Once upon a time there was a Socialist Movement that yearned for social justice, enough for everyone, and understanding and respect for all in the material world.
It longed to connect government with the people, and to work boldly towards global peace and equality.
For a long time, everyone thought the Labour Party would welcome this homecoming. So, over the years, the Dark Forces of war, colonialism, capitalism, systemic patriarchy and common bread-head greed, conspired to set about and undermine its foundations. By bullying and blindsiding, and by planting their darkness into the Party and the people (the poisonous glint of owning shares and being shiny New Labour; and a blind eye turned to others' deceits in order to hide one's own) the house of Labour began to crumble at every crack.
Socialism is not the Labour Party. Socialism is a movement, an opportunity to reconnect ever better with our roots: the land, the people, the world, and the rhythms of these things as the house of Socialism becomes each our own houses, set and reset constantly, in order.
The Labour Party is a dark place now; trapping many good people and beautiful visions in the verdant corners of its blackened back yard. Some have vowed to loyally stay and fight, believing this thing, like Babayagas house, can outrun its inevitable fate on chicken legs. Some believe it a house of hopes, and look past the chaos to the fools gold of future elections. But the Labour Party is a prison now, a cage, a folly, the Tarot's Struck Tower. Only when it has crumbled at last, and deceit and dodgy neighbours limp home to their delusions, will Socialism rise from its rubble and ashes, and move on. Only then, we can construct and reforest our collective vision to the values we have held so long in exile. Change is already overdue.