MIA > Archive > Hyndman > Further Reminiscences
THE steady agitation which had been carried on by Social-Democrats and Socialists of all sections had by 1889 roused a desire among large bodies of the workers who did not belong to any Socialist body for direct and independent representation in Parliament. The Social-Democratic Federation, by its propaganda candidatures, much as they were laughed at at the time, had certainly contributed its full share to the growing distaste for Liberal dictation, which manifested itself from 1889 onwards, as well as for the revolt which was rapidly spreading in the Trade Unions and at the Trade Union Congresses against the leadership, not to say the domination, of Liberal-Labour members of Parliament, such as Messrs. Broadhurst, Burt, Fenwick and others, who made no secret whatever of their devotion to the party to which they owed their seats.
It is a little strange, by the way, to recall now that these gentlemen as deeply resented any aspersions upon their thoroughgoing independence as Messrs. Henderson, Barnes, Ramsay Macdonald, Snowden and even Keir Hardie – who still makes a fitful show of a fight – do today. Nothing, indeed, is more amusing for one who, like myself, has kept resolutely to the Socialist propaganda all along, than to read again the violent attacks by men now in the Liberal Government, or holding their seats by Liberal votes and supported in their constituencies by Liberal organisations, upon their predecessors in this pleasing and lucrative policy. History never repeats itself, but it has gone so near to repetition in this particular case that it is very difficult not to admit the close similarity of betrayal.
But the Independent Labour Party began well. If it was impossible to establish a really solid and capable Socialist Party in Great Britain, as we Social-Democrats had hoped and striven for, then the next best thing to it was a sort of half-way house which, while maintaining an attitude of hostility towards both the capitalist parties, would prepare Trade Unionists and others to adopt a more concrete and clear-cut creed than the nebulosity known as “Labour” without a definite revolutionary programme. The time was ripe for such an attempt. The great Dock Strike had only partially succeeded, and the strikes which followed throughout the country really failed one after the other. Anarchism with its propaganda of deed had never taken root here, and non-political Socialism or Anarchist Communism, as represented by the Socialist League, was obviously dying down.
Probably never in any country did so many able men and women uselessly devote so many years of their life to a cause which had no genuine vitality or hope for the future in it as the members of the Socialist League. Some of their writing and speaking was quite admirable. Unlike the Fabian Society, they gave themselves no airs, and the majority of them, until the absolutely unseemly and impossible elements got the upper hand, did good work and shrank from no unpleasantness in their endeavour to educate the people. Though the Commonweal is long dead and most of the pamphlets and leaflets are forgotten, for several years they did serve their cause in the most single-hearted way, though some of them afterwards admitted to me when they had rejoined the Social-Democratic Federation that they felt, after the first few months, that success could never be achieved on those lines. It certainly was odd to see the favourite and the ablest daughter of Karl Marx in that strangely manned galley. None the less it might be worth while to look up and reprint some of the literature. In fact, there are many of those early writings which had a freshness and vigour that is sometimes lacking today.
At the time I speak of, then, 1889-92, though the ideas of Socialism had spread widely among the people there was, as I can see now more plainly than I could then, almost a necessity, among a people so much addicted to the fatal vice of compromise as our own, for a party which, though nominally Socialist, took a less serious view of its duties than the SDF, and was inclined rather to the moderate amelioration policy than to the subversive palliatives and revolutionary propaganda which found favour with the so-called Marxists.
Scotland was the country in which the Independent Labour movement began. And it is possibly on that account that Scotchmen have up to the present day dominated it so completely. At first they meant well and in Scotland they fought well. Cunninghame Graham, at the beginning and throughout, was dead against any compromise with the Liberals; and though his friendship with Maltman Barry and Champion, and one or two other short-cut intriguers, placed him more than once in a very awkward position, he always remained personally quite straight and vigorous in his opposition alike to Liberal humbug and Tory reaction. In fact, at the moment when the Scotch Labour Party ran a number of candidates, regardless of the abuse of the Radicals or the sneers about “Tory gold,” it seemed quite probable that Scotland, by far the best-educated portion of the United Kingdom, would come to the front and take the lead in the political arena on behalf of the disinherited class. That I know was the hope and ambition then, not only of Graham and Hardie and Burgess, but of many who since have fallen back into the old muddy ways of capitalist Liberalism. They were unsuccessful in nearly all these early ventures, as might have been expected.
