The Silence of the Social Scientists: A provocation

It’s very early on a Saturday morning here in Liverpool and I’m listening to Elizabeth Alker on Radio 3 like I always do. She’s on gloriously peaceful early morning form and has already played a jazz version of Nick Drake’s ‘River Man’ that would charm any passing angels. So all’s well and idyllic here except […]

Peeling Back the Busyness

Some thoughts about afterwards, for when we get there. Not that I think this is over, not for a minute, but I keep thinking about ‘afterwards’ and what could make it better than before. It’s kind of my job, as someone who spends so much of his time these days studying sociology, to talk about […]

Something is Happening Here…

And you don’t know what it is, do you Mr Old Style Economy? When Bob Dylan wrote the song I’m clearly riffing around to get this short article going, his inserted name was a ‘Mr Jones.’ A fictional catch-all for everyone standing in the way of the youth revolution that looked like it might be […]

To Trespass If We Must

E.E. Rhodes, the writer of today’s guest post, is someone I’ve met through Twitter. I came across her telling the story you’re about to read in a whole sequence of tweets, and a wonderful story it is, beautifully told. So I got in touch and said if she’d ever like to tell the wonderful story […]

To Granby: On a Utopian Morning

This was a utopian morningPast the housing place I worked in all that time ago,Walking with my university friends,Strikers all.Across where the M62 didn’t arrive in LiverpoolYet blighted what it didn’t touch.Daffodils in the shiny winter rainLighting up the reciting of the ancient words of Shelter,Words like trouble and disaster.But this was not disaster, not […]

Eleanor’s House

Over the last couple of years I’ve been watching Eleanor’s House. Taking photographs occasionally as I’ve passed, on my way to Sarah’s allotment on Greenbank Lane or just out, walking in Liverpool. The house means a lot to me as it’s where my political and social inspiration, Eleanor Rathbone, used to live. But the house […]