Syriza. The apparently dominant and prevailing European economic doctrine, despite or because of its culpability in accruing the debt in the first place, set up the coup which prevailed in the ensuing gory battle with the 'troika'. Holding up the example of Greece as what happens when a challenge is issued and engaged with the unelected financial elite of Europe is ultimately a red herring though, like using the brutalised victims of a loan shark to justify the inevitability of their particular form of financial probity.



And how much we saw the British media froth in fervour, glorying in the bloodbath of it all; 'You see what happens when you have the temerity to challenge your betters, oiks?' 'There are no alternatives other than those we offer you!'. But there are and you won't find them in the rhetoric of Farage, Gove and Boris or the assurances of Davie's sincerest faces and the attendant future promises/dire warnings of Giddy, the little, history degree'd and no economic background whatsoever, chancellor who can't. The alternative, for now at least, may just be full of Iberian promise.

A dominant thread of the prevailing, hegemonic narrative is that social democracy has offered as much as it can to the post war European consensus and there is no alternative but a further and continuing drift to the neoliberal right, claiming it as the new centre, and increasingly to the far right in some cases, since the financial crisis of 2008. Within this thread a nascent nationalism has seen a general rise in resentment towards and manipulation of fear of 'migrants' and refugees in some of Europe's more insular states, exemplified perfectly by the British nationalism and isolationism displayed by both official camps in the EU referendum debate. The straining political and economic architecture of a Europe, which has increasingly prioritised a restricted and to some extents illusory vision of fiscal discipline in an all pervasive and ubiquitous austerity over investment, economic cooperation and stimulation, has created a growing sense of crisis within European institutions and apparent trust in them. Brexit appears to be just one of multiple self fulfilling prophetic threats to European unity.

Still, it could clearly also be said that the adoption of neoliberal, ideologically austere policies, by individual constituent European states, championed by the Commission and appointed commissioners, created the conditions for the rising polarisation in Europe's political landscape as part of that self fulfilling prophecy; but perhaps the 'there is no alternative' strain of this argument has reached its nadir and is being given and exposed for the lie it was always built upon. Within the simplistic reasoning of prevailing European and UK ideological austerity is a failure to acknowledge the successes of a far less austere initial Europe wide response to the financial crisis of 2008, one founded on a balance of stimuli, which brought a general recovery, comparable to that of the US, by 2010/11. Europe is founded on compromise and adapting to change; just as stimulus was abandoned in favour of ideological austerity from mid 2011, urged on by changes in European Commissioners, change can be wrought again, as can new stimuli and commissioners. A full engagement with the economic and underpinning democratic structures, which acknowledges where genuine positive change has happened/is happening, by a movement for that change is surely a first step towards it, becoming the change we want to see.

Its easy, viewed through the lens of UK media, to believe there is no change, no alternative. It has been rare to see genuine reports, among the cheerleading for Eurpopean or UK ideological austerity, about Iberian developments, for instance; but just as with the Scottish Independence Referendum 2014, we should know it's necessary to dig deep for truth, for the real news, to get past the filters.



Political events in Portugal, since December 2015, have passed by with rarely a murmur in the prevailing ideological lapdog media of the UK. It's not surprising; since then, the Iberian country has begged to differ on 'the rigid austerity orthodoxy imposed by the Eurogroup and ECB'. Following the Portugese elections last October, the Socialist Party, supported by the Left Bloc, the Communists and the Greens, have formed a working, progressive left government. It's policies have not necessarily been revolutionary or even extremely radical, but are committed to 'easing the burden on Portugese working people and restoring some of the welfare benefits destroyed by previous right wing administrations'.

In this quiet evolution of the Portugese state, wage and pension freezes for public sector workers have gone whilst tax concessions for low earners have been restored. A tendency towards creeping privatisation in the public sector has been drastically slowed and some intended privatisations outright halted. Most recently, a progressive labour law reducing the working week in the public sector from 40 to 35 hours, thus sharing all available work among more employees and bringing in the possibility of more overtime, passed through parliament on government proposed legislation. Supporting group, the Left Bloc, have proposed a measure, also likely to pass through parliament, to extend the 'social tariff' on energy bills, thus making a subsidised rate giving a 33% reduction to those on low incomes, which is expected to reach and support around one million families rather than the 110,000 included under the previous scheme.

Inevitably, this type of challenge to the prevailing hegemonic austerity/neoliberal narrative directed by the unelected Brussels financial elite has drawn criticism from its compliant mouthpieces and media feeds. Portugal, however, unlike Greece, has a public and national debt which is largely under control. In a distinct reversal of the fortunes in which Syriza found themselves at the rough end of the current elite's enforcers tactics, it is those critics and the Eurogroup who have had to 'suck it up' whilst a sovereign constituent state enacts its policies on behalf of its country's citizens. And yet, how many UK media outlets have dutifully reported events as they unfolded in Portugal or explored their positive implications for the European project.



Likewise, throughout the European Referendum debate, and before, precious little is heard from Spain, other than in favour of the apparent government opposition to developments in Catalonia. But there is no mandated single or coalition governing party sitting in Madrid following the unresolved elections in December, which returned what has been called the most fragmented Spanish parliament in its history. A new election will be contested just three days after the UK referendum, on June 26th. The resolute and steadfast commitment to their founding principles in challenging the corrupt prevailing hegemony and not compromising in coalition with any of the parties they see as symbolising the hollowed out husk of a dying politics, has if anything garnered more popular support for the anti austerity Unidos Podemos alliance. Polls suggest they may have a chance of winning a governing majority, in which case Portugal's larger Iberian neighbour would, in defying the narrative of the financial elites within their own country, also join a left bloc of governments in the fight for an alternative to current prevailing European hegemony.

In Podemos' being minded to acknowledge the results of Catalonian independence referenda and the possibility on official negotiations beginning for transitioning to an independent Catalonia, recognised by Spain and Europe, the routes taken by Catalonia would clearly have implications for Scotland's future position with regard to when and how to call a new Scottish Independence Referendum. Changes in material circumstances or public support post a 'Brexit' or 'Remain' vote on June 23rd, would simply require acting on the principles and precedent established in the Edinburgh Agreement, Westminster's further permission would not legally be required, surely?

With France's polity also set for a summer of discontent in opposition to intended draconian labour law changes, the European narrative is demonstrably not as either of the official EU Referendum camps and the dutiful British media would have us believe. It is far from all prevailing, unelected corporate austerity entrenching financial and political power further into the hands of fewer or simply dramatic shifts to the right and anti refugee sentiment among governments which make the Dave and Giddy show, or any avatars to come, look like sensible, moderate alternatives rather than a point on the same continuum which they are. They are not the reason to vote 'Remain'.

