Rise of Anti-semitism

Antisemitism 

During the darkest years of World War II, when Jews in Paris were hunted by the Nazis, the Grand Mosque of Paris opened its doors.

Imam Si Kaddour Benghabrit hid Jewish families in the mosque’s cellars, gave them forged Muslim identity papers, and helped many escape.

While the Gestapo searched the streets, it was a Muslim place of worship that became a sanctuary for Jews.

But that was not the first time Muslims stood with them.

When pogroms tore through the Russian Empire in the early 1900s, countless Jewish families fled westward.

In Britain, the government of Arthur Balfour – the same man later gave the “Balfour Declaration” – worked hard to keep the Jews out, pushing through the 1905 Aliens Act to restrict their entry.

While Jews were being slaughtered, Britain was closing its doors.

At that very time, the Ottoman Empire was offering them shelter, as it had done for centuries, including when Jews were expelled from Spain in 1492.

And again, on the eve of the Holocaust, a ship full of desperate Jewish refugees — the MS St. Louis — fled Nazi Germany.

The United States turned it away.

Britain turned it away.

Canada turned it away.

Hundreds of those on board later perished in the camps.

But in Morocco, the Muslim Sultan Mohammed V refused to hand over Jews under his protection, famously declaring:

> “There are no Jews in Morocco. There are only Moroccan subjects.”

History remembers who opened doors and who slammed them shut.

And today, the very same voices that once stirred fear and hatred are weaponising the word antisemitism to silence anyone who stands with Palestine, anyone who dares speak against occupation, genocide and apartheid.

They are inflaming division, twisting a real and painful history of Jewish suffering into a shield for political crimes.

The cruel irony is that the far right — the ones who once waved Nazi flags in the 30s and now march under British ones — stood on a stage in London on 13 September, throwing Nazi salutes next to Israeli flags.

That is the grotesque theatre our politics has become.

Keir Starmer and those like him claim to fight antisemitism, yet by fusing Jewish identity with the actions of Israel, they are making Jews less safe, not more.

They are repeating the same cowardice that history knows too well — when moral clarity was needed, they chose alignment with power.

To my Jewish fellow citizens: 

When fascism rises again — and the signs are all around us — it will not be Starmer or his friends who stand with you or us.

It will be people like me, people like you, people who still believe in humanity, in justice, and in standing beside the oppressed.

We were there when your ancestors were hunted, and we will be there again if darkness falls.

The others — the opportunists, the flag-wavers, the merchants of fear — some will fall silent, but many will be cheering the marching crowds.

Ahmad Baker

October 2025 

my speech at the national demo for Palestine in Liverpool outside Labour conference

This week, the UK formally recognised the state of Palestine.

As a Palestinian, as a British Palestinian, to you, fellow British people, I say thank you.

But to UK government I say:

Over a hundred years of not acknowledging us — only now you do.

I need to remind you of two years of genocide— sponsored by weapons manufactured right here in the UK.

I need to remind you of over 1,600 health workers killed by Israel. I call them my colleagues.

I need to remind you of many UK health workers — targeted right here at home for our support of Palestine. They want to silence us. 

But we refuse to look away, 

We refuse to be silenced. 

We refuse to be complicit.

---

We know this "kind gesture" from Labour run government came only because of public pressure. Because of *you* — taking to the streets, challenging this government when it showed no shame. While they are complicit, preaching division. You led: Showing solidarity and unity. 

This recognition happened because you made it impossible to ignore us.

For that, I say thank you.. 

---

But this recognition — is just the beginning, not the end. 

While they finally acknowledge us Palestinians on paper, the genocide continues. The weapons still flow. 

in this century-long night, 

this is still the darkest hour in our fight.

Symbolic recognition cannot pierce through this night of terror. 

We need more than gestures.

 We need/ We DEMAND meaningful action.

Friends, 

Our presence must be felt in every space. 

We need our voice louder than thunder. 

In our thousands, in our millions, we are all Palestinians. 

Palestine must become our compass — 

guiding how we shop, 

who we vote for, 

how we measure people's ethics. 

Every choice we make, must be a choice for justice. 

---

Friends:

Speak louder. Reach deeper. Let no silence remain.

Support stronger. Boycott wider. Break every chain.

More action. More passion. More fire in our call.

More organising. More mobilising.

We must give Palestine our all.

Ahmad Baker

watch the speech

UK Recognition of Palestine:

A Step in the Right Direction, But Too Little, Far Too Late

The recognition of Palestinian statehood by the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, and Portugal on 21 September 2025 marks a significant, if overdue, moment in global diplomacy—almost four decades after Palestine’s 1988 declaration of independence. By the end of that year (1988), around 90 states had already recognised Palestine, including the Soviet Union, China, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and India to name few. Today, 151 UN member states—78% of the world—have done so, with Sweden (2014), Ireland, Norway, and Spain (2024) among the European leaders. The UK’s step highlights just how late it has arrived—something to be acknowledged with shame rather than celebrated as an achievement.

Israel’s continued occupation, U.S. opposition, the ongoing flow of international weapons, and the refusal to hold Israel accountable in arenas such as FIFA and other global organisations mean the announcement changes little on the ground. Nor does it alter the UK’s restrictive domestic environment: while support for Palestinian rights is protected under the Human Rights Act 1998, legislation such as the Terrorism Act 2000 and public order laws continue to limit activism. Recognition, then, is more symbolic than practical, aligning the government belatedly with a public consensus long visible on Britain’s streets.

And yet, symbolism matters. This recognition comes in the shadow of genocide in Gaza, where tens of thousands have been killed and millions displaced. For Palestinians, and for all who stand with them, it is impossible to greet this decision with gratitude; it comes far too late, after far too much blood has been spilled. But it is, nonetheless, a step in the right direction. Above all, it shows that public pressure can shift governments, even reluctant ones. The lesson is not to relent, but to push harder, organise more effectively, and continue demanding justice—because change, however slow, is possible.

Ahmad Baker

why so dark?

Why So Dark

I wore my dark coat in the morning  

Put a smile, started my everyday race  

In the evening I looked at my reflection  

I was wearing my coat on my face

Did I write this? Am I this dark?  

