The Battle of Calder Street.

There has been a great deal of chat about 'political theatre' lately - mostly in my head, but some of it spilled onto Facebook. At the very least, the Referendum encouraged many artists to make a commitment to political engagement.

I am always in two minds about the worth of political performance. Partially because I am having a big row with Plato, again (I am pretty sure he disapproves of theatre as a place for public discussion), but also because I am not sure whether watching art encourages activism. It might operate as a way for audiences to think that they have done something political when they nodded to a play's urgent message. 

However, tonight, I was at the kind of political theatre I can get behind: The Battle of Calder Street. It was odd - I was involved in the events described and recognises the verbatim voices - but on the scale that I can understand. It was about the struggle in Govanhill to rescue the local swimming pool.

I literally did that and got the t-shirt.

As the play makes clear, the Save Our Pool campaign was about community. Sure, the swimming was important, but the community that rose up around the picket line  - and the political lessons we learnt - were crucial. It remains the longest occupation of a civic building in UK history (local people nipped inside and held it from the council for 141 days). 

I am always suspicious of 'big ideas': the pool campaign operated on a level to which I could relate... I met my neighbours, moaned about the government, connected to the area's history and, as I realised tonight, had a real anger towards Charlie Gordon. He was the head of the council who shut the pool.

There are many reasons why the various people who are discussing political art ought to go to see The Battle of Calder Street - and not many are aesthetic. It reveals the history (as well as theatre can, although I know some of the contours of this narrative that were not reflected) of a bold attempt by a community to get power back. Using verbatim, songs written by Alistair Hullet at the time and news reports, it explains the ambitions and atmosphere, and sets out a clear way of addressing politics in theatre. It is also performed in the building where the action happened, which lends a nice resonance.

Most importantly though, it is clear in its political aim: it recalls an action that shook Glasgow City Council, and gave power to a group of people who felt abused by the state. There's no revolution, or restructuring of reality, only a true story that ends in a defeat that can become a victory, if the lessons it offers can be heard. 

And it is a lot more messy than proclaiming on a blog, like I do now, and less glamorous than grandstanding.