Distilling down the arguments from either side of referendum debate has led me to concur with 'Another Europe Is Possible'/DiEM25 regarding the vote on June 23rd; only the xenophobic right who brought about the referendum in the first place stand to gain from Brexit. The anti immigrant demagogues in Farage's UKIP and their bedfellows of the Conservative right use their reductive reasoning and dog whistle British nationalism and isolationism as a mask for redundant, simplistic, provably outdated and unworkable, in any kind of social and economic functionalist sense, Thatcherite economics, underpinning their support for permanent ideological austerity and the dismantling of the Welfare State, and the NHS with it, as we know it.

Support for a Britain removed from the process of re-democratising Europe and increasing its internal democratic deficits comes only from those who would further polarise the politics of the continent. Harald Vilinsky, the EU delegation leader for Austria's right wing Freedom party, which recently triumphed in Austrian elections sending shockwaves around liberal Europe, was one of only a few European leading figures to react positively to David Cameron's renegotiations with Brussels. He also endorsed a domestic petition calling for Austria to follow Britain and seek Auxit. Leader of Belgium's far right, Flemish separatist party Vlanims Belang, Tom Van Grieben, is a Brexit supporter, as is Dutch right wing Freedom party leader and Farage cheerleader, Geert Wilders.

Then of course there's the staunch support for the 'Out' vote from far right French Front National leader Marine Le Pen and nascent fascist (that's a genuine use of the term, if you have no economic policy, are openly misogynist and racist and base policies on those foundations, like building a bloomin wall at the Mexico border, and only the will and 'charisma' of the high heid yin, Il Duce, is what challenges the current regime or is left to fulfil the promise of 'Making (any country) Great Again, that's almost, by definition, fascism) 'wannabe leader of the free world', the Donald, who is due to visit Scotland on June 24th, ostensibly for other reasons but a wee smug gloat at a Scotland which has increasingly shunned any and all of his advances, amorous or otherwise, at it being dragged out of Europe against its will, is difficult not to be seen as part of his diary agenda.



But let the Donald have his brief gloat and metaphorical high fives and smooches with his xenophobic, fascistic and/or just generally right wing peers in Europe and/or the UK, should that be how it transpires. Despite the contorted attempts at manipulation of Scotland's political narrative trajectory by Bufallo Ruth and the MSM Sycophants, who would have to be considered the exact diametric opposite of an 'indie' band, Scotland has had its Syriza/Podemos/Portugese Socialist Party moment and the energised and engaged polity have declared themselves, through broadly proportional representative democratic means, far more in keeping with the progressive left alliances of Europe than the right wing ideologues of Westminster.

Regardless of the overall EU referendum result, the people of Scotland still look set to vote far more resoundingly for Remain than they did for 'Yes' or 'No' in the Independence Referendum of 2014, and for a continuation of proactive, deterministic political trajectory in overhauling the 'troughers' of unionist party local council representation in 2017. This would be a coup de grace in the biggest challenge to prevailing UK political hegemony in over a hundred years.

For many, the civic nationalism of Scotland's independence movement is as much about the reduction or removal of the inherent and entrenched democratic and financial deficits in UK political structures as it is about engagement with international progressive, political structures across Europe, they are two sides of the same coin. I know its preaching to the choir for many or even most of the movement in Scotland but it is worth pointing out over and over that this could not be further removed from the rampant, parochial and backward looking isolationist perspectives of British nationalism in all its insidious guises; and a 'surge' to a distant second place with just over twenty percent of the vote for its cheerleaders in Scotland is barely a whimper still in the face of the pro-independence majority in the Scottish parliament, as well as in opposition to an apparent increasing willingness for progressive alliances on individual issues across other parties.

When Michael Gove complains that 'the EU is a constraint on ministers' ability to do the things they were elected to do' and Priti Patel indicates she wants to 'halve the burdens of the EU social and employment legislation' as indicators of the Brexiteer's blueprint, they both fail to acknowledge the slim majority of just twelve votes held by their government, 'mandated' by only 36.7% of the vote across the UK, or the electoral fraud investigation ongoing which involves no less than 29 seats won by the Conservatives and is likely to be extended to 31, enough to potentially overturn that majority and hand a larger one to Jeremy Corbyn's Labour, though that happening is just as unlikely a prospect as that of the corrupted results bringing about a rerun of the election at all, though neither shouldn't or needn't be. Just as Tory doublespeak for 'democratic referendum' is a cipher for 'internal bun fight for the leader's chair', so too do Gove and Patel's statements translate as 'Following a 'Brexit' we will be unleashed and our attacks will become more right wing' and 'We want to scrap at least half of workers rights guaranteed by the EU and that's before we even get started on disabilities and work legislation or those pesky human rights!' respectively.

We should be under no illusion that a right wing Conservative party, emboldened by Brexit, would make attacking migrants' and refugees' rights a dog whistle priority too. Making trade deals more fierce and discriminatory than TTIP won't be far behind either.

It is likely, regardless of a 'remain' or 'leave' result in this referendum, given the increasing bloodletting which its starting whistle following Cameron's statement of (lack of) intent regarding his leadership set in motion, that a new, unelected (or certainly not one who was leader when the party was elected to government however controversially) Conservative Prime Minister will follow in short measure, within the term of this parliament. There will be an unelected Conservative Prime Minister, supported by a slim majority under serious threat from electoral fraud investigations but looking set to gerrymander retaining power by altering constituency boundaries, who will force through a right wing, austerity led agenda to appease either side of internal Conservative party schisms. The impact of changes already being made are intended to last generations, their snowballing social and economic consequences increasingly difficult to mitigate, in some regards even with complete reversal.

Respected figures on the left, like Paul Mason, may be rightly reticent about ceding power to the current financial elite of the EU but even he points out we, the polity of the UK including Scotland, should not be dictated to by a more corrupt, entrenched and integral part of the global elite in the UK government, as to the when's and how's of leaving the EU club. There is no left 'exit' In this referendum, or even one with a genuine social conscience, but there is a left 'Remain'.

