Don’t tell the Daily Mail on me, but I was at one of the now infamous “Thatcher’s dead” parties. And I had a blast.
Of course I did have my doubts about going to a party organised by an anarchist social club. Whatever my dim views of Thatcher, heading off on a night out in celebration of death does feel slightly jarring.
These moral doubts dissolve as I walk through the door. And that’s because the newspapers got one part wrong – I can’t speak for the rest of the country but at this party there is indeed champagne, there’s bunting, there’s dancing and a huge sound system, but, crucially, there is no hate.
We are not using the anonymity of the internet to fire bile at those who will be hurt by it, and there are no hints of violence or thuggery. In fact, if anything it’s a night embodying hope: different generations from those who suffered directly at Thatcher’s hands to teenagers for whom she is a mere memory, coming together. But they are not celebrating death after all but their shared commitment to co-operation, compassion and respect, and their continuing opposition to what Thatcher represented.
The champagne flows, the political debate gets more vigorous and the dance moves wilder. It becomes clear that this really has little to do with an old lady dying. So why celebrate now? Death often feels like a beginning as well as an end. It’s a time to take stock and bring issues to the fore, and so just as this week is a natural time for Thatcherites to look back and praise her, reaffirming their values, it’s also a time for those of us on the left to reaffirm our opposition to them. And why can’t we do that with reggae?
Right wing press and politicians alike have condemned these celebrations as full of ‘hatred’. In fact it is their use of hatred as a political weapon, directed with cold calculation against welfare claimants to divide the country that means this kind of show of solidarity is all too necessary. Although doubtless some of the celebrations have crossed the line from the political into the personal and are deserving of criticism. It makes me sad that the government and the media can get away with poisonous hatred against large swathes of the population, whilst hatred against someone in power is swiftly condemned as evil.
It’s 2am, and sat on the pavement waiting for a taxi my friend sums it up for me: “You know this isn’t really a party. It’s a protest. And the best kind of each always blur into the other”. Cheers, if not to Thatcher’s death, then to that.
