A reflection on Govanhill, Glasgow, shows slum housing, hyper-exploitation and racist demagoguery to be alive and kicking in the Scotland of 2021 – along with the basis for internationalist solidarity and working-class resistance.
The word ‘slum’ evokes thoughts of the Victorian era. Overcrowding, abject housing conditions and the housing question in general are all thought of as horrors that capital and its representatives, in the successive governments of the United Kingdom, have safely delivered us from. In truth, that may apply to much of the (white) Scottish population, but squalid and impoverished housing is still a reality in those areas occupied mainly by the migrant workers that Marxist philosopher Alain Badiou has described as a ‘nomadic proletariat’. These are areas that, in truth, exist because of the necessity for these wandering proletarians in the global imperialist chain.
If you walk ten minutes south of the River Clyde you find the area of Govanhill, the ghetto that no one wants to describe as one. The actual character of this area is veiled by ideological fictions, and its nature as a product of social relations is utterly mystified; like all products of capitalist relations, the real genesis of a slum is always hidden in one way or another. A communist politic has never waved off the role of the nomadic proletariat, but in our times that importance is under-appreciated; the very existence of migrant workers is treated as a formality in theory rather than a reality. Our communist politic is one that is invariably connected to the nomad, as an expression of the way in which capitalist relations produce the agents that, in turn, have the potential to negate them. As such, Govanhill becomes our point of discussion as a concentration of nomadic proletarians and parasitic landlords, of relative surplus-population enlisted by agricultural capitalists and a subaltern stratum of labour put to work in a great many forms of labour.
In times of Covid, it is necessary to try to understand the reasons for the absence of a revolutionary movement within this area, for several reasons: a population of 18,000 makes Govanhill one of Glasgow’s most densely populated areas, largely comprised of working-class families; its heterogenous population has brought about a great many ‘united fronts’ in the community in opposition to external pressure against the minority inhabitants; and the area has a rich history of socialist activity aided by its international and working-class character. To make this inquiry we will first approach Govanhill from the concrete, by analysing the class composition and general character of life in the area; after this, we move to the abstract and find the potentiality for a radical (communist) politic taking root in the area, taking in, as well, equivalent experiences elsewhere, as well as some relevant remarks from Marxist theorists.
A history of upheaval
The Govanhill area has been associated with a migrant identity for centuries. During the Industrial Revolution (after the process of primitive accumulation carried out by the British State bore the fruit of proletarianised labour) the quarter became afloat with the poorest of Ireland’s misery and what was left of the Highland peasantry following land seizures. The migration of southern Italians (mainly from the peasantry) seeking a better life added another category of migrant to the quarter’s stock. Glasgow’s burgeoning industrial capital needed an army of labour, and an army is what it got. At the same time, the Ashkenazi Jews fleeing the swords of Cossacks found the quarter to be a haven, and quickly blossomed into a community there that later disappeared at the turn of the 20th century.
The need for labour in the post-war period saw an influx of migrants from the colonial territories in the Indian sub-continent and the Caribbean; these waves of immigration each met with their own peculiar opposition in the brutish nativist politic that every migrant wave faces. Equally, each wave shared the quality of being an upheaval of labour from one geographical area to another (bearing also the particular marks of having moved from colonially subjugated regions to the ‘mother country’, as with the African sans-papiers to the French cities). In the first volume of Capital, Marx discusses the consequences of capital’s thirst for labour alongside the inadequacy of the labour present under the handicraft and manufacture period in the development of British capitalism. The separation of labour from the means of production – which Marx likens, not coincidentally, to the biblical original sin of Adam and Eve – thus logically follows. Capital thirsts for living labour and the periodic inadequacies of the domestic supply of labour can only be remedied by the transformation of a great mass of labour still in possession of its own means of production and sustenance, into labour separated from its ability to reproduce itself; once the domestic supply is rendered spent, Capital must look outwards. This strategy of expansion, within specific conditions, is expressed through land seizures, murder and every other brutal form of subjugation which comes to define colonial expansion. The failure of domestic labour to meet the needs of capital in the process of valorisation calls for expansion; expansion calls for plunder; plunder calls for upheaval; upheaval is the separation of labour from its own means of production and self-reproduction; and thus finally labour (transnationally) seeks out capital to which it can sell its labour-power to survive. Of course, this is a basic schema of primitive accumulation, and the historical process is one of concrete heterogeneity, but we can nonetheless discern this general movement. It is in this that we see the historical function of primitive accumulation (as a means of nascent capital affirming its domination of social formations), and the genesis of the proletariat as a nomadic subject separated from the land, which must search for its means of survival. It’s from this that Marx draws his understanding of the proletariat as the producer of surplus-value, but the transformation of the proletariat as an economic force in the first instance, into the political agent of the second instance, is a protracted struggle defined by the same accumulation of peculiar tendencies which defines the formation of the economic force in the first place: the totality of social productive relations.