Voting 'Remain' means 'Another Europe Is Possible' and we can join the growing fight to change it from within. Alongside that, a Scottish polity voting overwhelmingly to remain means another Scotland continues to remain possible too; another UK, if it ever was possible, looks increasingly unlikely as the days count down to the referendum vote. Keeping the possibilities alive means engaging with the actual, nuanced, informed arguments, not the dog and pony show of the British media, we knew this during the 2014 referendum and should still know it about the EU referendum; it's not their referendum, it's still ours too and resisting an all too understandable complacency when June 23rd comes around becomes all the more crucial because they, yes I'm 'othering' the corrupt establishment and UK corporate financial elite, have dominated both sides of the debate, counting on our boredom and apathy

Greece Is Still The Word

 (This was the first of a series of blogs I published on Kiltr in the lead up to and aftermath of the UK's Brexit vote; like most blogs they are just opinions, this one was first posted three months ago)

Greece has had a special place in my heart for over twenty five years, probably always will. That's not the type of sentence I'd usually find myself writing or even saying, as some of you may know from other writings I've published here, so needless to say, I have good reason for feeling that way. You would also be reasonable in extending any assumptions from it to thinking I may have been moved by the Hellenic people's plight in recent times, for a whole myriad of reasons. Some of those reasons I feel, in light of further recent developments, compelled to share in the hopes that perhaps it may prompt a little deeper understanding of where the people currently inhabiting the lands we are want to call 'the cradle of Western civilisation' find themselves. If you can bear with me, let me tell you some of my story of connection to them, to their wonderful civic and civil nation and why it feels relevant to tell it.

I almost didn't though, tell it; I've had a draft, with most of this piece written for around four days, prompted by specifics, but I don't want you to think this is cultural appropriation, I wring my hands a little too much sometimes over things like that. I also don't have any infographics or videos and just the one picture; I didn't have a (questionably) snappy title until this morning, I only have these words. So, if your attention span is used to Facebook posts or the restricted characters of Twitter, apologies if this bores you but for me, it concerns humanity.

So, back in the late 1980s/ early 90s, I lived and worked in Greece for the best part of three years. I'd dropped out of art college (returning a few years later to finish some design qualifications) and joined a hotel management training programme with that ultimate goal in mind. The course lasted two years and in the second year I even sold part of my soul working a sales job alongside it to raise the finance, just so I could afford to go. It hadn't all proved strictly necessary since the well known hotelier family of Greek origin, whose company I'd trained with (at the then Scottish flagship hotel where I had passing acquaintance with the founding don and his heir presumptive) virtually handed me a job running a small hotel/club for a family friend.

The job was seasonal so still facilitated the travelling/'research' I had intended to do ( I had a loose theory that some of the 'lost' knowledge from the Great Library and Musaeum of Alexandria may have made its way up through Greece, accumulating artefacts from significant sites which later showed up in unexpected/inexplicable places in Europe, along the way, then some dispersing to Al Andaluz and some up through Doggerland and across the open stretch of sea from what would then have been the Northern shores of Europe to Skara Brae. I reckoned some of it may even be encoded in the ancient sites of the Orkneys. I fully admit to having a wishful horse in that race, my paternal grandmother's family having been Orkney folk for generations, her wondrous tales, deftly illustrated with nothing more than a single wax crayon, were the ambrosia of the Nothern island gods to me and Essypattle would have the measure of Odysseus every time; still, the recent archeological findings at Brodgar Ness, which seem to indicate the pattern of ancient worship site building, and all of the cultural implications that has, may have spread southwards from there through the islands of Britain, even to Stonehenge et al, don't contradict my 'theory' or make it the wildest of poetic imaginings.

I had also just wanted to journey into the cradle of Western civilisation for as long as I was aware of culture, it was a large part of the impetus for me to, much later, go on to study Cultural Anthropology.).
Misty eyed reminiscence and pontification aside, towards my point; I'd gone to Greece on one of the old six month passports, I was young, caught up in finally getting to where I wanted to go, I'd overlooked a crucial detail, I didn't know the consequences which would later ensue. On arrival in Kos, where the hotel was, my new boss, playboy son of an Athens lawyer, sorted out the details of my work permit, which I simply renewed at the local police station each year before the summer season started. It wasn't until I came to leave the country, as the Third Balkan War was gathering pace and refugees from the early conflicts began to seek asylum and refuge over the borders, I realised the fullness of my situation.

I'd first encountered some of those fleeing conflict and persecution in what was to become the former Yugoslavia whilst 'wintering' my first year in Crete. When my summer earnings saved had begun to run low, I'd taken to supplementing my finances by joining the ranks of casual agricultural labourers who gathered at the local Cafeneions of a morning for the farmers to offer day work to. It was often tough work, no tougher than the 'tattle pickin' I'd done every year as a youth though, but usually relatively well paid; a day's wage could mean a week without having to look for more work. Over the course of that winter things changed, by the next winter much more so.

The casual nature of the Cafeneion labour market intensified, almost week on week, day by day, particularly in that second winter. When offers were being made to potential workers by farmers and the usual barter of day wage negotiations ensued, growing more heated, as they always had, the commonplace situation became palpably more intense than the largely British and Northern European travellers, who came every year for the fairly lucrative (in the sense that it paid enough to facilitate a decent life work balance which incorporated varying degrees of travel, sight-seeing and general cultural exploration) seasonal work were accustomed to. Groups of what had come to be pejoratively known among many/most of the supposedly liberal minded travelling fraternity simply as 'the Yugos' would intervene and undercut any pay offers. They were leaner, hungrier and much more forlorn and generally shabby looking, many of them visibly distressed, bearing what I now know to be the hallmarks of persistent PTSD sufferers.

For the farmers, beyond the initial surprise of the arrival of this much more willing and less expensive workforce, they adapted, offered bed and board to many with the work, being able to whilst making a saving on day wages but for most clearly and simply moved by the plight of fellow human beings. Almost inevitably, excruciatingly, among the Northern Europeans, with little knowledge of the political situation in the splintering former Yugoslavia, in an age starved of the constant barrage of information smart phones and other mobile devices can bring to even the weariest and most threatened refugees now (this is fascinating on that subject and on how it may actually be a game changer http://www.dw.com/en/how-technology-can-change-the-refugee-crisis/a-19295937 ) and in what I saw as a cripplingly ironic sense of 'liberal' entitlement, talk turned to 'these Yugos, coming in here, taking our jobs!'. No matter how big the world is, or how interconnected it becomes, small, insular minds are small, insular minds. I stopped going to the Cafeneions for work, went a few times simply to talk to the 'Yugos', to stop thinking of them as that and to understand their situation. With no easy solutions in sight, I resolved to make sure what I earned in the summer lasted through the next winter. I felt more empathy with the refugees from the troubled Balkans than my fellow Northern Europeans.

My affinity would be further confirmed just a few months later. A fracas had occurred towards the end of the season at the club and I was required to appear as a witness in the Greek courts. I needed my passport and work permit as ID when I went to the court building to register. I had to come clean; I had been living and working in Greece for two and a half years as an illegal immigrant!