But during these years there was also an active propaganda being carried on in the Trade Union Congresses, with a view to detaching the rank and file of the delegates from the influence of the political wirepullers, in which both Socialists and Independent Labourists combined. Much of this work, in and out of Congress, partook of the nature of intrigue and was largely conducted, so far as the Independent Labour men were concerned, by Maltman Barry, who was in effect a Tory agent, as Broadhurst, Burt and Co. were Liberal agents. Barry, who was a very much cleverer man than was generally understood, obtained complete control over Champion and was exceedingly intimate with Hardie, Burns and even Graham. It was an amusing incident in the whole matter that, as the movement became more distinctively Scotch, he changed his name, which was originally the Irish Barry, to “Barrie,” as being more appropriate to the atmosphere in which he found himself; just as John Burns, who, like his father before him, was a denizen of Battersea, discovered a whole series of relationships with the famous “Bobbie” of that name, whose reputation he now imagines himself to have quite eclipsed.
But Barry or Barrie really had a thorough grasp of Socialist principles. He knew Karl Marx personally very well, had studied the writings of that great economist carefully, at a time when they were little known in this country, and, Tory agent though he was, had a far better appreciation of the real situation in Great Britain than the men with whom he was working. But for the need for earning his livelihood in the shady underworld of politics it is my opinion that Maltman Barry would have done good work for the people; though, later, his surroundings captured him and he even objected strongly to his own sons joining the Socialist party.
And here I may say that nothing is more sad than to watch really able and honest men gradually diverted from the service of their class by the pressure of their circumstances. It is bad enough to recognise how ability and genius which would be of the greatest value to mankind are constantly crushed to the earth by our wretched competitive commercialism in the early stages of life; but somehow it is even more depressing to see men and women who have begun with the best intentions and filled with the highest aspirations gradually brought into subjection to the meanest system of slave-driving the world has ever seen, and devoting themselves to political wirepulling and chicane because, having once got into it in order to keep body and soul together, they cannot get out.
Such a man was Tom Mottershead, perhaps intellectually the ablest of the old school of labour leaders. Mottershead was a Lancashire lad who had gone through the terrific child-sweating which was in his boyhood the rule in that county, and obtains even yet to a large extent under the beneficent rule of the cotton-lords and, sad to say, with the consent of the mothers, who, having been half-timers themselves, take it out of their own children in like manner. Mottershead, having a strong constitution, survived all this and became a vigorous champion of his class. He stood as a genuine labour candidate for Preston, polling several thousand votes, and he told me that Sir John Holker, the Tory lawyer, who was one of his opponents, had always been a good friend to him from that time onwards. Then he became – that was the tragedy of the whole thing – one of the most astute and unscrupulous of the wirepullers who do the dirty work of the Liberal capitalists and their Ministers among the working class. I did not make Mottershead’s acquaintance until he was an old man, much given to whisky and other strong waters; but I did so under circumstances which made a great impression upon me, and I regard Mottershead as the type of those of his class who are bought by both factions to serve their respective ends.
I was sitting in the office of the Social-Democratic Federation by myself, the Secretary having gone out, when a tall grizzled figure came in and, having taken a seat, began, with a strong Lancashire accent, in this extraordinary fashion: “I have been watching you for some time, Mr. Hyndman, and I have come to the conclusion that you are a pretty honest fellow.” I laughed and thanked him for his mitigated appreciation. “You don’t know me!” I replied that up to his entrance I had not had that honour. “I’m Tom Mottershead, and I agree with all you are doing, but I can’t afford to say so publicly, and I have lost my enthusiasm.” “You are in the employ of the Liberals, aren’t you? I should think that is about enough to rot any enthusiasm you ever had out of you.” “Well,” said the old chap, “you are about right there. It is not many of their tricks I don’t know and, to say the truth, have not practised. I had to live. But I don’t mind telling you, Mr. Hyndman, it is a dirty business, and I wish I were out of it.” Mottershead then gave me some detailed information as to Liberal chicane of that day which has lost its interest, but, I judge, is very much like the Liberal chicane, or, for that matter, Tory chicane, of the present year of grace. His information turned out to be quite correct and was useful to us at that time. But his closing words were most emphatic: “Whatever you do, Mr. Hyndman, never trust a working man who gives up his trade for politics. He is bound to live as best he can, and the best will always be very bad for what you are trying to do.”