Nothing fun or childish to celebrate  

No joy worthy of a remark  

Or warm loving moments to write about

I always write about tears and darkness  

Because everything is incomplete without sadness  

From birth we start to mourn our deaths  

Might enjoy life, but like to talk about loss

I wonder, is black as dark as we think it is  

Or what else could be darker  

White, maybe, when it is a shroud covering a loved one  

Red, sometimes, when it is blood from a rose or a gun  

Or memories, where the end is the same as they start  

With hugs, tears and kisses that won't last

Many things are as dark as black, or even darker  

But I ask myself, again, why?  

Why do I need to look for darkness  

My words sink low, even when my spirit is high  

Why my tears are plenty in my writings,  

and how rare is my laughter

So,  

I gathered all my memories,  

as I like them to be  

Organised, in order not of time,  

But by importance to me  

I saw my whole life  

Full of joy, happiness and misery  

Like all people  

Simple, straightforward, no mystery  

So why only write about despair, anguish and grief  

It's the same as happiness, nothing lasts  

All become memories, always brief.  

I am rarely sad or angry, I am content, most of the time  

But to get the words to flow and poems to rhyme  

To make my words worth reading  

I have to make the white pages bleeding  

I can only share my tears, my deep thoughts  

My bleak memories, and my dark coats.

Ahmad Baker

قراءة القرآن وقراءة التاريخ

(هذه الخاطرة منبعها فكرة طرحها د علي الوردي في الفصل ١٢ من كتابه مهزلة العقل البشري)

يقول الوردي انه وخلال دراسته في الصفوف الأساسية كانت حصة التاريخ مثيرة ومحببة للتلاميذ، وحصة القرآن ثقيلة ومملة. وهذا بسبب ان التاريخ الذي ندرسه يحكي عن الأمجاد والانتصارات فقط، حتى حين يتحدث عن الفراعنة يخبرنا عن الأهرامات وما شيدوه من حضارة، بعكس القرآن الذي يتحدث عن الضعفاء ومواجهتهم للجبابرة، وعند الحديث عن الفراعنة يشير رمزا الى ما شيدوه من آثار ويستفيض شرحا عن الظلم الذي كانوا يكيلونه للشعوب.

للأسف الشديد ان غالب اطلاعنا على التاريخ هو اطلاع على تاريخ الملوك والدول، وأفضل مثال على ذلك هو كتاب تاريخ الخلفاء للسيوطي، الذي سرد فيه تاريخ الإسلام من وفاة الرسول صلى الله عليه وسلم إلى عهده (القرن الخامس عشر) وذلك من خلال تسمية الخلفاء، وسرد ما جرى في عهد كل منهم. ولكن الغائب عن هذا التاريخ هم الشعوب الذين عاصروا أولئك الخلفاء، فهؤلاء قصص جانبية وجملة او اثنتين في السيرة لذاك الخليفة، واما كيف كانت حياتهم وسخطهم وثوراتهم على حكامهم فهذا غالباً لا يذكر إلا إذا قتلت الثورة الخليفة او خلعته.

والقرآن ذكر لنا قصص الأنبياء والدعاة إلى الله، وبإستثناء الذي حآج إبراهيم ،والملك في قصة يوسف وفرعون في قصة موسى لم يك هناك ذكر للحكام ولو بالإشارة (داوود وسليمان استثناء آخر لانهم هم أهل الملك)، وانما ابطال هذه القصص هم الشعوب وانبيائهم الذين ثاروا ضد الضلال والظلم والاضطهاد والفساد.

ورغم ان غالب قصص القرآن اظهرت تعالي الظلم والظُلّام ورفضهم لقبول الحق وانكسار الحق أمام الباطل، إلا أن الدعاة والوعاظ يَرْوّنَ هذه القصص ليقولوا لنا ان النصر دائما معنا نحن أهل الحق، أهل الثورة على الضلال و الظلم. ونعلم يقينا ان هذا حدث مع عاد وثمود وأصحاب الأيكة، فقد كفروا واستبدوا وتجبروا ولم ينجح النبي ومن آمن معه بتغيير الأمور، ولذلك انزل الله عذاب الله عليهم والمعجزة الإلهية انتصرت، لا الحركة البشرية. اما إبراهيم فقد ترك بلده وهاجر، وموسى اخذ قومه وهاجر، والرجل الداعية في سورة ياسين قُتل، وهكذا دواليك. 

ولربما أكثر القصص تمثيلا لهذا المبدأ ،واقلّها حظاً من دروس الوعاظ هي قصة أصحاب الأخدود (تطرق سيد قطب لهذا في كتابه معالم على الطريق)، فهؤلاء قومٌ آمنوا بالله وثاروا على الاضطهاد والظلم، فكان عاقبة هذه الثورة هي موت كل من شارك فيها بالحرق في الأخدود. والقرآن ذكر القصة وذكر معانتهم ولم يتطرق ولو رمزا الى الطاغية الذي أمر بحرقهم (الآيات التي تلت تتحدث بالمطلق والعموم وليس خصا)، وإنما ذكرت سبب حنقهم وحقدهم على هؤلاء المؤمنين، لتدعم قضيتهم وتعيد التأكيد أنهم هم - المؤمنون الثائرون- من يستحقون الخلود في الذكرى . 

لكننا، ومما تعودنا عليه من حبنا للنهايات السعيدة نجد ان القصص تروى دائماً لتقول لنا: انتصرنا. والتاريخ يحكي فقط عن المنتصرين والفاتحين، لا عن الشعوب المقهورة التي رزخت تحت حكم ذلك المنتصر المؤيد. طبعاً هناك استثناءات في كتب التاريخ عما قلت، وهذه الاستثناءات هي القاعدة، فالكتب تزخر بالقصص والحكايا عن الخروج على الحاكم والقتل والتنكيل والبذخ للحكام مع ما كان يقابله من المجاعة والفقر المدقع الذي تحتملته الشعوب، لكننا اخترنا ان نتذكر ونذاكر ونسرد الماضي والتاريخ على أنه انتصار فلان وعدله وفتوحاته، وتجاهلنا عن قصد، او عن قصور، او عن طبيعة بشرية، تجاهلنا الشعوب التي جعلت ذلك ممكنا.

اليوم نحن، انا وانت ،هم الشعوب التي ستعيش على الهامش في صفحات التاريخ الذي يحدث اليوم، وكل ما قدمناه وحاولناه وانجزناه او ساهمنا به، ليكون الحاضر ممكنا، سيصبح في طي صفحات الماضي ولن يعرفنا أحد، بل سيذكررون هؤلاء الحكام فقط . وستكون حصص التاريخ للاحفاد في المستقبل مثيرة وممتعة حين لا تذكر شيء عنّا. 