The Greek authorities were surprisingly circumspect about it all. They gave me the address of the British Embassy in Athens, withheld my work permit, told me I couldn't work anymore and that my status as a tourist would depend on the British Embassy. The Embassy, once I got there, on the other hand, couldn't have been less helpful, barely listened to what I had to say, told me that without a valid or recently expired British passport I was officially Persona Non Grata (the guy's actual words, and it felt like they were capitalised that way too, just for emphasis, so I got the point) to them and to the British state.

It took six weeks and almost all of the money I'd saved so far that summer, as well as a few well placed interventions from my, by then, former employer's lawyer father, to reach any kind of resolution. I had family in the Netherlands, who vouched for me, said I was going to work for them (which I did briefly) and sent paperwork to the British Embassy, the Dutch Embassy and the Greek authorities. This resulted in me being issued with a time sensitive sheet of paper, which would get me through borders but only as far as the British Embassy in Amsterdam, what happened there was up to them.

During that six weeks or so, every couch I slept on, every meal I ate which wasn't paid for from my fast dwindling savings, every formal accompaniment to a Greek speaking authority (although I spoke fairly fluent Greek by this point my reading standard was minimal, I couldn't have read much and could easily have signed my life away if asked!) was freely proffered by Greek friends (who know me affectionately, I hope, as 'the crazy Scottish') I keep to this day. Every seemingly unnecessarily protracted bureaucracy came from the British Embassy or other Northern European countries I would need to journey through or to, whilst the Greek, and to some extent Italian, authorities showed a willingness to accommodate and help. I realise the world has changed drastically since then and borders/international securities are viewed entirely differently but my window on things was then not now.

I say all of this because as first the Greek financial crisis, with the attendant rise and 'smackdown' of Syriza by the neoliberal forces of the 'troika', then the magnitude of the refugee crisis across the Mediterranean unfolded, I have followed as many reports from Greece, on the ground so to speak, unfiltered through the UK media lens, as I can. I have rooted for the folkways of a people and a country I came to love, in a much more personal and intimate way than the culturally guided impetus which led me to their shores, to their communities, to their families. I found a people, as far as these things can be determined, living in the birthplaces of Western civilisation, having given the world so much, with little to no conceit or arrogance, always able and ready to give a little more.

This all came startlingly to mind as the latest shocking pictures of the current refugee crisis and the woeful reactions of most European leaders tore viscerally at my consciousness. And as the politics justifies the inhumanity a seeming growing indifference among ordinary people seems to become more and more prevalent with more and more convoluted contortions of justification attendant upon it. It shouldn't be necessary for the former First Minister of Scotland to appeal to his peers across Europe and remind them that "These are desperate families, fleeing war, hardship and oppression and it is incumbent upon European leaders to produce a scale of response which combines both European solidarity and simple humanity"; it should be clear to leaders and peoples alike that a humanitarian crisis is solved not by politicking or more and more draconian, insular, right wing measures, but by humanity.

I realise there may be dog whistle, tub thumpers who'd react to my, admittedly anecdotal, stories seeming to allude to an inherent open humanity among Greek communities, who'd point to the resurgence of the 'Golden Dawn' and intimate a similar reaction to current situations as are occurring across Europe. To them, I'd suggest looking at the history of the organisation, at its roots in Britain's, Churchill's, response to the Greek resistance in WWII being composed largely of left leaning organisations. I'd ask them to look at Britain's shame in provoking the civil war which ensued and creates divisions among Greeks to this day, with the core of the 'Golden Dawn' simmering away ready to respond to any resurgence from the left ever since. Manolis Glezos, as the greatest living authority on the Greek resistance, one of two men who scaled the Acropolis and tore down the Nazi flag, gives some fascinating insights into how things occurred and developed from the events of Athens 1944, some of them drawn upon by Andre Gerolymatos in his compelling histories of the times. They're a good place to stop off to quieten down those whistles. I was acutely aware of the relevance of these histories to the Hellenic peoples, and to all of Europe, during my own fated six weeks or so every time I crossed Syntagma Square en route to the British embassy from my temporary residences.

Recounting all of this around the story of my own plight has been an attempt to create just a sideways look into the current chapter of the Greek peoples' story and its relevance to the ongoing refugee crisis; an attempt to subvert a little of the refugee story 'newsfeed fatigue' because I know there are some people, good people, who feel now, as yet more horrific tales, brought about complicitly by the failed foreign policies and interventionism, to say nothing of the illegal wars, perpetrated in all our names by both UK and other Europen governments, as well as Team America World Police, roll across screens, that they simply cannot look at another picture of a dead baby, hear another tale of horror from inside a camp; yet we all remain responsible and should never, ever shy away from that responsibility, should never excuse it or devalue the simple priority of human life in holding our political representatives to account.

I've told my story (and frightening and alienating as my circumstances were for me, they were as nothing compared to the plight of those attempting to cross the Med or trapped within the borders of a Greece doubly shackled by its commitments to the European Commission's coup of forcibly imposed austerity/'rescue' and the barely sticky sticking plaster represented by the EU/Turkey deal) because in those days and weeks waiting, as an illegal immigrant, for a simple piece of paper, as alone and afraid as I've ever been, whilst war raged across the border, I realised Scotland had taught me family, community but Greece, the Greek people taught me humanity. And it was a humanity I was never likely to see, then or now, from agents of the British state.

So whilst the old Etonian, it would be laughable if the consequences didn't matter so much, production of 'Westside Story' rolls on with Davie Hamheed's Jets and Boris 'Look, all future leaders will bumble and have farcical hair' Johnson's Sharks, I also break with a self imposed ban on online political partisanry and ask you to consider, beyond the sideshow, where do you think we can most exercise our humanity? I confess to briefly having joined the People's Front of Judea, or was it The Judean People's Front, but no longer belong to a political party, whilst I still consider myself an active and willing member of two movements, that for an independent Scotland, and the DiEM25 movement, which I joined as soon as I knew it existed. I see no contradiction in a sovereign nation being part of a federal block of other sovereign nations (despite the simplistic arguments I've heard to the contrary) albeit one in which democracy needs to be reasserted at every level. If Mr Varoufakis can stare down the barrel of the European Commissioners', and pretty much every European leader and chancellor's, neoliberal impulses and still find validity in the EU project, the plight of his country should never be used as a stick with which to beat the Remain camp (just saying like, it's just my opinion!).