I saw old Mottershead often after this, and as he wanted drink continuously, and was long past the temperance age, I always stood him drink, wondering invariably what a man of his undoubted ability could find in it to lead him to such continuous over-indulgence. I suppose bad liquor saps the will-power. I am no temperance bigot; but I would punish the manufacturers and purveyors of bad spirits and bad beer “with the utmost rigour of the law.” But Mottershead drunk had a lot more sense in him than many teetotallers I have known quite offensively sober. Poor old chap. He used to go to the Liberty and Property Defence League, which in the early days kept open house and open liquor for the purposes of conviviality and conversion. It was the former, as represented by free whisky, that attracted Mottershead. Coming down the staircase one night he fell or tripped and fractured his skull on the stone steps. I was one of the few who regretted him as a good man gone wrong and dead before his time. Mottershead, at any rate, did not believe that his Liberal paymasters who bought and used him meant any good to the workers. He knew better than that.
But Barry (or Barrie) and Mottershead both represented a class of men who, whatever their abilities and good intentions may have been to start with, are habitually employed by both capitalist factions to throw dust in the eyes of the workers, to preach to them the virtue of moderation, and above all to prevent them from establishing a really independent revolutionary party of the people, having for its object the recognition of the inevitable class-war, and the imperative necessity for doing away with the wages system for ever. It is useless to complain of the capitalists and landlords for resorting to the employment of such agents. They are as indispensable to them for the upholding of their power under a Republic or a Constitutional Monarchy as spies and mouchards are to despots. The two men named were, as a matter of fact, much better specimens of the type than are to be found in numbers throughout the country today.
In spite, however, of all intrigue and personal jealousy, of which latter there was not a little, the idea of independent political action by Labour men grew. Not, as I have said, in the sense of favouring the formation of a definite Socialist body, but as a middle term for respectable people between the Trade Unions and the unreasonable fanatics of Social-Democracy. That was the form which the Independent Labour Party took on its foundation. It is true there were Socialists, like Blatchford and a few more, who were determined from the first that, so far as they were concerned, the new organisation should give forth no uncertain sound on the subject of Socialism. But so little was this generally understood, that when William Morris made his effort to bring about the unity of all Socialist bodies in Great Britain, nobody so much as suggested inviting the Independent Labour Party.
Nevertheless the tendency towards definite Socialism soon manifested itself, at any rate on the sentimental side. Moreover, in spite of what has occurred since, the Independent Labour Party, at the commencement of its career, undoubtedly had no love for either of the old political factions, and of the two was more hostile to the Liberals, who held control of the Trade Unionists, than to the Tories, who had no such influence. To say the truth, the whole thing was rather dull, and it would take a much abler pen than mine to make the early doings of the Independent Labour men generally interesting, clever fellows as many of its members were. What they did as individuals was, in fact, much more useful, as well as more attractive, than what they did collectively; and the doings of Blatchford, Burgess, Mann, Hardie, and others, were much more noteworthy than the drab and decent proceedings of the intensely respectable body to which they all belonged.
Why is it, by the way, that the working people of this country are so terribly afraid of shocking the tender susceptibilities of the middle class, or of offending in any way the paid advocates of the prevailing creed in any of its numerous sects? How comes it also that the Labour Leader, with two capital “L’s,” so often doubles the part of itinerant preacher with that of moderate champion of the workers? I know the history of the working classes of Great Britain I think I may say as well as any man in the island, and I have associated with them intimately for many years. But for the life of me I cannot understand the respectful attitude which they adopt to all the prejudices of the class immediately above them, or the lack of real grit which they almost invariably show in their dealings with the possessing classes as a whole. With the exception of the thoroughgoing Socialists, nearly all the working-class leaders I have known have given me the impression that they were rather ashamed of belonging to the producers at all. They have most of them tried hard to imitate the clothes, manners and speech of their enemies. They are as eager to get out of their working garments, no matter how clean and how well-fitting they may be, and to don the garb of the well-to-do shopkeeper, as British officers are to discard their uniform and get into “mufti.”