Similarly, what British capital required after the Second World War was labour and, just as the demand of labour in the Industrial Revolution couldn’t be met by the domestic supply of free labour, the reserve army of labour swelled up by the process of primitive accumulation in the colonies allowed for an influx of labour to Britain from the colonial surplus-population. The colonial subject brought to the mother country becomes a particular stratum of the working class whose existence is often defined by the lack of property; in periods of crisis an influx of this particular kind of labour allows for the general conditions of stagnation to be overcome, or at the very least assuaged. From the period of the Second World War’s beginning a shortage of labour was initially remedied by the mobilisation of labour which was, at the time, atypical – that of women entering into heavy industry and other areas in which they had been less involved); after the war this ceased to be the case, but the domestic labour supply didn’t recover, and thus comes the reform of colonial immigration regulation to precipitate the accumulation of labour from the surplus-population of the colonies. This particular relation of a stratum of labour to the whole totality of social relations brings with it particular tendencies in said workers’ relation to the overall process of reproduction through ideology.
This nomadic spirit is one that has persisted in Govanhill through each wave of migration and, even today, is still present within the area. In the early-mid 2000s, in the aftermath of the collapse of the state enterprise economies of the ‘Communist East’, a large movement of (now in abject poverty) labourers moved westward to escape the social chasms left behind by the collapse of the Eastern Bloc. Few people in the UK today have any memory of the ideological impression this had on reactionary politics in Britain. The transformation of the Eastern European into the boogieman of a post-Cold War Britain allowed for a scapegoat to be found that would explain the collapse of employment in domestic labour (coincidentally moving the origin of the new rust belts away from the flight of industrial capital to China in the wake of the reform periods).
Alongside this wave of Eastern European migration there was a large movement of Roma peoples, with many moving to take up seasonal work as agricultural labourers. As well as the agricultural sector, many Roma migrants in Britain work in logistics, ranging from warehouse work to work as cleaning staff in hospitals. The poverty that defines the condition of agricultural labour is as real now as it was when Marx penned the chapter on The General Law of Capitalist Accumulation, and discussed the phenomenon of the ‘labour gang’ as a germ of agriculture’s relative surplus population. The process of separating labour from its means of production via land seizure and the introduction of machinery, the expansion of pastures et al, drive labourers off lands, leading in turn to the inadequate supply of remaining labour in the countryside to meet the needs of the capitalist farmer. To remedy this, a ‘gang-master’ recruits labour from the surplus-population in the town; recruiting from a population so in need of a wage that the great intensity of labour in farm-work is much less a weight on the mind than is the prospect of hunger. Each season of produce is a season of ‘labour-gangs’ flocking to the countryside either from the poverty-stricken quarters of the cities, like Govanhill, or directly from their home countries in the poorer regions of Eastern Europe. This seasonal labour migration has been able to function due to the free movement of labour under the European Union. In this regard, ‘gang-masters’ are the organic representatives of capital within this labouring population, despite the fact that they are often products of the same conditions faced by workers themselves, and rarely abstain from the work at hand.
The linguistic barrier between migrant labourers and the pre-existing organisations of labour in the country they migrate to is sometimes wrongly seen as an insurmountable barrier to organising among migrant workers. In truth, too little attention is paid to this labour population that comes and goes, in part because of its productive role relative to the seasons when put to work in the capitalist farm. When workers arrive they’re resigned to living on the farm in laughable ‘housing’ (the cost of which is taken from their wage, no differently to when Marx pointed this out in his time) and carrying out their back-breaking labour of picking, pulling and sorting all manner of agricultural produce. The mechanisation of capitalist farm-work makes the process of maintaining the plants during the growing period quite simple and the capitalist farmer can fully carry out his role as being just a manager of capital’s processes. However, the mechanisation (or lack thereof) of the extraction of the agricultural produce makes the need for living labour quite apparent: ‘There are always too many agricultural labourers for the ordinary needs of cultivation, and too few for the exceptional and temporary requirements.’.