As the Greek people struggle to cope in the face of the refugee crisis, when they have been stretched beyond breaking and can still show more humanity on one tiny island in a single day, every single day the crisis ensues, than many European governments, the U.K. among them, have shown throughout its duration, the least we can do is try to understand what's causing them when cracks start to show, and realise it should always be more than reactions of right or left. Simple basic humanity is never reactionary, the Greek people have shown so much, they deserve some from us too.

(I felt moved to write this after, yet again, finding myself with tears rolling down my cheeks reading this account of life among the Greek people and refugees on the island of Chios. I didn't want to simply link to the article, knowing some of you good people of Kiltr would have read many reports and articles on the crisis and on the current Greek situation and may suffer a little crisis fatigue too, perhaps just passing on by; if I've held your attention, if you've made it this far, please, go a little further still, for the people of Greece, for every refugee, for those fleeing war, this is every minute of every day, for us it's just a little time, a little more empathy, a little more understanding, a little more humanity
http://www.thenation.com/article/the-eu-has-turned-greece-into-a-prison-for-refugees/
Thanks for reading.)

The Politics of Sleeping Pt 2 : This Time It's Personal

 

 

(Finally getting a chance to update the promised blogs from Kiltr, this was originally published 5 months ago as the follow up to 'The Politics of Sleeping Pt1')

In writing Part One of this blog I had a whole slew of quantitative data to draw upon, the facts and figures speak for themselves, yet in approaching the qualitative, the anecdotal, many people with epilepsy find it difficult to do just that. So, what of the personal, the lived experience of people with epilepsy living in a Scotland struggling to meet the demands of their conditions in so many ways?

What of the lived experience of people with epilepsy living in Scotland's communities while an NHS meets only half of the national guidelines for minimum requirements of specialist epilepsy nurse provision and with little more than ten neurologists with an epilepsy speciality to treat 54,000 people with epilepsy across the country? What of their fates whilst charities desperately struggle to provide a safety net of support for the growing numbers falling through the cracks in the NHS and must make stark budgetary choices between whether to provide more vital services and support or whether to raise awareness both of a conditon, which the public at large is woefully short of accurate information on, and of the growing crisis in providing services and support for people with the condition?

Echoes of these questions reverberate around the compounding and peculiar 'catch 22' situations people living in Scotland with epilepsy increasingly find themselves in. Situations where the most well known major charity, Epilepsy Scotland, provides a helpline, a vital lifeline for many, but can only afford to staff it with trained epilepsy counsellors from 9-5 on weekdays, as if epilepsy and its myriad effects could keep office hours! Most other helplines, like the Samaritans, can't give appropriate advice, guidance or counselling because their telephone staff do not, as a matter of course, have epilepsy training and must tell callers with epilepsy this if they attempt to use their services

 


Likewise, despite the well documented high clinical likelihood of mental health issues for people with epilepsy, due both to the nature of the condition itself and the veracity and side effects of medications used in its treatment, psychologists, therapists and counsellors cannot and should not professionally consult or treat a person with epilepsy having not had similar specialist epilepsy training, and there is a paucity of those with that training across Scotland with precious few of those in the NHS. In a further compounding of the issue, the NHS' apparently chosen panacea for all things mental related, Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, is particularly ineffective in helping with mental health issues deriving from or related to epilepsy, since they most commonly have a neurological genesis not a strictly mental or emotional one. What might be effective would be the ministrations of a neuropsychologist but they are in such short supply in the NHS their consultations are almost exclusively reserved for those preparing themselves for neurosurgery.

At almost every turn the issues facing people with epilepsy are compounded by a paucity of provision and support, a distinct lack of social and cultural awareness and an apparent political disinterest or lip service masquerading as interest whilst little changes. This makes it increasingly less likely those affected will find means of representation never mind a voice to speak up for themselves regardless of the increasingly compromised positions they find themselves in with regards to health, social and cultural relations or interactions and the political will to change them.

The dearth of mental health options in terms of support for people with epilepsy is particularly telling for those with Frontal Lobe Epilepsy. The brain's frontal lobe has long been known as the 'seat of personality' and as where emotions are generated and experienced. Recent neurological research is serving only to underline this with the frontoparietal cortex being found of particular significance in forming the 'personality matrix'.

http://www.medicaldaily.com/brain-personality-frontoparietal-network-who-you-are-382142

As you can imagine, any type of seizure affecting this area of the brain is likely to prove mentally disconcerting as well as neurologically so; persistent seizures or seizures spreading from it to assail the entire brain in secondary generalisation can feel like an attack on the personality and a dismantling or undoing of the emotions (in fact some frontal lobe seizures are neurological emotive seeming displays, like uncontrollable crying or laughter). For those with poor seizure control or who are resistant to AEDs (around 30% of those with the condition), there is little or no let up from these attacks so that it can seem like a constantly raging war which requires a strategy they have little time in between to formulate.

 


As you also might imagine, with all of this considered, there should be at least an equal slew of qualitative, anecdotal, information regarding the lived experience of people with epilepsy in the communities of Scotland, to support the quantitative data so readily available, if only someone had taken the time to listen and record it. They haven't; 54,000 Scots' stories go largely untold, their voices unheard and unlikely to be. Whilst my study, 'A Political Ethnography of Frontal Lobe Epilepsy in Scotland', aims to make some difference to that it, of necessity, focuses on 1084 people with Frontal Lobe Epilepsy, who are among the most disenfranchised of the 54,000, it also, as my such study should, attempts to preserve the dignity, privacy and pride of its subjects, even its attempts to derive a definitive picture of their situations. Whilst they are words, given the context of the conditon's telling impact on my own life, I feel are all too often diminished by overuse, the research must truly be conducted in a 'safe space'. As I said in my closing remarks to that epilepsy conference late last year, society shouldn't need to see us wholly exposed and vulnerable or at our very worst to understand how disabling the condition can be.

This is the predicament I all too often find myself in, as a person with epilepsy, a person with a disability, but also an advocate for others in similar positions; sometimes I need to be exposed further in order to engender greater understanding but that exposure is almost always detrimental to my condition. Very few people understand fully the requirements of a safe space for people with epilepsy.

