Dangerous Hero. Tom Bower
early were the pupils in his four geography classes. No replacement could be found. ‘I always thought how curious to leave part of the way through the school year,’ observed Paul Wimpory. ‘It was not very professional.’ Corbyn left Jamaica, Dawn Tapper recalled, just days after her wedding on 14 December. ‘Jeremy told us that he was returning to Britain,’ she said. ‘I gave him a piece of my wedding cake to eat on his journey.’
Corbyn has always concealed what he did after leaving Kingston. ‘I spent my youth in Jamaica,’ he told Channel 4 News in 2015, but did not elaborate. According to his account, he left Jamaica in July 1969, having fulfilled his two-year contract. Not only is that untrue, but he has never honestly revealed what happened during the missing seven months. His description of the journey from Jamaica is vague: ‘I took a sailing boat around the Caribbean, and then a fishing boat to Guyana.’ The only local passenger ship leaving Kingston and going as far as Trinidad was a small island-hopping freighter. That left 430 miles along the coast to Georgetown, Guyana’s capital – hardly the route for a ‘fishing boat’.
Corbyn says that he ‘spent some time in Guyana’, a pertinent revelation. The former British colony was then Walter Rodney’s home. Until 1964, Cheddi Jagan, a Marxist, had been the country’s leader, but with the connivance of the British and the CIA he had been replaced by a pro-Western prime minister. Nevertheless, in 1968 the strong Cuban presence in Guyana, Castro’s base for guerrilla warfare in South America, remained undiminished, and with Rodney’s help Corbyn could have flown to Cuba via Mexico. He has never said when he first visited Cuba, and the extent of his Marxist education in Guyana remains unknown. Like so much of his account of his life until he left Guyana, it is partly romanticised, and possibly an invention.
According to Corbyn’s version, he travelled from Guyana to Brazil, and on to Uruguay, Argentina, Chile, Bolivia, Paraguay, Peru, back to Buenos Aires, and then sailed to France in 1970. He has said that during the year he spent travelling he had been impressed by the culture of South America’s indigenous tribes, the history of the European settlers’ revolts against the colonial powers, and the countries’ battles during the 1950s against rapacious American corporations and CIA subversion. The journey confirmed his socialist ideals. Here was a cause that suited his ‘loser’ personality – he would fight for the downtrodden against their oppressors.
More recently, Corbyn has claimed that he was influenced by Open Veins of Latin America, by the Uruguayan journalist, writer and poet Eduardo Galeano, a critique of the exploitation of the continent’s Indians by monarchs, the Catholic Church and multinational American corporations. That is doubtful. The book was first published in 1971, a year after Corbyn returned to Britain, and he could not read Spanish. Pertinently, shortly before his death in 2015 Galeano repudiated the book as a distortion of the continent’s economic history, and confessed that he was embarrassed by his youthful prejudice in favour of South America’s left-wing dictators. In his enthusiasm for the book, Corbyn ignored Galeano’s disclaimer. He was enchanted, he said, by the indigenous customs and languages of South American civilisations – Incas, Quechua and Aymara – all smothered by Spanish colonialism.
He would also claim to have been influenced by Walter Rodney’s How Europe Underdeveloped Africa, published in 1972, which described the Caribbean search for identity after the end of colonialism. Rodney’s and Galeano’s ideas, picked up after his year in Jamaica, thereafter became the foundation of Corbyn’s principles and way of looking at the world. He loathed imperialism – Spanish, American or British. He never sought to understand how Greek, Roman and successive European empires were the foundation of Western civilisation, but stuck resolutely to his belief in the unalleviated evil of white colonial oppression. In 2015 he demanded that the then prime minister David Cameron apologise to Jamaica for Britain’s ‘brutal’ involvement in the slave trade. ‘It’s a history of the most gross exploitation of people,’ he said. He would never condemn Russian, Chinese or Arab oppression in similar terms. Nor, as a self-proclaimed pacifist, could he explain how the victims of imperialism – either the local Indians in Latin America or Europeans as the prey of the French, Soviet and German empires – could have regained their liberty without fighting.