Even some Socialists seem unable to free themselves from these contemptible aspirations for similitude to the profitmongers in thought and dress, and their acceptance of buy-cheap-and-sell-dear economics and devil-take-the-hindmost religion follows hard upon this admiration for the very people they ought to despise. Their one hope is to keep public opinion, as represented by the capitalist-advertisement anonymous press, with them in their goings-out and comings-in, and to be able to accommodate their strictly limited revolts to the doctrines of peace and goodwill, as laid down by the employers who are starving them into submission. And they themselves are so apologetic!
I have many a time been hard put to it myself to keep from sneering aloud at their contemptible abasement of themselves. As Quelch has often said: Can there be anything more exasperating than to hear a skilled artisan who ought to know that the whole of society is living on the labour of himself and his mates, skilled and unskilled, talking of his home as “not bad for a working man,” his set of books as “quite creditable to a working man,” his children as “a good-looking lot of kids for a working man,” and so on? You never hear this abominable servile cant in any other country. Nor before the old Chartist movement died down was it nearly so common here. The systematic and degrading respect for their “betters,” inculcated into the workers from their childhood upwards, tells its tale in after years. Only the ablest and most vigorous ever emancipate themselves completely from this sort of self-imposed thraldom and distrust of themselves.
What follows might come better when I speak of the Labour Party in Parliament, but it bears so directly upon the relations of the representatives of the workers to their “superiors “ that I recall it here. I had been attending a meeting of the British Section of the International Congress Committee in one of the Committee Rooms of the House of Commons, and was passing out with the rest. The man immediately behind me was one of the most important members of the Labour Party, a capable, successful, well-to-do person, living in the full odour of methodistical sanctity, and representing a large industrial constituency by a great majority of votes. As we went through one of the lobbies leading to the House itself, another member whom I happened to know well was seated writing. He rose to speak to me and I blocked the way. I turned round and said, “You know one another, I suppose?” “Quite well,” replied my friend, “we often pair with one another.” A short conversation followed, and what impressed itself most unpleasantly upon me was the fact, about which I could not be mistaken, that my Labour friend addressed my wealthy capitalist friend throughout with an air of deference. What on earth for? From my point of view the Labour member, if he was inspired by and stood up for the dignity of his class, held infinitely the higher position of the two. But he did not think so, evidently.
Time after time, also, when I have been present at Trade Union Congresses, I have been amazed to see leading Trade Unionists quite submissive and deferential to the capitalist big-wigs of the town in which the Congress chanced to be held. I am no advocate of bad manners or brutality on the part of the class to whom the future of human civilisation manifestly belongs, by the conquest of the powers of production and the abolition of class distinctions of all kinds. But there was much more to be hoped from the rough uncultured vigour of the men of 1839 to 1848 than from the smooth-spoken incompetence of the Labour “politicians “ of our time.
It was because Keir Hardie outraged all the susceptibilities of the House of Commons, when he first succeeded in capturing the seat at South-West Ham, that I hoped we had got a man in him who, notwithstanding certain very queer incidents with Champion, Maltman Barry, and others, would make it quite plain that there was a class-war between the possessing minority and the disinherited masses, and that he, for one, had not the slightest intention of bowing the knee to those who kept his fellow-workers in subjection, no matter how urbane they might be to him, or how skilfully they might try to whittle away his antagonism. Of course, there was a little bit of theatricality about his first appearance, just as there was when Baudoin attended the French National Assembly in his blue blouse, the recognised garb of his class. But, looking at things as they are today, I am not sure it was any the worse for that I did not admire Hardie’s cap, I did not think his clothes were either very suitable or well made. I thought his coming to the opening of Parliament to the accompaniment of a brass band, which discoursed quite other than sweet music, was a little in the line of a Punch-and-Judy show, or of the advance guard of a wandering circus. In short, I, too, felt for the moment that my favourite prejudices were being raked over in very unceremonious fashion. But I am now of opinion that this whole business was all right enough, provided it were made the starting-point for an entirely new departure inside the House of Commons itself. Hardie’s costume was his own everyday wear, and the men and women who were with him on this occasion were likewise in their work-a-day dress. Would Hardie live up to his cap? That was the question I asked myself.
