The death of Margaret Thatcher is no cause for celebration. It came 35 years too late. The scars of her toxic policies (and those of her compadres in the war on the poor, such as Ronald Reagan) are with us still, and more than so now than they were in the 1980s, when they were being implemented. The global economic crisis that started in 2008 is the punishment for Thatcher, Reagan et al.
Thatcher was a war-monger. She was against the poor and against the workers. She was a supporter of apartheid, once calling Nelson Mandela a terrorist (last week Mandela seemed to slip away from us; today he still breathes, thank God, and Thatcher does not).
It’s too late to celebrate Thatcher’s death, but not too early to speak ill of the dead (and we should never be prevented from speaking ill of the dead when they merit our censure). It would have been better had Thatcher lived for another 20 years, into obscurity, before her simpering Trojan disciples such as Tony Blair — the Bono of British politics — could pay their glowing tributes , using her first name in the way other people do with soul legends.
Worse yet, some young people, naive young women in particular, seem to regard Thatcher as a feminist icon (no doubt influenced by Meryl Streep’s impressive but nauseating impersonation in that meandering film), not the enemy of women that she really was. Alas, Meryl’s scriptwriters failed to get the great mimic to deliver this immortal line: “I owe nothing to women’s lib. The feminists hate me, don’t they? And I don’t blame them. For I hate feminism. It is poison.”
Thatcher’s death is neither to be mourned nor to be celebrated. But we must forthrightly acknowledge and emphasise that she made the world a worse place and that her legacy must be despised.
So this mix is not by way of celebration, much as some of the songs endorse a sense of jubilation at Thatcher’s demise. View it as a musical testament of songs that are political and good, and as an indictment of that woman’s noxious policies.
from Any Dude With Half a Heart