“‘ow much further?”
“Not far.”
The first shaven head grunts, loudly.
“Just think. Just think how they’s fucked. How we’ll fuck ‘em up…”
“Yeah.”
Great…
“Fuck ‘em up good. They fuck wiv us…”
“And we fuck wiv them. I know…”
“Get those fascist cunts…”

At this point, I woke up fully. Wouldn’t you?

Recently, I caught a night-bus through South London. This wasn’t a comfortable experience - not least because I’d fallen asleep. I’ve usually no problem with associating with the strange, extreme or downright absurd. But, being trapped in an enclosed space, past midnight, and fast asleep when these fruitcakes could do anything they want to me? That, I’ll admit, does scare me. Witless.

Especially when, as you’re drifting awake, you start hearing that sort of conversation. My eyelids had drooped open a little already. Through them, a fuzzy, slightly blurred image of two grimly shaven heads above two grimly blunt necks on two grimly broad torsos came into a very poor focus. Not the most comforting sight to wake up to, especially not at three in the morning on the night bus.

Especially not when they’re talking so graphically about fucking people up.

Groggily watching them draped across the aisle, I naievely supposed they were just a pair of skinhead thugs. I even toyed - briefly - with the notion that they were BNP, or NF, or ITP, or whichever particular neofascistic acronym it might be.

Of course, I was completely wrong. They weren’t fascists; they were anarchists.

The conversation continued.

“Shit.”
“What?” came the grunt back.
“Forgotten my tool.”
Yes. He really did say that he’d forgotten his tool.
“Don’ worry, I got two.”
Yes. He had two tools too. I restrained a chuckle, thankfully. Immature, I know; but also three in the morning and not entirely sober.
“Thanks, comrade.”
Yes. He said comrade.

Edifying stuff, eh?

That comrade, meanwhile, had taken out his tool and was scratching something - noisily - into the window. I found out what it was when they got off a few stops later; a rough, jaggedy Circle-A - my basis for guessing their anarchist identity.

I’ve heard of these people before - or rather, visited their website. Of course, this pair may have had nothing to do with Antifa as such. But the principles remains the same, and a simple one at that; beating up suspected fascists until they’re all dead.

They may therefore look the polar opposite of the average fascist. And they are - ideologically. But, in practical terms? Let’s have a look at the two:

Historically, grassroots fascists have been seen as young, white men of working class or petit-bourgeois backgrounds deeply angry at society and violently attacking scapegoats.

This pair were young, white men of (apparently) working class or petit-bourgeois backgrounds deeply angry at society and violently attacking scapegoats.

And the same can probably said of many extremist movements. Of course, these two may have been a complete anomaly. The average militant anti-fascist may be a bumbling middle-class bore into knit-couture for all I know - but it seems unlikely. What these two do have in common with what we typically see of extremist grassroots is that they’re discontented, disenfranchised young men living in economically hard circumstances. They’re angry, and they want someone to blame - even if that someone has nothing to do with the real problem.

The fascists and ultra-nationalists have the communists, the foreigners and the Jews. The communists have the fascists, the capitalists and the bourgeois. The anarchists have the fascists, the capitalists and the state. Religious extremists have the non-believers. And so on.

Of course, in general, their problems have nothing to do with these scapegoated groups - and everything to do with global economic forces far beyond the control of any one group or person. The root of extremism is poverty, and the need to blame someone for it. If the government - and antifascist groups - wanted to really stamp out extremism, they’d try to attend to that as well as the war of ideas.

So, about that recession…

*Forgive the very sketchy attempts to render the dialogue and accent.  I was tired and tipsy, and it’s difficult to rend accurately anyway….