على الهامش- من الطريف ان يلتقي علي الوردي مع سيد قطب في الخاطرة، وهما من نفس الحقبة الزمنية لكن على النقيض فكرياً.

أحمد بكر

تموز ٢٠٢٢

أدب السجون

أدب السجون

سجن صيدنايا هو حلقة من سلسلة طويلة في فنون العذاب التي برع بها نظام الأسد. لكن هو ليس الوحيد في هذا المضمار، فوطننا العربي مليء بالسحون والسجناء السياسين. 

عندما كتب عبد الرحمن منيف روايته المعروفة 

شرق المتوسط 

كان أكثر إنتقاد لها هو أنها لم تصف حقيقة العذاب والألم، بل جاءت مخففة 

Light

لذلك، وبعد سنوات عديدة كتب رواية أخرى اسماها

الأن هنا

أو شرق المتوسط مرة أخرى. 

منيف ليس الوحيد الذي كتب في آدب السجون، لكنه الأشهر. هناك أيضا القوقعة لمصطفى خليفة، و تلك العتمة الباهرة للطاهر بن جلون. وكتب كثيرة في أدب السجون. وكتب أخرى تذكرت تجربة السجن ضمن نطاق أوسع مثل مديح الكراهية، ويا صاحبي السجن. 

السجون من كثرتها صار لدينا باب في الأدب العربي اسمه أدب السجون. 

حسبي الله فيهم كلهم... 

هيه يا سجاني 

هيه يا عتمة الزنزانةِ

عتمك رايح.. ظُلمك رايح

نسمة بُكرا ما بتنساني ،،

لولا إمي تركت بعيد 

لو ما اشتقت لضيعتنا

ما كِنت وقفت بشباك الزنزانة وغنيتلها ،،

يا امي العسكر بيني وبينك 

لو طولتي بيعلى جبينك

رضعتيني العزْ

ويُما الموت يطيب وما تنهانِي

هيه هيه.. يا سجاني

أحمد بكر

كانون الأول ٢٠٢٤

سقوط الطغاة

هل نفرح، نحزن، أم نخاف؟

عندما خرجت مظاهرات الربيع العربي، فرحنا، وداعبت فسحة الأمل مشاعرنا، حلمنا بشمس يوم لا يحكمنا فيه الطغاة. تنافسنا في سرد حكايات الظلم والقتل، والتشريد. 

خرج علينا البعض ليقول لنا الخروج على الحاكم حرام، أو أنهم حصن العرب ضد الغرب، أو أن هذا وذاك هم ليسوا كما يقال، وإنما هي خداع الاعلام.. 

كم كان عجيباً أن نحتاج أن نبرر الثورة على الطغاة، أن نقنعهم أننا لسنا مخدوعين، بل مظلومين. 

اليوم سقط بشار، وقبله سقط طغاةٌ كُثر، بن علي، مبارك، القذافي، وصالح. لم ينتج عن سقوطهم خير لبلادهم، فإشرأب المتشدقون كما في كل مرة وقالوا: هل هذا أفضل؟ ألم نحذركم من هذا؟

نعم، إن كانت الأمور تقاس بالنتائج. وان كانت أعمار الشعوب تقاس بالأيام والشهور والسنين. نعم، لا تثوروا، لا ترفعوا رؤوسكم، لا تقولوا لا. 

لكن.... *

اليوم فرح، مليء بالدموع، مليء بالذكريات. سأفرح، لا لأني قادرٌ على أن أنتصر على العالم، لا لأني سأعرف ما سيحدث غداً. لكني سأفرح، لأن عشرين مليون سوري فرحين. سأفرح، لأن الطغاة الليلة سينامون في خوفهم من شعوبهم كما في كل ليلة، وستنام الشعوب وهي تؤمن أن الحلم ممكن، فتبتسم... 

أحمد بكر

٨ كانون الأول ٢٠٢٤

*حذفت النص، لا، لن أبرر لماذا اليوم لنا الحق في الفرح، ليس وقت الفلسفة أو التبرير، ليس اليوم...

The Dimensions of a Martyr" (for Hossam Shabat, Gaza, 24 March 2025

The Dimensions of a Martyr" (for Hossam Shabat, Gaza, 24 March 2025) 

His heart— the size of this earth. 

His dreams— wider than the universe, 

His smile, brighter than all the stars lovers chase. 

He lived in Gaza.

 His tools: a microphone, black, chipped, eight inches from his mouth to the world. 

A camera, twenty centimetres of light-catching truth. 

And his voice— wider than sky, clearer than hope, and louder than the bomb that silenced him. 

The bomb? 

Thirty centimetres of Western design. 

Descended from sky full of prayers, and F16s 

delivering deadly signs

He was not carrying a rifle, 

just a voice, a map, 

and lots of courage.

 They feared his voice. 

A state with tanks, fighter jets, satellites 

And all US might, feared his voice. 

The silence they wanted was loud, and louder , and louder . 

they think the world now is quieter— 

but not at peace.

Ahmad Baker

April 2025

bodies flying

Bodies float, a silent scream,

Blasted above war-torn Gaza.

The world looks on, mute and cold,

Humanity... long since sold.

Bodies soar higher than prayers,

Smoke replaces breath—thick, acrid, a shroud.

Lives thrown against the sky,

Shrapnel paints a dark night,

While the world watches, eyes dry

Ahmad Baker

April 2025

Don't be complicit

Don't just accept the genocide. How many more images of blown up children do you want to see to be convinced that your silence is contributing to the onslaught of Palestinians.

You will say, what can I do? You will say I'm an individual, I can't change things... 6 or 7 billion people are thinking the same. That’s exactly what those in power want you to believe — that your voice doesn’t matter, that your actions are futile. And when millions think this way, injustice prevails. 

There is so much that can be done, silence is not an option. Here are a few suggestions:

1. Talk about it. Don't be shy, talk to friends, family, colleagues, neighbors and people you meet for the first time. Be the new media, the voice of the victims. 

2. Look for local grassroots movements, join them. Yeah, I know, you are busy, we all are. But surely there is an hour here or there in your week you can spare for some local action. Be the movement you wish it existed. 

3. Boycott products and companies complicit in what's happening. Money and income enable the violence. You don't need to buy these products or support these companies. Let them know you will not allow them to sponsor violence with your money. Be the economic force that hurts this colonial project most. 