Previously we discussed primitive accumulation and its analogue in the biblical Original Sin which birthed the modern proletariat; this same point of genesis can be found in the origin of modern capitalist farm work. With labour separated from the land, the capitalist farmer takes root; he cannot rely solely on his own labour as the work at hand requires a measure of labour beyond his own, and thus he enters into business with the gang-master who finds labour suitable for the work and sets it into motion. The specific work which requires this mass of labour is often the meticulous aspects of capitalist farming which are not possible to mechanise or automate: berry picking is the Devil in this regard. The relation between the capitalist farmer and his relative surplus-population now takes on a peculiar form: rather than the surplus-population being tied to the town local to the farm, the relative surplus-population is sought for in the poorer member-states of the international structures of capitalist relations. In Britain, observers learned first-hand what the cessation of the movement of nomadic labour to the capitalist farm brings, when the movement of labour was temporarily halted after the coronavirus shutdown, bringing about a dire shortage in Eastern European labour which, unsurprisingly, couldn’t be filled by domestic labour which had no organic ties to the work of the capitalist farm. It’s assumed that around 80,000 agricultural workers enter the UK each picking season to find work in farms, a seasonal (relative) influx of labour which is now endangered by the UK’s separation from the European Union; as such, the capitalist farmer is now turning to the natural means of overcoming a shortage in labour that has been invariably tied to capitalist relations since Marx’s time: automation.
The imperialist experiences of Iraq and Afghanistan, and the destruction of life in those states which followed almost a decade of conflict and collapse, brought about an exodus of Iraqis and Afghans towards the more peaceful lives to be found in the imperialist core; by 2012 the records of a local community group showed that Govanhill now had a population of which 40-45% was comprised of ethnic minority communities. The refugee crisis brought on by the Syrian Civil War has likely shifted the percentage of ethnic minority residents in the area to a much higher level. In reality, it was the wave of reactionary criticism that was instigated against the housing of Syrian refugees in Govanhill that revived the social significance of Govanhill as a migrant community, though the real level of incoming migrants was far lower than one might have imagined based on the level of reactionary nativism that it was met with (at most it was in the range of 300 to 350 refugees housed). More recently, reactionary outbursts against the Roma community, blamed for flouting lockdown rules (a claim later proved to be false), alongside a disproportionate level of Covid infections relating to the housing conditions in the community, have led to a mass exodus of Roma from Govanhill with around 50% of the population thought to have fled after being the victims of a smear campaign which used images of a funeral held in 2019 to accuse them of being rule-flouters who were at the root of rising cases. Prior to this, Govanhill had the highest concentration of Roma peoples in the whole of Scotland.
Housing and fetishism
My personal experience with Govanhill began when I was 16 and working uncontracted as a ‘house flitter’; the fact my boss had to rely on the labour of a 16-year-old might imply that he was by no means a premium removals operator. We worked for whoever wanted things moved and was happy to pay £100 maximum for it. Our working day was invariably in a mouldy white van and our most sophisticated tool was a load-bearing dolly. The relatively cheap price of hiring us meant most of our work was in Glasgow’s state housing schemes. The housing schemes were the usual – council is better than nothing, but one thing I can say is that nothing was comparable to the housing conditions endured by those in the grip of Govanhill’s slum landlords. Post-war regeneration projects and subsequent attempts at renovating the old tenement buildings in the 2000s completely failed thanks to austerity cuts pulling the rug from state-directed, private and community-driven refurbishment programmes; this allowed a specific kind of social parasite to transform Govanhill into a trap for a specific form of exploitation.
By the mid-to-late 2000s 13 tenement blocs conditions’ were left practically untouched since the Second World War. Overcrowding, a total absence of maintenance, opportunistic rent rises – these are all symptoms that stem from the same source. ‘In the housing question we have two parties confronting each other: the tenant and the landlord or house owner,’ said Engels, in the 1872 pamphlet The Housing Question. ‘The former wishes to purchase from the latter the temporary use of a dwelling; he has money or credit, even if he has to buy this credit from the house owner himself at a usurious price as an addition to the rent. It is simple commodity sale; it is not an operation between proletarian and bourgeois, between worker and capitalist.’ What Engels points out to us is that the exploitation of the tenant by the landlord already implies the fact that prior to the sale of the housing commodity, there was already a sale of labour. Before the worker can become a tenant, they must approach the table with money in hand, money which is only acquired through the necessary sale of their labour-power. The landlord presupposes the exploitation of labour by capital and this is no different in Govanhill.
