Leigh People's Paper

 


words Pete Mercer

Making this zine and contemplating the plusses of print over digital media feels an overly nostalgic, even conservative, position in a time of The Online. I’ve made concerted effort over the past five issues to resist talking about STAT’s chosen medium - a print ‘zine’ - cos I’d rather not indulge in adjacent wanky “I-was-born-in-the-wrong-generation” discourse. 

The purpose of this zine was, in essence, a way of forcing myself out of the house, and, maybe as a consequence of that, motivating others to do the same. I suppose it’s cool having all media in a slip of glass beside your bed (yeah alright, grandad), but, unbound to any real-world interactions and locations, it becomes passive and increasingly manipulated by the commercial interests of ‘Big Tech’.


all excerpts of Leigh People’s Paper are credited to their original authors 
and have been reproduced here with their kind permission


Now when comparing online to off, it’s less an aesthetic judgment of the medium, more a reaction to the systemic forces which influence each medium. What I’m trying to say is: these smelly grey pages are ours. Your eye movements aren’t being tracked, we’re not spewing cookie tick-boxes at you, it’s just a little magazine of cool things done by cool people not too far from yourself. In this vein, it’s fair to say STAT shares something with Leigh People’s Paper.


***


‘Write us an article, you don’t have to be a journalist, none of us are.’

- Leigh People's Paper, Issue 001 (Feb '73)


In February of 1973, on the cover of a first Leigh People’s Paper, its editors decried the existing local press as failing Leigh and invited anyone, journalist or not, to send in their views. This was a non-profit, independent paper that would last 10 years and was distributed amongst Leigh’s newsagents for just two pence a copy. Coming into existence thanks to a loan from the Vicar of Leigh, the paper was produced by a small group of unpaid writers and cartoonists. Providing commentary on local issues of housing, insufficient wages and an ineffectual council, even national criticism of a racist press (not much has changed eh), each edition is honest, gritty, but never defeatist. 

Flicking through a stack of copies in the reading room, what I saw was something so at odds with my conception of ‘local politics’ that it was inspiring. Rather than today’s NIMBY-ism, potholes and councillors posed by overfilled bins, this stuff was, quite boldly, shining light on the disappointing activities of those with too much power and within a clear, collectivist narrative. And consequently, a view that politics should extend beyond the ballot box, even if ‘your team’ wins.

Physical publications like this are necessary. Too often the view of, so-called, ex-‘red-wall’ areas, like Leigh, is that they are brimming with nationalists, reactionaries, aggro-individualists. It’s not true, but these preconceptions go unchecked when the people in question have no vehicle for expression. Instead, ’Leigh’ becomes an amorphous blob viewed through the lenses of commentariat parachutes; it’s people made malleable by a billionaire-owned press or a middle-class lacking the backbone to cast cynical views as their own.


Leigh People’s Paper is a window into the real Leigh of the 1970s, and in my view an inspiring vehicle for local change. Isn’t it time we started shouting again?


dedicated to the makers of Leigh People's Paper


words
Pete Mercer

images
reproduced with permission from copies held at Archives: Wigan & Leigh