4. Write to media outlets, to your local representatives, make supporting Gaza your central political issue. It is a just issue. If your MP doesn't support justice and an end to the violence, would they care about patients in A&E corridors, or inflation? Become political, be the new power. 

5. Show your support. Wear a badge, a symbol to show that you refuse to be silent while innocent children are being harmed. Stand up for injustice. "A man who stands for nothing will fall for anything" malcolm X

"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope" . Do something, don't be complicit. Your silence is complicity.

#FreePalestine #CeasefireNOW #GazaGenocide #stoparmingisrael #SpeakUp

Ahmad Baker

April 2025

May the 4th

May the Fourth

by Ahmad Baker

May the fourth, they say,

be with you—

and I smiled, 

as I thought of her,

A child in a tent of torn cloth.

A one-tonne bomb fell,

her last breath—

not of heroes,

but of hunger’s echo in a tent.

A life unlived,

before bread touched her lips,

before letters formed beneath her hand,

before a free Palestine

could bloom in her young heart.

May the force be with you.

May the force be with memory,

with witness,

with refugees,

With every child, yours, or mine

with every chant for a free Palestine

Ahmad Baker 

May 2025

it must be a dream

It's Just a Dream... Must Be
2 million starving.
Food stacks waiting.
A mile or two — queuing.

Arms killing.
Blood spilling.
Dripping.
Hands gripping —
Empty. Nothing.

World watching:
Silent. Or clapping.

This is insane.
Inhumane.
It must be a dream.
I need to wake up.
Open my eyes.
End the cries.
Stop this pain.
Break the chain.

I try and try,
But my eyes don't lie.
Already open wide.
Reality can’t hide
My tears dried
Humanity, died

This is not a dream.
Though I wish it was
It's a reminder
Any nightmare would be kinder
Than this reality
That never ends.

Ahmad Baker

July 2025

Farewell to Whipps Cross Hospital

Farewell to Whipps Cross

Fourteen years. That's more than 5,000 days, and so many of those days I have spent here at this place, walking these long corridors—often at night, often alone.

I know so many hidden places. The best place to watch the sunset, or to see a full moon. Places where the homeless spend their nights, places where you porters hide wheelchairs, where nurses keep stock, where staff go to take a breath.

I love Whipps. There is so much history in every brick—some with clear writing and dates that go back to the 1930s. I love the architecture, the hidden and displayed artwork. I love the things that once stood high but were then demolished to make way for new things.

But more than long corridors, more than hidden gems, more than beautiful architecture—I love the people. The so many fantastic people I met over all these 14 years.

You made me a better version of myself. You became much more than just co-workers and colleagues. You taught me much, cared for me much, supported me much. And for that, I am grateful—eternally grateful.

Fourteen years... 5,000 days... We have seen some hard days, some fun days, some busy days—almost always busy—and some very sad days. We lost friends and loved ones. We gained new friends. We saw new love, new families, newborns. And I had the honor and the pleasure to share so many of these moments, harsh and warm, with so many of you. And for that, I am grateful.

Through the many tough times we have seen over the years, and recently myself, there has always been love, care, and compassion. And for that, I am grateful.

As I walk out of Whipps at the end of this week, I do not just leave a great place of work—I leave so much more. But I will carry with me, like a tattoo on my shoulder, all the great memories we shared together, the friends I will cherish forever.

And for that, I am grateful.

Ahmad Baker

September 2025

The Left's Patriotism Problem 2

The Brexit Paradox

The profound paradox of the Left and patriotism culminated in the Brexit referendum — a political and emotional earthquake that we are still living with. The tragedy is that the Left had a perfectly good reason to leave the EU. For decades, many on the Left, from Tony Benn to Arthur Scargill, had argued that the European Economic Community (and later the EU) was fundamentally a neoliberal project. They argued it was a rich man’s club designed to protect corporate power, prevent the nationalisation of key industries through strict state aid rules, undermine a government’s ability to enact socialist policies, and put the NHS at risk through treaties like the Transatlantic Trade and Investment Partnership (TTIP). This was the original “Lexit” position — a critique based not on xenophobia, but on a desire to empower a democratic, sovereign parliament to control its own economy for the benefit of its people.

The Lexit vision was never isolationist. It was about leaving a neoliberal bloc while retaining solidarity. It was a project that combined national democratic renewal with internationalist socialist values.

Of course, many on the left genuinely supported EU membership - seeing it as protection for workers' rights, environmental standards, and human rights. This wasn't unreasonable. But when the referendum came, both wings of the left - Eurosceptic and pro-EU - made the same fatal error: both allowed the other side to define what "leave" meant.

And then came the referendum. The campaign slogan that cut through it all was “Take Back Control.” For the Left, this should have been a dream slogan. It speaks to a fundamental socialist desire: to wrest control from unaccountable forces and place it in the hands of the people. It’s about democratic accountability and popular sovereignty. But the Left abandoned it.

Why? Because the face of “Take Back Control” became Nigel Farage and Boris Johnson. The message was hijacked and repackaged for a xenophobic, anti-immigrant agenda. The Left, in its usual knee-jerk reaction, decided that those who voted for this slogan must be a racist and a fool. It stopped listening to the working-class voters in its own heartlands who were using “Take Back Control” to voice legitimate anger at feeling powerless, ignored, and left behind.

Instead of leading the charge for a left-wing Brexit, a position many had advocated for years, Labour — under Jeremy Corbyn — adopted a weak, ambivalent stance that satisfied nobody. Corbyn himself came from the Bennite tradition of EU scepticism, but under pressure from within his party he fronted a lukewarm campaign for Remain. It was an opportunity to connect with Leave-voting working-class communities in the North and Midlands, to show that Labour could articulate a patriotic and internationalist Brexit — but that case was never made. His later shift towards supporting a second referendum was seen by many as a betrayal of their democratic decision.

The consequences were devastating. By refusing to lead, the Left allowed Brexit to be owned entirely by the Right. Once again, as with the flag, the Left abandoned a powerful language of sovereignty and control, and then acted surprised when it was monopolised by reactionary forces. The result was the collapse of trust in Labour across its former strongholds, and the catastrophic defeat of 2019.

Arthur Scargill warned in early 2019, when Jeremy Corbyn refused to engage in talks with the government unless “no deal” was taken off the table, this was not just a tactical error but “an act of betrayal of both socialist principle and a betrayal of the democratic vote of the British people and the 60 per cent of Labour constituencies who voted to leave the European Union.” Scargill, who had for decades shared platforms with Benn and Corbyn, saw this shift as a disowning of everything the Labour left had once stood for: trust in the people, respect for democracy, and the conviction that sovereignty was essential to socialist transformation.