In 1970, three years after leaving Britain, Corbyn returned to his family’s Shropshire home. He had not once spoken with his parents during his time away. On the single occasion he telephoned his home, there was no reply.
He returned to a seemingly empty future. Not only did he have no prospects, but he had missed the best of the swinging sixties. Although he would later claim to have joined his brother Piers on an anti-Vietnam war demonstration in London, that famous clash between the children of the counter-culture and the police had erupted during his absence, back in 1968. He also missed the big anti-apartheid marches of the 1960s, only joining their mini-successors two decades later, such as the Trotskyist ‘Non-Stop Picket’ breakaway group championing illegal protests in London, during which he was arrested. In speeches or interviews he never mentioned the outbreak of urban terrorism – Baader Meinhof in Germany, the Red Brigade in Italy, the Red Army in Japan, the Weathermen in America, the Quebec separatists in Canada, the Angry Brigade in Britain. Unlike every other leftist, he did not march with CND from Aldermaston to London every Easter. The politics of the sixties philosophers who had so influenced young undergraduates had no relevance to someone filled with Walter Rodney’s protests against colonial oppression. Perhaps a particular loss, he had missed the election in November 1970 of Salvador Allende, Chile’s Marxist president. His only contemporaneous eyewitness experience was the resurgence of the IRA’s war against colonialism.
On his return to Britain, now twenty years old, he had good reason to be apprehensive. Minimally educated, unqualified and unable to engage in hard work, he was isolated in Shropshire, forced to take a series of local jobs. In May 1972, after rejoining the Wrekin Labour Party, he arrived at the Young Socialists’ annual congress in Skegness with Andrea Davies, a nurse from Telford, his first British girlfriend. Although ostensibly a Labour Party function, the camp for five hundred members was run by Liverpool’s Militant Tendency, a group of revolutionary socialists formed in Liverpool in 1955 with the express purpose after the mid-1960s of infiltrating Labour to make the theories of Trotsky, Marx, Lenin and Engels official party policy.
Among those Corbyn met at the camp were Keith and Val Veness, two activists from Islington, then a rundown area of north London. Keith, a salt-of-the-earth, self-educated employee of NUPE (a trade union for public sector workers), was on the verge of joining the Workers Revolutionary Party, another group of Trotskyites, more intellectual but less well organised than Militant. ‘I was on the right wing of the delegates,’ he recalled. He regarded Clement Attlee’s post-war government as ‘social democrats, not the real Labour Party’.
Over the weekend, the four bonded. ‘I’m from Telford New Town,’ said Corbyn, suggesting that he lived in a working-class area. Keith Veness found his new companion’s intense commitment instantly charismatic. He told him that Labour membership had been much reduced during Harold Wilson’s government. ‘We’re an empty shell in London,’ he said, explaining that Labour’s branches were open to far leftists like himself. He urged Corbyn to join the cause, and as an introduction ‘to read the classics – Marx, Trotsky and other philosophers’. Corbyn nodded enthusiastically. To get him started, Veness handed him a copy of Trotsky’s History of the Russian Revolution, which he had just won at the camp’s raffle. Six months later Corbyn returned the book, still in its wrapping. ‘He wasn’t interested in reading anything,’ Veness concluded. ‘Not even Lenin on imperialism. It was a waste of time talking to him about books.’ Veness could not decide whether Corbyn was unintellectual or just lazy. There was no disagreement about politics, however. Over that weekend Corbyn immersed himself in a group dedicated to highlighting class conflict. By raising people’s consciousness about the horrors of capitalism, his instructors explained, the masses would be mobilised for revolution. To achieve equality and justice, capitalist wealth would be confiscated and aggressively redistributed to the poor.
Corbyn and the Venesses came together at a decisive moment in British politics. The Tories under Ted Heath were in turmoil. The unexpected defeat of Harold Wilson’s Labour government in the 1970 election and the Conservatives’ victory had followed a decade of industrial strife. Trade union shop stewards continually