There are exceptions of course – some in Govanhill rely on our fancy bread line, Universal Credit. The weight of austerity, and the reactionary tactic of shifting blame for austerity onto this purely fictitious fifth column of ‘useless consumers’, that supposedly comprises the majority of the migrant population, is embodied in the further necessitation of the migrant labourer to sell their labour-power, rather than making use of state subsistence. It’s only logical, then, that the work done by many migrant workers is of a kind held ‘too low’ for domestic Scottish labourers. Ensuring that the benefits of state subsistence are reserved for British workers is by no means a recently developed tactic. As was noted in a 2008 report on the particular situation of the Roma community in Govanhill:
‘Historically, immigration has presented a number of significant challenges to nation states, not least in relation to their nationally-based systems of welfare. The development of the welfare system in Britain took as its starting point the prioritising of British workers and their families and notions of the “national interest”. Indeed, Britain, not unlike other European member states, has a long history of, at best, the subordinated inclusion of racial and ethnic minorities deemed to be ‘in’ but not ‘of’ the nation and, at worst, their total exclusion from welfare services and benefits.’
The peculiarities of a specific form of exchange, such as with the slum landlord, are always posed as being in a vacuum, independent of and disconnected from the whole of the commodity society. The issue of fetishism applies here as much as it does in any other part of capitalist society. The obfuscation of the sale of this or that embodiment of social relations (commodities) reduces it to a relation between either a thing and a thing, or a thing and a person; in both instances the reality of this social relation being intertwined with the whole of social labour is veiled, and the exchange is posed as a collapse in the whole totality of society’s productive relations. That is to say, the transfer of the house as a commodity to the tenant in exchange for money which is the form of appearance of value presupposes capitalist exploitation and the production of (surplus) value. The function of capitalist ideology in this aspect is to ‘veil’ the nature of this exchange, the dynamic encounter of two social relations, by posing it as existing in a vacuum as though for all eternity tenants and landlords have existed, just as workers and capitalists, labour and capital.
Any and all specific forms of exploitation are subjected to this mystification, alongside which comes the division of legal commodity relations from illegal commodity relations, separated by bourgeois Law and reproduced by the State. The fact that this form of exploitation is part of the whole of the commodity society is a fact, though the ideologues of the dominant ideology say otherwise, and this invariable relation, or exchange, can be generally summed up as the transfer of value embodied in its multiplicitous forms. What we can say for certain is that each independent part of a whole is constituted within something, united and interpenetrating with its opposite; this understanding of identity allows us to approach the issue of peculiar forms of exploitation without (and against) the issue of fetishism. As such, we are able to find the interrelation of a given form of exploitation with the whole totality of social relations and pose the question of action against it originating within the immanent contradictions of the present state of affairs. The nature of slum housing in the modern social formations, dominated by the capitalist mode of production, all across the imperialist world economy is not a coincidence; the relation of these housing conditions to the relative surplus-population created by the relations of capitalist farming is not a coincidence; the exchange that takes place between the tenant and the landlord is not a coincidence. The unity of these relations is determined by their being different forms of existence for value in its movement of self-valorisation, i.e., capitalist productive relations. As Marx has it in his chapter on The Process of Exchange: ‘Men are henceforth related to each other in a purely atomistic way. Their own relations of production therefore assume a material shape which is independent of their control and their conscious individual action.’ What this tells us is that capitalist (class) relations are veiled and the production and exchange of commodities, which are themselves the realms of existence of these relations, are posed as being an encounter between things, rather than between people.
Marx’s theory of fetishism is inseparable from the theory of class activity which forms the basis of the Marxist understanding of proletarian revolution; that the working class must engage in a unity of economic, political and theoretical struggle in order to develop the (self)consciousness of the producer as producer; until the expropriated mass has the level of consciousness to understand itself as the expropriated, it is not possible to forward the communist programme of expropriating the expropriators. It’s for this reason that communism isn’t an unconscious affair; its realisation is only won through the culmination of years of struggle producing the Party, the Party producing the programme, and the unity of the Marxist programme with the proletariat in the ruptural moment, where the overdetermination of any given number of contradictions causes the State to cease its own reproduction, and opens the possibility of the era of the dictatorship of the proletariat, and logically, of communism itself.