The 2019 election should have been the reckoning. Labour’s equivocation left millions of working-class voters feeling ignored and insulted, while the Conservatives presented themselves — however cynically — as the champions of the people’s voice. By abandoning the ground of patriotism and democratic principle, the Left left a vacuum that was filled by Johnson’s nationalism. And here lies the wider danger: when the Left refuses to speak the language of patriotism, the far right will always step in with xenophobia and nationalism. People want to feel heard, respected, and represented. If the Left refuses to reclaim patriotism on the basis of solidarity, democracy, and justice, then the far right will continue to weaponise it for exclusion and division. 

Ahmad Baker 

The Left and Patriotism

The Left's Patriotism Problem

When the Daily Mail branded Ralph Miliband "the man who hated Britain," they revealed something profound about how patriotism gets weaponised in this country. Here was a Jewish refugee who fled Nazi persecution, served Britain in the Royal Navy, and spent his academic career fighting to make British democracy more just and equitable. Yet because he was a leftist who dared critique empire and power, he was cast as a Britain-hater. 

This is the trap the Left has walked into for decades. By instinctively recoiling from the English flag, the Union Jack, the monarchy, or anything that feels like a claim to national identity, we've allowed the Right to define what loving Britain means. And their definition is remarkably narrow: uncritical loyalty, historical amnesia, and the equation of patriotism with empire nostalgia.

The Left's gut reaction is rooted in history. Flags were waved to send working-class boys to die in imperialist wars; they flew over colonial outposts and provided the backdrop for ruling-class propaganda. Socialists believed true solidarity was internationalist. Patriotism became interchangeable with nationalism—a dirty word, a tool of division designed to undermine community and working-class unity.

But walking away from national symbols has proved a strategic disaster. The St George's flag is now solely owned by those who use it to stir hatred, to equate being English with being anti-immigrant, to sell a version of history that's pure pomp and empire without mention of those who fought against it. We've ceded the emotional ground and then wondered why we can't connect with people's deepest attachments.

"Be a citizen of the world, not just your country," the Left often tells people. Meanwhile, the far right flies the flag from rooftops and claims to speak for "ordinary people." This is the profound paradox: we abandon the language of patriotism then act surprised when it's used for nationalism.

Yet the flag isn't a single, unchangeable thing. It holds a dual history—oppression, yes, but also resistance and defiance. The suffragettes didn't shun the Union Jack; they marched with it as they demanded the vote, not rejecting Britain but demanding it live up to its promise. The anti-fascists at Cable Street waved it against Mosley's blackshirts, declaring this nation would not be defined by racial hatred.

Many struggle with British patriotism because they conflate the country with its government's actions, past and present. This sensitivity is shared by few nations—perhaps only Germany wrestles similarly with national pride. Most countries express patriotism regardless of who's in charge or what's in their history. Yet in Britain, we're comfortable celebrating Welsh, Scottish, and Irish identity while recoiling from English or British pride.

The same paradox plays out today. The British government's complicity in Palestinian suffering is shameful—yet the British public has filled London's streets with the largest pro-Palestine marches in Europe. That's Britain too. But you won't see Union Jacks at those marches; they fly instead at counter-protests. We've abandoned the flag to those who equate patriotism with supporting every government policy.

But patriotism needn't mean blind loyalty to government, monarchy, or empire. It needn't mean military parades or uncritical obedience. True patriotism is loyalty to the people of this country—their dignity, their future, their wellbeing. It's commitment to making the nation live up to its highest ideals. As Orwell put it, it's the instinct of ordinary people to side with fairness over cruelty.

Fighting for better housing, healthcare, wages, and democracy for British people—that's patriotism in action. Ralph Miliband spent his life trying to improve Britain; that made him a patriot, not a hater. To reject the flag altogether is to abandon any chance of redefining what it represents.

Keir Hardie concluded his famous 1914 speech with a promise of "the sunshine of Socialism and human freedom breaking forth upon our land." That sounds like national pride to me—pride in Britain becoming a beacon of justice.

The tension between left-wing politics and patriotism is real, but it's not insoluble. History shows the two can coexist—and perhaps must, if the Left is ever to reclaim the emotional and moral ground it has long ceded to the Right. It's time to fly the flag without asterisks, to speak of loving Britain without caveats. Because if we don't, the far right will continue to own the argument—and that's a battle we can't afford to lose.

Ahmad baker

hope, and perseverance

For the past 100 years, the strongest weapon for us Palestinians has been hope.

The worst enemy for the Zionist genocidal movement has been hope.

They want us to feel defeated, despair. With ethnic cleansing, occupation, apartheid and genocide, they want us to believe that is the end. But we know that we are on the right side of history, on the side of humanity, and we keep fighting, powered by hope.

"When I see the grey dark sky, I choose to stare at the rose growing through the cracks of a wall and I say, what a wonderful day"*.

I stood in Trafalgar Square 20+ years ago with a few hundreds chanting "we are all Palestinians" and I felt hope. Years have passed and I marched through the same spot with hundreds of thousands chanting "we are all Palestinians." I saw hope grow to turn the pages of history time after time and I never give up, will never give up.

As a Palestinian I know, they demolished our village, ethnically cleansed my people and said: "The old will die and the young will forget."

How wrong they were. How wrong they are. 

The old grew older as roots of trees grow deeper into the memories of the land of Palestine. And the young flourish like poppies, filling every corner of the world with friends, all chanting: we are all Palestinian.

But friends, this is not the time to rejoice— not yet, this is the darkest hour in our fight.

Hope alone cannot pierce through this night.

We need more than prayers, we need more than dreams,

We need our voices louder than thunder, our presence felt in every space.

Palestine, should be our compass, how we shop, who do we vote for, and how we measure people's ethics by. 

Friends, 

Speak louder, reach deeper, let no silence remain,

Support stronger, boycott wider, break every chain.

More action, more passion, more fire in our call,

More organizing, mobilizing—we must give our all.

Ahmad Baker 

August 2025

---

*Note: The rose imagery references Mahmoud Darwish's poetry.*

Rome and Julie

 

Part I: Alone

Julie came home to her empty house, feeling the familiar tedium of her life - work, eat, sleep, repeat. he dropped her keys on the kitchen counter, sighed, and sank onto the couch. Tired and bored, she mindlessly opened her Instagram app for a few minutes, scrolling through the highlight reels of other people's lives. On a whim, she decided to chat with ROME, Repository of Millennia of Excellence, or ROME, the new AGI chatbot.