So long as he stood by himself in the House – for Burns, when he got in for Battersea, at once began his preparations for passing over to the Liberals – Hardie certainly maintained his independence most steadily and did not accommodate himself to the two-party system in any way. He stood alone, and if anywhere in the world the Italian proverb is true, it is so in the British House of Commons that “He who stands alone does not stand well.” I always admired Hardie for his behaviour at this time, and I only wish it had always been up to this sample. It was the first appearance of Independent Labour in the House of Commons, and the fact that its representative kept quite clear of all the junketings and jubilations, had its effect, and gained for himself and for the party behind him the respect of those who were most bitter against his more or less anarchistic Socialism.
From the start of the modern Socialist movement in Great Britain more than thirty-one years ago, Social-Democrats have devoted more attention to the question of the unemployed than to any other matter whatever. Nearly all our principal agitations, demonstrations, and collisions with the “authorities” have arisen from our efforts in this direction. No more disheartening task can possibly be undertaken. The mere physical energy needed to keep on the outdoor meetings of well-nigh hopeless men day after day; the brutal indifference of the whole governing class to the consequences of their own system of labour-robbery; the continuous denunciation of the luckless out-of-works by the entire capitalist press, Tory, Unionist, Liberal, and Radical, as drunken loafers and wastrels, though they were, nevertheless, hard at work only just before; the steady increase of apathy due to lack of food and warmth, deepening into downright despair among the unemployed themselves; the truth, which it was impossible to disguise from ourselves even in our most enthusiastic moments, that even if we were successful in obtaining some advantage for this fringe of labour, its members would soon forget what they had been taught – all this makes any continuous attempt to serve the unemployed a very arduous job indeed. If we had been moved only by sentimental considerations, it is certain we should never have been able to go on year after year during “bad times” for a generation at this uphill task.
No doubt it is easy to draw a few tears from the eyes of the well-to-do by a touching description of a sober hard-working man, thrown out of work by no fault whatever of his own, gradually drawing out his little savings from the bank, first to supplement his meagre unemployed allowance and to keep himself and his wife from sheer starvation; then to enlarge upon the sad sale of the furniture of his home for the same purpose, while he wears out body and mind by a daily tramp round to seek employment where none is to be found, his family getting white and miserable and woebegone all the time from the desperate situation, which becomes worse and worse every day; the fear and hatred of having resort first to the brutally administered outdoor relief of the Poor Law Guardians or Charitable Committees with the horrors (to them) of the workhouse-prison and the brand of pauperism affixed upon them all: it is easy, I say, to get crocodile sympathy from the more impressionable portion of the class responsible for the perpetual recurrence of this state of things. But sentiment leads no whither in economics and sociology, and mere pity for suffering would assuredly not have enabled us to keep going on this question. That probably is the reason why the Independent Labour Party, with all its good intentions, has been of so little use in this connection.
The reason why, in spite of all discouragement, we have persistently hammered away at this great problem of the unemployed, and have never lost an opportunity of forcing our proposals to the front, not from the point of view of the moral “Right to work” – for right and justice have no meaning under capitalism and profitmongering – but from the economic and social standpoint chiefly and almost exclusively, is that from that side alone can any real improvement come. Pictures of the frightful wretchedness brought about by these recurring periods of commercial crisis and unemployment, over and above the ordinary horrors of peace which are always close at hand, have been used by our speakers and writers to arrest attention and bring our audiences into a frame of mind likely to consider our proposals. But nothing short of taking the unemployed labourers and artisans off the competitive market, and organising their industry upon a co-operative basis, can be of any permanent advantage to the wage-earners as a class.
To put the matter quite plainly, this suggestion of ours, which is perfectly sound economically, must inevitably break down the system of capitalism if honestly and capably adopted. Of this there can be no doubt. Employers are quite shrewd enough to see that. Unemployment and propertyless poverty for the workers are the two mainstays of the entire organisation of modern production for exchange and profit. But it is not all capitalists who are quite so frank as to admit this. Mr. Arthur Chamberlain, however, the brother of Mr. Joseph, has stated plainly that a large fringe of unemployed is a necessity for the capitalists. Take away the competition for starvation wages, and the wage-earners, secure of a decent livelihood by the national organisation of their labour upon socially useful work on co-operative principles for a high standard of life, will point-blank refuse to accept any engagement that does not secure for them a position of ease and comfort in return for their short working day. From this to demanding that the entire national resources should be used wholly and solely for the production and distribution of wealth upon co-operative principles without any profit at all, would be a very short step.