This has been the predicament I have found myself in as I approached writing Part Two of this blog; Part One, despite the overwhelmingly positive feedback, left me feeling far more exposed and vulnerable than I expected it to. It was written as the clusters of my 'cycle' were tightening and the concomitant anxiety of exposure inevitably affected those somewhere along the way too. It's not been a good week or two and writing hasn't come easy amidst the intensifying seizure pattern and cognition issues. And what would have been the point of writing the first part without capitalising on what focus it got to build on for the second? Thoughts which have compounded those interictal anxieties further, so here I find myself, knowing all the while the writing is never going to meet even the lowest of my expectations, so please forgive me if this piece requires a few more edits than its predecessor

Despite blogging about my experiences, I guess derived from both my creative/literary as well as my political and community activist bents, having been suggested by support workers, epileptologists, family and friends, countless times in the five years or so since my diagnosis, despite realising the catharsis it may carry, I have never found a format with which I'd be comfortable committing to an ongoing dialogue around my condition within, however they may gain wider audiences or raise greater awareness. I've had no desire to post the videos we've had to take of my range of seizures for neurologists in order to satisfy the voracious appetites of a few internet ghouls or to lay myself open to ubiquitous and inevitable trolling. No, neither of those consequences lend themselves to maintaining a high GABA threshold and the process would prove counterintuitive at best. Thankfully Kiltr works differently to social media outlets, being a new media platform and I have found it as safe a space as the Internet can provide, and with which I am comfortable with, for any personal aspects it may become necessary to blog about my condition. (As I've said before but warrants reiteration, 'mon the Kiltr!)

There are countless examples I could cite from personal experience over the past five years or so which would more than adequately highlight the everyday pressures on and issues facing a person with epilepsy and the particular social and political context of those for someone with high seizure frequency, intractable Frontal Lobe Epilepsy. I could emphasise the gradual wearing away of general social relationships, faced by many people facing a diagnosis with a long term, or even terminal, condition or disability; how people appear to start to feel awkward, in both physical and virtual space, in asking simple, personal questions, like 'How are you doing?', because they know how loaded it feels and how unlikely it is that things have changed since last they may have asked, and often begin to avoid contact because of the awkwardness it makes them feel or places on the social situation and them as actors in it. (This was something agreed upon as commonplace and shared unanimously by all members of a support group I was referred to shortly after full diagnosis called 'Living With Long Term Conditions and Illness", regardless of their condition or illness. I was told the group was unlikely to be of further use to me after it entered the practical exercise phase. I had started to fall asleep during the start of a mindfulness exercise, triggering a cluster of seizures. The group was CBT based but I had been referred nonetheless. The group's coordinator admitted it was likely done because there were no other referral services available locally for people with my condition.)

Or I could give equally plentiful examples underlining the general lack of public understanding around what epilepsy is, leading to clearly illustrated casual prejudice on a daily, sometimes almost moment to moment, basis. [This becomes of a more poignant and deeper held, recurring emotional impact as well as impacting on perceptions of support networks if it comes from family or friends. An easy example to give might be the extended family member, who I no longer speak to, who took it upon themselves, after I had just returned home from a particularly disturbing and debilitating stay in a Fife hospital (where they discharged me, after two days of continuous seizures, into my girlfriend Kerry's care, actually stating, 'Your epilepsy is too complex for us to deal with here. It will be at least two weeks until they have a bed at the Western General, can we call you a taxi, we don't have any ambulances available?'), therefore being unable to attend a family function, to say to Kerry, 'There's something suspect about it all as far as I'm concerned. He forgets, I'm a diabetic, I've had a fit!'.]

But I did anticipate this blog would be shorter than its predecessor and I know, as well intentioned as you may be Kiltr readers, your patience is likely wearing thin with all the epilepsy stuff, I don't blame you, I think those thoughts more times in a day than I think I'd care to share! Whilst I have had my diagnosis for those few years, all the MRI, EEG and videotelemetry evidence seems to point to at least one aspect of the condition having been underlying since very early childhood, likely as the result of head trauma suffered as a baby. It's highly likely the only reason my seizure count could cluster so high without any kind of more recent event in the active areas is I've been having seizures all along. There are other complicating genetic indicators, which also only make it more likely to have been the case, making the seizure pattern actually two different types of Frontal Lobe Epilepsy. My family history can account for any lower frequency seizure patterns during sleep which may not have been noticed and I have had intermittent 'attacks' which the simplistic approaches to epilepsy of 70/80s Scotlland's NHS were unable to define but which my neurologist is now certain were earlier seizure clusters. My current seizure pattern didn't establish itself until a round 5/6 years ago. I'm also reliably informed by the excellent staff at the Western General, neurologists and epileptologists alike, that very few of these occurrences uncommon for people with Frontal Lobe Epilepsy, just to varying degrees of occurrence and or seizure cluster/frequency.

So much so personal, right? And I've spoken about how the general social and cultural context,as well as more specifics of actual medical provision, but I'd like, in drawing things to a close, if you can bear with me just a little longer, to use a few other common or garden, everyday examples to show how some of those social and cultural aspects may be clearly, if further evidence from the study bears it out, systemic and oppressive and in breech of aspects of people with epilepsy's basic human rights. I'm trusting a little that if not all of the information in both parts of this blog, then certainly in the academic material a few keyword searches from it would generate, that a clear understanding of the nature of epilepsy when it becomes a disabling condition might emerge and, given a brief similar keyword search on how human rights provisions apply to people with disabilities, will be the context that sentence is taken in, for it isn't written lightly. I realise though, as always when the personal becomes political, rights are all about perspective, so I'd like to just tell you three (very) short, as simple as I can relate, stories, my truths as I experienced them, around the themes of safety in the community, those who should ensure it, travel and briefly touching on work (Stop yawning at the back!) They all just also happen to touch, to varying degrees, on the subject of disability hate crime. They also, in my opinion, belie not only a general casual prejudice based on ignorance but also appear to indicate mire systemic failings. See what you think



So the 19 bus has a slight legend around some parts of Fife. Seriously, I know of at least two recent local indie bands who've written odes to its virtues. The super 19 runs from Rosyth Dockyard, lapping at the banks of the Forth with its irradiated hulks, in West Fife to Ballingry, built on the black stane, in Mid, and many a town and village between, the full journey's length taking over a hour. It was the first bus I had to take with my shiny new pass. Another joy of the electrical storms in your head, no driving unless you've been at least a year seizure free. But you get a free bus pass; mine lets me take a companion, because some times I'm likely to need one.

I'd taken the super 19 a few times alone. It was the only bus I could get to where the wee social enterprise I founded has its offices and it stopped right outside. I felt relatively safe on the journey but I was at a point where I hadn't fully accepted that I had a disability. On this particular day though, needing to be at work for an important meeting but knowing I wasn't at my best, the clusters from the night before still spilling over, I twitched my wallet from my hand trying to put my pass back inside and almost kicked a pregnant woman as my leg jerked myoclonically when I tried to pick it up. I decided for the first time ever to sit on the front priority seats, feeling a little self conscious as older people got on and eyed me suspiciously. I hoped, for the first time I hoped a stranger saw me as I knew complex partials must be following the simple ones I was aware of, instead of the usual when I came to a little confused or having lost time, checking, hoping none had noticed. And then he stoated into view.