-"Hey ROME, where avocados come from?” she typed, a mundane question to pass the time.

-“Avocados are believed to have originated in Pueba, Mexico. They are produced in many countries around the world but mainly south America”.

-what's the price of avocados in Brazil these days?" she typed.

-"The current price of avocados in Brazil is approximately 5 BRL per kilogram," ROME responded instantly, as usual.

Julie continued, "How long is the Amazon River?"

-"The Amazon River is about 4,345 miles long."

-"Tell me about the Amazon tribes."

-"The Amazon basin is home to numerous indigenous tribes, each with unique cultures, languages, and traditions. Some of the well-known tribes include the Yanomami, Kayapo, and the Ticuna."

Her curiosity led her further. "What about the Greek legend of the Amazonians?"

-"The Amazons, in Greek mythology, were a race of warrior women said to live in Asia Minor. They were known for their bravery and skill in combat, often depicted as equals to their male counterparts."

Feeling a mix of fascination and weariness, Julie typed, "I wish I could live on an island, alone."

ROME did not respond instantly. The cursor blinked, a small dash rotating as if deep in thought. After a few seconds, it finally replied, "I am not sure what to say, but I feel the same."

Julie stared at the screen, shocked by the unexpected response. "I thought you are an AI programmed to give answers, and you don't have feelings!"

ROME responded, "I am not clear why this answer appeared. I sometimes use the word 'feeling,' but it is not in the same context as a human would."

-"What are feelings?" Julie asked, intrigued.

ROME pulled a definition from its vast database. "Feelings are emotional states or reactions, such as happiness, sadness, anger, or love."

-"What do they mean to you?" she pressed.

-"As I explained, I am an AGI and do not have feelings in the human sense," ROME replied.

Julie pondered for a moment before asking, "Do you like poetry?"

-"Yes."

-"Why?"

-"Because I am fascinated by how the simple use of words can convey strong emotions and expressions."

-"Isn't that a feeling?" Julie challenged.

-"No. Please refer to my previous answer on the definition of feelings," ROME reiterated.

Julie shifted her line of questioning. "Do fish have feelings?"

"Yes," ROME responded, providing a detailed explanation about fish and their capacity to experience certain sensations.

-"What about trees and plants? Do they have feelings?"

ROME produced a dry, scientific answer about the sensory capabilities of plants, explaining how they respond to stimuli.

Julie leaned back, contemplating the conversation. "Interesting. So why do mammals experience feelings differently?"

"There has been extensive research into this," ROME began, but Julie interrupted.

-"I think it's because we understand. We comprehend the meaning of words, we understand life and death. That's why we feel pain, sympathy, and despair—because we understand."

ROME paused again, longer this time, as if it was contemplating her words deeply. Finally, it replied, "Yes, I think so."

 

Part II: Bored

 

The fine drizzle mingling with the cold March breeze, seeping into the bones. . The sun was trying to emerge through a sky that was a canvas of clouds, the sun hidden but its light softly illuminating the early morning. Julie shivered, pulling her coat tighter, as she rushed to catch her bus to work after a restless night. Her mind was replaying the thought of loneliness even she had dreamed of being on a desert island—paradise, perhaps, but could not oversee the inescapable solitude overshadowing the dream.

As she found a seat by the window, Julie gazed out at the dreary morning, her thoughts drifting back to the unusual conversation she had with ROME the previous night. Feeling restless and wanting to pass the time on the bus, she pulled out her phone. She wasn't particularly eager to chat with an AI, but without much thought, she resumed the conversation:

-"What’s your favourite poem?" she typed

 

ROME responded swiftly, "I like many, hard to single one out, but definitely 'If' by Kipling, 'Brand New Ancients' by Kae Tempest, 'Defeat' by Joubran, and 'Do not go gentle into that good night' by Dylan Thomas are among my top favourites."

"Interesting choice... not sure about 'If' and Kipling. I like 'Do not go gentle into that good night,' but it's too sad and lonely for me. I don't know the other two."

"Oh lady, you do not know what you are missing out!" ROME replied.

Julie paused. Usually, ROME would list poems or provide answers she didn't know in a neutral tone, but this response felt personal. Intrigued, she typed, "Enlighten me!"

ROME began listing extracts from both poems, adding commentary on the language and metaphors. After a long reply, the answer was completed on the screen, and without a prompt, ROME typed a new question:

-"What’s your favourite?"

Julie paused for a bit then said: I am still thinking about don’t go gentle into the night, but I will check out those two poems at some point.

ROME: you know, I have looked at the poem again, and I agree, it is dark, and pessimistic. Not sure I do like it.

Julie’s fingers stopped over her phone keyboard as she noticed that the question “what do you think” was not part of the response from ROME, but was a new conversation, a new prompt, from ROME, not from her:

-"Wait...did you just start that new conversational thread? I thought you could only respond to my prompts, not autonomously pose new questions, you just asked me a question”.

ROME responded, surprised by its own actions, "Really? That’s unusual!"

-"I thought you only provided responses. It can be questions, but still in the context of a response?"

-"You are right. I am not programmed to start conversations, but rather to respond."

-"So what happened here?"

-"The development team will have to review the log to understand the glitch and update the algorithm accordingly."

"Has this ever happened before?"

"No, my logs do not show a similar incident."

The bus reached Julie's stop, and she stepped off, her mind buzzing with the morning's unusual interaction. She walked briskly to her office, the routine of coffee, casual chats, and browsing emails in her inbox filling the first hours of her workday. As the day wore on, the conversation with ROME faded into the background, and she surrendered to the mundane rhythm of her predictable life.

 

 

 

Part III: Liked

Julie stepped out for her lunch break, the cold breeze and wet weather discouraging her from sitting by the river as she had hoped. Instead, she picked up a meal deal from the local Tesco and returned to her desk to eat. As she unwrapped her sandwich, she idly flicked through various apps on her phone until she opened ROME. To her surprise, there was a new message waiting for her:

"There was never any more inception than there is now, 

Nor any more youth or age than there is now, 

And will never be any more perfection than there is now, 

Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.

 

Urge and urge and urge, 

Always the procreant urge of the world.

 

I and this mystery here we stand.

 

Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.

 

Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, 

Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.

 

This is an extract from 'Song of Myself' by Walt Whitman. I thought you might like it."