That, of course, is the unavowed ground for the opposition of the dominant class to our Social-Democratic propaganda on this head. Anything rather than adapt to modern exigencies the Acts of 300 years and more ago. Needless to add that the objections to our direct and clear-cut programme are based, not on the unsoundness of our views in themselves, but upon all sorts of hypocritical semitheologic arguments and “human nature” absurdities, the hollowness of which our opponents are as well aware of as we are. Not even when we marched the unemployed by tens of thousands to St. Paul’s Cathedral and other places of Christian worship, and certain well-intentioned clergymen and ministers took up our ideas on the matter, would the capitalists and their House of Commons budge. They understood what we were about much better than the parsons and preachers did, and no amount of philanthropy had the slightest chance of success against their principles of business.
When, therefore, Keir Hardie, alone and unsupported – for John Burns carefully ran away – moved an amendment to the Address in 1893 in favour of the unemployed, with all the added effect of his queer dress and rough appearance, some of us felt that a little of what we had so long been fighting for might possibly be realised. For there was no laughing of Hardie down. He had the matter at heart and he made a very good speech, though not quite of the kind, as was even then apparent, which would achieve what we wanted. But it undoubtedly influenced the House of Commons for the time being, and gained for the Ayrshire miner the undisputed leadership of the Independent Labourists as distinguished from the revolutionary Socialists, who, however, were quite ready to back him so long as he continued on that line.
Hardie did, in fact, champion the cause of the class from which he sprang in the calm deliberate manner and phraseology of a man who meant serious business. The Grand Old Man himself, who was always on the look-out to buy inconvenient opponents for service in the buy-cheap-and-sell-dear faction to which he had devoted his inexhaustible resources of Jesuitical chicane and hypocritical rhetoric, paid Hardie the doubtful compliment of listening to him. The Tory leaders hearkened also, with the same idea, no doubt, at the back of their minds. But, to do Hardie justice, these little attentions and the compliments he received had not the slightest influence in turning him from his independence. He went his way in House and in Lobby in the same solitary fashion he had adopted from the first. It is sad as well as not a little ludicrous to recall that when he got his opportunity later, in consequence of this speech and other good work he had done, he asked for the unemployed £100,000!
Somebody ought to write a telling little volume on “Opportunities Missed.” It is just upon twenty years since Keir Hardie, following up in the House our long agitation outside, made this speech. Now, twenty years later, we are as far from the organisation of the labour of the unemployed as we were then, though our own agitation has never died down and the Independent Labour Party itself is certainly stronger in numbers and much stronger in Parliamentary representation than it was then.
As the Independent Labour Party grew in strength the need for unity of Socialist forces pressed itself upon its leaders, or so they said. We held a meeting of representatives of the two principal organisations and polled the whole of the members. The result was a very large majority of votes in favour of consolidation. The moment the result was known the Independent Labour Party Executive decided not to act upon it. I do not think we were much surprised at this strange conduct. In fact, I felt sure the dominant few in the ILP would never coalesce with a body that acted on thoroughly democratic principles.
I have never understood Keir Hardie’s methods. At times he is so thoroughly Socialist that there is nothing to complain of. Shortly afterwards he is as much involved in engagements with Liberals as the most inveterate intriguer. Today he will declare strongly in favour of votes for all women. Tomorrow he will be arguing for the limitation of the suffrage to the comparatively few with unsurpassed ardour. One week he will denounce in private certain personal and political treachery as seriously injurious to the movement. The next he will be upholding the individual guilty of this behaviour as the most valuable asset of the Socialist movement. My own relations with him have fluctuated in much the same way. And the whole party of whic.hhe is a prominent leader is addicted to similar wavering. There has, in fact, never been in Great Britain either a Socialist Party or even a Labour – what the abstraction “ Labour “ means nobody has ever explained – Party which will bear any comparison whatever with the magnificent voting, and at need fighting, machine which has been constituted by the Germans. This, of course, is due largely to the absence of any proper system of education and in part to the lack of all discipline. But until the personal and faction jealousies and pettiness can be subordinated to a genuine anxiety to emancipate the workers there is little hope of effective action by any ordinary means; while a shock from without, leading to a complete overturn within, would, under existing conditions, land us in a period of almost unmitigated anarchy. For the continuance of the present happy-go-lucky methods the Independent Labour Party is chiefly to blame.
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Last updated on 1.11.2007