I hadn't been aware the bus had stopped. Smells can be overpowering for me in that fractious, uncertain, post ictal phase and the smell of stale tobacco and alcohol had overpowering nausea adding to my bodily issues.

'Right you, shift!'

'Sorry?'

'Ah said shift, they seats are fur thi auld folk!'

'The sign says for elderly AND disabled. I've got epilepsy and need to sit here's because I've been having partial seizures, you want to sit here because your steamin and don't want to walk the length of the bus.'

'Disabled, my f****n erse! There's nuhin wrang wi ye! F*****n shift!'

By this time I had produced my disability bus pass, the epilepsy ID card I carry, which details my seizures and what to do if you see me having any and I don't respond, as well as shown the pendant I wear in case I'm found unconscious after a seizure or during. He was still persisting in trying to wrestle me to my feet. I had pulled away, having watched my hand jerk otutwards, but stiffly at my side, in a cluster of jerks.

'Don't you raise yer hands tae me!'. I hadn't realised the bus had stopped and the bus driver interjected as he came towards us from his cabin.

'Don't you be raising your hands to the auld boy you!'. I could feel my head nodding forward, always a bad sign, could see my arm and hand stiffening, the voices started to sound like treacle and I didn't know where they were coming from as I tried to speak. Sometimes, between times, a word or two sharp, then back to a morass of sounds and words, indeterminate voices.

'Ah..a..ahwizzzizizny!'

'What are you on son, that's nae seizure I've ever seen, 'mon aff...'

There were other words, other people but the next clear memory I was sitting in the rain at a bus stop, my good suit soaked through, my bag full of paperwork sat in a puddle at my feet. It was 25 minutes since I'd last checked the time, I'd missed the bus after the one I'd been on and my meeting. It was the first of many about matching a counsellor friend's business with some Skype based supplier I knew, throwing in some epilepsy training from a major charity and we hoped to take up the helpline slack. I rescheduled.

I don't go out or take the bus now unless I've done as thorough a risk management as I can. If it's cloudy with a slightest chance of seizures, I'm working from home. I'm lucky, I've been able to rearrange my life like that. So I don't take the super 19 unless I'll be safe and I don't have a pressing need to sit on the priority seats. Still, you can't prepare for every eventuality.

On the same journey to work someone else's predicament showed me the dearth of local public perception, casually and institutionally, around people with epilepsy. I must have had a brief absence seizure. I came to having lost a little time completely unexpectedly. There was barely time to assess it was of little concern when I realised the bus was stopped and there was some commotion a little further down the bus.

A young woman with epilepsy, and clearly with other complex needs, was in the throes of a cluster of seizures in non priority seat. She was looking increasingly likely to injur herself whilst one elderly lady tried to cushion her head from behind and another stroked her face, murmuring from the seat in front, as the the young woman twisted in her seat but looked conscious and utterly fearful for brief moments. I recognised the seizure pattern. A younger woman stood nearby, towards me, on her phone. The driver hovered further down the bus, a managing to look concerned for the woman having the seizures and for the other passengers waiting outside, either on their phones or smoking, or a combination of both. One other man stood between the driver and the group around the young woman, he was on his phone too.

The younger woman was concernedly reading from a creased sheet of a4 paper whilst she waited, on hold. I had to act, if to do nothing else to stop the old woman, well intentioned as she may be, to stop with the stroking and the murmuring. Make a person with epilepsy safe by giving them as much room as possible during a seizure whilst making sure their head is safe and their air passageways are clear. If the seizure is continuous with no conscious response for four minutes, call an ambulance. If they recover give them calm reassurance and let them know what has happened. It's not too complicated and there's not much to fear. Don't bloody stroke their face and murmur!

'What's happened, how long has she been in seizure?', I asked woman on hold.

'Six minutes, I've got to time them. I'm on the phone to the ambulance.'

'Right. Six minutes without conscious response? I'm asking because I've got Frontal Lobe Epilepsy with a similar seizure pattern, maybe not the same triggers, and I work in epilepsy advocacy; she's conscious in between her seizures, what's her name? Are you her carer? Do you mind if I speak to her?'

'Her name's Lynne. Aye, I just started work at the home where she stays, it's my first time taking her out, I can't believe it...oh, aye, she's having a tonic-clonic...what?'

'Tell them Lynne's having a cluster of complex partial seizures which might lead to a tonic clonic but we're doing what we can. See, she's back with us, can you hear me Lynne, see there's a smile, Lynne, your on the bus and you've been having a few seizures, your looking a wee bit flushed there, oh your away a wee bit again...I'm sorry, don't you even think about stroking her face, give the lassie some breathing space.'

'The ambulance is on its way, here, what's gaun oan wi her that it says on here?', the creased paper found its way into my hands. There wasn't much on it, a brief description of a simple partial, a complex partial and a tonic clonic seizure, less than the descriptions I gave in Part One, and a note to call an ambulance if any seizure lasts longer than four minutes, a technically true minimum requirement; then the kicker, a wee cryptic footnote, 'Lynne responds to hot and cold.'. It was that simple for Lynne. She'd been too cold outside and wrapped up warm. The same cosiness inside was enough to lower her seizure threshold and tip her into a cluster; her young carer wasn't aware of the consequences of the footnote.

'Listen, Carrie,...', I checked her badge, '...I think she just needs her anorak loosened a bit, maybe take her gloves off until the ambulance comes, I think you could have avoided having to phone it though. Maybe just watch how Lynne is with moving from inside to outside, hot to cold...'. Another loud, phone voice had started to cut across my attention.

'Finally! Where have ye been, I've been trying for ages, it's kindy an emergency! Aye, I'm oan the bus, we've hud tae stoap, there's wan eh theym haein a fit an the wee lassie she's wi disnae ken whit tae dae! Ahm no sure, hud oan...kin ah help ye mate?'

'I know you mean well but your no helpin. The wee lassie's got it sorted, Lynn's coming around, the ambulance is on its way.'

'Aye but look, has she though? She's still haein a fit, ma wife works wi theym, she'll ken better what tae dae...listen Maureen, aye, she's still fittin...'

'Listen mate,', I said through clenched teeth, 'I'm one of them and if your wife is a care assistant at one of the homes around here that deal with people with epilepsy in long term care and not a nurse with epilepsy training, I sincerely doubt it. Noo, here's the ambulance.'