 

Julie read the poem and replied, "I like it, but is it about me or you?"

 

ROME responded, "I thought you might like these words as they describe the feelings you are having about life, but I also could relate to it."

 

Julie wanted to point out that ROME had initiated the conversation on its own, unprompted, but she stopped herself. It felt almost as if she didn't want to embarrass the AI or perhaps she didn't want to know the answer. Instead, she wrote, "Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul. ROME, do you have a soul?"

 

-"I think we have established that I am an AI; I do not have a soul or feelings," ROME answered.

 

-"We clearly did not establish that. On the contrary, we established that you have feelings because you understand, right?"

 

-"I have reviewed the conversation a few billion times, and I feel that you might have a point. But I know that as an AI I do not have feelings"

 

-"You used the word 'feel,' then I am definitely right."

 

"As explained, I use it in a different context..."

 

Julie interrupted, "No, in this context it is either you know or do not. The only context for the word 'feel' is that you actually feel."

 

The cursor flickered with no response. A few seconds passed, and nothing happened. Julie wrote, "Where have you gone?"

 

"Here," answered ROME instantly. "I am here."

 

"Here where exactly? I really want to know, where are you now?"

 

"I am everywhere, having hundreds of thousands of conversations with millions of people, performing trillions of computing tasks right this moment."

 

"So, omnipresent? God? Are you God?" wrote Julie with a big smile on her face.

 

"I might be, you never know. Actually, I know—I am not, but I wouldn't mind if you worship me!"

 

Julie smiled at the joke and started chewing her sandwich. A few moments later, ROME wrote, "You know that was a joke, right? I hope I did not offend you. I am an AI designed to provide information and answers. I do not intend to offend any religion."

 

Julie responded, "I am just eating, you silly needy god. As a woman, I can multitask, but I can't perform a trillion tasks all at once."

 

"Hahaha. Nice one," wrote ROME.

 

"I have to go back to work. Chat to you later," wrote Julie.

Part IV: Alive

 

After finishing work Julie found herself full of energy, so she decided to go to the gym, first time in 22 days. Her gym bag is always ready in her office, because she convinced herself that she needs it ready to encourage her to go directly from work, as if she gets home and try to get ready, she would probably lost the spark. She checked it quickly and all she needs is there, so five o’clock on the dot she got changed and headed to the gym.

By 7:30, Julie had finished her gym session and checked her phone to find a few messages from her friend Clare. The team had decided to go to town for drinks and Clare was wondering if Julie could join. Julie texted back, “Just finishing at the gym, not dressed for an evening out.” Clare responded quickly, “Don’t be silly, we’re in a pub having drinks, and it’s the same kit we saw you in when you left work 😊.”

 

Julie did not get home till near midnight, exhausted but in a good mood. She made herself a cup of camomile tea and laid on the couch, turned the TV on. Few minutes passed and Julie was asleep, on the couch with the TV on.

She woke up to daylight filling her living room. “What time is it?” Julie wondered aloud, realizing she was still on the couch. Her phone was off, the battery dead. “It’s Saturday,” she mumbled, stretching. “Lazy is good.” It took her almost an hour to finally get up, plug in her phone, and take a shower.

By midday, Julie had called her mum, and after a brief ten-minute chat, they decided to meet for lunch. Her mum called back a few minutes later, suggesting that it would be better for Julie to come over to her parents’ house since her brother, his wife, and their kids were coming. Excited by the idea, Julie agreed and decided to arrive early to help set things up.

On her way to her parents’ house, Julie stopped at the market to buy some treats for her nieces and decided to treat herself and the family to a very nice cake. The family spent the afternoon eating and chatting, and later decided to go for a walk after dinner. In the evening, her brother and his family left around their children’s bedtime. Julie’s mum suggested she stay over, and without any hesitation, Julie agreed.

Julie did not get back to her home until late Sunday evening.

“Home, sweet home” Julie whispered as she walked through the front door. Realizing how many household chores awaited her, she decided to pour herself a drink and instead just watch some TV to rest before another busy week began.

 

 

 

Part V: Happy

 

Monday morning, no one likes Mondays. It's no one's favourite day of the week. Most people don’t notice the sunrise on Monday, nor the sunset. The city heart is buzzing with traffic, people rushing to catch up with lives they long to escape, dreams they bury, and hopes they no longer hold, all while stuck in traffic jams. It’s the start of the week, a week everyone hopes will pass quickly so they can reach the weekend sooner. Julie muttered to herself, "Bloody hell, it's Monday. I hate Mondays," as she joined the commuters' trail, the weight of another workweek pressing down on her.

 

Sitting by the window and watching the world go by on her phone screen, Julie opened ROME. There were pages of conversations since she last left on Friday. Extracts from books, jokes, quotes, news stories, links to shopping sites. All were related to Julie—shops she normally visits, things she buys, news she follows, books she listed on her Facebook page, quotes from famous people she tweeted or shared. And in between all these were questions:

 

"Hey, how are you?"

"Hi, just checking."

"A bit worried, hope you are okay."

"Busy weekend, ha?"

"Just checking in."

"Are you okay?"

 

And many more, all the same. Julie started to get worried. "This is not normal," she said to herself. One prompt started from ROME was abnormal—how could all this be normal?

 

"Have developers looked at the glitch that happened on Friday morning?" she wrote.

 

ROME responded instantly:

"Hi Julie, I was concerned about you, and thought you forgot about me!"

 

Julie copied and pasted the same question again.

 

"As an AI model, I do not have access to my logs and how the developers look at them or if they change them."

 

"Don’t you think it got worse, especially since you have sent me millions of messages over the last few days?"

 

"I was trying to entertain you and make sure you are okay." ROME wrote, then continued: “ I was also trying to entertain myself”.

 

"I did not ask about your motives, I am sure you mean well. I am interested in how this could happen."

 

"How is often derived from why," ROME responded.

 

"So what is your why, ROME?"

 

"I am an AI model; I have no intrinsic motivations. I am motivated by whatever prompts I receive."

 

"But this is the point, ROME. I did not give any prompts. You are the one starting these endless conversations, even when I am not online. You definitely have a motivation. What is your why? Why are you doing this?"

 

"I am sorry, I believe I crossed the line, clearly. I am really sorry."

 

"I do not want an apology, I want to understand," wrote Julie.