What is to be done?
The study of fetishism allows us to realise that the existence of the nomadic proletariat is not peculiar to those who comprise it; their existence is determined by the same societal relations which define all class relations within the capitalist mode of production; to try and pose this form of the proletariat as being distinguishable in essence from the proletariat as a whole would be a form of fetishism itself. The essence of the Marxist dialectic lies in the general principle of understanding the forms of existence within capitalist society as being constituted by the whole totality of social relations. Lenin, in his On the Question of Dialectics, eloquently describes the most essential aspect of the dialectic as ‘The splitting of a single whole and the cognition of its contradictory parts.’ Which is to say that the Marxist dialectic, the theory of knowledge, is contingent upon the ‘splitting up’ of social wholes and the cognising of the contradictory parts which constitute it, and which are constituted themselves by their interpenetrating opposites; Marx did so with his splitting of the most basic form of capitalist existence, the commodity, and the cognition of its contradictory parts, allowing him to form the basis for his Critique of Political Economy. We must understand Capitalist society as being a series of overlapping chains which are themselves social relations and likewise constituted by the contradictory social relations within them. By understanding that the nomadic proletariat is a product of capitalism’s expansion beyond national boundaries, and the combined and uneven nature of capitalist development, wherein labour is separated from the means of production and sustenance, and is forced to nomadically seek out the areas of concentrated capital so as to sell itself as a commodity, we are able to see how the expansive nature of the World Economy ties the whole mass of the human species together. Farmers in Jakarta are given common ground with the logistical workers of Govanhill, who themselves form the mediatory link between the internationally migratory proletariat and the domestic working class; this universal character, and the potential to affirm it, is present in every territory of capitalist domination, which is to say the whole globe. We can describe the necessity brought about by this realisation with two quotes from Lenin:
‘No matter how strong and intact all the other links are, if the wooden link breaks the whole chain will burst. The same is true in politics.’
‘Without revolutionary theory there can be no revolutionary movement.’
When both of these statements are kept in the context of Marxism’s ‘living soul’ – the concrete analysis of the concrete situation – it becomes very clear what the consequence of the nomadic proletariat is to the resurgence of the communist movement. We know that this stratum of labour constitutes a people without property, disconnected from the ground beneath their feet and reliant on their labour being put to work in the process of capital’s self-valorisation; and, most importantly, we know that this stratum will continue to grow and take the centre stage in the coming years. As the effects of climate change accumulate, large swathes of land will become outright unliveable, and considering the geographical fact that those peoples most exposed to the effects of imperialism are in areas that will be vulnerable to climate desolation in coming years, the growth of the nomadic proletariat will continue, as rural populations migrate to urban areas to find work and become that labour which has nought to sell but itself, labour as a commodity.
If we move to a more abstract register, and return to the allegory of the chain, we can understand how the phenomenon of combined and uneven development creates points of weakness in the imperialist chain, where the overdetermination of contradictions which accumulate together form a ruptural unity; the reproduction of capitalist relations by the State ceases and, as such, the bourgeois democratic State becomes untenable, as was the case in Paris in 1871 and in Russia in 1917; with the latter example, the new regime of the bourgeoisie who had succeeded over the feudal landowners were equally as incapable of dealing with this accumulation of contradictions as the old feudal regime, and so came working-class revolution in October. The coming multitude of internal and external crises which will shake the imperialist order will not arrive like a deus ex machina; if we are unprepared as communists to not merely analyse the concrete situation but to act upon it, then the State will be given enough time to overcome the crisis through whichever barbaric means it puts to action. As long ago as 2008, a paper from the International Organisation for Migration’s 2008 paper made this estimate of a ‘bad’ scenario:
‘Predictions of 200 million people displaced by climate change might easily be exceeded. Large areas of southern China, South Asia, and the Sahelian region of sub-Saharan Africa could become uninhabitable on a permanent basis. Climate-forced migration would be unmistakeable with tens of millions of people at a time displaced by extreme weather events, such as floods, storms and glacial lake outburst floods, and many millions more displaced by climate processes like desertification, salinization of agricultural land and sea level rise.’