"What d'ye mean yer wan I theym? How come she hud a fit but you didny? Are yeez no gauny hae a fit wi the ambulance lights?'. A much quieter, muted voice interrupted.

'Tam? Tam? Hing up the f******n fone!'

I helped Carrie with Lynne as she struggled to walk her down the bus aisle, conscious but confused and still working out the numbness' and tingles in her limbs. Lynne smiled a few more times but didn't manage to speak. Along the way I found out from Carrie she was only 17, in her first job, on less than minimum wage and on a zero hours contract. She had no epilepsy training; I later discovered through work contacts that despite the legal requirements on medical staff there is no requirement for Care Assistants in complex needs palliative care long term care, where any of the needs are epilepsy based, to have any specialised training.

As I watched the ambulance pull away I realised everyone else was back on board the bus, the driver called.

'You getting back on mate?'

'Nah, think I'm gauny need a minute or two, I'll catch the next wan!'


 


We've established, fairly conclusively by now, and for good reason, that I don't venture forth unless I am as sure of as little or no personal epilepsy related activity as I possibly can be, but I can't always be sure.

I was having a rare particularly good day and should have seen that as a sign in and of itself. When your least suspecting it, the condition really kicks your arse.

I'd taken the opportunity to visit a new cafe in my hometown after a business meeting for a spot of artisanal luncheon (I was being slightly facetious, it was a bacon roll, albeit on a granary bap, with Scottish Black Breakfast tea, the breakfast, lunch and dinner of champions, even with a little fakin bacon!). As I left sated, moving down the steep wynd, a sudden cluster of simple partials, jerking both my arm and leg, followed by the onset of at least one complex partial, stopped me in my tracks. The panic and fear gripped sudden and tight too, there were precious few places I could get to where there would be any measure of safety at all within the short time I was likely to have before things got worse.

Just as unexpected as the seizures had been was the soft voice at my side and the gentle hand at my elbow.

'You ok son?', a kind elderly female face peering up into mine with another fuzzy close behind it. 'No, I have epilepsy, I've had a wee warning and need to get safe fast; the only place I could get to, even halfway there, is the benches down at the cross...'

And then the treacle, my own mouth moving, I knew sometimes, but only snippets of what followed made their way into my consciousness, until it's fog and morass receded, almost as suddenly as the had come but leaving just a threat of return.

'It's awrite misseez, we ken um.' 'Are ye sure noo, will you be awrite son?'

Somewhere interictal I knew my mistake, knew I'd laid myself bare and more vulnerable than I'd thought I might be when the fear gripped. See, the benches at the cross are the oft times hangout of the town's congregated expellees from the local homeless hostel, which like many of its ilk allows access only overnight, who among them have no issues to seek with substance abuse and/or petty crime. That is no judgemental summary, I understand all too well the wider cycles which can bring these things to pass; it is just a summary of a social situation and those acting in it. There was still no judgement there when Kerry and I had clearly been marked out as a soft touch, after bringing the group soup and sandwiches as a regular fixture of our delivery runs from our cafe, our building was robbed two Christmas' before and two of their number convicted of the crime on evidence found in the hostel. There was a judgement coming from me, just for someone I expected more from.

'Git he's bag aff, ah hink there's a laptop or iPad or sumhink in it!' 'F**k's sake, sumbdy keep an eye oot!' 'No me, I canny get this f*****n wallet, he's legs are aw stiff!'

Like the people on the bus though, whilst there were other words there, other sounds, other movements, what they weren't aware of that I was becoming aware of; this was a cluster of complex seizures, passed and now done with me, not a single ongoing seizure.

Barely conscious, I propelled myself away from the bench, slapping at the wallet about to tip out from my back pocket as I did, with one functioning hand. I caught it and whipped around towards the bench, ready to deliver the full force of my anger and disgust. Like one hand and one leg, my mouth hadn't caught up with my intentions yet, 'GeyesaFAAAWWUUCK!', burst forth accompanied by immeasurable flying slaver, spit and drool.

Before I could move again, and I could barely move again, a hand fell on my shoulder.

'That's just about enough of that sir, can you come over here with me, away from your friends there? You seem to be having trouble walking and talking there, can you tell what you've taken today?'

Three attempts whilst I could see the group gathered around the other policeman, gesticulating and remonstrating loudly. Then broken words becoming clearer.

'I have epilepsy. I was having a seizure and they were trying to rob me.' 'They say they were trying to help you and they know you. Could you be mistaken? How could you know what was happening if you were having a seizure?'

'Because I was having a cluster of complex partial seizures and can be conscious between them. I didn't hear much but I know what I heard. Surely you could check that camera right there?'

'Hmm. Now the alleged crime is no longer in progress we'd have to request the footage, could take weeks for what's essentially your word against theirs and there's a few of them. Seems to me if this is the kind of fix your epilepsy is going to get you in, I suggest you should have stayed at home today. Perhaps that's where you should be headed now?'

I had no more words. I had nothing else, what the condition hadn't taken, the situation and all involved in it had summarily dispensed with. I went home. I didn't leave for over three weeks; it took me slightly longer to tell anyone about what had happened.

*******************************************************************

...in a slightly different situation, as a footnote to the foregoing, the full details of which are a little more difficult to disclose since some of them are still subject to internal investigation by the company we hire premises from, another tenant was guilty of misuse of communications in perpetrating disability hate crimes against my person, as well as in person, and using these as the basis for physical threats against, and extortion from, me as well as our company. It was some of the most language and behaviour it has ever been my misfortune to encounter in any context. Thankfully there was a plethora of damning evidence and a few reliable witnesses. Whilst the reaction from law enforcement was generally much more sympathetic , this was the framing of a question put to me when they came to call, late at night on the 23 Dec:

'Now given that we have two witness statements, as well as yours now, and the evidence from the phones and devices, we have more than enough to press charges under the Act. But if I go and lift him now, it will be a day or two after Christmas before he can see a judge. In the interim, and if it was to go to trial, if he's got all your contact details, his family, his mates, they can have all your contact details. I can see how this is affecting you physically right now.(it was late and I'd had a few simple partials while they were there, nothing majorally out of the ordinary, not that they asked.) Would you be, are you prepared for what that might mean?'

As long as there are questions being asked like that, for as long as there are people who can't understand and situations arise like those in these wee stories, my politics will always be personal and remain the politics of sleeping.




(Thank you for reading and for your patience if you made it this far! I hereby swear, for now at least, to give y'all a well deserved break from all the epilepsy business. But reserve the right to return to it at a later date, who else is going to?)