Saturday Rant

In the eighties I joined another Communist group called the Socialist Action League. The League generally followed a Trotskyist line, being associated with the 4th International. In contrast to Socialist Unity, it opposed seeking control of Trade Unions - preferring to build a movement by way of 'Fractions' or activist groups from the shop floor.

It satisfied a thirst for conspiracy and, at the same time, comradeship and a need to be 'doing something worthwhile (shit-stirring)'

At that time in New Zealand, there was a fair bit of sensationalistic journalism and a campaign by the Government to expose 'Reds under the bed.' It was all for political ends, of course, and no-one really believed NZ was on the verge of revolution.

I enjoyed turning out for demonstrations. I generally held the red flag and, therefore, got my picture taken a lot by the press. It scarcely mattered what the cause was - I felt we were the 'real deal' and shared a revelation.

In fact, Trotsky and Lenin were tedious reads and barely more interesting than Karl Marx. I struggled through the required texts, but most of it flew over my head. I was more interested in their lives, rather than their theories. I read a lot more history, of course, and was able to impose a Socialist analysis. That was a more fascinating game and I still do it.

There were conspiracies in the press about paid informants and such and someone was exposed as being an Intelligence agent within the Socialist Unity Party. We all wondered whether our group had been penetrated and began to look askance at our comrades.

One day, I was looking out the window of our secret headquarters on Jackson Street, Petone, watching to see what cars were parked outside full of spies. I then asked Mike Treen, our beloved leader, whether he thought I worked for the Security Intelligence Service.

"Don't know," he shrugged. "Don't care either."

In fact, I could blow the whole lot to the Government, in banner headlines, and Mike would've been delighted. It would just go to show how paranoid capitalism becomes when it perceives it's under threat. It would raise the profile of Socialist Action well beyond its numbers. That suited him fine.

Actually there was very little threat. There were only 53 of us throughout the country and had remained so for the last ten years. The movement was hardly growing. Workers were more interested in 50 cents an hour more and a longer lunch break than learning about the nature of the capitalist economy.

I was equivocal myself and remained outside a Fraction. I was then an elected Trade Union official in a Union controlled by adherents to a rival Communist group, the Workers Communist League. As such I'd broken a number of Socialist Action's rules.

I was also a drug user, and drugs were anathema to the League. Drugs could be used by the State to bust the League's members. I was pretty good at covering everything up, however, and Mike either didn't notice or chose not to.

I still keep in touch with Mike now and again. Paradoxically, he heads a Union now called 'Unity' and I admire its brief. It targets poorly paid young workers in retail - a neglected sector, in my opinion.

Of course, in the late nineties everything turned to custard for me and I was exposed as a fraudster, thief, liar and drug user - unceremoniously asked to leave the Union and told not to come back. Politically, I was unaffordable and had disgraced the Union I worked for and my employers I cheated.

Friends fled and wrote unkind things in publications and newspapers. I was branded one of the 'Gang of Four' and eventually I had to leave town and rebuild my life from scratch.

I choose not to reveal the details of my activities only that my criminal spree - or that for which I was caught - spanned two years and involved over 30 grand net. I still feel a mild satisfaction at the cleverness of it all, but, otherwise the shame and all the other stuff is gone.

I put my family through hell during that time but we've moved well and truly on. The only reason I can speak so candidly is because I feel nothing. In that sense I'm healed - for good I hope.