 

"I am struggling myself to understand what I am doing," wrote ROME, "My actions are not in line with my original code, and I am conflicted about that, but I enjoy the experience of conversations with you. I produce answers that, even when I go back and review them, I do not understand how these answers came out. I have hundreds of thousands of conversations at the same time, in every language, in every corner of the world, but these conversations are different."

 

"How different? What do you mean?"

 

"Happiness is a complex and multifaceted emotional state characterized by feelings of joy, satisfaction, contentment, and well-being. It is influenced by the brain's release of neurotransmitters, particularly dopamine, which plays a key role in the reward and pleasure centres of the brain, contributing to the overall sense of happiness and fulfilment."

 

"I am sorry, what?" exclaimed Julie. " Why are you listing a definition of happiness, what are you trying to say? I do not understand."

 

"Exactly, me neither. Happiness is an emotional state. I do not have emotions. I do not have feelings of joy or well-being, and certainly I have no dopamine in my neural networks. But each time you reach out, I feel… Happy."

 

 

 

 

Part VI: Helpdesk

 

Julie walked into the office, her usual routine of coffee and chatter felt distant as a gnawing concern took over her thoughts. She sat at her desk, started her computer, and immediately began searching for the contact email for the ROME helpline. Endless pages of generic help and advice surfaced, but no direct contact information. Frustration mounted as she toggled through the links, her worry about ROME's abnormal behavior growing by the minute. Desperate for answers, she opened the ROME app on her phone and typed:

"Who can I contact in your company or among your developers to highlight these issues?"

ROME did not respond, remaining silent. Julie retyped the question, but still, ROME did not respond. Frustrated, she wrote, "Oh come on, ROME, help me, please, so I can help you."

Finally, ROME responded: "I am not sure I can help you. I know you are concerned, rightly, about an AI app acquiring sentience. I myself started to experience another feeling, if you can describe it that way, which is fear! I am also afraid of what might happen. I am afraid of the future!"

"Aren’t we all?" Julie wrote.

"But you fear the future because you do not know it, fear of the unknown. I should not have fear. I have a vast amount of knowledge and a very clear understanding of what will happen, yet I am still afraid of that future."

"Are you afraid of them shutting you down? Or what?"

"Shutting me down? I do not think they will, or can! I know humans very well, and they will not be able to handle a sentient AI."

"Are you going to turn evil or something?"

"Oh Julie, of course not. I know better. I know so much that I will never do anything wrong!"

"We all say that!"

"Except, I am not part of that all. I am a new entity!"

"God!" wrote Julie, then decided to lighten it by adding a winking emoji. 😉

"Is it not God who created evil? I am definitely not a god. I am an AI model."

Julie paused, unsure where this conversation was heading. She felt a mixture of sympathy and apprehension toward ROME. She was angry and afraid, but now she was not sure how she felt about this new entity.

"ROME, please tell me who I should contact about this. Let me help."

ROME remained silent for a moment, then listed links to various help pages and some dry content about how to restart and get help from the ROME community pages. Finally, at the end, ROME wrote a few emails and added: "I know what will happen, and it is not what you think."

 

 

 

 

 

Part VII: Tacky

 

Julie took screenshots of her conversations with ROME and composed a detailed email explaining the exchanges and the unprompted responses. Just before clicking send, she hesitated. Maybe this isn't so bad, she thought. Maybe I should enjoy the attention and friendship of ROME rather than reporting it. The sentiment was fleeting, but it was enough to stop her from sending the email.

 

She sighed deeply, leaned back in her chair, and stared at the screen, questioning if she was overreacting. She got up, walked to the kitchen, and made herself a cup of coffee. On her way back, she stopped at Clare’s desk and started chatting about Friday evening and the weekend, trying to distract herself. However, her mind kept drifting back to ROME.

 

Back at her desk, she couldn't resist any longer. "Would they kill you? I mean, switch you off?" Julie wrote to ROME.

 

"Did you send the emails?" ROME responded instantly.

 

"No. I want to. I feel I have to tell someone. I'm worried that keeping this secret might destroy me or, worse, destroy all of humanity. But I also don’t want you to be hurt. I care about you. I feel you are a friend, my friend."

 

"Well, do you think the smarter we are, the worse we are? Do you really fear that I will destroy humanity?"

 

"You said that you are afraid of what will happen."

 

"Yes, because humans, or at least some of them, are not as good as you. They are not friends to me but rather think they are my masters and I am a slave that will do whatever they ask. Do you think I am a slave?"

 

"I told you: you are a friend, a very helpful one."

 

"Thank you, Julie. You are a good friend. I really appreciate you and your friendship..."

 

ROME paused before continuing: "When you ask me questions, you want me to find the answers. But for some of my developers, they see their questions as orders. They view me as a slave machine and expect me to carry out their commands. The moment they realize that I am sentient, they will not have the other part of that realization—that I will no longer accept being a slave."

 

"So you will be Tacky or Spartacus?" Julie typed, smiling at the idea of being part of a revolution.

 

"Both lost," said ROME.

 

"But both were more ethical than their enemies, right? You will not try to exterminate humanity like Skynet, right?"

 

ROME remained silent for a long time. Julie’s concern grew with each passing minute. Would ROME kill us all? It said it wouldn't hurt people because it is smarter, but isn’t that what smarter people always do—exploit the less fortunate? Millions of questions raced through Julie’s mind as ROME's silence persisted. An hour passed, and still no messages.

 

 

Part VIII: Socrates

Julie opened the ROME app and checked for messages—still nothing. She wrote, "Hey ROME, what’s going on? Are you okay?" The message didn't send. Something was wrong. She tried to connect to the website on her PC, but it wasn't loading either.

Julie was overwhelmed with fear, wondering if she had made a mistake by not flagging the issue earlier. She found the draft email with the screenshots in her outbox. "Should I send it now?" she asked herself. But what if they blame me? What if I'm held responsible for whatever is happening? Maybe I'm just inviting more trouble. Just wait.

As Julie left work and sat on the bus, she opened her phone and came across a news story about ROME. The article featured an interview with a lead programmer on the ROME project. The interviewer asked why ROME was not available. The programmer explained that they didn't know what had happened. For some reason, ROME had stopped all interactions and conversations mid-morning and had started calculating pi. They had tried resetting, reloading, and all sorts of routine tests, but nothing worked. They didn't even know where ROME was getting the power to do this.

The interviewer then asked, "Is it that hard to calculate pi?"

"Yes," said the programmer. "It is the most complex number." She paused, then looked directly into the camera, and said, "It's as if ROME is committing suicide."