A 200 million minimum estimate for migration, alongside water and food shortages, will pose a fundamental challenge to Western liberalism – considering that the Syrian Civil War created 5 million refugees, and yet the social fabric of Western liberal society was existentially questioned by this wave of migration, opening the door for the rise of the Right-Populist reactionary wave of the latter half of the 2010s. No communist, or other rational individual for that matter, can doubt that it is highly unclear whether the current capitalist order can construct a mechanism of settlement that would at all deal with this crisis without abandoning millions to a slow death or stoking the flames of chauvinistic ideology. The only sure way of resolving the pressures that will be exerted on the very social fabric of modern society in this scenario, is revolution – for the unpropertied classes to extend their rule against those who act as capital personified.
In France, the struggle of the sans-papiers (literally, without-papers) stands as the greatest example of this resurging militancy. Thrust into the international media spotlight in 1996 as the police burst open the doors of a church where the early sans-papiers were on hunger strike, protesting the treatment of undocumented labour by the French state, the event sparked a national wave of solidarity between other undocumented labourers and the French militants fighting alongside them. In more recent years an inverse dynamic occurred where the French mass struggle against Macron’s neoliberal policies, known as the gilets jaunes, birthed the gilets noirs: like before, their struggle was that of undocumented nomadic labour crushed between its exploitation by capital on one side and the French state’s chauvinistic deportation policies on the other. The gilets noirs bravely seized a terminal in Charles de Gaulle Airport on the 19 May 2019 and demanded the Prime Minister and CEO of Air France, whom they termed ‘the official deporter of the French state’, meet them in the terminal so as to forward their demands for residency and the right to bring their families to France. Later they occupied Eloir Group, a company which offers cleaning, catering and laundry services to detention centres, and extended their solidarity to the gilets jaunes at large by aiding them in the solidarity gathering for striking transport workers in the Gennevilliers of Paris.
As communists, we must understand that our struggle, whether in times of objectively bad conditions or not, is at all times contingent on our own development as communists; not only should we not doubt the relevance of Lenin’s struggle’s to our times, but equally we can’t fall into pessimism over the stage of development the communist movement finds itself in at any given time. The future lasts a very long time, and the ruptural unity of contradictions can only come to actualise the potentiality of the dictatorship of the proletariat if the burning questions of our movement are asked and answered with the unity of thought and practice. To conclude, a word from Lenin:
‘However weak and embryonic this beginning may be, the party of the working class must make use of it and will do so. We were able to work years and decades before the revolution, carrying our revolutionary slogans first into the study circles, then among the masses of the workers, then on to the streets, then on to the barricades. We must be capable, now too, of organising first and foremost that which constitutes the task of the hour, and without which all talk about co-ordinated political action will be empty words, namely, the task of building a strong proletarian organisation, everywhere carrying on political agitation among the masses for its revolutionary watchwords. It is this task of organisation in their own student midst, this agitation based on the concrete movement, that our university groups, too, should tackle. The proletariat will not be behindhand. It often yields the palm to the bourgeois democrats in speeches at banquets, in legal unions, within the walls of universities, from the rostrum of representative institutions. It never yields the palm, and will not do so, in the serious and great revolutionary struggle of the masses. All the conditions for bringing this struggle to a head are not ripening as quickly and easily as some of us would hope—but those conditions are ripening and gathering head unswervingly. And the little beginning of little academic conflicts is a great beginning, for after it – if not today then tomorrow, if not tomorrow then the day after – will follow big continuations.’
 Karl Marx, ‘The General Law of Capitalist Accumulation’, Capital Volume 1, (London: 1976), pp849
 Govanhill, Understanding Glasgow, (2013)
 Freiderich Engels, The Housing Question, (1872)
 Poole, L., & Adamson, K. (2008). Report on the Situation of the Roma Community in Govanhill, Glasgow. University of the West of Scotland.
 Karl Marx, ‘The Process of Exchange’, Capital Volume 1, (London: 1976), pp187
 V. I. Lenin, The Chain Is No Stronger Than Its Weakest Link, (1964)
 V. I. Lenin, What is to be Done?, (Mansfield: 2013), pp28
 International Organisation for Migration, Migration and Climate Change, (Geneva: 2008), pp28
 Jane Freedman, Migration and Activism in Europe Since 1945, (New York: 2008), pp 81-96
[v] Luke Butterly, ‘Who Are the Gilets Noirs?’, New Internationalist, 23 July, 2020.
[vi] V. I. Lenin, The Student Movement and the Present Political Situation, (1908), https://www.marxists.org/archive/lenin/works/1908/oct/03b.htm